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[dearestevan]

REPLAY | Masterlist

— ᨳଓ . In which Jungwon takes "age is just a number" a little too seriously and makes it his personal mission to get Jay’s best friend's best friend to like him back, even if she’s made it painfully clear that younger boys have never been, and never will be, her type.

pairing 🪽 younger!jungwon x older!reader ❤︎ genre ─ smau (w/ written), fluff, angst, crack, strangers 2 lovers content warnings 🍵 reader is 2yrs older than jw, profanity, sexual/suggestive jokes, kys jokes between friends, mentions of smoking drinking vaping you name it, horrible attempt at humor, sensitive topics .ᐟ.ᐟ notes  ─ ignore timestamps 🥺 finally going out my comfort zone again after quitting genshin tumblr years ago and just reading, we ball! there will be some sensitive topics that will be mentioned in the chapters so pls proceed with caution! please do not disregard any trigger warning if there is one in a chapter, i am not responsible with the content that you consume. happy reading!

STATUS 🍀 on going 

ꫂ ၴႅၴ TAGLIST 1 ─ closed (50/50)

ꫂ ၴႅၴ TAGLIST 2 ─ closed (50/50)

PROFILES  #kccOUT | younghos

CHAPTERS

01 who dat in da bak

02 stalker on the lose!

03 u cant park there (+ written)

04 welcome home!

05 was he jelous

06 can we bang

07 the red set

08 thats MY noona BITCH (+ written )

09 is it Heavy

10 worse she could say is no

11 dear diary.. i wana kms

12 tba

13 tba

14 tba

15 tba

BONUS CHAPTERS

-- tba..

[simjakedly]

love me (k)not - n.rk

- short sequel: but i’m the jealous type

main masterlist

summary. the world thinks that you're a beta. you and your best friend, nishimura riki, think same thing too—until you're proven wrong. until instincts and scents take over and everything changes overnight.

pairing. alpha!riki x omega!female reader

genre(s). oneshot, omegaverse, friends-to-lovers, temporary unrequited love, smut

warnings. MDNI, reader is a late-presenting omega, mutual pining, oblivious pairing, jealous and possessive riki, unprotected sex (DON’T!! even think about it), marking, knotting, p in v, dirty talk, dom!riki, idk it’s my first time writing smut, alpha!jay, alpha!jungwon, alpha!heeseung, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, reader is suuuper horny, poor jay, i tag as i go, not beta read we die like injang, i don’t think this a/b/o is as accurate as the norm but we ball, angst if you squint

word count. 14,896 words

note. stepping out of my comfort zone with this one, my first time writing a oneshot. i hope you love it (hiding in a cave as we speak). mostly inspired by a/b/o fics i read on ao3. don’t forget to stream the sin: vanish! 🩷

You have been to the gym more times than the library.

Not because you’re particularly athletic. No, God knows you’d rather nap. But it’s rather because of a certain six-foot Japanese guy named Nishimura Riki, who’s obsessed with having you watch him stretch before his basketball practice. Says it helps him focus better. Says you bring him luck to his games. Whatever it is, you are happy to indulge with his requests, if it means you get to have your free Baskin Robbins after his gym sessions.

And now, as the two of you walk down the pavement, hands brushing with each step, you’re brought back to three years ago—when Riki was still a head shorter, when his voice still had the childlike lilt to it, when he hadn’t gained all the mass and muscles he has now. The only thing that remains constant is this: his routine of dragging you to his stretching and practice sessions.

It still brings a smile to your face whenever you recall that moment, and Riki never fails to notice every time.

“You have that motherly sentimental smile on your face again,” he points out, eyeing you down like you were dirt on the ground, and you might as well be for how tall he is. “Whatchu thinking ‘bout?”

You roll your eyes. “Good old times, Ki. When you were less annoying and less tall.”

Riki snorts. “I’m always annoying. And taller than you.”

“Fuckass alpha genetics,” you grumble under your breath, the sharp end of your elbow meeting his ribs in a playful nudge. Riki lets out a loud hiss, draping his arm around your shoulders in a harsh tug.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, my favourite girl?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that I could’ve slept in instead of going to your alpha gym.”

“You love me too much to refuse me.”

You feel the air leave your lungs. That statement shouldn’t make your stomach twist like this, like you’re caught doing something you’re forbidden to. But if liking your childhood friend—your annoying, tall, and too-hot-for-his-own-good friend—is considered illegal, then by all means you’d rather serve your time in jail than admit it to him.

So you scoff, feigning annoyance as you shove his limbs off your body. Swinging your legs faster, you mutter something enough for his ears to hear, hiding the redness that blooms across your cheeks. “You know I only love your mom.”

“Yeah, but only for her sushi, though!” Riki retorts, chasing after your steps and catching up with you after a maximum of three long strides. Curse his long legs. “I know you’d marry into my family for her sushi.”

“I don’t plan on being a homewrecker. Konon is taken, and Misora is like my little sister.”

“Well, there is me.” There he goes again, making your heart stutter in your ribs, taking your breath away with words that might be simple to him but bring an entirely different meaning to you and your poor feelings. You bite your lip, refusing to answer. Riki takes it as a challenge.

“I’m the real deal, y’know?” Riki wiggles his eyebrows, hogging up your space like a fly, gauging your reaction with that smirk you know all too well. And fuck him for saying the truth. You really wish you could slap that shit-eating grin off his handsome face.

“What, for being an alpha?”

“Especially for being an alpha,” he replies, a cocky smirk adorning his plump lips, to which you just roll your eyes. 

He isn’t wrong, and that’s what you hate the most. Alphas are sought after; as a leader, as an heir, as a symbol of dominance and power. They’re at an advantage with everything, including their physique. You have never seen a short alpha; at least none is shorter than you are. Alphas dominate sports, finance and business, politics, education, and even medicines.

It’s hard to argue with Riki’s point of him being the real deal, when the very system you live in is the truth and proof to his claim.

People always want an alpha, and that fact will stay forever so long this system still exists. And it’s a bitter pill to swallow because you also belong to that category—not exactly because you need an alpha, but because a certain first love of yours is, unfortunately, an alpha.

Unfortunate, because alphas only want omegas as their mates.

Not betas. Not you.

And Nishimura Riki is not an exception to that equation.

You are so lost in your own thoughts that you almost missed the entrance to the gym, if not for Riki tugging your sleeve to bring you back to earth. You blink, look at the sign, and sigh.

“Tell me why I’m here again.”

Riki’s face lights up with a grin, dragging you to the entrance. “Because you’re my emotional support,” he jokes again, earning a glare from you.

His voice rumbles in a deep timbre when he chuckles, his other hand pushing the door open and instantly, the familiar chime of the bell greets you with a cold breeze from the built-in air-conditioners. 

Riki turns to you again, ruffling your hair affectionately, the same way he did when the both of you were eighteen; the same way he did when he was thirteen, begging you to wish him luck on his basketball match; the same way he did when you were eight, after you scraped your knees in the playground from a foul play.

“And because you’re a beta, you’re not affected by our pheromones.”

It’s a harmless reminder of your subgender, but it stings nonetheless. You give the receptionist a tight smile, hoping it doesn’t show the resentment you feel towards the flawed system, hoping the cracks from your own heart didn’t make its way into the lines of your mouth.

At first, you thought you were an anomaly to the system.

The doubt was inevitable when Riki presented at the ripe age of eighteen, and pretty much so did everybody else. You remember how lonely the classes were when Riki had to take two weeks off, and then the girl who sat in front of you did the same, and then the class president did so too, until there were only seven of you remaining in the class.

The appropriate age range to present is from sixteen to nineteen years old, but the most common one is definitely eighteen. So you told yourself to be patient and wait for your turn; that it might be you next day.

Then you hoped it’d be you next month.

Then you prayed it’d be you next year.

Then you wished the system never existed at all .

Because after three years, with you now turning twenty-one, the presentation never came. You told yourself it’s fine, it doesn’t exclude you from society because it just simply means that you’re a beta, right? Beta belongs to the subgenders too. But it’s hard to ignore the nagging voice of insecurity somewhere in your mind that keeps telling you how wrong everything is. It’s hard to ignore the changes when the changes happened so fast and so blatantly obvious—like the way Riki’s voice turned deeper, the way he grew into everything that an alpha is meant to be.

While you remained the same.

The poison seals its roots when you’re reminded of your family genetics—where every female of your bloodline was born an omega, someone who’s meant to be with an alpha, someone with a sweet and supposedly-alluring scent that you never get a whiff of. You feel like a tossed-aside rug, a forgotten scene from a movie. Hell, you even feel like an unknown city that keeps getting skipped in every world tour of your favourite boyband. 

Excluded, out of place, and awkward. Like a piece of puzzle that doesn’t belong. Like a wrong digit in an equation, where the existence of you brings a decimal-answer when people are looking for a whole number.

So with a reluctant resignation, one that you wished would never come, you accept your fate that you’re not an anomaly—you’re just normal. You’re just a beta. 

You’re just…not meant to be with Riki.

Perhaps you can try finding a beta that could fill the spot that Riki has. Jake Sim from chemical engineering is also a beta, and he is every bit a gorgeous man. But every time you attempt to look for someone else, someone who’s not over six feet tall, someone who’s not Japanese with features you memorise by heart—you feel your stomach sink with the urge to cry and throw up.

You want Riki. You only yearn for Riki, and it tears you apart that he is everything you want but can’t have.

It’s only morning, and you are already tormenting yourself with the thoughts of your unrequited love, your secret crush, your Nishimura Riki, Riki, Riki. You slump on the desk with a sigh, the lecturer’s high-pitched voice now a faraway island in your mind, earning a low chuckle from Jungwon, another alpha that you befriended on your first day here.

“You okay, Y/N?” 

You muffle a small ‘yeah’ and lift your head to face him, the action making you dizzy. You frown. “Just…a bit hungry. I skipped breakfast.”

Jungwon leans closer, lunch invitation heavy on his tongue, but stops mid-way. His nose scrunches, sniffing the air around you like a bunny.

“Uh, did you wear a new perfume?”

“What?” Sitting straight, you mimic his action and start smelling your clothes. “I don’t?”

Jungwon shifts in his seat, taking another whiff from the space around your neck before leaning back, a glint of amusement and curiosity dancing in his eyes.

“Well, you smell different. In a good way.”

“That’s because I wear Chanel number 5, duh,”  you say matter-of-factly, rolling your eyes to emphasise. Jungwon shakes his head.

“It’s not Chanel,” he moves closer again, and this time you actually retreat back from the sudden proximity. “You smell faintly like caramel. Like freshly baked cookies.”

“Okay, now you’re being creepy. I don’t smell like a bakery.”

Jungwon looks skeptical, watching you with that cat eyes of his, appearing contemplative and deep in thought before he shrugs and finally gives you some space. You breathe out in relief.

“Mhm. It’s about time you had a scent. Though yours is way too sweet for a beta.”

Your body seizes before your mind can catch up, every bone locking in place as you register his words. When you speak, your voice sounds foreign, even to you.

“I’m supposed to…have a scent?”

Jungwon tilts his head, not expecting that question from you. “Yeah? Everyone with a subgender should have one and can smell one. Can’t you smell me?”

No. The word is trapped behind your teeths, afraid to go out in fear of solidifying the truth that you were what you initially thought: an anomaly. Gulping down your nerves, you pretend to focus back on the lessons, though your lecturer’s voice is already drowned out by the loud thumping behind your ribs. 

Jungwon doesn’t buy it, though. That alpha is eyeing you, trying to catch even a tiny telltale of your true emotions.

You settle for a lie. “‘Course I can. You smell disgusting.”

That gets him to react. “Hey! I smell second best to Riki’s pheromones, for your information.” Jungwon gasps, scandalised, and kicks your legs under the table. You suck in a breath, your mind zeroing on the small fragment of his statement: Riki’s pheromones.

You leave the hall an hour later with your brain a whirlwind of panic and unanswered questions, of how much you regret not paying attention to any of your omegaverse classes, of how different you are—again—from the rest of the world, but now with a painful addition that you are also different from a normal beta, and of how Nishimura Riki is allegedly the best-smelling alpha of the century. 

The last thought is the loudest, if it’s not already obvious. But your insecurity seems relentless this time, because every time your brain wanders to how good Riki might smell like, it brings you back to the cold, harsh reality of your dysfunctioning senses. And that’s enough to push you off the edge.

The one-hour lecture was spent with you letting the weight of Jungwon’s words pressing into your mind. The concept of scent and subgenders aren’t foreign; not to everybody else but you. You know that alphas and omegas have a certain smell that tells each other apart. But you never knew that betas have one too.

Or they actually do. And it’s you who have none.

Fuck, why did you only sleep in those omegaverse classes in high school?

The distant voice of your omegaverse teacher nags at the back of your mind as you round the corner towards the library, forcing yourself to commit to another group discussion before you can retire and hide in your room after, but are blessed—or cursed—to see Riki instead. Your breath hitches, your steps halt.

The tall man is leaning against the wall with a laidback posture, one hand in the pocket of his sweats, scrolling his phone with a neutral boredom. Then, as if sensing your presence, he lifts his gaze, and lights up. 

Fuck him, honestly, in every literal and figurative way possible.

He always lights up every time he sees you, and you hate how much meaning it gives you. Like you’re the only sun in his dark universe; like you’re the only water in the middle of the desert when it probably means nothing to him.

“Y/N, c’mere!”

You force a relaxed posture and a small smile as you walk towards him. And then, without warning, Jungwon’s earlier words invade your mind again, and now your whole focus narrows down to the thoughts of the pheromones of the alpha standing in front of you, and the cruelty of your anatomy to decide that you don’t deserve to smell him.

Riki frowns when you get closer, noticing your slightly pale complexion. One of his arms hover, ready to pull you closer like usual. “You good? Did you see a ghost?”

And this time, you let him tug you, pulling you in like a strong whirlpool in the ocean and you are nothing more than a helpless boat, and you almost swore that you heard Riki sniff you. At the chance of standing in such close proximity with him, you dare yourself to nose the collar of his hoodie, inhaling his scent, dreading the nothingness that might come from it.

You hum, surprising even yourself when you can actually smell him. Clean musk, cedar, and sandalwood. He smells homey. But why couldn’t you smell this before? 

“You smell good. Is this your perfume?”

Riki laughs, though there is an edge to it .”What are you doing?”

Ignoring his question, you take a step closer, nosing at the fabric with newfound determination, unaware of the now-rigid posture of your best friend. Riki pushes your shoulders when you shift closer, holding you an arm’s length away from him in a swift motion. You blink, taken aback from the sudden shove, and scrunches your nose when you sense a spike in his scent.

You frown—your senses were never this sensitive.

Riki lets out a small chuckle after a moment of silence—and you can’t help but hear the faint tremble in it—then ruffles your hair. 

“That’s my pheromones, idiot, you know I don’t like wearing cologne. Did you just notice it now?”

Ah. His pheromones. 

So you can finally smell him.

You pause for a heartbeat before smiling. So I’m a normal beta, you think, feeling the relief washes over you, I can smell other people’s scents too. It might be a bit too late to notice these changes, but you’ll take anything that doesn’t label you as the exception to the system. Anything to fit in, anything that doesn’t point you towards the other end of society alone.

“With all that sweat you reek of? Yeah, I just noticed it now.” You retort, throwing him a teasing smile, stepping closer again to nudge his ribs like you always do. 

This time, the sharp inhale that Riki takes is unmistakable. He takes a hold of your wrist and brings it to his nose, sniffing at it like another bunny that reminds you so much of Jungwon just an hour ago.

“You smell…different,” Riki takes another whiff, “did you get too close to an omega?”

Your eyebrows knit. “No, that’s my scent.”

Riki’s expression mirrors yours. “But you never had a scent before.”

“I know, Jungwon also said it’s about time that I had a scent.”

“Jungwon?” Riki echoes, his voice clipped. “You let Jungwon scent you?”

You blink, mouth opening and closing at the sound of his sudden grim voice. “I—No? He didn’t scent me,” you don’t know where this feeling comes from, but the thought of Riki thinking that you were with another man, of upsetting him, makes your stomach drop. “He just sat too close just now. And he smelled me.”

You wince at how wrong it sounded.

Nothing else is spoken between the two of you, save for the distant chatter of passersby and the occasional sound of the library door opening and closing, letting people in and sending them out. You crane your neck to your silent best friend, his clenched jaw catching the hallway lights as he gathers his thoughts.

You’re about to say something to break the silence, but another deep voice calls out to Riki. You peek at his shoulders and see two of his basketball teammates—Heeseung and Jay—calling at him from behind. They wave when they notice your presence, and you wave back once before Riki moves to block your sight.

“I have practice until late. Don’t wait for me,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes are heavy with something unsaid, giving you a gaze that sends shivers down your spine, slightly concealed by the fringes of his dark hair. You nod wordlessly, squeeze his arms goodbye, and watch him jog up to his friends, your mind a mess of everything that has just unfolded.

The day follows you home and into the evening shower, and the thoughts of your newly-discovered developed senses, of Riki, only stops when you put on your pajamas. Your favourite Kuromi set of wool pajamas, the one Riki bought from his last visit to Japan, suddenly sits wrongly on your skin.

It’s itchy and very uncomfortable, which is not what you felt when you wore it last week.

“What the fuck,” you curse, discarding the clothes in an instant. Standing half naked in your own bedroom, you inspect the fabric like a microscope to a cell sample. The fabric feels strange to your touch; it prickles like tiny needles that poke at your skin in an unsettling way. You drop the pajamas on your bed and start looking for another set to wear.

To your frustration, every piece of clothing that you touch doesn’t feel right. Too rough. Too itchy. Too irritating. It only stops when you find your long-forgotten satin nightwear—the one you shoved to the darkest corner of your wardrobe because of how tight it had become. You exhale, the exhaustion from the day pressing on your bones like a wet blanket, slipping on the only fabric that doesn’t feel like sandpaper on skin despite how tight it hugs your body despite yourself.

That night, you drift off to sleep and dream of a certain alpha with the most alluring pheromones, whispering secrets and oaths in messy sheets and slicked, tangled limbs.

The next morning, you wake up with a pulsing pain in your hips and lower abdomen. A groan escapes your lips as you search for your phone, checking the menstrual tracker with your eyes half-open. You are still two weeks away from the next cycle, but the pain is, if not more, merciless and unforgiving as ever. 

But deadlines and tests chase you even in your sleep, so you brave up and force yourself to campus, all pained limbs and sweaty forehead. The painkillers work nothing to numb the pain, and you don’t want to risk going into the ER to swallow another one. So you endure. Or at least, you try to.

“Good morning, Y/N,” comes Jungwon, sharing yet another class with you. But his voice is loud, too loud for the morning to be good, so you snap at him before you can stop it.

“Can you lower your voice? You’re too loud.”

Jungwon stuns into a silence, gaping at you with his mouth hanging open before a flash of annoyances crosses his face. “Dude, I talk normally? What’s so loud about me?”

“You’re being loud now.”

Jungwon throws his hands in the air and plops down with a huff, pursing his lips in protest and refusing to speak to you for the rest of the lecture in an act of tantrum. You don’t say anything either, too occupied with your own thoughts, too irritated by the sounds of pens gliding across papers, too itched by the blouse you’re wearing, to care. At the first sign of the class ending, you bolt out of the class, leaving behind Jungwon and his unheard complaints about how sensitive and snappy you have been.

Sensitive. You’re sensitive all over your body, your senses suddenly reaching a new level of concentration that makes everything feel unbearable and irritating. You ditch the next class and go home, grab a new set of pads on your way, send a ‘sorry’ text to Riki’s lunch invitation, and sleep the day away in silk and satin. You dream of Riki again, of how safe you feel in his arms, of how much you like it whenever he towers over you with his height. You toss and turn all night, then wake up more tired than before when the first sunlight hits.

Weary and exhausted than ever, you groan as the aching in your body returns, and, perhaps amplifies, like something inside you is shifting. Like someone is renovating your organs and rearranging everything into a new layout, into a new system you’re too afraid to find out.

“Fuck,” you peel off every layer of your clothing and make home in your bath tub, basking in the warmth of the running water. Your muscles finally relax, and for the past two days of your pre-menstrual symptoms, soaking in hot water seems to be the only thing that helps. Only a soak and an odorless soap, though—because recently, your favourite sakura blossom-scented body wash has smelled too acidic for you.

When you’re done, you walk out to your roommate, Wonyoung, sitting on your bed with a stack of clothes neatly placed by her thighs. She looks at you with a scrunched nose, wearing an expression akin to concern. You greet her with a small, tired smile.

“Hey, Y/N. I brought my cotton clothes for you, but are you sure you’re okay?” She stands up and walks closer to you, touching your arms gently. “You don’t look good. And your scent…you’re distressed, Y/N. You need a familiar scent to feel better.”

You give her another dry smile. “I’m okay. Just PMS-ing.”

Wonyoung looks at you like she wants to say something but holds back. She rubs a circle into your arms, and for the first time ever, you can smell her—a soft, gentle scent of jasmine and warm milk, like a milk tea you get from a Chinese store. You sigh and unknowingly lean into the omega’s touch.

“Go to the doctor if it gets worse, Y/N,” Wonyoung urges you with a worry-laced voice. You hum and nod absentmindedly, not registering her words fully until she adds, “I think this is something more than PMS.”

Your stomach churns at her words, feeling the uneasiness crawl its way back into your spine. You wave a dismissive hand at her, attempting to look fine when you’re everything but. “I’ll get better after a nap, I promise.”

Wonyoung purses her lips, then nods. With a few words of comfort, she leaves your room, throwing one last look of worry before the door shuts with a click. You grab one of her cotton pajamas, feeling the smooth fabric with a content sigh and slip it on.

The buzz from your phone cuts your train of thoughts. Your heart leaps at the sight of Riki’s name blaring on the screen, hands scrambling to pick it up on the third ring.

“Y/N?” Riki’s deep timbre greets your ears, and you feel the hair rise in your skin. “Hey, where have you been? Jungwon told me you skipped classes today.”

Gosh, how you missed his voice. Overlapping schedules, his tournament preparations, and your aching body have become the reason for your lack of Nishimura Riki for the past three days. Hearing his voice now tugs something at your heart, like you need to see him now. Like you need to hold him now.

“Y/N?”

“Hey, Ki. I’m fine. Just a bit sore here and there, but it’s all good now,” you lie, because the last thing you want is for Riki to get worried about you and distracted from his practice. He can be a worrywart when he wants to be. 

“You sure? Then do you wanna watch my practice now?” he suggests, letting a heartbeat of silence settle between the both of you before he says again, this time with a quieter, almost-shy voice. “I kinda miss your nosy ass.”

That gets a laugh out of you. You, in fact, miss him a lot too. “Glad to know it’s mutual. But what do I get? It’s too cold for me outside.” It’s not even winter yet, but your current condition has been acting like it. You shiver just thinking about stepping out of the comfort of your warm apartment.

“I’ll treat you to some steak after, your highness. And don’t be silly, I have my hoodie with me now.”

Something unknown stirs inside of you at the mention of his hoodie. It’s like something asleep is finally waking up, and your head is dizzy with the thought of his hoodie, his scent, his presence, him, him, him. You hum as a reply, already reaching out to one of Wonyoung’s cotton blouses.

And that reminds you: “It better be cotton, Ki.”

The basketball court doesn’t change from the last time you stepped foot on it, which already feels like years ago with everything that went down between you and your body. Your gaze sweeps over two groups of male players stretching and warming up, looking for a certain dark-haired man. But you stop in your tracks when your nose senses something.

The court smells…weird. You can’t exactly pinpoint what produces that smell, but the source is apparent: it comes from those athletes scattered around the court. You inhale one more time and immediately feel your chest tightens, the urge to turn around and leave suddenly hits you like a truck.

Too lost in your own thoughts, you barely notice the shadow that suddenly looms over your figure until that person speaks.

“Y/N, right?”

You look up and instantly recognise him. Park Jongseong, or Jay, one of Riki’s closest friends from his ‘only-boys’ friend group. You give him a polite nod, noting his still-dry jersey and slightly messy hair. 

“Yes, that’s me.”

Jay’s lips curve into a boyish smile at that, and if it’s not for your huge, pathetic crush on Riki, you’d certainly let yourself fall for the handsome boy in front of you. “Riki’s gone to the locker room for a moment to grab something. Why don’t you sit at the bench first? We are about to start the friendly match soon.”

You agree without thinking, drifting further into the court like it’s routine. You’re a familiar face to them—the beta friend of Riki who always sits in the bleachers to watch him stretch and practice. You settle down on the bench at the furthest corner of the court, away from the buzz of alpha players and the smell that is getting pungent by the second, and closer to one of the goal hoops. Jay has gone to leave for a moment, but returns seconds later with a bottle of mineral water, condensed and wet.

“Have a drink first. He should be back soon.”

You receive it with a grateful smile. Riki always mentions how gentleman Jay is, especially towards the ladies. “Thank—”

“Yo, I already got her water.”

Riki strides in your direction, his voice playful but his expression hardens. He shoves Jay to the side, snatches the bottle given by him from your hand, and replaces it with another one. This time, the water bottle is still cold and wet from condensation, but is now wrapped by a few layers of tissues, just the way you like it. “Drink this instead.”

You beam at him. “Thanks, Riki.”

Beside him, Jay scoffs exaggeratedly. “I can’t believe you. Did it look like I was poisoning her?”

Riki doesn’t cast him a glance, his hands fast to untwist the bottle cap for you before you do, and miss the way heat makes its way on your cheeks. “You grabbed the wrong bottle.”

“Dude, they’re literally the same!”

“But did yours have tissues around it?” Riki shoots a brow up, and that makes Jay close his mouth. “Exactly. Now get lost, hyung.”

“Kids these days,” Jay mutters under his breath. He throws you another small smile before walking away with his rejected—or rather, discarded by Riki—mineral water. There is a triumphant smile on the younger’s face before he looks back at you already staring up at him.

Fuck, you probably look lovestruck. But you don’t find it in yourself to care in that moment.

Riki returns your gaze, his eyes trailing across your face before he ruffles your hair playfully. A giggle escapes your lips, trying to smack his hands away but Riki is always stronger than you. And that realisation makes something warm pool inside your belly.

“Is it still cold for you?” he asks, voice lowered and sounding almost intimate. You nod, willing yourself not to grin too wide when he drops his hoodie in your lap. It’s grey, bigger than your frame, and every inch of it smells like him. Like your Riki. “Wear this.”

The tension rolls off your body when you put it on, breathing in a lungful of his clean musk and sandalwood scent discreetly as Riki takes a seat beside you, his thigh brushing yours. For the first time in three days, the unknown force that’s been keeping you on edge quiets down, your chest lightens and your heart hums in contentment.

Safe. You feel safe. Riki has always been your safe space. But this time, you feel like you belong. Protected. You feel like you’ve been carrying the missing piece your whole life, and now it’s finally here.

“Better?” Riki muses from your side, watching you with an unreadable gaze, taking in the sight of your figure practically drowned in his way bigger hoodie. His jaw clenches, fingers twitching slightly before he forces his eyes back on you.

“Yes. Thank God it’s cotton, Ki,” you joke. Riki rolls his eyes. 

“You know I only wear cotton.”

“Nishimura Riki!”

From the center of the court, Lee Heeseung, the senior you know to be the team captain, calls for your best friend. He groans, shouting back a ‘coming!’ before glancing back at you.

“Just a few rounds of friendly match then I’m all yours, okay?”

Your heart stutters at that. Then, subtle like it’s meant to be a secret, you notice the way Riki freezes, his nose scrunching slightly at something he senses. When his eyes snap back to you, they’re darker now, heated and heavy with something he won’t say. The short exchange renders you breathless, your voice barely audible when you finally speak. 

“Yes. Okay.”

Riki lets his eyes linger on you for a moment before he nods. The warmth of his presence is instantly replaced with silence and coldness when he leaves to begin the match, and your heart deflates at his retreating figure. You grip the bench until knuckle-white, taking a deep breath to soothe your wailing heart, chest suddenly yearning for him to sit back on the bench with you.

“Get a fucking grip, Y/N,” you grit, head dizzy from Riki’s pheromones but your stomach is churning for no apparent reasons. “What the fuck is wrong with you lately?”

You decide to hyperfocus on the match commencing on the court to distract yourself from the confusing yet so consuming feelings that your mind and body have been going through lately. And it works for a while. You almost forgot how attractive Riki looks like when he’s on the court.

As if the universe had chosen him as the new gravity, every fibre of your being is drawn to him and him only. Your eyes follow his figure like a north-end of the magnet to the south, practically documenting his movement like a rolling camera. Riki moves like he dances; smooth and fluid, his reflexes against his opponent are faster than a venus flytrap. His boxy smile graces his features with every goal into the hoops, and you can’t help but let your heart flutter every time his eyes find yours with every point he scores.

You’re in love with Nishimura Riki. Your body knows it, your heart is no old news bearer to this. Heck, you think even your mom and Wonyoung know about this. Everyone does, except the person you love. Except Riki himself.

Loving him is so easy that it scares you sometimes. The hoodie presses on your skin like a symbol of his caring nature and a reminder of his platonic affection altogether.

You let yourself enjoy the match, the squeaking of sneakers against the floor becoming background noises. It’s a steady and peaceful match, or so you thought—until they start shouting. 

It’s a friendly match, but an alpha's nature of competitiveness knows no boundaries. Your eyes flick to the scoreboard, the gap between the teams decreasing with each goal.

“Get your shit together, Taesan!” Heeseung barks at someone near the hoop, posture stiff,  his booming voice makes your stomach twist. Soon, the air is condensed with adrenaline and rivalry, and before you know it, the palpable tension has already made its way into your head.

Your instincts kick-start at the heavy atmosphere, your nose twitching at the overwhelming pheromones that you sense. You gasp, the pain in your hips and abdomen resurfacing again, and this time you actually feel something shift inside. Your eyes widen in horror.

“Oh my God,” you clutch at the bench in desperation when you feel yourself falling. The floor catches you in a soft thud. 

Somewhere in the distance, Heeseung shouts at a mistake the second time, leaving your nerves more restless than before. Your vision blurs, ears ringing with a pitch that is nearly splitting your head open.

The pain, the cramps—they stab deeper, they pulse harder, they scream at you that nothing about this is related to your menstruation. You groan in pain. The pheromones spiking in the air are pressing into your lungs, making every exhale of oxygen a struggle, your head spinning like a planet losing its orbit. Somewhere at the centre of the court, everybody freezes, the ball bouncing away with no one to claim.

Heeseung halts mid-shout. “What the fuck,” he physically recoils at the scent wafting in the air, his nose wrinkling violently, “there’s an omega here?!”

The room holds its breath with him, with you, before heads snap in your direction. 

There, on the floor, you’re crouched down, noises of pain leaving your lips in breathless whispers. Your body is dotted with sweat, your temperature rising with each passing second, eyes wide and glassy. Oh God. Oh God. You clutch your stomach with a pained groan. What is happening to me?

It takes an alpha staggering towards you and a growl for all hells to break loose. Shouts come from every direction, Jay having to physically restrain one of their players from jumping on you. And among the chaos, there is one figure who stands still, a statue of anxiety and a pounding heart as his eyes locked on the outline of your body in his hoodie.

Another wail of pain leaves your lips and Riki finally snaps out of his trance. Without thinking, he’s already running towards you, snarling at another player who’s stepping in your direction and shoving him away with no care to the aftermath. 

He drops to his knees, angling his body to shield you from the raging alphas behind him. His hands hover, not knowing where to touch or if he should touch you at all.

“Y/N? Y/N, oh my God—what—” Riki chokes on the intense scent oozing from your neck, forcing restrain into his mind and body. His jaw clenches when he sees how pale you are, panic mixing with a strange desire to mark you. To claim you. He shakes his head.

“Riki,” you breathe out, rasp and breathless, shivering from the cold despite your warm body. “It hurts. It hurts…”

Riki’s breath stutters at his name on your lips. It does something violent to his chest, like his ribs are caving in around his heart.

“I know,” he says, voice hoarse, forcing it low despite the way his throat wants to tear itself open. He wraps the hoodie tighter around you, hands finally finding purchase at your arms, your waist—grounding, anchoring. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

You’re not. He knows that. He smells it—sharp, sweet, wrong. Too much for this place. Too much for you.

“Everyone back the fuck up,” Riki snarls over his shoulder, teeth clenched as another alpha so much as shifts closer. The sound doesn’t even feel like it comes from him; it’s deeper, rougher, edged with something feral that makes the surrounding players freeze mid-step.

Heeseung recovers first. “Clear the court. Now,” he barks, authority snapping through the haze. “Jay—help me.”

Jay’s already there, shoving bodies away, creating space with his broad frame. “Move. All of you. Unless you wanna get decked.”

Riki barely registers them. His world has narrowed to you—the way you’re trembling, the way your fingers fist weakly into his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.

“It hurts,” you whimper again, forehead dropping against his chest. “Riki, it—”

“I know,” he repeats, softer now, forehead pressing briefly to your hair. His hands shake despite himself. “Don’t talk. Just—just breathe with me, okay? Look at me.”

Your unfocused eyes struggle to lift, but when they do and land on him, something in his chest breaks.

That’s it.

Decision made, instincts roaring.

“I’m taking her,” Riki says, already scooping you up carefully, one arm under your knees, the other braced tight around your back. “Someone call an ambulance. Now.”

No one argues.

As he carries you out of the court, ignoring the burning stares and the lingering pheromones that scrape at his skin, one thought pounds through his head, loud and unrelenting:

I should’ve known. I should’ve protected you.

Riki likes to think that he knows you best.

You have been a constant in his life. Someone less than a companion, more like a feature infused in his system. The vital foundation. Someone that brings out the sides of him that he refuses to show others.

Fifteen years ago, when his family first moved to South Korea, Riki had already expected a dull, boring life. A six-year-old with every knowledge of Japanese but none of Korean, Riki initially thought that his parents were set on making him a loner.

But then came you. Knocking on his door with that small, soft fist of yours, hiding behind your mom’s legs the way he hid behind his mom’s. The both of you shyly looked at each other, listening to your mothers promising friendship and comfort in language that Riki was yet to understand.

Ever since that day, Riki found his life in a foreign country becoming bearable. Bearable, because his next-door neighbour is also his seatmate at school. You have always been the smarter one between the two of you, diligently teaching him how to read, to write, to speak in Korean, with a childlike patience that only someone like you could have. 

Bearable, because his next-door neighbour was also a fierce kid, telling other kids off when they made fun of Riki’s accent. You were small, smaller than him, even, but the fire in your eyes when someone spoke badly of him made you seem bigger than the whole sky.

Bearable, because somewhere along the way; between nights of sneaking out and going home scolded, between every basketball match where your voice always sounded the loudest, between every petty fight and shared laughter during study sessions; Riki finally realised the way you have made home in his heart. 

The way his eyes find your smile first in every joke. The way he looks for your presence before every game, and every time he scores. The way his heart aches with you when you fall sick, wanting the pain to consume himself instead of you.

Nishimura Riki is in love with you. The world seems to know it—except you.

Riki indulged in it, acknowledged it with his heart and arms open, until the day of his alpha presentation came. It was the first time in his life being away from you, separated from your warmth and presence. He spent restless nights dreaming of you, his instincts flaring at him to run and barge into the house next door. 

The same way it does to him now.

Riki likes to think he knows you best, and that includes knowing that you’re a beta—a medical statement that broke his heart when he first found out about it because his mom is so adamant that he mates with an omega.

But now, as he stares at the text sent by your sister, Riki feels like everything he used to know about you dissipates, becoming the very air he inhales that makes his chest feel tighter and limbs heavier. It takes everything in him not to knock on your parents’ house, to force his way in, and cradle you in his arms the way his wolf tells him to.

future sister-in-law

y/n’s presenting as an omega

Two weeks went by in a blur. You drifted in and out of consciousness, your mom and your sister being the only thing you could remember from your fragmented memory. One time you were in the hospital. The next time you opened your eyes, you were back in your childhood room. Your body ached all over; it felt like your bones were shifting into a new spine. 

When the daze of anesthetics finally wears off, a new day has already begun.

And you discover the earth-shattering truth with a shudder. It’s not only the day that’s new.

You’re also, apparently, new.

An omega. You’re now an omega.

“A late presentation, though rare, can happen, and your daughter is one of the chosen ones.”

You don’t know how to make of it. You just nod along, thoughts scattered everywhere, nose catching up scents that weren’t there before—or they’ve always been, but your senses only allow you to detect them now. The blooming rose, fresh rain scent of your mom. The citrusy pheromone of the alpha-doctor sitting in front of you. You have come for another check-up, a detailed medical explanation that your doctor has insisted you to listen to when you’re finally stable.

Your chest tightens as the scents sharpen—and you suddenly understand why your family always looked at you like you were missing something.

It settles wrongly on your chest, like a frame hung in a crooked angle. You’ve been wanting this your whole life—to be able to detect scents, to not feel excluded from the women of your family, to have a chance at love with Riki. 

It’s not that you hate it. You just don’t know what to do with it yet.

“But that also means that you’re quite fragile for now until your first heat cycle comes,” the doctor speaks again, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gives you a reassuring smile, as if noticing your unfocused self. “And from the test results, it should come in very near time. Perhaps a week or two from now.” 

“So soon?” Your mom sits straighter in her seat, leaning closer to peek at whatever medical result on the paper he’s holding. The doctor nods.

“This can only happen to late-presenting omegas. And since her body had developed way past its due age, it can be very dangerous if she spent it alone. She needs an alpha for her first heat cycle.”

That, finally, grabs your attention. Your body stills, the words hanging in the air like guillotine waiting to fall.

“An alpha?” you repeat, sounding disbelieving. The doctor confirms with a hum.

“Yes, a familiar alpha. Based on the examination, it seems that your presentation was triggered by overwhelming and heavy pheromones of agitated alphas. I was informed that you were watching a basketball match before you fainted, correct?” You nod, failing to find your voice to answer. “Omegas are very responsive towards alphas pheromones, especially when those alphas are running on adrenaline and being very competitive.”

Oh. You recall the way Heeseung’s loud voice shook you to your core, finally finding an explanation to the way your body reacted. You shift in your seat, suddenly too aware of your surroundings.

“And to tie it back to your heat cycle, Y/N, are you close with any of those alphas?”

The guillotine finally falls, cutting your oxygen like a cruel punishment meant to kill. You visibly stiffen, a certain face flashing in your mind like a broken record.

It’s your mom who speaks first. “Yes, she is close with Nishimura Riki. He was at the court with her.”

A small smile grazes the doctor’s lips. “Then that may be the safest option. Perhaps he can help with your daughter’s heat, seeing as she has no exclusive partner now.”

The doctor’s words keep looping in your head like a tape stuck on repeat—an alpha…a familiar alpha…

And somehow, you end up outside the locker room, waiting.

Waiting for the one person who has always been your anchor, whether you deserved him or not.

Nishimura Riki.

He steps out of the locker room with his usual lazy confidence, but there is a tension in his shoulders now. His hair is damp from a post-game shower, curly and messy, framing his eyes like velvet curtains. As if he was a radar specialised to sense you, his nose twitches, and then his head snaps in your direction.

There is a brieft silence between the two of you. You raise your hand and wave, and that’s all it takes for Riki to stride towards you with long steps. He drops his bag on the floor, not caring where it lands, and pulls you into his arms.

“Riki—” Your greetings die in your throats, muffled by the soft fabric of his hoodie as he tightens his hold. His palm, big and warm, cradles the back of your head in a firm yet gentle grip. You relax into his embrace, clutching at his hoodie, feeling grounded in his scent. He smells like soap and his own pheromones, and in the quiet, familiar warmth of being engulfed by Riki, you silently admit that your best friend does smell the best.

“God, Y/N,” he whispers, breath fanning the shell of your ears, making your skin tingles, “do you want me to die from worry? No replies, no call back. God.”

Your lips curve into a small smile before you break the embrace, putting a distance between the two of you to look at his face. His handsome, pretty face that you’ve missed so much.

“I’m sorry, Ki. Things were pretty rough.”

Riki doesn’t say anything. His eyes, heavy with care and unspoken desire, rake over your features before he slowly nods.

“I know. I’ve been through it too. How are you now?”

You bite your bottom lip, letting yourself indulge in his caring nature. “I’m good now. A whole lot different, but good.”

Riki’s face relaxes into a relief before he slings an arm around your neck again, his habit that you’re used to now. “Great. Now let me treat you to that steak place, you can’t say no—”

“No, Riki.” You cut him off, and that stops him in his tracks. Riki looks at you in confusion when you detach yourself from him, putting his arm back to his side. You throw the locker room a nervous glance, before looking back at him.

“There’s something…I must tell you.”

Riki’s scent spikes. You feel it like a soft punch in your chest. 

“What is it?” he asks, voice too low, like he’s scared of what’s to come.

“I…you know I’m a late-presenting omega, right? The doctor says that I’m quite unstable now,” you swallow, fiddling with the edge of your sweater. The words are heavy on your tongue, like lead pressing on a mattress. 

 “My heat will come in a week, and…and I must spend it with an alpha to regulate myself back.”

Riki doesn’t move, and so do you. And in that moment, you feel it. The impending consequences that come from telling him the truth. But between losing a friendship with Riki, being denied from his company that’s caused by your unrequited love, and letting yourself into another person’s life, forever yearning for Riki but still remains his friend; you’ll always choose the latter.

Because you’ll have him, as whoever he is; as your friend, your unrequited love, your crush—than a stranger.

“Y/N—”

“I need Jay to be that alpha.”

His eyes darken. “What?” Riki tries to keep it calm, but his voice is low and tight. “What do you mean, Jay?”

You take a deep breath, suddenly feeling the walls too close to your skin. Across from you, Riki is staring with a sharp, heavy gaze, his eyes pleading for an explanation.

He takes a step closer. “Why Jay?”

“I—I mean, you always told me that Jay is a gentleman. And if you trust him so much, then I think…” your voice trails off when Riki takes another step, but you’re determined to stay rooted in your place. 

“You think you can trust him just because I do?” He continues for you, his voice now an octave lower. You swallow.

“Not just because you trust him,” you say, voice shaky. “Because… because he’s the only one I know who won’t take advantage of me.”

Riki’s jaw tightens. His eyes narrow as if he’s trying to bite the words out of you.

“You think I would?” he snaps, then immediately regrets the sharpness in his tone.

His expression changes. Softer now, but still intense.

“I would never—”

You shake your head, too quickly. “No, Riki. That’s not what I mean. It’s just—” Your breath hitches, and your voice breaks. “You’re my best friend. I—We can’t. Best friends don’t do that.”

The words hit him like a strong wave, and it might as well be true from the way he falters in his stance slightly. You feel his distress before you smell it; burnt sandalwood and bitter musk, a telltale sign of his emotions. Your heart lurches in your throat, begging you to embrace and comfort the alpha in front of you.

But before you can do anything, Riki takes a step back first. He nods curtly, schooling his expression despite his scent. 

Then he speaks, voice low and clipped, like he’s swallowing a scream.

“Yeah. Best friends don’t.”

“Riki—”

“I’ll ask Jay about it,” he says, his voice sounding distant. Your heart breaks. “He’s a gentleman. He’ll be willing to help you.”

Without waiting for your reply, Riki turns around. He snatches his bag off the floor, posture rigid and tense as he walks away, leaving you behind with guilt clawing at your throat. Your legs weaken, and before you know it, you are back on the bench, clutching at your heart and feeling like you have broken something you shouldn’t.

riki ducky

jay agreed

You stare at the text, the last and only text you received from Riki since that fateful day at the locker room. He’s been avoiding you like a plague, keeping distance, and ignoring your texts and calls like you’re a desperate ex. You sigh. 

“I just—I don’t want to ruin our friendship! He’s the only alpha I want, but—” you run a hand through your hair. Wonyoung is slouching on the other end of the couch, listening to you like an unpaid therapist. “But does he want me?”

Wonyoung licks her popsicle and throws you a knowing look. “In my opinion, Y/N—you just need to go to his apartment. Trust me on this.”

You groan. “I just asked you that question! We don’t even know if he wants me!”

“Oh my God,” Wonyoung rolls her eyes, kicking at your thigh from where she’s sitting. “You guys are so insufferable and dramatic. Just go before I deliver you to him myself.”

“I’m not a parcel!”

“Just go!”

So, with reluctance and doubt scratching at your skin, you drag your feet to Riki’s apartment. It has been five days since he talked to you, and with your heat approaching fast, with your pre-heat symptoms wearing at your bones like a curse, you’re not sure if it’s the right idea to do so. He might kick you out. He might not even answer. Either way, it’ll be less embarrassing with no witnesses because Riki lives alone.

Stupid rich Japanese kid.

To your surprise, the door opens after the first ring, revealing a disheveled, messy Riki. His hair is tousled, like it’s been run by his fingers way too many times. His tank top sits snugly on his body, slightly crumpled and damp from sweat. His eyes, usually bright and lively, are now sharp and dark. You blink at him, taking in his unkempt figure swallowing the doorway with his height, before you finally ask:

“Can I come in?”

Riki opens the door wider like an invitation, letting you pass the threshold before closing it shut with a click. He lets you toe off your shoes, lets you lead him into the living room, lets you admire his furniture arrangement—though right now the space is untidy with unfolded clothes and discarded socks—but says nothing.

The hush between the two of you stretches, until Riki decides to break it, his voice low and grim.

“Why are you here? You should be with Jay.” 

There is a hint of bitterness in his tone, and the spike in his scent just proves it further. You take a step towards him, careful and slow, waiting for his permission. When Riki doesn’t move, when he doesn’t stop you; you take another step.

“Riki,” you start, hands raising to touch his arms but dropping them back. Riki only stares. “What’s wrong, Riki? You’ve been avoiding me.”

Riki doesn’t answer right away, a storm behind his eyes as he only stares at you with a blank face. But the twitch in his jaw doesn’t go unnoticed. “I’m not avoiding you,” he mutters, a barely restrained voice that tugs at your heart. “Just busy.”

“You’re not even replying to me,” you speak again, hearing the crack in your voice. Riki stiffens, his hands clenching into fists. “It—It hurts, Riki. I don’t know why you can’t just talk to me.”

Riki says nothing. His mouth is a prison, staring at you like he’s figuring how to breathe again. His scent reaches you—clean musk and sandalwood—only now it feels heavier, like the fragrance has been pulled down by the weight of his emotions. The sandalwood smells faintly burnt, and the musk has a dull edge, like he’s been holding his breath for too long.

And you hate it. You hate it so much that he’s been keeping things to himself. In another desperate attempt to get him talking, you tug at his wrist, the skin warm under your touch, but you flinch when Riki snatches his hand away. Wide-eyed and caught off guard, you stare at him with your heart in your throat.

Riki takes a step back, his mouth curling into a tight line. “Don’t touch me. I—I can’t deal with this right now.”

There is a jab of pain in your heart at his words, but you’re not backing down. Not now when the only person that you’re scared to lose is showing signs of slipping away. Not now when the wolf inside you is whimpering, agitated from Riki’s actions.

You have an idea where this is all coming from. Truly, you aren’t that stupid to not notice his distance right after you requested to spend your heat with Jay. If you have to point in one direction, you’d say that Riki has been acting like a jealous boyfriend. Surprisingly, that speculation doesn’t bother you. 

It’s the why that’s drilling into your mind, pulling you away from a good night’s sleep everyday. It’s the why that’s invading your thoughts, fraying every nerve in your system, keeping you hostage to your own overthinking.

Because admitting them will give you hope—and hope is a dangerous thing when you’re in love. Especially when it’s one-sided. Especially when it’s just you on the boat, drowning like a locked chest into the abyss when your lifeline, your Riki is walking away from the shore.

So you try to brave up. “Please, Riki. Don’t shut me out,” you exhale shakily, the words lodging in your throat, “if this is about me and Jay, you should just tell me.”

That seems to hit a spot. Riki scoffs, weaving his fingers through his already-messy hair, sounding disbelieving. “What, you think I’m jealous?”

Your eyes narrow, pulse racing in your ears. “It does seem like it.”

Riki returns your gaze, clicking his tongue, the one habit he does when he’s annoyed. “Don’t push it, Y/N,” he doesn’t hesitate his next words, eyes locked onto yours like he wants you to digest and understand them. “You can fuck Jay if you want. I couldn’t fucking care less about you.”

The words land like a slap, but it’s Riki who flinches. He stares at you, eyes widening, realisation dawning upon his features. But it’s too late. 

Your scent takes a sharp turn, burnt caramel filling the air. You stagger one step backwards, and Riki’s heart lurches when he sees your glassy eyes.

You swallow. “I see.”

“No,” Riki whispers, his wolf wailing in regret at the sight of your anguished, crumbled face, “fuck, Y/N. I—I didn’t mean that.”

You shake your head, a small, humourless laugh slipping past your lips like something is breaking. And it’s probably your heart. It’s definitely your heart. “It’s okay,” you say, too calmly. Too gently. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Riki’s chest tightens at that. At how quiet you suddenly are.

You turn away from him, movements stiff, deliberate, like if you move too fast, you’ll shatter. Each step you take feels heavy, your body screaming for you to get out before you embarrass yourself further. Before he sees you cry.

“Y/N, wait!” Riki reaches out instinctively, fingers grazing nothing but air as you slip past him.

You don’t look back. You can’t. Your throat burns, your vision blurring as you make your way toward the door. The apartment feels suffocating now, walls closing in, every trace of his scent pressing down on your lungs.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry for hoping. Sorry for loving him. Sorry for thinking you meant more.

The click of the door unlocking sounds painfully loud in the silence.

“Y/N.”

His voice cracks this time. Not sharp. Not defensive. It’s bare.

You pause, hand resting on the handle, shoulders trembling despite your efforts to stay composed. Your scent curls tighter, darker—burnt sugar and salt, grief bleeding into the air.

“I can’t stay here,” you say softly. “Not if that’s how you feel.”

The door opens a fraction before Riki’s hand slams against it, stopping it from opening any further.

You gasp, startled, heart leaping into your throat as his palm presses flat against the wood beside yours. He’s breathing hard now, chest rising and falling like he’s been running after something he’s terrified to lose.

“I said I didn’t mean it,” he forces out, voice rough, desperate. “Don’t—don’t leave. Please.”

Slowly, you turn back to look at him.

Riki’s eyes are red-rimmed, frantic, his scent spiraling wildly—clean musk fractured, sandalwood raw and aching, like it’s been split open. He looks nothing like the composed alpha who pushed you away moments ago.

“I can’t let you walk out like this,” he says, quieter now, like a confession he’s been holding back for years. “Not because of something I said just to hurt you.”

His fingers curl against the door, knuckles white.

“Please,” Riki whispers. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

Your lips tremble as the dam breaks. “Then why,” you sob, pushing at his chest weakly, “why would you say those things? Why would you push me away?”

Your hands feel useless against his broad body, like you’re trying to hold back a storm with nothing but your fingertips. Your breath comes out in ragged bursts, and you can’t stop the hot tears spilling down your cheeks. The air around you feels heavy, thick with the scent of him — sandalwood and something sharper, like his anger clinging to him even now.

“I know, I’m sorry, baby,” his voice is quiet, not at all budging from your soft hitting. It’s strange how calm he sounds when you feel like you’re breaking apart. He grabs your wrists, bringing them to his lips. His mouth is wet, trembling.

You pause.

His lips brush your skin again, a gentle pressure that feels almost reverent. It makes your heart twist, because you don’t know whether to feel comforted or crushed. You’re still shaking, still sobbing, still trying to understand how he could make you feel so safe and so hurt in the same breath.

“I care about you too much. So much that it drives me crazy.”

Riki finally looks up, his glassy eyes mirroring yours. The sandalwood now hangs bare in the air, stripped of any traces of pride. He looks smaller, like the weight of what he’s feeling is pressing him down.

“I’m so fucking jealous, Y/N. I—I can’t,” Riki swallows, closes his eyes in desperation, and then he drops.

He drops to his knees, and the sudden movement makes your breath hitch. His neck cranes to see you, like he needs to make sure you’re still there. His arms, pliant and strong, wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you in like you’re the only thing that keeps him from falling apart.

You can feel his heartbeat through his chest, fast and wild, matching your own. For a moment the world is just the two of you—his scent, his trembling breath, your tears—everything else fading until all that exists is the raw, aching truth between you.

Riki buries his nose into your stomach, the fabric dampens with his tears. “I’m sorry, so sorry, Y/N. Please, and this time I mean it, please don’t go to Jay.”

Your hands hover at your sides, not knowing where to place them. When you feel the muffled sob against your stomach, you finally let them drop into his hair, caressing the strands like you do a puppy. And right now, in this position and situation, Riki doesn’t seem less than one.

“Riki…” you whisper, soft and gentle.

“Please don’t go to Jay,” he pleads, looking up to you again, tears clinging to his lashes. Your heart clenches at the sight. “Please let me be your alpha. Please,” he confesses, gripping at your shirt like a lifeline.

“I only ever know to love you, Y/N,” he trembles like a dead leaf, his breath shaky, “And it kills me to even imagine you with someone that’s not me.”

Your lips part, your hands in his hair stilling.

I only ever know to love you, Y/N.

You don’t move at first. You think you don’t even breathe. You replay his words, re-reading the sentence in your mind as if scared the alphabets might rearrange themselves into something else—something that would call you out of your delusion.

But Riki, staring up at you earnestly, handing his heart over to you in his trembling palms, is not a delusion. He’s real. And he’s here, with you, saying words you only ever heard in your deepest fantasies.

You feel your shoulders sag a fraction, like something heavy just settled into place. 

“Riki, come here.” You tap slowly at his arms, willing yourself to hide your shaky voice. “You’ll hurt your knees, baby. Come here.”

“Come back to me.”

Riki obeys without thinking twice. His height towers over you, and when it used to feel like he’s as far to reach as he is physically from you; now it feels safe. It feels firm, grounded; a protection only he can give you. 

You cup his cheek, gazing into his eyes with a fondness you reserve only for him. The tears come back, but it’s not from pain anymore. There is a tinge of hurt still, from the words he carelessly threw to protect his pride. But his confession, your revelation, take priority now. It presses heavy on your tongue, begging to be let out, to escape from the misery of your unspoken feelings.

“Riki,” you start, almost breathless. “I love you, too.” 

Riki almost stops breathing, but you keep caressing his cheeks to remind him to. To remind him that it’s true. 

“I’ve always been. Even before I knew what it meant.”

Riki takes in a sharp breath before he lets himself lean into your touch. Pulling you into his arms, he buries his nose into your hair, inhaling lungfuls of your scent like a stray cat finally finding a home. You melt into his embrace, feeling every hard line of his body pressing into yours.

“I’m so sorry for feeling scared,” Riki whispers, still wet from tears, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship. You’re too precious to me, Y/N. I can’t risk that.”

You hum into his shoulders, taking in the way his scent becomes warmer, the sandalwood now is rid of its burnt edge. “I’m still hurt, but I get it. I was scared too, Ki. It’s the only reason why I asked for Jay.”

Apparently, Jay’s name serves as a trigger now. Riki breaks the hug and looks into your eyes, now dark with a desire waiting to be unleashed. He cups your jaw in a gentle manner, but the grip is firm.

“Will you let me take care of you?”

You nod, and when his face leans closer to yours, you let yourself get pulled in by the force of his affection; of the desire now curling and swirling in his eyes.

“Will you let me be your man?” he whispers, lips just a breath away from each other now. Riki noses your cheek with a tenderness akin to handling a glass. “Hm? Answer me, Y/N.”

Your breath hitches. “Yes, Riki. Please take care of me.”

Riki’s eyes soften as he stares into your eyes before he finally lets his lips engulf yours. The kiss starts slow at first, careful and tender and wet, tethering on the new boundaries made after a line has been crossed, before it gets heated and needy. 

Riki kisses like a starved man, like your mouth is a well of water to quench his thirst. His hands now wander; gripping at your waist, squeezing at your hip, feeling your body with his rough, calloused hands like he’s trying to memorise you by touch.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, his body pressing into yours. He breaks the kiss, breath now ragged, and stares at you with a new level of depth that makes something inside you flutter. Your eyes are glassy and dazed, and Riki curses at himself for letting himself get carried away.

“I’m so sorry. Is your heat near?”

When you nod, Riki moves slightly, but your hands are faster, clamping around his arms like a pair of cuffs. “Where are you going?” there is a pout in your voice, and Riki near damn coos. “You said you’ll take care of me.”

Riki’s jaw clenches, his hands flexing at his sides, a barely contained desire that he tries so hard to control. “I—I want to, Y/N, trust me. But this—” he gestures at the both of you, trying to create words from air, “this will change everything about us. We can’t stay as just friends after this. And that’s a big thing, Y/N.”

Riki licks his lips, eyes flicking to yours in a brief glance before he looks to the floor again.

“I don’t want you to make hasty decisions or regret anything.”

Your chest swells at that, and you couldn’t help the grin that splits across your face. Rubbing into his arms in soothing circles, you can’t keep the love and affection from bleeding into your voice when you speak.

“I won’t regret anything with you, Riki.” You pause, watching the man before you earnestly. God, he’s so handsome. You smile. “I want to do this with you, Ki. I choose you. And I’ll have you so long you want to have me, too.”

Riki doesn’t move. His eyes search yours, looking for the faintest hint of discomfort and lies. But when all he can see is your eyes reflecting his love, he finally lets the tension off his shoulders.

“Okay,” Riki nods, wetting his lips once more. “Okay. I—thank you for that, Y/N, truly. I was about to kidnap you if you said no.”

You laugh at that, eyes wrinkling in joy, the tension easing up a bit. Riki touches your cheek, thumb brushing your tears slowly before letting go.

“Can you wait in my bedroom? I need to call your mom first. She needs to know that I’m about to eat her daughter alive.”

A rosy heat blooms across your face before you hit his shoulders playfully. Riki throws you a smirk, shrugging with nonchalance.

“What? Aren’t I a good future son-in-law?”

“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes, but the wide grin you have betrays you completely. “Be quick, Ki. Don’t leave me for too long.”

“Oh, I will, baby. I’m a greedy man after all.”

Riki winks, and you groan. To save yourself from further embarrassment, you make a small run for his bedroom, feeling his eyes boring holes into your skull as you leave.

The living room seems to expand in your absence. Riki lets out a low, dark chuckle. He pockets his phone out of his sweatpants and makes a quick dial to your mother.

It’s just a brief call, with him letting your mother know what’s going to go down in less than forty-eight hours, listening to the relief in her voice when she realises it’s going to be him. After giving her his words of promises, Riki finally heads to his room.

The door creaks open and in an instant, a heavy, thick wave of vanilla scent washes over him. Riki staggers, gripping his phone in an attempt to recover from the smell of arousal practically dripping in the air.

His eyes find you on the bed, and the sight nearly takes his breath away.

There, perched on the bed, body slicked with sweat and completely naked, is you. You’re hugging his blanket to your nose, inhaling his pheromones, dizzy from his masculine, earthy sandalwood.

Your eyes meet his, glassy and dazed, drunk on hormones and heat.

“It’s hot, Riki,” there are wet noises coming from you, and only then does he realise that you have been fucking yourself on your fingers, using your own slick as lube. Riki feels his cock throb, eyes tranced on the way your hips move. “Smell so good, alpha, need you to fuck me.”

Your heat is here, and the trigger has been his own pheromones, which smells the strongest in his room. Riki curses under his breath, mentally slapping himself for overlooking the effects his pheromones over omega nearing their heat. He pushes the door close with his foot, not breaking eye contact with you as you moan, fingers moving faster.

Riki’s hold on his phone is knuckle-white, feeling the restraint leaving his body with every inhale of your intoxicating scent. 

“Alpha,” you pant, fisting at his blanket closer, and Riki swears he’s leaking precum. “Need you s’bad. Please.”

Riki wills himself to not jump on you, hands clenching and unclenching as he tries to steady his own breathing. 

It’s probably the hardest he’s ever tried.

Closing his eyes, he forces control into his system, chanting like a mantra that he’s here to help you with your heat, to make it less painful for you. That now it’s about you and not him, and Riki will pull the trigger himself if he ever touches you in any way that you don’t consent to.

Taking one last breath, Riki opens his eyes again. This time, there is a primal need lurking in his gaze, but it feels grounded and controlled. He circles the bed slowly, letting your noises greet his senses like music of sins. He puts his phone on the bedside and turns to face you, still not saying anything.

You scramble to kneel on the bed and pull him close by his waistband, fingers soaked and shaking. Your big, misty eyes peer at him through your lashes, practically begging him to take you.

“Riki, please.”

His rough palm cups your cheeks, breath getting shallow and short. 

“Please what, baby?” he finally speaks, low and sensual. You pout.

“Please fuck me, alpha.”

Riki groans and finally, finally, leans down and captures your mouth in a rough kiss. You sigh, tugging his hair as you deepen the kiss. Your teeth clash against his, his tongue licking into your mouth, pushing back your moans into your throat.

“Such a needy baby,” he rasps, grabbing your hips as he moves you to the center of the bed, manhandling you with ease. You bite your lips at the show of his strength. “Can’t even wait for me, hm? Should I just leave you with your fingers?”

You shake your head frantically, choking out a moan when Riki slides up his clothed knee against your folds. “No, please. Need your fingers. Need your cock, Riki.”

“Yeah?” Riki taunts, his eyes darkening as you hump your cunt on his knees, desperate for friction and release. He leans down, silver chain dangling cold against your hot skin, catching the shell of your ear with his teeth. 

“Tell me how much you need it, baby,” he purrs, leaving hot trails down the side of your throat. You tilt your head back, offering your neck like a meal. And what a fucking meal you are to him. “Tell me how badly you need my thick cock in your pussy right now.”

He sucks on the tender skin to leave a mark before moving to litter more of it on your skin. You mewl, gripping his shirt desperately.

“Need you to—ah—need your cock to fill me up,” you whimper, arching your back when Riki descends, closing his mouth around one of your nipples. He sucks on it like he does a lollipop, flicking his tongue at the perky nipple, his other hand kneading your other boob. “Need you to fuck me until I can’t think—ah! Riki!”

His finger finds your clit and flicks the nub, pressing and rolling it with a precision that has you choke on lust. “I’ll fuck you good baby,” he rasps, watching you with his sharp, dark eyes, capturing your expressions into his memory. His sweatpants tighten painfully. “But I need to prepare you first, hm?”

“No,” you sob, hips bucking into his touch. Riki’s eyes never leave yours, his arm still holding himself strong over your body. “I’m ready. Just fuck me, please.”

Riki coos and kisses your tear-stricken face. “I know, baby. You’re fucking soaked down there.” He groans, feeling another slick ooze out of your hole as if proving his point. Riki bites his lip. “But I don’t wanna hurt you—fuck, you’re grinding on my palm, baby.” Riki lets out a dark chuckle, letting you use his palm to get off. “So fucking greedy.”

You whine when he removes his hand, your hole clenching at nothing. Riki pulls your ankle to the edge of the bed, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he slowly kneels for the second time that night, his hot breath fanning on your weeping cunt.

He draws a lungful of your arousal and groans, the scent wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

Caramel and vanilla fill his lungs, and for a moment his whole body stills—like he’s been struck by how perfectly you’re made for him. Riki holds your gaze, refusing to look away when he licks a fat stripe on your folds.

“Oh!” Your hand flies to tug at his hair, a sob escaping your lips. Riki laps at your cunt again, humming at the sweet taste on his tongue, flicking that muscle between your slits before pressing onto your clit. You choke, squishing his head between your thighs.

“So good, alpha, feels so good,” you cry out, grinding on his tongue as he plays with your clit. “‘M close, gonna come, ah, ah—”

The orgasm jerks your entire body, your vision going white for a few seconds. But Riki doesn’t stop. His eyes are hooded as he drinks in your juice, lapping at your folds without wasting a single drop before he slips in his index finger.

Your body arches off the mattress. “Riki!” You scream, the stretch burns but it burns so fucking good. He slides in another digit, finger-fucking you through another orgasm, caressing and pressing the spongy walls with all the fervor of a hungry man. His tongue continues flicking your clit, the numb bundle of nerves sending a tingling sensation across your body.

Tears brim along your lashline, too drunk on lust and heat pheromones and overstimulation. “‘M close, Riki, ah,” you pull his hair, eliciting a groan that vibrates in your pussy. “Riki!”

Your second climax hits you in shockwaves. The man between your legs kitty-licks your pussy, letting you ride out your orgasm before he climbs onto your figure. His mouth and chin are wet from your slick, lips shining with sin and spit.

“You taste divine, my love,” he pops his fingers into his mouth and makes a show of his tongue swirling around his cum-coated digits, sucking on the remnants of your juice. You mewl. “I can eat you out forever.”

You watch him grin, still breathless from your previous orgasm. But the heat crawls back into your nerves and before you know it, you’re wet again, needy again. Riki knows it, of course he does. He settles himself between your legs, peeling off his drenched tank top.

Your mouth waters at his well-defined body. You’ve always known how hot your best friend is, especially after his alpha-presentation. He’s all muscles and sinful lines, sculpted by the Greek gods themselves. Riki knows he’s hot, and he never fails to show you that he knows; if his smirk is anything to go by.

“My baby’s been waiting for my cock, aren’t you?” His thumb grazes your bottom lip with a gentleness that clashes with the hunger in his eyes. You hum, feeling his eyes soften on you.

Riki leans down and gives you a soft, slow kiss. He pecks the tip of your nose before caressing your cheek with his. Inside, your omega purrs in satisfaction at the display of affection.

“Tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

You nod. Riki nudges your nose with his, his mouth curving into a small smile. “Use your mouth, baby.”

“Yes.” You breathe out, and your legs hook around his waist without thinking, pulling him closer. You grind your bare cunt against his clothed length, slow at first, then faster, as if you need to prove something to yourself. The fabric presses into you, and the friction sends a shock through your nerves. Riki groans, a disbelieving chuckle leaving his lips before he straightens up.

His eyes never leave you. “So impatient,” he sighs, his voice low and amused. 

He yanks his sweatpants and boxer off in one go, hissing when his cock springs free, rock-hard and rigid. You almost drool at the sight.

He’s big. Fuck, he’s too damn big.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?” Riki grunts, stroking his cock in languid motions, slicked with his precum,  watching your face like a predator stalking its prey.

Your eyes stay glued to him, glazing over in a trance. You can’t stop staring, like you’re afraid to blink and lose the image.

“So big,” you murmur, your voice shaking.

Riki can’t help the triumphant smirk on his face, his alpha howling in pride.

“Too big, alpha, fuck.”

“I know,” he rasps, lining his cock against your entrance,“I don’t even know if it will fit.”

Then, with a single thrust, he slides in. You gasp, the sting blooming sharp and hot before melting into something dizzying, your stomach tightening as if it’s being pulled inward around him.

“But you will make it fucking fit.”

Riki pushes in inch by inch, noting every micro-expression of discomfort in your pretty face, your breath stuttering, hands gripping at him as the pressure curls low in your belly.

“Tell me if it hurts, love.”

“It hurts,” you croak, the words breaking apart on your tongue, wrapping your arms around his neck, mouth moving against mouth. “But it hurts so good, Riki.”

Riki kisses you through the pain, whispering comfort and praises into your ears, easing you into it. When he finally bottoms out, you almost sob again, the fullness stretching deep, heavy and overwhelming, heat pooling in your stomach until it feels like you can’t think past it.

“Still good?” Riki asks, jaw clenching at the feeling of your walls hugging his length. You nod, feeling the tension in your muscle unclench.

“Y-You can move now, Riki.”

Something dark glints in his eyes. “I can’t fucking move, baby,” he chuckles lowly, the sound torn and breathless, vibrating straight into you, “your pussy’s sucking me in.”

You moan at his crude words, your walls clenching around his dick. Riki lets out a curse before sliding out and thrusting back in with a snap of his hip. You scream, the sound sharp and unplanned, nails scratching his arms as your stomach clenches tight.

“S’tight, love,” he gives you another sharp thrust, hitting that sweet spot easily, breath mingling with yours. “Pussy so tiny, baby, fuck,” he growls into your ears. You nod, mind turning mushy from heat and pleasure. “Can you feel me deep inside your—fuck—tight cunt,” he pants, each word making your belly flutter helplessly, shoving his cock with a powerful thrust that has you seeing stars, “filling you up with my fat cock?”

“Yes!” you sob, voice cracking, breath hitching between syllables, wetting your face with another round of tears. The air smells of pheromones and sex, slicked bodies tangled in sheets. “More, more, more, please.”

“So fucking good to me,” Riki stares you down, eyes clouded with lust, drinking in the way your breasts jingle every time his hips meet yours. He moans. “You’re so beautiful, my pretty baby. Were you gonna let Jay see you like this?”

Your walls instinctively clench at the image, your stomach dropping hot and heavy, and Riki lets out a dark, wicked laugh at that. His gaze sharpens, his pace getting rougher and sharper as he looks at you with newly-lit fire in his eyes. 

“You’re so fucking shameless,” he spits.

You whine from his harsh words, but your body only responds more, slick pooling hotter between your legs. The shame digs into your ribs, but the need overrides it.

Riki’s jaw twitches.

“Were you gonna beg for his cock, huh? You think he can fuck you good like this?”

“No—Riki, no—only you—ah, oh God.”

His thrusts don’t slow. They become relentless, each one harder than the last, his hips snapping in a steady rhythm that leaves you breathless. Your moans bounce off the walls, high and broken, tangled with the wet sound of skin meeting skin, as you shake your head, shame and lust clawing at your throat.

Riki lifts your hips and grabs your ass, the new angle making you roll your eyes in pleasure. You bite down on your lip, trying to hold back the sound, but the sensation is too much.

“Yes, yes—there! Fuck, Riki, more, please,” you moan, high-pitched and broken, feeling the familiar rush inside your belly.

His breath comes out ragged, his body leaning forward like he’s trying to bury himself into you. The heat between you tightens, and you can feel the way his length presses deeper with each thrust.

“I’m never letting go, baby,” Riki pants, damp fringes framing his eyes, his thrust growing faster and sloppy. “This pussy is fucking mine.”

“‘M yours,” you slur, mind turning fuzzy from the feeling of his cock splitting you open. “I’m only—ah—yours!”

“That’s right, baby,” Riki growls, pressing into your hips with a bruising grip. His breath is frantic, his voice pitching into a higher tone. “You’re fucking mine, shit—I’m close.”

“Please give me your knot—ah!” You scream, begging for his knot and cum incoherently, drool trailing down your chin. A stuttered moan leaves your chest when Riki thumbs at your clit, bringing you closer to the edge. His bulge is growing inside you, and you shudder in anticipation for his knot.

“Take my fucking knot,” he grunts, and you nod, mind going hazy from being fucked dumb.

“Knot—give me your knot—alpha—I’m—close! Oh God, Riki!” His name tears off your throat in a shrill scream, drowning out Riki’s low, guttural growl as he comes with you. His cock inflates inside your belly, pumping into you full and stretched, riding out the waves before he collapses on top of you, careful not to let his weight crash over you.

“Hey,” Riki whispers after a pause, brushing your hair from your forehead, his heart clenching at the sight of your tears. “Baby, is it too much? You good?”

You let out a low hum, closing your eyes as Riki peppers your face with kisses. Your body feels heavy, pleasantly spent, limbs loose like you might melt straight into the mattress if he lets go.

“M’good,” you murmur, voice thick and sleepy. “Just… a lot.”

Riki exhales, something like relief softening his features. He shifts carefully, cautious of the knot still swelling inside your belly, adjusting the sheets around you both, one hand resting warm and steady on your waist like an anchor. “Yeah,” he whispers, brushing his thumb under your eye. “I figured.”

He stays like that—no rush, no urgency—just tracing slow, absent patterns against your skin, grounding you back into yourself. Every now and then, he presses a kiss to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, like he’s checking that you’re still here with him.

“You did so good,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “So brave.”

Your chest tightens at that, but this time it’s not overwhelming. It’s gentle. Safe. You shift closer, instinctively tucking yourself against him, and Riki immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you in without hesitation.

“I love you,” Riki whispers into your hair. The thrill and adrenaline finally die down, leaving behind small tingles of love and affection that makes your chest feel too small. You tighten your hold.

“I love you too, Riki,” you sigh, feeling another wave of heat coursing through your veins. Shit. You almost forgot that you’re in heat. Riki only laughs when he feels your hole pushing out more slick.

“My baby’s so horny, yeah?”

“It’s the heat!” You hide your face in his chest, cheeks burning, then peek one eye open at him. Riki’s starry eyes hold yours, unhurried, like he has nowhere else to be but in your arms. You shy away. “Can we do another round? Please?”

He laughs, a deep, throaty laugh that warms up your chest. Planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, Riki meets your pleading eyes with a boxy grin.

“Of course we can, my love,” he murmurs, “anything for you.”

A comfortable silence falls over you like a weighted blanket. Riki rubs his nose against your scent gland, basking you in his warm sandalwood and clean musk, feeling you grow relaxed in his arms as you wait for the knot to deflate before you speak again.

“And can you actually bring me to that steak place after my heat ends?”

Riki snorts quietly. “Yeah,” he says, tightening his hold on you. “I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

dividers by: @pagedgaps <3

[hoonguin]

꒰﹕﹒ i lawb you ❀ nishimura riki

⌗ in which . . . you’re assigned to capture a notorious mafia leader, only to discover that he’s your former lover — nishimura riki

流星 ໑ . .  mafialeader!riki x femdetective!reader

⌗ includes . . . smut (18+), strong language, power imbalance, moral conflict, possessive behavior, professional conduct, unresolved feelings, ex-lovers to whatever that was, riki talks you through it 🤤 overstimulation, cockwarming, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral sex (m. receiving), rough sex, multiple orgasms, power play, car sex, praise kink, light degradation, size kink, use of restraints ➜ mdni ! or do.. it's up to you ♡ purely a work of fiction, none of this is real | wc: 10.2k

♪ el’s bubble: president el just wanted to share with the class that this piece was made with a loooot of love (she had way too much time and too many ideas) 🙏 spent at least three days working through this but we made it out of the woods ! i genuinely couldn’t stop thinking about him in melbourne and this one specific clip of him i saw on tiktok so yeah . . this was a request by anon, so thanks a bunch anon 😛 please enjoy — likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are deeply appreciated on here ♡ requests are always open if you want to see me write something specific ۫ ׅ

໑ part 1 | part 2.1 | part 2.2

tags: @wonscapes @simsimluver @maishee @grdientlips @kristynaaah @psychicdazestrawberry | just ask if you want to be a part of my tag list ˙𐃷˙

now playing . . . often by the weeknd

"What the hell? This is the guy we have to somehow magically put in handcuffs?"

You groan out, frustration evident in your voice as your thumb and index finger press firmly against the bridge of your nose, massaging the tension that has been building there since the start of this meeting. 

Your chair creaks beneath you as you sink back into it, the leather cool against your back, though it does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach.

The room goes dead silent for a long, agonizing moment. 

The only sound that fills the space is the faint, rhythmic hum of the air conditioner, its steady drone doing little to calm the storm of thoughts racing through your mind. 

The cool toned lights above seem to buzz just a little louder in the quiet, and you can feel the weight of every pair of eyes in the room on you, waiting for you to say something else, to react, to do anything other than sit there in stunned disbelief.

"Well, he's sort of the ringleader of the mafia that's been terrorizing people on the other side of the city, so yes — that's the guy we have to catch," your coworker says, their tone far too casual for the gravity of what they've just dropped on your desk. 

They take another bite into their ube flavored macaron, the crumbs dusting the corner of their mouth as they chew, oblivious to the way your entire world has just tilted on its axis.

In front of you, sitting right there on your desk, is a photograph of a man — the same man you're supposed to somehow catch, apprehend, and put behind bars. 

The same man who, according to the file beneath the photo, has been orchestrating a web of crime so intricate that the department has been chasing ghosts for nearly three years.

You stare at the picture for a long, long time. Your eyes trace every detail, every line and shadow captured in the image, as if staring at it long enough might reveal some hidden truth, some sign that this is all just an elaborate mistake.

The man in the photograph seems to be around six feet tall, though it's hard to tell exact height from a picture alone. 

His hair is a striking mix of brown and blonde, though it leans closer to blond, the kind of hair that probably catches the sunlight in a way that makes people turn their heads without meaning to. 

He has a tall, elegant nose bridge, lips that are a pretty shade of pink, slightly curved in a way that suggests he might have been caught mid-thought, or perhaps mid-sentence. 

His eyes, oh, his eyes — his eyes are the same shape, the same dark brown, the same intensity that once made your heart race for entirely different reasons.

Nishimura Riki.

The name sits heavy on your tongue, bitter and sweet all at once. 

You remember how it used to feel to say it, whispered in quiet moments, laughed over shared jokes, cried into pillows when everything fell apart.

Fuck. 

Who would've ever thought your ex from back in the day, the same boy who used to trip over his own feet, who had the dorkiest laugh you'd ever heard, who held your hand like it was something precious, would become the most feared mafia leader in the city? 

That the same hands that once traced hearts on your skin would now be stained with the kind of darkness you've spent your entire career fighting against?

The thought of it alone felt incredibly absurd. 

After what felt like an entire millennium, each second stretching into an eternity as the photograph burned itself into your memory, you finally let out a long, breathy sigh. 

It escapes your lips slowly and deliberately. Your shoulders drop just slightly, the tension in your body shifting rather than just disappearing entirely.

"Okay, then," you say, your voice steadier than you feel. "So when do we plan to start our operations in catching this guy?"

Your fingers tap rapidly against your desk, a nervous habit you've never quite managed to shake. The rhythmic tap-tap-tap of your nails against the wood fills the silence between your words.

"If I were to suggest," your coworker begins, setting down what remains of their macaron and wiping the corner of their mouth with a napkin, "we could start this evening, maybe at around six? From the insights I've gathered from Mrs. Yoon's department, there's a high possibility they're just hanging around at the abandoned bread factory just a few turns away from the main highway. It's been one of their known spots for… well, gatherings."

You nod slowly, processing the information, already mentally mapping out the route in your head. You know that factory, or at least, you know of it. 

Everyone does. It's been decommissioned for years, a crumbling skeleton of what was once a thriving business, now reduced to nothing more than a ghost of the past.

"Then so be it, we'll start tonight. I'll come along—"

Your words hang in the air for barely a second before another voice cuts through, sharp and insistent.

"Wait, no, it's fine if you don't head out with us." One of the senior officers shifts in their seat, their expression a careful mask of concern disguised as professionalism. "We heard Mr. Nishimura is a very dangerous figure to be around. His reputation precedes him, and frankly, we don't know what we're walking into. It would be safer if—"

A beat.

The room falls silent again, the weight of unsaid words pressing down on everyone present. You can see the way your coworkers exchange glances, the subtle raise of eyebrows, the barely perceptible shake of heads. 

They know, or at least, they suspect, that there's more to your investment in this case than professional duty.

"I can manage," you say, cutting through their hesitation like a blade. Your voice is calm, measured, but there's an edge beneath the surface that wasn't there before. "I believe I've encountered people worse than him."

The lie slides off your tongue easily, smoothly. 

Have you encountered worse? 

Perhaps. 

But none of them wore the face of someone you once loved. None of them had hands that once wiped your tears, or a voice that once whispered promises of forever.

"But—"

"Nothing can change my mind. I will come along." You say it firmly this time, leaving no room for argument, your hand already reaching out for the mug of hot coffee sitting by your desk. 

The ceramic is warm against your palm and you take a slow sip, letting the bitterness coat your tongue as your coworkers exchange one final look.

After a moment, they nod, a reluctant acceptance of a battle they know they won't win. 

They've worked with you long enough to recognize the set of your jaw, the steel in your eyes. 

You're definitely not backing down.

After a quick exchange of additional reminders, meeting points, squad arrangements, who will take point, which vehicles to use, the chain of command, you wave off your coworkers, watching them gather their things and file toward the door of your office. 

Their footsteps echo against the linoleum, a steady march of duty and obligation, until the last of them disappears beyond the frame.

Then, complete silence.

After everyone has left, you still can't shrug it off. 

The feeling sits heavy in your chest, a heavy rock dragging you down into depths you thought you'd escaped years ago. 

Your college sweetheart, the boy who used to sneak you notes folded into tiny paper stars, who would wait by your dorm every morning with a smile that could melt glaciers, who held you when your world felt like it was crumbling, is now one of the most wanted criminals out there.

The irony isn't lost on you. The universe, it seems, just has a cruel sense of humor.

You take another sip of your coffee, staring down at the photograph still sitting on your desk. Riki's eyes seem to stare back at you, and for a moment, you swear you can see the ghost of the boy he used to be hiding somewhere in those depths.

God damn it, Nishimura Riki.

The cold wind of the evening hits you without warning, an invisible force that seems to have been lying in wait just for this moment. 

It whips across your face with a vengeance, sending strands of your hair flying directly into your eyes and mouth, effectively undoing the careful lip stain you had applied just moments ago in the car mirror. 

And frankly, it felt like the universe was already setting the tone for how the rest of this night was going to go.

You sputter, spitting out a strand of hair that had the audacity to stick to your freshly painted lips, and swipe at your face in frustration.

It was annoying, to say the least. 

The car driven by your colleague has run out of gas — a fact that became painfully obvious when the engine sputtered, coughed, and died an unceremonious death on the side of a road that felt far too deserted for comfort. 

In this economy, with inflation rates climbing higher than your patience has been dipping, you'd probably spend more trying to get a tow truck out here rather than just buying a few liters of gas and calling it a learning experience. 

In short, you and two more colleagues are stranded by the side of the road, surrounded by nothing but empty fields and the distant glow of city lights that feel impossibly far away.

Of course, your other workmates are aware of the situation, the department's group chat has been blowing up with a chaotic mixture of concern, directions, and at least three different people offering to bring gas. 

They're sending as much help as they can to get that car fueled up again, but with it being rush hour on a Friday evening, it'd take them a really, agonizingly long time. 

The traffic in this city is notorious, a living creature that swallows cars whole and spits them out whenever it damn well pleases.

"Why the fuck would you not fuel this bad boy up before heading out?" one of your colleagues asks, their tone caught somewhere between genuine frustration and barely suppressed amusement. 

They're trying so hard not to giggle at the absurdity of it all, a squad of trained professionals stranded on the side of the road like a bunch of teenagers on a road trip gone wrong.

"I didn't expect it to be that far," the driver shoots back, defensive, their hands gesturing wildly at the empty road ahead as if distance itself had personally betrayed them.

"You've been here multiple times," the first one counters, raising an eyebrow.

"My point still stands," the driver mutters, already pulling out their phone, navigating through the screen with practiced fingers until they find the flashlight switch. The bright beam cuts through the growing darkness, casting long shadows against the tall grass that lines either side of the road.

So what did you guys decide to do? 

After a brief, somewhat heated discussion that involved a lot of pointing at maps and debating the merits of waiting versus walking, the three of you decided to just walk to the factory. 

The idea being that it'd probably be better that way, because god knows what worse situations the car could get into aside from losing gasoline. A flat tire? Engine failure? Getting towed by some overzealous parking enforcement despite being very much parked legally on a public road? With your luck tonight, anything was possible.

A blessing in disguise, definitely. Or at least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

The factory is only an eight-minute walk away according to Google Maps, which your colleague optimistically announces while conveniently ignoring the "approximately" that usually means "longer than you think." 

To add more fuel to the fire, you guys are apparently going to be the first people to arrive there too. 

All of the other cars got separated back in the city due to the hectic traffic and busted stoplights that would flash red a few seconds too early, trapping cars in intersections and creating a domino effect of chaos that spread through every major street. 

By some cosmic joke, you three had to just be there first.

Perfect. So, so perfect. 

You could practically hear the universe laughing at you. 

The walk to the factory itself was pretty quick, maybe because you got stranded with your colleagues who were both awarded "Clown of the Year" during last year's Christmas party — a title they wore with immense pride. 

Their constant bickering, terrible jokes, and off-key humming made the eerily silent and dark walk to the factory an incredibly funny one, despite the circumstances. 

One of them kept making shadow puppets with their flashlight while the other narrated a dramatic nature documentary about "the wild detective in its natural habitat." 

It was stupid, childish even, but it kept the creeping anxiety at bay.

Finally, after about a while and two LANY songs later, one playing from someone's phone speaker, muffled by the wind but recognizable nonetheless, you arrive at the outside of the factory.

The structure looms ahead, a massive silhouette against the darkening sky. 

What was once a thriving bread factory now stands as a skeleton of industrial ambition, its windows either broken or boarded up, its walls covered in graffiti that you can barely make out in the fading light. 

But there's something else — something that makes you pause and crouch low, pulling your colleagues down with you.

You could confirm that there are people here. Even hidden behind really tall grass that reaches well above your waist, you could see the view really well. 

Years of training have taught you how to observe without being observed, how to take in details while remaining invisible.

There are two bodyguards seated by the entrance, their postures relaxed but alert, cigarettes glowing orange in the darkness as they take drags in between conversation. 

They're dressed in dark clothing, nearly blending into the shadows if not for the faint light spilling from inside the factory.

"Jeez, who hired those two to be by the entrance," a colleague of yours whispers, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of their mouth. 

You can see them gesturing toward the guards, clearly amused by something, their posture, their expressions, maybe just the concept of them hanging by an abandoned bread factory. 

They nudge your shoulder, and you immediately nudge them back, harder, your eyes narrowing in warning, indicating for them to keep their voices down.

The place was well-lit with what seemed to be newly bought light bulbs, their brightness almost harsh against the abandoned backdrop, and a couple of vintage-style lamps that cast warm pools of yellow across the cracked concrete. 

There were maybe around three black vans parked to the side, their windows tinted so dark they looked like voids. 

And two vehicles near the entrance, one white car and another black car, sleek and expensive-looking even from this distance.

You could see, faintly, that there was a person leaning against the white car. The figure was tall, arms crossed, illuminated just enough by the nearby lamps to reveal the outline of a silhouette.

You couldn't really make out the face, or anything distinguishing. 

Just a shape. 

A presence.

Just as you guys were about to head in, with all equipment ready, earpieces adjusted, weapons checked, positions assigned, you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. 

The buzz is insistent, urgent, and it causes all of you to halt and press yourselves further into the tall grass.

You take it out and see that one of your senior officers is ringing you up. The name flashes on your screen, and you exchange a glance with your colleagues before swiping to answer.

To cut the story short, because the conversation involved a lot of unnecessary explaining and at least four instances of your senior officer crashing out over things that could have been an email, gasoline has arrived, along with a few minor problems you couldn't be bothered to deal with right now. 

Something about one of the other cars getting a flat, another team getting stuck behind a traffic accident, and someone needing backup for a completely unrelated situation.

You ask your coworkers to head back to the car to assist with the gasoline, and check the so-called "minor problems" your senior officer was spiraling over. They hesitate, looking at each other, then back at you.

"Are you sure—" one asks, their voice barely above a whisper.

"Wait, okay, but do you not want to come? It's dark already—" another voice follows, concern lacing their words.

You assure them you'll be fine. You've done solo reconnaissance before. You know how to stay hidden, how to observe without engaging. 

After a few more pointed assurances, a few hesitant nods, and one absolutely wonky handshake that one of them insists on doing "for good luck," they were off, their figures disappearing into the darkness of the tall grass, flashlights bobbing like fireflies in the distance.

Now, it was just you.

The silence feels heavier without their voices to fill it. 

The wind picks up again, rustling the grass around you, and somewhere in the distance, you can hear the faint sound of music coming from inside the factory.

The silence presses against you like a physical weight, and for a moment, all you can hear is the thud of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears. 

You crouch there in the tall grass, hidden from view, trying to gather the scattered pieces of your composure into something that resembles professionalism.

“You can do this,” you tell yourself, the words a familiar mantra that has gotten you through countless operations before this one. You're a trained professional. You've been preparing for this moment for months. Years, even. You know the protocols. You know the risks. You know what's at stake.

But another voice, smaller, quieter, buried somewhere deep in the recesses of your mind where you keep all the things you don't want to acknowledge, whispers back: You will never be prepared for him.

You shake your head, dispelling the thought like a fly you're trying to swat away. Now is not the time to get sentimental. 

Now is not the time to think about paper rings folded from notebook pages, or locker notes written in his messy scrawl, or lazy afternoons spent tangled together on the couch with your fingers tracing patterns on his biceps. 

Now is the time to do your job.

With a steadying breath that does nothing to calm the storm inside your chest, you decide to make your move.

Creeping forward through the grass, you keep your body low, your movements calculated and precise.

Years of training have taught you how to move like a ghost, how to become invisible even in broad daylight. 

The tall blades whisper against your clothing, a soft rustling that sounds impossibly loud in the quiet of the night. 

Every few steps, you pause, listening, watching, making sure you haven't been detected.

Miraculously, and you're not sure whether to be relieved or suspicious, the bodyguards aren't at their posts anymore. The entrance stands unguarded, a gaping mouth of light spilling out onto the cracked concrete. 

Either they've moved inside, or something has drawn their attention elsewhere. 

Either way, it's an opportunity. A gift, perhaps, from whatever higher power has been toying with your fate tonight.

You consider making your way inside. The logical part of your brain, the part trained for tactical assessment, urges you forward. But something holds you back. The interior looks vast, open, with too many corners and shadows where someone could be hiding, too many blind spots where you could be cornered. 

For someone with your smaller frame, it's a risk, you've learned the hard way that being underestimated works both ways. 

It can be an advantage, yes, but it can also make you vulnerable.

Not yet, you decide, your mind already mapping out contingencies. 

Gather intel first. Know the terrain. Count your exits.

Instead, you redirect your attention to the vehicles parked outside.

Moving with purpose, you make your way toward the three black vans first. 

They're utilitarian, unremarkable, the kind of vehicles that could belong to any delivery company or construction crew. 

You note their positions, their license plates, the fact that one of them has a small dent on the rear bumper. Details that might mean nothing, or everything.

Then you move toward the two cars, the black one and the white one parked closer to the entrance. 

The black car is sleek, expensive, the kind of vehicle that screams money and power. The white one is equally impressive, though slightly more understated in its elegance, its paint catching the moonlight in a way that almost makes it glow.

You're cataloging these details in your mind, positions, makes, models, potential for pursuit or escape, when a voice cuts through the night like a blade through silk.

"Hey, sexy."

You freeze.

It's not the word that stops you cold, though you'd be lying if you said it didn't catch you off guard. 

No, it's the voice itself, the timber, the slight lilt at the end that turns what should be a cringeworthy pickup line into something almost fond. Something that sounds dangerously like the past echoing into the present, like a melody you thought you'd forgotten how to play.

Your heart slams against your ribs, once, twice, three times, as you slowly, carefully, turn around.

And there he is.

Riki stands before you, illuminated by the dim glow of the nearby lamps, looking nothing like the monster the department has painted him to be and everything like the boy who once held your heart in his hands. 

He's wearing beige cargo pants that are definitely a few sizes larger than his usual fit, hanging low on his hips in a way that speaks of comfort rather than style. A black belt cinches them at the waist, a grey shirt stretches across his chest, and a black jacket hangs open over it all.

You wouldn't expect to see that from someone who's been labeled as one of the most dangerous mafia leaders in the city. 

He looks so dang normal. 

Casual. 

He could be any other guy you passed on the street, someone you wouldn't look twice at.

Except you would. You'd look at him a thousand times over. You'd memorize every angle of his face, every shadow and highlight, every detail you thought you'd forgotten but had only buried away in the deepest corners of your memory.

He's looking at you the same way.

"What the fuck are you doing out here, Riki?"

The words spill out before you can stop them, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. 

You've said his name a thousand times before, but saying it now, in this context, feels like crossing a line you can't uncross.

But you can't take it back. 

You don't want to.

Riki's lips curl into a smile, and it's the same smile that used to make your heart do somersaults back in college. 

The same smile that greeted you every morning by your locker with a cup of your favorite hot cocoa with extra marshmallows. The same smile that broke your heart when everything fell apart. 

There's something else there now, something softer, more vulnerable, that he's trying and failing to hide behind his casual demeanor.

"One of my goons informed us that law enforcement would possibly come out and get our asses tonight," he says, his voice carrying that familiar playful edge even as his eyes remain fixed on your face, drinking you in like you're the first drop of water he's seen in a desert. "Presented a whole list of the officers that may be involved too. Saw your name at the top of the list, and thought..."

He pauses, and for a moment, the mask slips. 

You see it, the way his breath hitches almost imperceptibly, the way his fingers twitch at his sides like he's fighting the urge to reach for you.

"I wanted to see you for myself," he finishes, quieter now. "Needed to. Even if it was just from a distance. Even if you'd never know I was there."

Your breath catches in your throat, a small hitch that sounds deafening in the quiet night. 

You don't really know what to say to that, to the implication that he's been keeping track of you, that your name on a list was enough to make him drop everything. 

That he needed to see you the same way you've been needing to see him, even if you couldn't admit it until this very moment.

And god, he's so handsome. 

Even more handsome than your Riki back in college, if that's even possible. 

The years have sharpened his features, turned the softness of youth into something more defined, more striking. His jaw is sharper, his shoulders broader, his presence more commanding. 

But beneath all that, beneath the new edges and unfamiliar angles, he's still him. Still the boy who used to buy a ton of pencils and lose them all within a day. Still the boy who used to press kisses to your cheek whenever you were feeling down.

Riki reaches up and pulls off his black shades, revealing the same pair of deep brown eyes you fell in love with all those years ago. 

They're the same, and yet different — there's something harder in them now, something that speaks of experiences you can only imagine, of choices and consequences that have shaped him into someone new.

Underneath all the hardness, beneath the walls he's clearly built around himself, you can still see it: the warmth. The tenderness. The way he's looking at you like you're the only real thing in a world full of shadows.

The realization hits you like a physical force: He's still in love with you.

"Are you not here with anyone?" he asks, and there's genuine concern in his voice, a protectiveness that makes your chest ache with the weight of everything unsaid between you. 

His brow furrows slightly, creating a small crease between his eyebrows that you remember used to appear whenever he was worried about something. "Why are you alone? That's dangerous. You shouldn't be out here by yourself."

A few problems, you want to say. Just sent them back a bit to check on things.

The words get stuck somewhere between your brain and your mouth, because he's stepping closer now, closing the distance you didn't realize you'd been maintaining. 

His scent washes over you, something warm and woody with notes of vanilla underneath, different from what he used to wear but somehow still very him, and you feel your resolve crumbling like sand in a rising tide.

"A few problems," you finally manage, your voice coming out steadier than you feel. "Just sent them back a bit to check on things."

Without even realizing it, you feel yourself lowering your guard. It's instinctive, unconscious, something about being in his presence makes you forget, just for a moment, that you're supposed to be enemies. 

That he's supposed to be your target. 

That the department is probably already on their way, and when they arrive, they'll expect you to have him in handcuffs.

But right now, handcuffs are the last thing on your mind.

He looks at you, really looks at you, and there's something in his gaze that makes your skin prickle with awareness. 

His eyes travel over your face like he's trying to memorize you all over again, cataloging every change, every detail he might have missed.

"You cut your hair," he murmurs, almost to himself. "It looks good. Really good."

The observation catches you off guard, that he cared enough to store that detail away. 

Your hand unconsciously moves to touch the ends of your hair, a nervous habit you've never been able to break.

"You remember how it used to be," you say, and it comes out almost accusatory, like you're angry at him for holding onto memories you've been trying to forget.

"I remember everything," he says quietly. "Every single thing."

The weight of those words settles between you like a physical presence, heavy with all the things neither of you is saying.

Then his expression shifts, and there's a glint in his eye that you recognize all too well, the same stupid mischievous sparkle that used to precede every terrible joke, every playful tease, every moment that made you fall harder than you ever thought possible.

"Aw," he says, his voice dripping with that familiar teasing lilt. "So you stayed back to see me personally?"

"Definitely not," you shoot back, the denial automatic, instantaneous, a reflex developed over years of pretending you didn't care.

But the words taste like a lie on your tongue, and judging by the knowing look in his eyes, he can taste it too.

"You're a terrible liar," he says softly. "You always have been. Your nose does this little scrunch thing when you're not being honest."

Your hand flies to your nose instinctively, and he laughs, actually laughs, the sound warm and genuine and so achingly familiar that it makes your heart physically hurt.

"There it is," he says, his smile softening into something almost tender. "God, I missed that."

The admission hangs in the air between you, raw and honest in a way that neither of you expected.

Riki runs a hand through his hair, a gesture so achingly familiar that it makes your chest constrict. 

The movement causes his grey shirt to ride up just slightly, revealing a strip of skin and the waistband of red boxers underneath his low-hanging cargo pants.

You couldn't help but look.

It's involuntary, a flicker of your eyes that lasts barely a second, but it's enough. Heat creeps up your neck, spreading across your cheeks, and you quickly avert your gaze, pretending you were focused on something, anything, else. 

The ground. The sky. The distant lights of the factory. Literally anything.

But when you look back at him, there's a knowing look in his eyes, a darkness that has nothing to do with the night around you. 

He caught exactly what you were doing, and more importantly — he liked it.

"See something you like?" he asks, his voice lower now, rougher around the edges.

"I—what, no, that's not —" you stammer, and you hate how flustered you sound, how easily he can unravel you with just a few words.

He doesn't push it further. 

Instead, he steps closer, and this time, there's no mistaking the intention in his movement. 

Every step is deliberate, measured, closing the distance between you like he's approaching something precious and terrifying all at once.

Your body tenses, every instinct screaming at you to step back, to maintain the distance that keeps you safe.

You stay rooted in place, caught in the gravity of his presence like a planet unable to escape its sun. 

You don't want to move. 

You don't want to run.

You want him closer.

Riki stops when he's close enough that you can count the individual lashes framing those deep brown eyes. 

Close enough that you can see the slight part of his lips, the way his breathing has gone shallow, the way his composure is cracking just as much as yours.

"You know, you have absolutely no idea," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, "how many times I've thought about this moment. How many nights I've lain awake wondering what I'd say if I ever saw you again."

"And what did you come up with?" you ask, your voice equally quiet, equally raw.

He shakes his head slowly, a rueful smile playing at his lips. "Nothing. Actually, every word I practiced just immediately disappears when you're actually in front of me."

The confession sends a shiver down your spine, and you realize with sudden clarity that you're not the only one who's been holding onto this. 

You're not the only one who's been haunted by what-ifs and might-have-beens.

He's been just as affected. Just as unable to let go.

Without a word, he reaches out and wraps his hand around your wrist.

His touch is warm, firm, but not tight enough to hurt. It's a gesture of connection rather than restraint, and the feeling of his skin against yours, even just this small point of contact, sends electricity racing through your veins. 

Your pulse jumps beneath his fingers, and you know he can feel it. You know he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

"Riki, what the hell are you doing—" Your voice comes out breathier than intended, more plea than protest. "Let go."

Even as the words leave your mouth, you know you don't mean them. 

You don't want him to let go. 

You want him to hold on tighter.

Judging by the way his grip shifts, adjusting, his thumb brushing across the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, he knows it too.

"No," he says simply, and there's no command in it, no force. Just honesty, just want, laid bare between you. "I've spent years letting you go. I'm done with that."

Your heart stutters in your chest. "Riki..."

"Come on," he interrupts softly, tilting his head toward the white car behind him. "Let's get in my car. Let's have a quick little catch up about life after college."

The suggestion hangs in the air, weighted with implications that none of you want to say.

Catch up could mean a lot of things. 

Conversation. Confession. Something more.

Your mind screams that this is wrong, that you're crossing every line you've ever drawn for yourself, that you're betraying your career, your morals, everything you've worked for. 

He's a criminal. 

A target. 

Someone you're supposed to bring to justice, not follow into the backseat of an expensive car.

But he's also Riki. 

Your Riki. 

The boy who loved you first, and loved you hardest, and maybe, just maybe, never stopped loving you at all.

Your silence stretches too long, and something flickers in his eyes. Uncertainty. Vulnerability. The fear that maybe he's reading this wrong, that maybe you've moved on in ways he hasn't.

"We don't have to," he says quickly, his voice rough. "If you don't want to. I'm not—I would never force you into anything. You know that, right? I just..."

He trails off, and for the first time since he appeared, he looks young. 

Uncertain. 

Like the boy you remember, hiding behind bravado because he never learned how to ask for what he wanted without making it a joke.

He's scared, you realize. He's scared you’ll say no. He's scared this is just a fantasy he's built up in his head, and you’re about to shatter it.

The realization breaks something inside you, whatever walls you'd been holding onto, whatever professional distance you'd been trying to maintain. If he's still scared of losing you after all these years, after everything that's happened...

Then maybe you're not the only one who never moved on.

"Riki," you say, and his name comes out softer than you intend. Your free hand reaches up, almost of its own accord, and brushes a strand of hair from his forehead. 

His eyes flutter closed at the contact, just for a second, like he's been starved for your touch.

When he opens them again, there's something raw and desperate in his gaze.

"I'm not saying no," you whisper.

The words are barely out of your mouth before he's moving, pulling you gently but urgently toward the white car. 

His hand slides from your wrist to intertwine with your fingers, and the intimacy of it, the casual rightness of your hands fitting together like they were made for each other, makes your throat tight.

He opens the back door with his free hand, the other still holding yours like he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. 

The interior is dark, plush, expensive leather gleaming faintly in the moonlight.

"After you," he murmurs, and there's a hint of his old playfulness in his voice, tempered by something darker, something hungry.

You hesitate for just a moment, one last moment of rationality, one last chance to turn back.

Then you slide into the backseat, pulling him in after you, and the door closes behind you with a soft, definitive click.

The leather is cool beneath you, soft in a way that only expensive things can be. 

For a moment, neither of you moves. The air between you is thick, charged with years of silence finally breaking.

"So," Riki breathes, and you watch his throat work as he swallows. "How have you been?"

The question is so absurdly normal, that a surprised laugh escapes your lips. "Are you serious right now? You're asking me how I've been?"

"What? I want to know." His lips curve into that familiar crooked smile, the one that used to make you agree to every stupid idea he ever had. "It's been what, six years? Seven? I think I'm allowed to ask."

You roll your eyes, but there's no real annoyance behind it. "I've been… pretty good. Very busy. Became a detective, obviously. Got my own office. A plant I keep forgetting to water."

"A plant," he repeats, and there's something warm in his voice. "You? Forgetting to take care of something?"

"Shut it."

"Never." He shifts closer to the driver's seat, his shoulder brushing yours. 

The contact sends warmth spreading through your body. "What about you? Any relationships? Marriage? Kids?"

Your heart stumbles over itself. 

It’s like he's asking if you're available. 

He's asking if you've ever moved on.

"No," you say quietly. "None of that. You?"

The relief that flashes across his face is instantaneous and impossible to miss. "No. Never found anyone who..." He trails off, shaking his head. "No. Just work. Building an empire, I guess." His voice dips lower. "Waiting, mostly."

Waiting for you. 

The unspoken words hang between you.

Before you can respond, the engine purrs to life. Riki leans forward, pressing a button on the dashboard.

"Boss?" a voice crackles through the intercom — one of his men.

"Just heading out for a quick night ride," Riki says smoothly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I need to clear my head. Inform me ASAP when the law enforcement people arrive. I'll be back before then."

"Understood, sir."

The car eases forward, gliding away from the factory and onto the dark road.

You should probably care that your colleagues will arrive to find you missing. 

You should probably worry about the operation, your career, everything you're risking.

But Riki's hand finds yours in the darkness, his thumb tracing patterns on your skin, and suddenly none of that matters.

The road stretches ahead, empty and endless, and you let yourself sink into the warmth beside you.

"So," he murmurs, his voice dropping. "Tell me more about this plant."

The drive is quiet, but not uncomfortable. Streetlights occasionally light up the car, casting golden stripes across Riki's features before plunging you both back into shadow.

"What about your family?" you ask, breaking the silence. "Your sister, the youngest one — what was her name?"

"Sora," he answers, and there's a gentleness in his voice that only ever appears when he speaks about her. "She's good. Graduated top of her class. It makes me look like the family disappointment, honestly."

"I sincerely doubt that."

He chuckles, the sound low and warm, and shifts to face you more fully. The movement brings him closer, his arm stretching along the back of the seat behind you. "You'd be surprised. She's the good one. I'm just, well..."

"The feared mafia leader?" you supply, raising an eyebrow.

"I was going to say 'the hot one,' but sure." His grin is infectious, and you hate how easily he can still make you smile. "Does it bother you? What did I do?"

The question catches you off guard. 

Does it bother you? It definitely should. 

Everything about this should bother you. 

But looking at him now, you don't see a criminal. 

You see Riki. 

Just Riki.

"I don't know," you admit honestly. "Ask me again later."

"I'll hold you to that."

The road curves, and the car takes it smoothly. In the movement, your body sways with the momentum, and suddenly your chest brushes against his extended arm.

The contact is brief, barely a second, but the sharp intake of breath from him is unmistakable. 

Your nipples tighten beneath the thin fabric of your shirt and bra, and you know, with mortifying certainty, that he felt it. 

Surely.

The car suddenly feels too small.

A bit too small for your liking. 

"I’m so, so sorry," you murmur, your voice coming out breathless.

"Don't be." His voice has dropped an interval, rougher now. "I told you, didn't I? I'm done pretending I don't want you."

Your pulse thuds in your veins as his arm shifts behind you, his fingers lightly grazing your shoulder. The touch is feather-light, deliberate, testing.

"Riki..."

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, his face inches from yours. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll back off. I'll take you back to your colleagues, and we'll pretend this never happened. But you have to say it."

Your lips part, the words sitting on the tip of your tongue, the responsible words, the professional words.

But they won't come.

Instead, your hand reaches up, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket.

"Don't stop," you whisper.

Before you can finish your sentence, Riki's lips crash into yours.

The kiss is desperate, starving, years of longing poured into a single moment. 

His tongue sweeps into your mouth without hesitation, claiming you, tasting you, devouring you like you're oxygen and he's been drowning. 

You melt into him with a whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulling hard enough to make him groan into your mouth.

"Fuck," he growls against your lips, "I've been dreaming about this mouth for years."

He pulls away with a wet sound, breathless, his chest heaving. His eyes are dark, blown wide with want, and when he speaks, his voice is wrecked.

"Back seat now, okay? I need to touch you properly, princess."

Before you can respond, he's already climbing over the console with fluid grace, maneuvering into the spacious back area. 

The car isn't just a regular vehicle — it's something between a luxury sedan and a limousine, with extended seating and room enough for someone his size to move without restriction.

As he settles beside you, his cargo pants ride dangerously low on his hips, and you catch another glimpse of those red boxers peeking above the waistband. 

An unfamiliar heat pools low in your stomach, throbbing and insistent, and you squeeze your thighs together trying to relieve some of the pressure.

Riki notices. 

Of course he does.

"Ah-ah," he tuts, his hand coming to rest on your knee, pushing your legs apart. "Don't hide from me, princess. Let me see how wet you are."

His words send a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you, and you feel your underwear sticking to your core, ruined.

"That's it," he murmurs, satisfied. "Such a good girl for me."

He guides you both to the far back, where plush cushioned seats stretch along the rear like a leather couch. 

He settles first, then pulls you onto his lap in one fluid motion. Your knees bracket his hips as his mouth finds yours again, hungrier this time, filthier, his teeth scraping against your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.

"Fuck," he growls into your mouth, "I've thought about this—about you—every single fucking day. Do you know how many times I've had to fuck my own fist thinking about you? Thinking about this pretty mouth, this body, the sounds you make when you come?"

You whine, high and desperate, your hips rolling instinctively, grinding down against the growing hardness beneath you. 

The friction is maddening — not enough, but too much at the same time.

"Ki, please—"

"Please what, baby?" His hands slide under your shirt, splaying across your bare back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. "Use your words. Tell me what you need."

"You, ugh, I need you—"

"Need me to what?" He's teasing now, cruel, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck. He finds that spot, the one that makes your knees weak, and bites down before sucking hard enough to leave a mark. 

"Need me to touch you? To fuck you? To make you scream my name until you forget everything but me?"

"Fuck—yes, all of it, please—"

His hands slide up your ribs to cup your breasts through your bra, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they peak and ache beneath his touch.

You arch into him, desperate for more pressure, more friction, more everything.

"These tits," he groans, squeezing gently. "I've thought about them so much. How they'd feel in my hands, in my mouth. You have no idea how crazy you drove me, walking around in those tight shirts whenever your little squad was in the middle of an operation, you didn't know exactly what you were doing to me when I saw those pictures taken by my men."

"I wasn't—I didn't—"

"Liars go to hell, baby." His thumb flicks over your nipple, hard, and you gasp. "But you're already there, aren't you? Wet and desperate on my lap, grinding on my cock like the needy little slut you are."

His dirty words should embarrass you, but instead they just make you wetter, needier. 

Your hips grind down harder, chasing the friction you crave, and he lets out a dark chuckle.

"Look at you. So fucking desperate. You'd let me do anything to you right now, wouldn't you?"

"Yes—anything, please, just fuck me—"

"Anything?" His voice drops lower, dangerous. "Would you let me bend you over and fuck you until you can't walk? Let me use that pretty mouth until you're crying? Let me mark you up so everyone knows who you belong to?"

The words hit you like a physical force, and you shudder, nodding frantically.

"Yes, god, yes—yours, Ki—I'm yours—"

"Damn right you are." He captures your lips again, swallowing your whimpers. "You've always been mine. Even when we were apart. Even when you hated me. Mine."

His hands tighten on you, possessive and reverent all at once. Your own fingers card through his hair, tugging hard, and the sound that escapes him is downright sinful.

"Shit, princess, do that again—"

You pull harder, and he groans, his hips bucking up into you.

"God, baby, I've missed you so much — you don't even know," he murmurs against your jaw, his lips trailing hot and wet down to your neck. 

Beneath you, you can feel him getting harder, straining against the confines of his pants, and it makes you ache with want.

He's so, so big. 

You can feel every inch of him through the layers of fabric, thick and hard and pressing right against where you need him most.

"Feel that, princess?" He rolls his hips up, grinding against you. "That's what you do to me. Have been half-hard since I saw you in that grass, looking all professional and sexy, thinking you could actually catch me."

"I could have," you manage, though your voice comes out breathy and unconvincing.

He laughs, dark and low. "You didn't want to catch me, baby. You wanted me to catch you."

Before you can respond, an idea sparks in your mind.

You pull back slightly, reaching for your bag on the floor. His eyes follow your movements, curiosity flickering across his features, until you pull out the handcuffs.

His entire body goes still.

For a moment, genuine wariness flashes in his eyes. His jaw tightens, and you see his brain working — calculating, assessing. He doesn't know if this is a scheme, if you're still playing the detective, if this is all an elaborate trap to bring him in. 

The tension is palpable, his muscles coiling like he's ready to spring.

"Baby," he says carefully, "what are you doing?"

You see the uncertainty in his expression and smile, slow and wicked.

"Relax, cutie," you purr, trailing your free hand down his chest. "You're under arrest."

His brow arches, skepticism warring with arousal. "Under arrest for what?"

The raw hunger in his gaze belies his casual tone, and you lean in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

"For being way too hot."

Something shifts in his expression, relief flooding in, followed immediately by dark, burning want. 

He holds out his wrists without protest, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Well then, officer. I surrender. Do with me what you will."

You click the handcuffs into place, securing his wrists together. The metal is cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

"Fuck," he breathes, testing the restraints. "You look so hot like this. All commanding and in control. Who knew my girl had an authority kink?"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

You shove him back against the seat, climbing over him, and capture his mouth in a bruising kiss. 

He responds immediately, straining against the handcuffs, desperate to touch you but unable to.

"Having trouble there, baby?" you tease against his lips.

"You're going to pay for this," he growls, but there's no real threat in his voice — just a promise.

"Looking forward to it."

Slowly, deliberately, you trace your fingers down his chest, over the hard planes of his stomach, following the trail of hair disappearing beneath his waistband. 

His breath hitches, muscles tensing and jumping beneath your touch.

"Your hands," he rasps. "Been dreaming about your hands on me for so fucking long."

Your fingers find his belt, unbuckling it with agonizing slowness. You take your time with the button, then the zipper, letting the anticipation build until he's practically vibrating beneath you.

"You're such a tease," he groans. "Always were. Fucking torture."

"Patience, you hunk."

The nickname catches him off guard, you've never called him that before, and his eyes darken impossibly further.

"Call me that again."

"Make me."

You hook your fingers into his pants and pull them down his thighs, leaving him in just those red boxers, his erection straining against the thin fabric. 

A wet spot has already formed at the tip, and you run your thumb over it, spreading the moisture.

"Shit, baby—" he chokes out, his head falling back against the seat. "Your fingers, they’re so—fuck—"

You lean down, your breath ghosting over him through the fabric, and he lets out a sound that's half-moan, half-whimper.

"Please, baby, don't tease me—"

"Where's that famous composure, Ki?" you murmur, pressing a kiss to his tip through the cotton. "The big bad mafia leader, falling apart from just this?"

"I'll show you falling apart," he threatens, but his voice cracks on the words. "Just wait until I get my hands on you."

"Maybe I don't want you to."

"Liar."

You grip the waistband of his boxers with your teeth, and his whole body jerks.

"Holy shit, you're—shit, so sexy, fuck—"

You drag the fabric down slowly, torturously, inch by inch, revealing the sharp cut of his hip bones and the base of his cock. 

His abdominal muscles are trembling, tensing and releasing with every shaky breath.

When you finally pull the fabric down enough for him to spring free, he's flushed and leaking, hard enough that it looks almost painful. 

He's thick and long, bigger than you could’ve ever imagined, veins running along the underside that you want to trace with your tongue.

"God, Ki," you breathe, taking him in. "You're so fucking thick. How am I supposed to take all of this?"

"Trust me, baby," he groans, his voice wrecked. "You'll take it. You'll take every fucking inch because you're my good girl, and good girls take what they're given."

The filth spilling from his mouth makes you clench around nothing, arousal dripping from you.

You wrap your hand around the base of him, feeling him pulse in your grip. He's hot, hard, velvet over steel. 

You lean in and kitten-lick the tip, gathering the precum beading there.

The sound that tears from his throat is obscene, a broken moan that echoes through the car.

"That's it," he rasps, straining against the handcuffs. "Fuck, your tongue—so good, mmgh, just like that—"

You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, letting your saliva coat his length. The weight of him on your tongue is intoxicating, and you moan around him, the vibration making him buck up involuntarily.

"Shit, I’m sorry, can't—" He's losing control, his hips twitching, trying so hard to stay still but failing. "Your mouth, princess, you have no idea what you do to me—"

You pull back to breathe, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. The sight makes him curse under his breath.

"Look at you," he growls. "So pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock. Such a good little thing for me."

You take him again, deeper this time, relaxing your throat. 

But he's too big, you can't fit all of him, so you stroke what you can't reach, twisting your wrist on the upstroke, rubbing your thumb over the sensitive spot beneath the head.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, baby—" His voice is cracking, his thighs trembling violently against the leather seats. "You're—you're gonna make me—"

The handcuffs clink against the seat as he strains, desperate to touch you, to grab your hair, to control the pace. 

But he can't. 

He's completely at your mercy, and it's driving him insane.

"Just like that, baby, princess, you're doing so well—taking me so good—" His words are punctuated by groans and gasps, his chest heaving. "Missed you, missed this, missed your mouth—your hands—everything—"

You hum around him, and he almost sobs.

"I'm, fuck—wait, princess, I'm gonna—"

You don't stop. If anything, you move faster, sucking harder, determined to push him over the edge. Your hand works in tandem with your mouth, slick and fast and relentless.

"Shit, you're—you're gonna make me come, baby, wait, want to come inside you—"

It's too darn late. 

With a broken cry, he spills into your mouth, hot and thick and so much of it. You swallow what you can, some of it spilling from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

He comes down slowly, his body going boneless against the seat, his chest heaving. His eyes are glassy, distant, completely fucked out.

When you finally pull off him with a wet pop, he stares at you with something between awe and obsession.

"Come here," he rasps.

You climb up his body, and he captures your mouth in a messy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. He groans into it, filthy and unashamed.

"You're such a greedy little slut," he murmurs against your lips, but there's nothing but reverence in his voice. "Taking everything I gave you. So perfect. So fucking perfect."

You reach up and unlock the handcuffs, freeing his wrists. The moment his hands are free, he's on you, flipping your positions until you're beneath him on the leather seat, his eyes dark with renewed hunger.

"My turn," he growls.

His hands find your pants, undoing them and yanking them down your legs along with your underwear in one impatient motion. 

The cool air hits your soaked core, and you shiver.

"Look at you," he breathes, staring at your glistening folds. "So wet. Did sucking me off turn you on that much, baby? Got yourself all messy just from having my cock in your mouth?"

"Yes, god—" you admit, shameless.

"Filthy girl." But he sounds pleased. "Let me clean you up."

He starts to lower his head, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

"Wait, I need you, right now, please—"

"But baby, I need to taste you—"

"Later, fuck me first, please, Ki—"

The desperation in your voice must get to him, because he curses and nods.

"Okay, princess. Okay. I've got you."

He lifts you effortlessly, settling you onto his lap, your core pressing against his already-hardening length. You're so wet that you slide against him easily, coating him in your arousal.

"Already hard again?" you tease, though your voice is breathless.

"For you? Always." He grips himself, positioning at your entrance. "You have no idea what you do to me. Could stay hard for you forever."

He starts to push in, and you both groan at the contact. Just the tip, but you already feel impossibly full.

"That's it," he soothes, his hands gripping your hips to steady you. "Just the tip, baby. You're doing so good."

He pushes in further, inch by agonizing inch, and you feel yourself stretching around him. It's overwhelming, the burn, the fullness, the intimacy.

"Fuck, you're so tight, so wet…" His voice is strained, his control hanging by a thread. "Relax for me, princess. Shit, let me in."

You try, forcing your muscles to unclench, and he slides in deeper.

"That's it, such a good girl, baby, you're taking me so well—"

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he's fully seated inside you. You stay there for a moment, trembling, trying to adjust to the impossible stretch.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice softer now, genuine concern bleeding through.

"Y-yeah. Just—you're so, so big, Riki. I feel so full."

He groans, his head dropping to your shoulder. "You can't say shit like that. I'm trying so hard to be gentle."

"Don't be gentle."

His head snaps up, his eyes dark. "Baby—"

"I can take it. I want it. Fuck me, Ki. Make me feel it."

Something in him snaps.

He lifts you up and slams you back down, and you scream. It's too much, it's perfect, it's everything.

"That's it, scream for me, let me hear how good I make you feel—"

He sets a brutal pace, bouncing you on his cock, using you like you're nothing more than a toy. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, obscene and wet.

"Shit, Ki, please—"

"Please what, princess? Use your words."

"Harder, I need it harder—"

He flips you onto your back, hiking your legs over his shoulders, and drives into you so deep you see stars.

"Like this? Is this what you needed, baby? Needed me to split you open on my cock?"

"Yes, god, yes—"

His hand finds your clit, rubbing tight circles, and you feel your orgasm building already.

"Come for me, baby. Come on my cock like a good girl."

You shatter, screaming his name, clenching around him so hard he hisses. But he doesn't stop — he fucks you through it, chasing his own release.

"One more, give me one more—"

"I can't, it's way too much—"

"You can. You will. Be a good girl and come for me again."

He angles his hips, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision white out, and you come again with a broken sob, squirting around him.

"That's it, fuck, such a good girl, making a mess on my dick like the needy slut you are—"

His thrusts grow erratic, his breathing ragged.

"Where do you want it, baby? Inside? On your face? Tell me —"

"Inside, come inside me, please—"

He buries himself deep and comes with a groan, filling you with warmth. You can feel him pulsing inside you, pumping you full, and it's so dirty and perfect that you nearly come again from the sensation.

He stays inside you for a moment, catching his breath, before slowly pulling out. You feel his release trickling out of you, and he groans at the sight.

"Look at that," he murmurs. "So pretty with my cum dripping out of you."

He reaches down, gathering some on his fingers and pushing it back inside. You whimper, oversensitive.

"Can't let any go to waste, baby. This is mine. You're mine."

He pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. You're both a mess, covered in sweat and come and saliva, but neither of you cares.

"I love you," he whispers against your hair. "I still love you so, so much. I have so much love to give you."

You cling to him, overwhelmed, your heart pounding against your ribs.

"I love you too," you murmur. "But Ki... how? Our jobs — we're on opposite sides—"

He pulls back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. His eyes are soft, earnest, the same eyes you fell in love with all those years ago.

"We'll find a way," he says firmly. "Because love knows no bounds. It's you. It'll always be you, no matter what."

He presses a final kiss to your forehead, then gently brushes the tangled hair from your face, wiping away the sweat and the remnants of your shared passion. 

His touch is so gentle, so tender, a stark contrast to the filth that was spilling from his mouth minutes ago.

"I love you," he says again, softer this time. "Let me love you. Let me figure this out."

You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay."

⭐️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[beau-bambi]

ANGELIC!KOOK!READER texts with BOYFRIEND!RAFE

──────────────────────

© 2025 BEAU-BAMBI - do not copy, translate, repost any of my work or feed it into ai.

[petrparkrslut]

after harry and his gf break up, there’s only one person who he’d call. who he’d been waiting to call.

based on -> this request

CW: emotionally disloyal harry, AGE GAP, oral sex (fem), p in v penetration (unprotected), heavy dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, and all things sexy! little plot mostly smut CURRENT 2026 HARRY

likes and reblogs sooo appreciated!

WC: 5k

You can’t say you were too surprised reading the headlines that morning.

It was a warm Saturday morning when you saw them. You were perched on the thick rim of your window, body melded into the corner as you looked out to the city that surrounded you. A glass of lemon water in one hand and your phone in the other—content.

Harry Styles Splits With Girlfriend After Year Long Relationship.

A Messy Break Between Two Global Superstars—Who is at Fault?

You couldn’t have been more unphased. It’s not like the two had a groundbreakingly amazing relationship. You knew they couldn’t. Not after you and him.

This was a matter of time, in your eyes. Before her, there was you. And you? You were all Harry had been looking for. And you knew it. So much so that at the start of his new relationship, you didn’t feel threatened in the slightest.

You went through your day as normal that Saturday, running some errands, grabbing a bite for lunch. Ignoring the string of texts from some friends asking if you’ve seen the news. Even a text from your own mother, only causing a large eye roll and a swipe left to dismiss it.

So when your phone rang at 10 at night with an endearingly familiar name, you decided it’d be the first notification you responded to that day.

“Hey,” you answer calmly and levelheaded, now resting on your mattress with a wide smile. Your stomach was pressed into your comforter as your feet swung back and forth behind you, rubbing into one another in smooth passing. You were adorned in sleep shorts a little too short for your own good and a matching cotton tank top that fell loose on your skin.

“Hi,” his voice rasped on the other line, “how are you?”

You have to hide your chuckle at his attempt at kind conversation. You’d rather he skip to the good part.

“I’m good, just in bed,” you sigh, “are you holding up okay? Saw the news.”

An empty ask that was fully forced out of you.

“I’d like to see you,” he says, and now you’re intrigued.

“Yeah?”

“I miss you, y/n,” and it wasn’t winsome, it was desperate.

“I know you do,” you nod, keeping your voice to a sensual whisper as you continue the quiet sway of your feet above you.

“Let me see you,” he pleads, “I need to see you.”

It was a naughty thing, him begging over the phone for you like this. He was wise beyond your years, big and strong and tall. You were his perfect little thing, young and perky and small enough to melt into his hold. You shuddered at the thought.

“You can come see me,” you nod slow, “if that’s what you really want.”

You knew it was. He knew that you knew it was.

“Yes, please,” the answer is quick, hopeless.

You honestly felt sorry for him. Listening to him pry for you like he needed you to breathe. You wondered how long he’d missed you, thought about you while fucking his girlfriend. Based on what you’ve heard, you can only assume it’s been a depressing amount of times.

“Ok, baby,” you bite back your smile, “come in when you get here. It’s unlocked.”

And with that, he hung up, pulling his shit together as quickly as possible to come see you. You just smiled to yourself on the bed, scrolling mindlessly as you waited for him. You were clean and freshly showered, slathered in a sweet smelling lotion and smooth all over.

You felt yourself wettening at the thought of him, of seeing him again after all this time. He was older now, chest littered in straggled hairs and pecs full and wide.

You thought of the photos you’d seen of him for Runner’s World Magazine—his stubbled beard and the ghosted bush of his happy trail. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him just as much as he missed you, you were crying to taste this new version of him. Thick and stocky and strong enough to lift you with a hand.

And when he pushed through your door, disheveled as ever, it was everything you ever wanted and more. A thick black hoodie and a loose pair of pink cotton shorts, fabric ripped and torn at the bottom and hugging his quads perfectly.

Even through your distance—your stomach on the bed and him tall in the doorway—you were drowned in his scent. The heavenly mix of deep vanilla musk and all things manly. His phone was held loose in his left hand, looking interestingly small wrapped between his large fingers.

For a moment, there was silence. His eyes drifting to places they shouldn’t and your eyes watching him do so. He peered to the tight crevice that laid between your two legs as you laid against the mattress, ass up and feet gently kicking. You looked so innocently girlish in your pretty cotton pj’s that he nearly folded right there, watching your round ass move just the slightest with every shift of your feet.

“Hi,” You called to grab his attention. His eyes darted away from your body and up to your pretty face, round and doe eyed and clean.

“Hi,” breathless.

You roll to your back, sitting up straight now and throwing your shiny legs over the edge of the mattress. You pressed the palms of your hands against the bed on either side of you, staring up at him with a small smile.

“You look good,” you say.

“So do you,” he nods, taking slow steps closer to you now. Your heart pounded with every new inch he moved, and now you’ve truly realized how much you miss him. Missed this.

You just watch as he walks closer to you, keeping your eyes wide and locked on his. You suddenly felt small as he towered down at you, taking slow strides until he landed between your legs hung off the bed.

You were close now. Your knees grazing the hairs on his legs as his face drew all the way down to meet you gaze. Your neck was tilted back so far that it ached to hold the contact, but you didn’t mind. Not when he was looking at you the way he was.

“I’ve missed this sweet face of yours,” he whispers so low that you nearly miss it, bringing a finger to drag softly along the frame of your jaw.

Your eyes flutter at the hint of contact, basking in the smooth pass of his finger tip grazing against your face. His voice was low, deeper than it had been when you were together and a twang of something different in his accent.

“You did?” You ask innocently, blinking up at him with those big eyes that had him aching.

“I did,” he nods, bringing his finger to your lips now. He dragged against them, soft and swollen, watching as the pink skin pulled along with his touch and bounced back into place in recoil.

“Such a pretty, pretty little thing. So soft,” he seems to be talking to himself, grazing over new places on your face and neck with just the delicate touch of his finger. You were soaked. So soaked that you knew he’d taunt you once he got a feel.

He hooked his finger under your chin to tilt your head further back, bringing his face down until his lips were hovered against yours. You stayed like that for a moment, breathing hot breaths into one another with stuttering eyes.

“Y/n,” he breathed into you, as if he was setting himself up for his next line. But nothing came after, just desperate exhales and shifts of his finger.

“Hm?” You hum, lips grazing over his in a frustrating tease.

He pulled closer, rubbing his mouth against yours before pulling back with a breath. You leaned up to catch his lips again, failing as he pulled back and parted his lips further apart. He pushed forward again, breathing hot air into you as you waited to follow his lead. It was a wreck, the two of you sorting out how to start something so erotic. And then, through wide mouths and heavy breaths, he closed his lips around yours with a deep, long inhale. His finger released itself from your face and replaced it with the firm grasp of his palm, holding your face upright in a strong handle.

You flutter into the kiss that absorbs you, reeling in the taste of his tongue lapping up and down and around your mouth. You felt electric, trapped into the hold of his strong hands and the aggressive push of his tongue. He tasted delicious, minty fresh with a subtle hint of expensive whiskey that had your head spinning and thighs tightening.

“Need to fuck you,” he groaned into you, “missed this so much. Missed you.”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, allowing your hands to find their place on his chest in front of you. You tug at the thick cotton of his hoodie and yearn for what’s below it, trying your hardest to take your time and follow his lead. You wanted him satisfied, to get everything he wanted from you and use you how he pleased. That would be pleasurable enough for you.

“You can take it off, baby girl,” he whispered into you, immediately pressing his lips back onto the moment he finished his sentence.

Your chest tightened and twisted into itself at his words and the familiar pet name that he’d used so tastefully when the two of you were together. You pulled the black sweatshirt up and over his head, allowing the fabric to pass through your kiss for just a moment before tossing it on the floor of your bedroom.

You were more than pleased to find that he hadn’t worn anything under, now exposed to his bare chest and chiseled muscles. It was even better than what you’d imagined; strong and buff and so so hard. Your nails trickled over the hills and valleys of his abs, feeling them squirm and tense beneath your touch. It was heavenly, the smooth surface that coated the swelling muscles.

He slowly pushed the two of you back through your disgustingly sloppy kiss, letting you fall to your back softly against your pretty pink comforter. You peaked an eye open through the kiss to glance at his shoulders as he did so, watching his traps swell and his shoulders round out in a gorgeously fit shine.

You let your legs wrap around his waist as he hovered over you, pushing his hips down into your center greedily. You both shuddered at the covered contact, the feeling so distant yet so familiar all the same.

He breaks his wet suction to your lips and shifts lower to your jaw, kissing down the sweet sensation of your perfume and down to your collarbone.

He was ridiculously needy, slopping his tongue around your smooth skin desperately as he failed to stabilize his breathing. He kissed every inch he could find, slowing his pace the lower he reached. Your skin was slick with his saliva by the time he reached the waist of your shorts, slowing down to nothing as he pressed slow deep kisses onto the skin.

You quivered as you watched him beneath you, green eyes staring up at you in challenge. His lips were soft and wet, kissing sweetly onto your sharp hip bones as his wide hands grasped your sides.

You started to wonder how you got here, Harry inches away from your pussy as your hand tangled through his hair. Yesterday, he was taken by a beautiful woman known worldwide by millions. Today, he’s falling undone for a woman a bit too young for his own good.

His fingers hook into the cotton of your tiny sleep shorts, tugging them down to reveal your wet slit. You hadn’t worn any underwear—having not expected him—and he growled low at the sight in front of him.

He laid a hot breath on the center of your tight, dripping wet pussy, sending goosebumps up and down your legs and tensing the muscles surrounding it. You were buzzing, high on the feeling of his lips back down where they belonged. You knew he missed your pussy, the way it gushed for him and swelled a pretty bright pink.

The second his tongue pressed flat against your slit, he moaned, loud and shameless at the sweet taste of you. He’d missed you dearly, dreaming of sugary sensation of your arousal coating his tongue for months on end. You were a honeyed petal for his lips to suckle on, framed by the precious scent of your cashmere lotioned thighs. He was on a cloud, lapping you up as your back arched in the beautiful way he remembered.

“Fuck, Harry,” you moaned, light and airy as your fingers twirled his curls harshly. His tongue worked miracles on your hot core, painting you up and down masterfully and you felt like you could cry at how much you missed him. No man has ever pleased you in the way he could, he knew your body like it was his own and was more generous than any man could dream of being.

“My baby tastes so sweet,” he groaned, pressing his tongue in and out of you and nudging his nose against your wet clit.

“Yeah?” You rasp out, “Daddy missed my pussy?”

His hands gripped your hips tighter at the line, shoving his mouth so deep into you that he had to be suffocating. Your back was arched up so high that it ached, your mind distracted in the pleasure that coursing through your blood on fire.

You quivered and gushed on his tongue, gentle moans rolling through you as his mouth moved to work your clit. He sucked hard and flicked your bud simultaneously, sending an aggressive vibration through your legs that locked Harry’s head in place. He was humming slow and steady against you, the mix of feelings comparing to nothing you’ve had before.

Your stomach felt hot and swarmed within itself, your head spinning against the mattress as your hair sprawled up and out. You were drunk on the man between your legs, opening your eyes every couple moments to watch the sensual sight of his face lodged between your thighs.

“You’re gonna cum,” he says, “cum on my tongue, baby, please.”

You clenched and tensed and squirmed, groaning at his words as he brought you up the latter and to your peak. You came fast and hard, soaking his tongue with your arousal as you clamped your legs around his head.

He nuzzled his head back and forth between your legs, blubbering against you as sopped you up and swallowed you down. His eyes stared up at you as he watched you collapse into your orgasm, the scene so provocative that he felt himself drip through his pants. Embarrassing, yes. But not between you two.

Your breaths slowed and your heart pounded as you came down from your high, pussy swollen and even wetter than before. He rose from his place at the edge of the bed with a wipe of his mouth, hovering back over you and taking in your red face.

“On your stomach,” he muttered stern, a demand rather than an ask that you will so happily oblige too.

You rolled to your stomach and shimmied to let your cheek lay against your pillow, wiggling your ass on the bed just barely.

He came to sit behind you, pressing his hands up the sides of your back and over the curve of your ass. He was taking you in, a sharp exhale slipping through his throat as he watched you shimmy around on the bed. Your ass was up and your slit was held tight together, dripping with the remains of your orgasm and puffy waiting for him.

You stretched your arm back behind you as you looked at him over your shoulder, slipping your fingers down past your ass until they landed on your center. You tapped the wet area twice, staring at him suggestively as you lifted your ass higher and used your fingers to split your hole open. You were putting on a show for him, displaying your little hole as he watched you intently.

“You wanna use your words?” He spits, rearranging his cock in his shorts at the sight of you teasing him.

“I can use my words,” you nod, continuing to touch yourself from behind. “You just tell me what you wanna hear.”

His jaw clenched at your response and his eyes shut for a moment too long, desperately trying to keep himself together.

“I want you to tell me what you want, and stop parading yourself in front of me like a slut,” he says low, running his hand up the back of your thigh.

“But I am a slut for you, daddy,” you whine, pressing a finger between your folds, “aren’t I?”

You watch as his lips part and his brows furrow, lost in watching you touch yourself so grossly as you spoke. You were an animal for him, stripping all of your self respect for the man behind you.

You press a second finger into yourself now, slowly stroking in and out as he watched closely. Your eyes shut in bliss and your pink lips fell apart at the pleasure you were providing for yourself, getting off to watching the man stare at you.

“Mmm,” you hum, “feels so good. Wish it was daddy’s cock instead, so big and hard.”

You watch him wince at the words, taking a thick swallow down his throat as he continues to eye you down. Your fingers plunged deep inside of you with every press, pulling out and soaking your skin with your filthy arousal.

“Stop.”

And you did. Hand out of yourself immediately, peering back at him with big eyes and waiting for the next instruction.

So you watched. Watched as he shrugged his shorts down and onto the floor, boxers following next and his cock springing to his lower stomach. Your thighs clenched and your jaw fell open, desperate for the throbbing length in front of you.

He was heavy and thick, so wide for you. His tip was red and swollen, soaked in the subtle drips that had been spilling out of him since he’d arrived. He looked glorious, like the most beautiful thing you had ever laid your eyes on.

When he shifted over top of you and lifted your hips up harshly, you could barely hold in your excitement as you bit back a smile. You’ve been thinking of this, this moment, his cock lined up behind you, for what felt like ages.

He pressed the head into your creamy slit so slow, so punishing. He stretched your tight pussy wide, pulling at the skin in a perfect mix of pain and pleasure. Your mouth fell open as you melted into the mattress beneath you, soothed by sweet sounds of Harry’s long groan behind you.

“Fuck, y/n,” his tone was low and his grip on your hips tensed, tugging at the skin until it reddened.

“Ohh, Harry,” your knuckles whitened as you tugged at your comforter, “fill me up, keep going.”

He slammed the whole of himself into you in one quick movement, bottoming out as his dense balls slapped against your throbbing clit. It sent a jolt of bliss through you as his tip pecked in deep, rubbing into your spongy insides rough and relentless.

He fucked you this way for a while, pounding in and out of you and watching as your ass jiggled and shook with every thrust. You were moaning loud, feeling too good to keep anything in as your skin slapped together. The noise was wet and sloppy as his hips melded to your ass, skin slapping and pussy gushing in a disgustingly pornographic manner.

“Shit, baby,” he groaned through gritted teeth, pressing a hand onto your back to press you further down into the mattress.

“My pussy feel good?” You whine, “tell me who feels better, daddy. Me or her. Tell me.”

“You, fuck— you!,” he struggles, “You.”

“Yeah? You missed this? Tell me how good it is,” you clenched around him tight, building to your orgasm as you taunt him.

“So good,” he breathes, “feel so good around me, baby girl. Best pussy I’ve ever had. So tight, shit.”

“Mmm,” you hum at his praise, legs trembling he thrusts into you even harder. You were jelly in front of him, being treated as nothing but a fuck toy for him and that’s how you liked it.

His tip slams into you relentlessly, over and over and over again until your stomach is boiling for the second time and your head is fuzzy. You were close, so close and he could feel it.

“M’gonna cum,” you murmur into the mattress, ass arching up as rams into the same sweet spot.

“I know, baby,” he rasps, “wanna feel this pussy cum on my cock. Give me what I’ve missed so much, cmon.”

You shook as your second orgasm rippled through you, hard and aggressive this time. Your moans were strangled and your face was red, gripping your walls around his dense shaft as you fell undone. You felt light and floaty as you came down from this one, falling limp beneath him as he rode you through it.

He pulled out, popping out of you as your stomach fell flat to the mattress. You were wiped, completely exhausted yet craving more all the same. A feeling only he’s given you.

“Y/n,” he rubbed up your back, “I know you’re tired…but I’ve been waiting to watch my baby ride me again for too long. Can you do that for me?”

He was insane to even act like you would say no.

“Yes, please,” you nod quick and flip to your back, catching your breath as he peers over you.

After a quick shift and some rearranging, you were perched on top of his thighs as he laid back into your pretty headboard relaxed as ever. You loved to see him like this, laid back and sprawled out for you to play with. To climb on top of and treat it as your little playground.

He tugged your top off in one quick motion, gawking at your perky breasts that fell in front of him. They bounced out of your top and displayed themselves beautifully for him, so hard and just what he needed to take him over the edge.

You smirk at his intense stare never leaving your chest, and lift your body up and over his swelling tip. It was pretty, so red and aching for you to sit yourself down where you belonged.

And when you finally pressed yourself down and let him pierce through you, your legs tensed harder than they ever had before. His hands guided your hips as they made their journey down, taking him in slow and steady as he stretched you for a second time. He curved straight up into your stomach, pressing a tent into the skin with every sudden movement.

“Oh, baby,” his neck reels back, “You feel that? We feel so good together, fuck.”

And you did. You were spinning, lost in the feeling that you brought upon yourself as you rolled your hips back and forth ever so sensually. It was tender but rough, slightly personal with a tinge of animalistic chemistry. Broken moans and heavy breaths littered the space around you as you rode him with your perfect mix of bounces and slides, soaking the hairs that surrounded his base with your slushy arousal.

“Did she fuck you like this, baby? Hm?” You spur on, quickening your pace as you find your rhythm back and forth.

“No, no, only you,” he spits out with no hesitation.

You grin, satisfied with his admission before lifting yourself all the way up, sliding him completely out of you as you kept him in place between your folds. You teased around the tip that slid between them for just a moment before swallowing him whole once more, sitting yourself down completely in one smooth drop.

At the sound of his deep, drawn out moan you shuddered, bouncing up and down and all around him as you watched his lips fall further apart. He looked heavenly, stubble shifting as his prominent Adams apple bobbed up and down with every groan. His body was strong beneath you and his big grown hands held you tight, gently guiding your movements but letting you keep control all the same.

“Shit,” you curse, “I fuck daddy so good, make him cum better than she did, I know I do.”

You’re rambling now, but you don't care. Neither does he. It’s all true, and right now it’s all so right. Just what he needs to hear falling from your pretty soft lips. He wanted to be reminded of his emotional disloyalty to his ex-girlfriend. He wanted you to know how often he thought of you while he fucked her.

“She was nothing. We were nothing. This is it, baby, you’re it, fuck!” he’s breathless, dick twitching inside of you and so close to his release.

“Please, miss your cum in me so much daddy, wanna be full,” you pick up your pace, bouncing so harsh that your tits were slapping against themselves with every drop. He was in a trance as he watched you, struggling to keep his eyes open but determined to not miss a second of the angelic sight in front of him. His girl, his little baby fucking him again just how he liked. Rough and desperate and one big mess for him.

With a loud and girthy groan, his hot liquid spurts inside of you in a warm blanket of comfort. His head tossed back and his mouth fell agape in total and complete ecstasy, legs trembling beneath you as he came long and hard.

Your hips rolled him through it until his cum was pouring through the crevices where you connected, mixing with your own as you came with him. It was ridiculously wet and weirdly therapeutic to hear, like a sound you forgot existed.

You both tensed and squirmed and vibrated within each other until your head fell forward and into the crook of his neck, laying there in heavy breaths as his hands instinctively wrapped to your back. He rubbed softly into your sweaty skin, catching his breath in sync with your own.

His cock stayed in you for quite a bit before you two parted, your pussy dripping with the two of you as it landed onto his lower stomach. You both giggled a bit at the burden, knowing now that you have to go run to grab him something to clean himself up with.

“Oops, stay here,” you couldn't contain your little laugh, meshing with his own muffled chuckles throughout the dimly lit room.

You ran quickly to your bathroom to grab him a fresh towel, returning fast so as to not leave him coated in his own cum for too long. You know how it feels, there’s definitely a lot of pressure to stay perfectly still until the towel appears.

You leaned over to wipe him up, leaving him dry and only slightly sticky. You were sure you two would shower soon anyway. You had to, you were both coated in sweat.

“Thank you,” he whispers to you as you toss the towel to the side, climbing back into bed next to him.

“Harry,” you push some hair out of his face, “I really miss you.”

“I dont,” he shakes his head, pushing his lips together as he turns to face you.

You freeze, lips parted and cheeks red. And all you can think to do is put a bit of distance between the two of you and bring one of your fuzzy pillows to cover your naked body.

“Hey, I’m joking!” he nudges you with the back of his hand and erupts into a fit of laughter, the sound so sweet but so annoying in the moment.

“Harry, that’s not funny!” you scold, tossing the fuzzy pillow at his head harshly.

“It was kind of funny, until you got all sad,” he mocks, “that was quite the pout, little miss.”

“I don't miss you anymore. You can go,” you cross your arms and swat him away, tummy fluttered and chest full.

“Y/n,” he pulls closer to you, “I miss you very, very much.”

“You do?” you ask, softer this time. You know it was silly, but for some reason you had always been under the impression that you were more into him than he was you. Maybe it was the age, the power dynamic, that had you feeling like he had much more important things to attend to than a cute little twenty something. But when you were reminded otherwise, it was more rewarding than anything.

“Very much,” he nods, “Bath?”

And of course you nod, as smitten as ever, before he kisses your cheek and hops up from the bed to run the water. You just sat there, fucked out of your mind and heart swelling, waiting for him to come back and swoop you up and into the bubbles.

if you enjoyed, pls like/reblog!

more importantly, please read my recent work on wattpad! Liminal- a smutty friends w benefits plot where harry and oc live across the hall from eachother

link to Liminal -> here.

masterlist

ask/request - ask anything! i usually only reply to specific requests once i’ve fully completed it so i can keep all unfinished requests in my inbox!! :)

join my taglist

[elithenium]

All the BTS fics I have read since being on Tumblr!

hi hi to everybody!! I hope you enjoy this list as much as I did while reading them!!!

Unfortunately I will say I’m quite famous for reading smut in public and I am not afraid to say my reactions on the internet 🙂

Couldn’t fit all of them in one post so you can find part two here

now moving on…

1. First class by girlygguk (rich student!jk x rich student!fem reader)(s)

2. Seven by spideyjimin (jungkook x female reader) (s)

Seven days a week inspired/ MOTHER spideyjimin I LOVE YOU SOO MUCH

3. no textbooks here by ririkookiemonster (male model jungkook x female model oc) (s)

This one kept me up all night

4. another taste by bratkook (rockstar!jk x reader)(s)

5. pencil strokes & paint platters by borathae (Artist!Jungkook x Painter!Reader )(s)

Honestly, anything coming from them is a masterpiece

6. be still my heart by caramelkoo (childhood best friends to frenemies to lovers, physical therapist!reader x hockey player!jungkook) (s)

this one is deeply rooted in my heart

part two here

7. not my fault by taegularities (classmates to lovers , Jungkook x reader) (s)

I love whatever is written by them, I’ve got so much appreciation towards them!!!

8. all that glitters by aquagustd fuckboy!jungkook x reader (ft. yoongi)) (s)

9. Needy by girlygguk ( nerd!jk x cheerleader!fem reader)(s)

read part two here

Raw next question

10. Idealizations concerning real life relations by venusiangguk ( jungkook x reader / fuckboy!jk x hopeless romantic!oc) (s)

11. birthday boy by aajjks (husband!jk x wife!reader) (s)

Holly Molly

12. before we shatter by caramelkoo (established relationship, idol!jungkook) (s)

part two here

13. the pink pill | jjk version by dollfaceksj (jungkook x fem!reader) (s)

The hole pink pill series has me in a chokehold

14. Bonded by borathae (Alpha!Jungkook x f. omega!Reader) (s)

15. does he know? by girlatmirror (ex bf! jungkook x reade)(s)

16. Daddy daycare by bunnyhugs77 ( Technician! Jungkook x Teacher's Assistant! Reader) (s)

Yes I like dilfs and I am not ashamed to say

Read part 2, 3

16. I am not a kid ! by someonegoood (brother’s best friend troop)

read part 2 here (s)

17. lie with you by girlygguk (grumpy jk x sunshine fem reader)

this trope is possibly the best discovery I’ve ever done

18. Jungkook groom x Reader wife by 7brownsuga7 (s)

19. archnemesis by ririkookiemonster (Academic rival Y/N x Academic rival Taehyung) (s)

20. play thing by joonjuul (boyfriend!jk x sleepy!reader)(s)

21. taste me by joonjuul (nerd!jimin x bully!reader) (s)

ON MY KNEES FOR NERD JIMIN

22. Blue blood by joonbird (jimin x reader)(s)

23. one time for the present by redcherrykook (husband Jungkook)(s)

24. pensándote by yoK00K (yandere!bf!jk x reader)(s)

25. The odd one out by jimxnslight (OT7 x reader)

26. If I was your boyfriend by borathae (Jungkook x f.Reader)

27. The corporate equation by someonegoood (ceo jjk)

28. blooming by kjhmyg (florist!oc x tattoo artist!jk)

29. forgot something by xovisa (jjk x reader)

30. Cinnamon Girl by stawbarryjimine (Jeon Jungkook x Fem!Reader)

31. Massage Envy by jungkookstatts (jjk x reader) (s)

32. You’re sick baby by jungkookstatts (jjk x reader)

33. Kiss it better by joonjuul (bestfriend!jimin x victim!reader)(s)

Thinking of they don’t know about us Jimin

34. university superstar by jungkookstatts (jjk x reader) (s)

Jeon 07 Drabble

35. Married for 7 days by kooklovee ( bf!Jungkook x gf!reader)

Love love this girlyyy

36. into you by mmegwrld (mean boy jk + sweetheart reader! )

37. Fight for you by ahundredtimesover (Jungkook x (f.) Reader)(s)

38. Something in the heir by hisunshiine (knight!jungkook x palace woman!reader)(s)

39. Please love me by ahundredtimesover (Jungkook x (f.) Reader) (s)

40. Playlist love by ahgasegotarmy116 (Sunshine f!reader x Grumpy Jungkook) (s)

41. The angry snowman by artaeffect (boyfriend!jk | jeon jungkook x f reader)

42. Letting off steam by wndrkoo (f1 driver! jungkook x sunshine gf)

F1 girls assemble!!!

43. Will you make a mess now by softyoongiionly (Jungkook x Reader)(s)

Virgin koo!!! 🥴

44. Yan billionaire heir Jungkook by mochitaekookie

Headcanons

Thank you for reading!!!!!!

[girlygguk]

FIRST CLASS ⋆ JJK

in which you are just another spoiled, bitchy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby who has everyone at yonsei university eating from the palm of your hand. and jeon jungkook, your spoiled, fuck-boy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby best friend, is always first in line to take a bite.

PAIRING rich student!jk x rich student!fem reader

WORDCOUNT 25k+

RATING 18+ MINORS DNI

GENRE smut, fluff, angst, university au, f2l

CONTENT nepo baby mc’s, tae sister reader, heavy pining, heavy cursing, golden retriever fuckboy jk, whipped jk, simp jk, kinda emotionally constipated reader, miscommunication, jk has his tats & shorter hair, jk is a tits guy and reader has big tiddies, jk & reader are very touchy and lovey friends, reader is kind of a bitch to those she doesn't care about, but shes a baddie and i luv her, reader is rich but jk is richer 😩, arguments, jealousy, bottled up feelings, jk & reader have active sex lives beforehand, an explicit scene between reader & a side character (but no sex), fight scene, blood, near-miss car accident, bad physical injuries, alcohol consumption, the rest of bangtan are side characters, the last like 9k(?) is literally just smut helppp.. dry humping, blowjob, cunnilingus, dirty talk, praise, biting, jk likes the pain ok, body worship, multiple orgasms, bigg dick jk, soft dom jk, unprotected sex, ocs a pro dick riderr 🙂‍↕️, creampie, sweet aftercare, happy ending

first class ; noun /ˌfəːs(t) ˈklɑːs/ a set of people or things grouped together as the best.

The biting cold of the winter evening settles over Yonsei University's lacrosse field, floodlights sending long shadows on the frosted grass. You pull your mink coat tighter around yourself, the chill seeping through despite your layers. Sitting on the bleachers with Park Jimin and his twin sister, Park Minji, you watch the game unfold.

The match is in full swing: Yonsei versus Hanyang, another top South Korean university. The excitement is palpable as the outdoor stadium fills with spectators, creating a sea of blue and green—the colors of the respective teams they are rooting for. Jimin wears a blue puffer jacket in support, while your roommate Minji is swimming in a blue long-sleeve sports jersey that definitely does not belong to her, you think with a smirk.

You initially weren't going to attend tonight due to other plans, which is why you aren't sporting anything blue. But, after a whiny 20-minute call from your insufferable best friend, you canceled on Mingyu last minute and tagged along with the Parks. Not that you would've dressed in all royal blue anyway… you're not fucking crazy. But maybe you would've added a blue ribbon to your hair or something.

Taehyung and Jungkook, co-captains of the Yonsei team, are in their element, dominating the field with effortless skill. You watch as your brother and Jungkook easily clear the opposing team, their movements synchronized and precise.

Jimin nudges you with a gloved hand, his breath visible in the frigid air. "Your brother and Kook are killing it out there," he says, his eyes following the action on the field.

You nod, cheeks flushed from the cold. Giving him a hum in agreement, you glance over at Minji. Her focused gaze keeps drifting back to Number 12, almost subconsciously, before realizing and snapping back to the middle of the field.

You look away in amusement, focusing on the game again and watching as Number 12, Kim Namjoon, swiftly catches the ball flying through the air with his racket before bolting through an opening in Hanyang's layout.

As the game progresses, the Hanyang team rallies, their determination pushing them closer and closer to Yonsei's lead. The crowd tenses as the score tightens, but you remain composed. You've seen this scenario play out countless times before.

There are 20 seconds left in the match, and Yonsei is down by two points. The twins have matching pouts on their lips, beginning to come to terms with your school receiving their first defeat of the season.

You watch as Hanyang makes the pitiful mistake of trying to make a risky pass by Number 1.

In the blink of an eye, Number 1's racket shoots out and intercepts the catch, and with a final burst of speed, Jungkook breaks right through the opposing defense. His eyes lock on the goal, and with a powerful swing, he sends the ball soaring into the net.

The crowd erupts, cheers reverberating across the field as the final buzzer blares, signaling the end of the game. You can't help but smile at Jungkook's skill.

The Yonsei team quickly swarms around Jungkook, their cheers morphing into a sea of bodies that envelop him, eventually toppling him to the ground in a dogpile. As they begin to disperse, Taehyung leans down to his co-captain with a proud grin.

Jungkook takes Taehyung's hand with a chuckle, the elder hoisting him to his feet before draping an arm around his shoulder. Jungkook pulls off his helmet, shaking out his damp curls, which cling stubbornly to his forehead. His eyes then drift towards the bleachers, where he suddenly loses his train of thought.

There you are, in all your glory—wrapped in a long, expensive chocolate mink coat, cheeks flushed pink from the cold air.

Your smooth legs, sheathed in sheer stockings, disappear into boots that likely cost as much as a teenager's first car. He wonders about the color of your skirt hidden beneath your coat—is it brown to match, or black to complement your boots? The color, he isn't certain, but he does know it is either a skirt or a dress. You would never be caught dead in trousers and even avoid jeans if you can. Personally, Jungkook thinks you look spectacular in jeans.

Your hair hangs loose, styled pin-straight but tousled slightly by the breeze, and his fingers itch to tuck the stray strands behind your ear. You are engrossed in conversation with Jimin and Minji as the three of you descend the bleacher seats, now heading towards him and your brother. Your brother, who is now holding his helmet under his right arm, uses his left to tug his best friend out of his trance and towards their friends.

You and the Park siblings weave through the amped-up crowd before finally reaching where the co-captains are peeling off their gloves.

Jimin clasps Taehyung's hand, pulling him into a warm, brotherly hug. "That was a fucking game, Tae!" He exclaims, a wide grin spreading across his face before giving the same greeting to Jungkook.

Minji follows suit, hugging Taehyung quickly before turning to Jungkook with a playful smirk. “You had us scared for a second, Kook,” she teases, “thought you weren’t gonna make that last shot.”

Jungkook chuckles, returning Minji's hug before leaning back and chucking his helmet on the ground, waiting for you to finish congratulating your brother.

"All part of the show," he replies to the twin with a wink before you pull away from Tae and float to him like second nature.

Nobody bats an eye as your arms slink around his shoulders, linking behind his neck. His taller frame leans down slightly on instinct, and his arms wrap around your waist. His face buries gently into your neck, pulling you a little closer. Your perfume renders Jungkook dazed, and he knows that he is a sweaty mess and smells like one too, but even if you notice, you don't mention it.

"Hi," he mumbles, his breath tickling your skin, causing you to smile and pull away slightly.

"Hi," you echo sweetly, noticing his eyes flicker down to where your coat has parted and your black Hermès mini-skirt peeks through.

You are about to ask him if he likes it because you just bought it yesterday, but he is quick to draw your coat tighter around you, probably not wanting the cold air to nip at you any longer.

He picks up his helmet and gloves, his tattooed arm slipping comfortably over your shoulder as the five of you head towards the locker rooms.

Your head rests against the side of his chest while you walk, and your friends are still beaming about Yonsei's fourth consecutive win of the season. Jungkook slows his steps slightly, letting the rest of your group pull slightly ahead.

"Glad you came," he says softly, his skin tingling as your nails lightly scratch against his shirt where your hand rests around his waist.

"Yeah, you better be," you hum teasingly, "Mingyu was not happy."

Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat before forcing out a laugh, "Tell him I'll make it up to him. Take him out on a date myself."

Your giggle soothes the ache in his chest before it returns tenfold at your response, "wasn't a date. Was just going to see him."

"Ohhaahah," his attempt at a laugh comes out more strained than he intends, and you snort, amused by his discomfort.

Before he can protest, you interlock his hand with yours and lead him towards the locker room, his steps quickening to match yours. He follows behind you like a puppy dog, as if this was your locker room and you were showing it to him for the first time.

A chaotic mix of celebration and exhaustion echoes throughout the building as you walk through the door that Tae holds open. The smell of sweaty lacrosse players all but hits you in the face, and Jungkook watches in amusement as your nose scrunches slightly. The warm air is welcoming though, and you let out a sigh as it works to defrost your frozen skin.

The changing room is packed to the brim with sweaty college boys high-fiving, recounting the game's highlights, and shedding off their gear. Jungkook lets go of your hand when you and Minji go over to say hi to Namjoon.

Taehyung is caught up in conversation with the coach, who is commending the team's performance and already running through some things they can work on in preparation for next month's match.

"Jaykayyyyyy!!"

"Let's fucking gooo, Jeon!"

"Good shit tonight, JK!"

You release Namjoon from the hug and turn towards the sudden commotion coming from the other side of the locker room.

Your best friend is at the center of the group, his teammates slapping his back and tousling his hair while showering him with praise. You notice his bunny-like teeth peeking out as he grins. No matter how confidently he carries himself throughout the day, he still flushes at compliments, which makes you roll your eyes amusedly.

Jungkook breaks away from the group and heads to his locker to check his phone while you return your attention to Namjoon and Minji, who are now caught in a quiet conversation.

You head over to Jimin, who looks to be passionately explaining something to Hobi and Yoongi, judging by his broad and exaggerated hand movements. He is a drama major though, so you can never be too sure.

A vibrating noise cuts your journey short. You fish your phone from your coat pocket and begrudgingly slip out of the locker room back into the cold air before answering. "Hey, Gyu."

"Hey, Y/N." Mingyu's tone is low and strained, like he’s in pain almost.

You tuck the strands of hair that were getting picked up by the wind behind your ear. "How can I help you?" you ask.

"Y/N," he grunts out a pained laugh, and you click.

You hear shuffling on the other side of the line while he sits up against his headboard.

"Yes? What do you need?" You're not going to do the work for him, and he knew that. He felt pathetic even making the call in the first place.

He goes quiet for a moment, and you pull your phone from your ear to glance at the time. "It's only 8 pm, and you sound like you're already in bed."

Mingyu nods as if you could see him, "I am. I have been for a while," he admits before asking you how the game was. You know he didn't actually give a shit about the game, but you still entertain him and answer

He drags out the conversation for a few minutes, running his hand through his hair at your voice. He doesn't want to hear it through the phone; he wants to hear it in person. He wants you to be in his room right now, like you said you would be.

Mingyu hates how disinterested you sound. Mingyu also hates how that very disinterested tone makes his cock throb in his sweatpants. You couldn't care less about him, whereas all he's been doing since you canceled on him three hours ago is lay in bed and fucking think about you. He sighs before biting the bullet, "Are you still coming over?"

Your brows furrow slightly, "Oh, I thought I told you that I was—"

"Can you still come over?" He rephrases his question, "please?"

Your lips purse as you consider it for a second. You don't have any classes tomorrow, so you guess you could head to his later tonight.

You're about to respond when the sound of the door opening behind you causes you to turn around.

You watch as the wealthiest student in the entire university approaches you, now dressed in a plain black hoodie and a pair of joggers, running a towel through his wet hair. It no longer looks sweaty wet but instead shampooed wet, so you assume he had a quick shower. "Hey, you okay? Why are you out here in the cold?"

"One second," you say into the phone before lowering it and moving closer to Jungkook. He closes your fur coat tightly around you again as it comes open from the strong wind while he waits for your response.

"Came out here to take a call. Too loud in there."

He nods, throwing the towel over his shoulder. "'K. We're going to Hanji's to eat. Did you want to ride with me?"

You're about to agree without even thinking when you remember the boy waiting on the other end of the call.

"Ah," you mutter, lifting the phone back to your ear. "I'll come over at like 11?" you say to Mingyu, not catching the frown that coats Jungkook's lips.

Mingyu almost protests but knows that 11 is better than nothing and stops himself. "Sweet. Just text me if you need me to pick you up."

You thank him before saying your goodbyes and ending the call. You look up at your best friend, his gaze unfocused. "Can I?" you ask.

"Hmm?" he hums, blinking a few times before focusing on your face.

"Ride with you?"

"Yeah," he smiles down at you, letting you link your arm with his as he leads you back into the warm locker room.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

Hanji's is loud. The clamor of sizzling grills and busy cooks no match for the chatter of students and customers that fill the room. You sip on an iced tea as your friends laugh and chat, still basking in tonight's victory.

Snug between your brother and Jungkook, you rest your head on the latter's shoulder, sipping your drink through a paper straw. His arm drapes over the back of the booth's chair, allowing you to settle comfortably as he chats with the swim team captain, Jin, who sits on the opposite side of the booth.

Your coat is folded on Jungkook's lap now that you're surrounded by the warm air of the diner, and his tattooed fingers play absentmindedly with the spaghetti strap of your top.

Taehyung leans over and snatches a dumpling from your untouched plate with his chopsticks, causing you to glance at him in faux annoyance. Your brother knows you don't actually care and flashes you a big, toothy grin which you can’t help but return.

You push the plate toward him, wordlessly telling him to have it all and his eyes light up for a split second before his brows furrow. "Why aren't you eating?" he asks concernedly, his words slightly muffled by a mouthful of food.

"Ate just before the game, I'm full," you reply, nodding when he asks if you're sure and watching him grab another dumpling.

Liar. Jungkook thinks as he watches Jin's mouth move but is unfocused on the words he's actually saying.

You don't eat before a link, a habit of yours Jungkook is very aware of, having asked you not to do it countless times before.

It's not that deep, you always tell him; you just don't enjoy sex much with a full stomach, it makes you feel sorta sick. And food always tastes better after sex anyway.

He glances down at you for a second, and you're already looking his way, your pretty eyes boring into his as if daring him to mention anything to your brother. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he turns away, attempting to hide his smile at your attitude.

Jin cracks a joke and glances at you for a reaction, prompting you to roll your eyes and laugh. He pumps his fist in the air triumphantly, earning a playful smack from his girlfriend.

Your friends are always like that—acting as if making you laugh is some monumental achievement. You're not a masochist; you don't avoid laughing on purpose. But you're rich, intelligent, and pretty... It takes a lot to impress you. Jungkook makes you laugh a lot though.

Seated next to Jin is his gorgeous high-school sweetheart, Mia, and next to her is your ever-so pouty housemate, Minji. You quietly observe Minji's gaze as it frequently drifts to the booth adjacent to yours, where Yoongi, his boyfriend Hobi, Jimin, and, most importantly, Namjoon are seated.

Minji sighs softly, snapping out of her daze as she looks down at her cider. Taehyung is laughing at something Jin said, leaning forward in front of you slightly to engage in conversation with the swimmer on the other side of the table. You take this moment to check on your friend.

Your head lifts off Jungkook's shoulder, and he resists the urge to turn and ask why, trying to stay focused on the story his Hyung is telling. You catch Minji's eye, offering her a small, questioning smile. She returns it as best she can before her expression morphs back into a troubled pout, and she shakes her head slightly.

You nod in understanding, tapping Jungkook's thigh as a signal that you'll be right back and ask Taehyung to let you out of the booth. Your brother stands, allowing you to shuffle out, and you grasp Minji's hand, tugging her along to the restroom.

Jungkook glances over, watching you usher Minji away from the table, and from the corner of his eye, he notices Namjoon looking over too.

Fifteen minutes go by, and you're reapplying Minji's mascara, which she cried off during her tearful spiel about her situationship.

"It's like h-he—" she pauses to hiccup, and you move the wand away to let her breathe, "—he just likes to mess with my fucking head! Every time we hook up he's all like 'Minjiiiiyahhh,'" you snicker at her imitation of his voice.

"’I can't get enough of you! I wanna do this forever!' but then when we're with everyone, it's like he's scared to even stand next to me! God, is he like, embarrassed of me or something?" She seethes, shaking her head in frustration.

You lift a tissue to her lash line, dabbing at the fresh tears brewing and scoff. "Embarrassed of you? Don't be ridiculous," you say, capping the mascara and sliding it back into her clutch, giving up on the rescue mission as the tears just keep coming.

"You are gorgeous," you turn your body to lean against the basin with her, linking her arm in yours. "Smart," you continue, resting your head on her shoulder. "Funny... sometimes," you tease, and she lets out a tearful giggle, her trembly hands curling around your arm as she snuggles into you in gratitude.

"God, I'm literally wearing his jersey. How pathetic." She laughs at herself, and your brows furrow slightly.

"How is that pathetic? I'm sure he wanted you to wear it, didn't he?"

"Well yeah... He was actually really cute when he asked if I would. He was all shy and shit. Fuck sakes," she groans in frustration, "it makes everything even more confusing!"

"Maybe he's just shy about showing affection in front of people? I mean, he is literally a computer science major..." You trail off and smile when she whines and wacks the arm of yours that she's leaning on.

"Seriously, though, don't cry over a guy, Min. And especially don't question your worth because of him." The bathroom falls silent except for her soft sniffles at your words.

You hand her the tissue that you're holding before adding, "You need to talk and set things straight with him, or you're just going to continue hurting." You internally scoff at the hypocrisy of your own words, but your roommate is none the wiser, nodding at you in agreement.

After a moment, she speaks quietly, "I wish I could be more like you."

"How so?" you ask, though you already have an inkling.

"You never get attached to the guys you hang with. I wish I could do that. It seems so much more freeing."

You hum half-heartedly in response, watching her dab at her eyes one last time before turning to wash her hands. Her words linger, echoing in your mind longer than they should. No, you don't get attached. Because you already know firsthand just how much it fucking sucks when the feelings aren't mutual.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

It's 11:12 pm. The scent of your Chanel No. 5 lingers in the air, blending with Jungkook's soft hums to his car radio. The warm air from the heater makes your eyes droop slightly.

"You have a nice voice," you murmur, toying with the tattooed fingers resting on your stocking-clad thigh.

He glances at you briefly, a small smile playing on his lips. "You always say that," he replies, eyes returning to the road as he stops at a red light.

"Because it's true," you state simply. "Do you disagree?"

He laughs softly at your bluntness, a familiar flush creeping up his neck. "Maybe."

"Hm," you roll your eyes, lifting one of his fingers and letting it drop before repeating the motion with the others. "Whatever, golden boy."

"Ya," he chuckles, squeezing your thigh gently, "don't call me that."

You tilt your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "You let everyone else call you that."

His lips purse into a slight pout. "Not you."

You blink at him, the corner of your lips twitching into a smile at his big, boba eyes. He just keeps staring at you, letting you fiddle with his hand. After a few long moments, you giggle at his dazed-out expression. "Light's green, Gukkie."

He snaps out of it instantly, facing back toward the road, and his foot hits the gas pedal a little quicker than intended. That's better, he thinks.

A few minutes later, he turns into the familiar entrance of Yonsei University, steering the car down the path that leads to the Delta Sigma Phi fraternity house. As he pulls into a parking spot in front of the building, you're halfway through sending a text, so he waits for you to finish before cutting off the heater.

You lock your phone and glance up just as he extracts the keys from the ignition. He pats your thigh gently before climbing out of the car. You follow suit, rounding the vehicle to meet him by the driver's side.

Instinctively, he reaches for your hand, fingers entwining, and you rest your head against his arm as you both ascend the front steps to the frat.

The foyer is dark as Jungkook leads you inside. He maneuvers through the hall effortlessly, even without his sight. He guides you up the stairs to the second floor, your hands still locked together, and he turns to face you when you reach the door to his bedroom.

You look up at him with a dumb smile, and he leans down to bury his face in your neck before he says something dumber. His back presses against the door, and as you lean into him, the scent of his clean, linen hoodie fills your senses.

Jungkook's love language is physical touch, and you let him have his moment, keening slightly when he nudges the side of your neck with his pretty nose. YYour phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it, wanting to spend five more minutes with your best friend.

"Do you have class tomorrow?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to be heard by his housemates.

He doesn't say anything, just shakes his head wordlessly, his curls tickling your skin as he does.

"Movie tomorrow then?" you suggest softly, letting him lean back slightly to look at you.

The moment you see the flicker of guilt in his eyes, you know his response before he even forms the words. His pouty lips part, ready to offer an excuse when you squint your eyes and lean away from him.

"Jesus, Jeongguk." You groan, still keeping your voice low, but he can hear the annoyance loud and clear. "Why do you get all pouty and sad when you have other plans? It's okay."

Jungkook's eyebrows furrow. He edges forward, trying to maintain some form of physical contact, but you just shrug him off. "I already agreed to it last night. I'm sorry, Y/N."

You let out a frustrated sigh and roll your eyes. "Why are you fucking apologizing?" Your words have bite, but he doesn't react, simply leaning closer to you even though you continue to distance yourself.

You know you're overreacting in a sense, but every time he has plans with a girl, he always apologizes with that stupid fucking pout and those stupid fucking puppy dog eyes. And it's only when it's with another girl.

You weren't upset; you were well aware of his active sex life. It's like he expects you to burst into tears whenever he tells you he's seeing someone. Why the fuck would you care?

Jungkook reaches out to you in a last attempt to grab your hand, and you just stare at it, not making any move to accept the gesture. He sighs, letting his hand fall to his side while he looks at your pissed-off expression.

"Why?" You try again.

Jungkook's shoulders slump, and he looks down, avoiding your gaze. "I don't know," he responds softly. He barely catches the annoyance on your face fading, soon replaced with something that tugs at his heart even more—boredom.

"Okay then, Gukkie. Sleep well, we'll talk later," you say, nodding as you step closer to him. Your arms wrap around him in a quick hug, and before he can even react, you're walking down to the other end of the hall.

Jungkook's eyes stay focused on the ground, listening to your footsteps getting further away.

It's not until he hears a soft knock on his frat-mate's bedroom door and a fucked-out, "Shitttt, look at you," come from Mingyu that he scoffs, turning into his room and slamming the door behind him.

Thirty minutes pass, then an hour, then two, as Jungkook lies grumpily on his bed, glaring at his bedroom ceiling.

There was an unmistakable bang of a headboard against the wall down the hall at minute forty-five, followed quickly by your hushed voice telling Mingyu to keep it down. Jungkook hasn't been able to close his eyes since.

"Why are you fucking apologizing?"

Your words ring in his head as he tosses under his blanket uncomfortably, giving up before ripping it off his body a bit too aggressively, causing it to fall to the ground.

"I don't know."

Dirty fucking liar, his subconscious snickers.

Of course he knew. He's always fucking known. It's subconscious; the way he can't stop the apology from spewing from his lips every time.

He wants you to be upset. He wants you to get angry at him for sleeping with other girls. He wants you to ask him not to go.

But you don't. You never do. If anything, you encourage it. And there he is, apologizing like a fucking idiot for something that you don't even care about. Every time he sees that disinterested look in your eyes, it feels like a sour punch to the gut.

Jungkook's mind races as he tries to figure out why he keeps doing this to himself. Why he keeps hoping for a reaction that never comes. He thinks about the way you hugged him earlier, the fleeting moment of closeness before you walked away without a second thought. You're so good at that.

He rolls onto his side, trying for the nth time to close his eyes, the sounds of your muffled laughter and Mingyu's low murmurs mocking him through the thin walls.

Jungkook clenches his jaw, the frustration gnawing at him, a constant reminder of what he can't have. He wants to move on, to stop letting you have this power over him. He laughs at the thought.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

Two days later, you're sitting in your afternoon Linguistics class, sandwiched between Jimin and Aerum. Why Jimin didn’t take the spot in the middle if he was going to let her sit near you guys, you’re un-fucking-sure.

Aerum isn't part of your inner circle, but she likes hanging around. You know her type—fake and a gossip. She attempts to make small talk with you throughout the class, but your answers are curt and disinterested.

"—even surprised? As if Jeongguk hasn't slept his way through half the campus already." Aerum giggles, twirling a strand of her hair. That gets your attention.

You don't even look up from your notebook, continuing to jot down what the professor says. "Don't talk about him like that," you say, your tone flat, causing Aerum to falter for a second.

She nervously chuckles, "It's not a secret he gets around, Y/N. You know that..."

Unamused, you finish off your notes, letting her brew for a second, before finally lifting your gaze. You lean in a little, and Aerum shuffles closer as if you were about to let her in on some juicy tea.

"I don't care if he took your mother over the kitchen counter and made you watch." Aerum's lips part at your words, leaning back slightly in shock. "Don't talk about him like that. Matter of fact, don't talk about him at all."

She malfunctions for a second before nodding dazedly, quickly turning to face the front of the class for the first time today. You return to your notebook uninterestedly as Jimin lets out a loud snort, leaning over to hide his face in your shoulder.

The class continues without further interruptions, and when the professor finally wraps it up, you begin putting your things away. Jimin holds your bag for you like he always does as you make your way out of the classroom. Aerum follows behind like a kicked puppy.

With no more classes for the day, you and Jimin had planned to go to the campus café for a study date. Much to your dismay, Jimin had invited Aerum when she overheard you talking about it at the beginning of Linguistics. Jimin is kind to everyone, a trait of his that you somewhat admire, but in this case, it just made you want to slam his laptop shut over his fingers.

Once you reach the café, you find an empty table at the back while Jimin goes to the counter to order your usual drinks, Aerum trailing behind him quietly.

As you set your things down, you notice your phone at the top of your bag. You pick it up, deciding to text Jungkook because you haven't seen him in a couple of days, and you miss him. Maybe he can come study.

It's as if the universe heard your thoughts because suddenly, you feel a pair of sturdy arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into a broad chest. You smile when his familiar cologne reaches your nose and quickly spin around to pull him down into a proper hug.

"I was literally just about to text you," you tell him as he snuggles into your neck.

"You studying?" he murmurs into your skin, his warm breath tickling you slightly.

"Mhm, with Jiminie and Aerum," you reply, leaning back slightly. He scrunches his nose in protest when you pull away but lets you go.

"Cool, I could use a break," he says, his eyes twinkling as he takes a seat next to you, casually slinging his arm over the back of your chair.

"Where were you heading?" you ask as you both settle down, and he helps you spread out your supplies.

"Just dropping some gear off to coach on campus. Saw you through the window," his gaze flickers over your outfit before he smiles softly. "You look pretty."

You smile cutely at the compliment, and his heart skips a beat.

Jungkook suppresses a sigh. You look so sweet in your white cashmere sweater and creamy plaid Burberry skirt, but the way your body fills it out is anything but. Not a single hair out of place, you look sinfully and irrevocably perfect.

Jimin returns with the drinks and almost gets a fright from the lacrosse captain. "Hey, Kook," he says with a grin, handing you your iced coffee.

Aerum, holding her drink, looks slightly flustered but tries to mask it with a smile. "Hi, Jungkook," she says, her voice a little too sweet.

Jungkook nods at her politely before turning his attention back to you. "What subject?" He leans over to grab your textbook, and before you can answer, Aerum takes a seat and chimes in.

"Linguistics," she smiles, and Jungkook nods while flipping through the textbook.

You're logging into Jimin's laptop while he licks the whipped cream from the top of his frappe like a cat. You snort at the blonde before opening the shared doc that he and you have. You're begin to scroll through the pages, trying to find where you left off last time, but the sound of Aerum's continuous pestering distracts you.

"—again tonight or something?" You only catch the end of her sentence, but by the flirty tone she's only just now using, you assume she's speaking to Jungkook.

"Aish, Aerum…" Jungkook laughs awkwardly, flicking through the pages of your textbook as if it would somehow teleport him away from the situation.

"Yeah, yeah, I know you don't do round 2's. Make an exception? For me?" She pouts cutely, and even Jimin can't resist the urge to cringe into his cup.

Jungkook looks over at you for a moment; whether it's for help or a reaction, he doesn't know, but he's not surprised when you don't even look up from the laptop. Just continuing to scroll through your document.

He can't even stop the words from coming out before he says them, "Yeah, okay."

Jimin's brows furrow in surprise. You keep scrolling.

"Yeah?" Aerum can't hide the surprise in her own voice, giddy nonetheless.

"Yeah." He nods at her, looking down at your textbook, wishing it would telepathically lift up and knock him out cold.

An hour flies by, during which you and Jimin make significant progress on the paper, having already completed a quarter of it.

Aerum, however, proves to be an absolute dead weight, giving weak half-assed responses whenever Jimin tries to involve her in the research. Her focus is solely on flirting with Jungkook.

If she even thinks of attempting to slip her greasy little name on this project once you and Jimin are done, you'll take great satisfaction in bringing her back down to reality.

You finish typing a sentence on Jimin's laptop before locking it and giving him a look. He understands immediately and stands up to pack his things wordlessly.

You're beyond irritated—not because Jungkook and Aerum are practically on the verge of fucking right on top of the café table, but because they're doing it while you're trying to work. Frustrated and disgusted, you uncharacteristically bite your tongue and sling your bag over your shoulder.

"You're leaving?" Jungkook's head snaps to you the moment he notices you standing up, and he follows suit, Aerum tagging along behind him.

"Yep," you nod, grabbing Jimin's arm when he extends it to you and heading for the café exit.

"Are you—shit," Jungkook stutters, jogging slightly to catch up to you, Aerum trailing behind him. "Are you guys doing anything tonight?"

You almost roll your fucking eyes, but Jimin responds with a neutral expression, "Yeah, Kook… the DSP gather? We planned it last week?"

"Fuck," Jungkook coughs out, "Yeah, no, I remember."

You continue walking back towards the main campus where Jimin's car is parked, with Jungkook and Aerum not far behind. When you reach Jimin's Audi, you detach from his arm and head for the passenger seat, Jungkook meeting you at the door.

"Did you still want me to pick you up?" he asks softly, watching you adjust your bag strap over your shoulder in boredom while you wait for Jimin to unlock the car.

“No, that’s okay, Guk. I'll come over with Minji. She's on a drinking cleanse after the Feb blackout, so she can drive," you smile, leaning up to give him a quick goodbye hug.

He leans into it, but you don't let him linger, pulling away as soon as you hear the sound of the car unlocking. You go to open the door and climb in, but he gently puts his hand against it to stop you.

"Are you okay? Can you talk to me, please?" he lowers his voice so no one can hear.

Jimin takes the hint and awkwardly gets into the car, telling Aerum to hop in the back and he'll drop her home. She looks at Jungkook for a long moment before reluctantly getting in.

Jungkook's big, worried, boba eyes make you want to both scoff and run your hand over his face until they ease up.

"What do you mean, Gukkie? Just don't want you to go out of your way. You live there, so there's no point in you driving to get me."

Huh? He's picked you up for every single frat party they hold. He doesn't mind. He insists on driving you. He loves driving you! What the fuck?

Jungkook lets his hand fall from the door in resignation, and his heart clenches at the speed in which you pull the handle to open it, like you couldn't wait to get away from him. He somberly takes a step back from the car to let you get in.

You sigh when you glance back at his scrunched eyebrows and pouty lips. You place your bag on the seat and shut the door with a groan before walking back to your sulky best friend.

His response is immediate. His arms link around your waist when you lean into him, his head nestling into your neck where it belongs. Your nails lightly scratch against his polo, and he squeezes you a little tighter.

"I want to pick you up," he says softly. You run your hands down his arms, grabbing them where they link behind your waist. You give them a squeeze as you gently untangle yourself from him.

"I'm riding with Minji. I'll see you tonight, Gukkie." He watches you walk back to Jimin's car and finally get in.

Aerum's eyes are on Jungkook as Jimin pulls out of the campus parking lot. Jungkook's are on you.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

You weren't always as unbothered as you are today at the age of 21.

Maybe it was maturing, maybe it was the pilates sessions you take twice a week, or maybe it was because a particular situation made you vow to yourself you'd never go through that pain again. Well, whatever it was that made you so emotionally detached, you're grateful for it. You're young, gorgeous, and you have a fruitful and prosperous life on the horizon.

Fun is good. Feelings are not.

You shake your head to get yourself out of your thoughts—the thoughts you don't know why are suddenly floating around in your messy little brain—and yell out to your roommate for a favor.

Park Minji and you share a two-bedroom penthouse on the top floor of Kim Marriott, the Seodaemun-gu branch of your parents' luxury 5-star hotel chain.

Taehyung was supposed to move in with you during your first year, but when he was appointed Frat President, he chose to stay on-site at Delta Sigma Phi. What a humble boy… you couldn't think of anything worse.

He dragged Jungkook along with him, and you dragged Minji along with you, so everything worked out great. Minji is a lot tidier than your brother, anyway.

You're rummaging through your closet for the shoes you swore you had stored there after your last shopping trip when Minji waltzes into your room, holding the box you've been hunting for.

"These ones, right? They were on the kitchen counter, among all your other unopened packages..." She rolls her eyes teasingly.

"Oh yes! Fuck, I love you," you cry, walking up to the blonde and pulling the heels from the box she holds open for you.

"They're so pretty," she compliments before closing the box and tossing it in the living room to throw away later. She looks back at you as you head to your full-length mirror, slipping on the shoes.

"Jesus, Y/N." Minji groans, and you hum in question, eyeing her through the mirror.

"You look so good, what the fuck..." she whines, walking closer to you and standing side by side in the mirror to check on her outfit as well.

The white bodycon mini-dress hugs your body nicely, its low neckline no match for your bigger-than-average tits as the fabric clings to them for dear life. The white-gold Cartier necklace Jungkook gifted you rests prettily on your chest, just like it always has ever since the night he clasped it around your neck.

2 years prior—circa. your 19th birthday

"Get fucked, Jeongguk." The words rip from your throat, venomous and sharp as they slap your best friend's face into a furrowed, exasperated expression.

You yank the jacket tighter around your shoulders as the cold night air whips at your skin, storming down the sidewalk. The urge to rip the jacket—his jacket—off your body is strong, but it's so fucking cold. You may be petty and possibly overreacting a little right now... but you're not stupid.

Jungkook's heavy footsteps trail after you, his calls of your name only pushing you to walk faster. He catches up in no time, your hurried steps no match for his long strides. He tries to gently grab your arm, but you shrug off his touch angrily, spinning around to glare at him. You're about to tell him to fuck off again when he speaks first.

"Come back inside. It's like a fucking blizzard out here; you're going to freeze to death," he says evenly, though frustration laces his words.

"Oh, please," you laugh humorlessly, shaking your head in disbelief. "As if you give a shit if I freeze."

"Don't fucking say—"

"I'm going home. You can tell everyone I'm sick and had to leave. Or don't, I don't fucking care." You turn away and start walking again, his footsteps immediately following.

"You're walking home?" You ignore his question, causing him to huff and run a hand through his hair. "Let me drive you home, please."

You ignore him again, knowing that if there's something Jungkook can't stand more than you yelling at him, it's you not speaking to him.

"Stop doing this. It's your birthday; don't let it end like this—"

"Yes, Jeongguk, it's my birthday," you seethe, whipping back around. "And you brought a random chick none of us even know to my birthday dinner. And you didn't even bother to get me a gift. On. My fucking. Birthday."

"Y/N—"

"Limited edition PlayStation, imported Swedish lacrosse stick, custom painted iPad from your favorite local fucking artist," you list the gifts you've gotten him for his birthday over the years angrily. Jungkook shakes his head, trying to step closer to you, but you hold up your hand to keep the distance.

"Do you even know how much effort I put into the things I get and do for you? And for you to sit there with that... that stupid fucking look on your—God, Jeongguk!" Your voice is on the cusp of being a whine, but you don't care. "Oh, but I'm sure you spent a decent chunk of Daddy's money on Winnie tonight, huh?" You don't care that the Daddy's money statement is also very applicable to you… you're pissed.

Jungkook's jaw clenches at your words, and he steps forward, slipping his hand into the pocket of the jacket you're wearing. Before you can snap at him again, he pulls out a small velvet box and holds it out to you.

"What is that?" you demand, your voice still trembling with annoyance.

"Your gift," he says softly, opening the box to reveal a white-gold Cartier diamond necklace. "I was planning to give it to you when we were in private."

You stare at the necklace, your anger momentarily overshadowed by surprise. The diamonds of the pendant sparkle under the streetlights, and you almost let out a moan. Diamonds are your weakness.

"You motherfucker," you groan under your breath, glaring at the necklace in hopes it will dissipate into thin air so you can continue being annoyed at him.

Jungkook steps closer, his voice a whisper. "Everyone was coming with their partners, Y/N. I couldn't come alone."

You sigh, knowing that. Your comment was a cheap shot, considering Jungkook doesn't hang with a girl more than once, so it would be impossible for him to bring someone you already knew. But Winnie was getting on your last nerve, and you saw an opportunity to sneak in a jab, so you took it.

Not only was his date clearing glass after glass of the expensive wine your friends had ordered as if it were water, but she was also not shy about ordering the priciest dishes on the menu. Judging by her tiny red Zara mini-dress, you highly doubt she'll be reaching for her purse at the end of the night.

Your gaze is still locked on the necklace as you take a moment to think. Jungkook hasn't moved either, continuing to hold the box open for you while he scans your face, trying to gauge your reaction.

"It's, um, engraved and shit," he mumbles, his hand not holding the box lifting to run over his jaw nervously. "And I got a chain one… for me too."

Your eyes snap to his, and he swears his heart stops beating. God, you think it's stupid. You hate it. That's okay. He'll just wait until you turn around so he can sprint to the nearest homeless guy and give him the stupid neckl—

"Like matching?" Your eyes soften, and he slowly feels the blood flooding into his heart.

"Yeah, only if you like, want to," he shrugs cutely, and you can't stop the grin from spreading across your lips.

You're close enough to slide your arms around his torso but still not near enough for Jungkook as he tugs you closer, melting into the hug. "Thank you, Gukkie. I love it," you murmur into his chest, and he feels his muscles relax at you finally using his nickname again.

You lift your head from his black fitted Givenchy dress shirt, which smells a little too good, to look up at him. "But why did you say you didn't have anything when everyone gave me their gifts?"

He looks down at the slight pout on your lips, his fingers twitching with the urge to wipe it off your mouth. Instead, he flicks the box closed with a thumb and holds it out to you. "Don't think Jaehyun would've been too thrilled with me giving you this," he chuckles. "The dude hates me."

You frown up at him, about to chime in and say that isn't true, but his lips tug into a smirk as if to say he couldn't care less about what your boyfriend thought of him. And honestly, if he were Jaehyun, he'd hate him too.

Jungkook had the necklaces made a little over two months ago, and you and Jaehyun have only been official for one. So, Jungkook's intentions behind the gift weren't malicious, he swears…

If you just so happen to wear the necklace and your boyfriend notices his matching one, which then causes a rift in your relationship, resulting in the two of you breaking up… well, that would just be a nice little coincidence.

"Jae knows you and I are close," you explain with a crease in your brow that he wants to massage until it goes away. "I made it very clear to him when he wanted to get serious, and he understood."

Jungkook nods along to your words even if he doesn't fully believe them. Either Jaehyun is a really good and secure guy, or he's full of grade-A horse shit. If you were his and another dude tried to come along and buy you an eleven-thousand-dollar necklace? Fuck, he'd knock the guy out cold.

You untangle yourself from your best friend and lift the lid of the velvet box still in his grasp. You coo at the pretty diamonds before turning to face away from Jungkook.

You gather your hair before swiping it over your shoulder and letting his jacket fall slightly to bare your neck. Jungkook reacts immediately, picking up the necklace before shoving the box in his pocket. His cold fingers brush against you as he carefully fastens the jewelry around your neck.

When he pulls away, you let your hair fall back into place and turn around to face him again. Your smile is soft, eyes twinkling as you look down at the necklace. "It's so pretty, Gukkie. I love it."

You're so pretty. I love you, he thinks.

With a sigh, you glance at yourself in the mirror, taking in one of the most casual party outfits you've worn in a while—well, to your standards, at least. For some reason, you just don't feel entirely up for it tonight. Something feels off in your stomach. Or your head. You're not sure. You're probably just getting sick or something.

After slipping into the heels, you stand up straight and smush a kiss on the girl's cheek, smiling at the mark your lip gloss leaves on her face. "Ya, I just did my makeup," she gasps, leaning closer to your mirror to dab off the glossy residue.

You pat her bum gently. "You look gorgeous, Min. Gonna have Joon in tears tonight."

"If he even looks at me," she rolls her eyes, adjusting the strap of her Miu Miu dress in the mirror.

"You haven't talked to him yet?" You ask as you apply your perfume, and she turns to look at you with guilty eyes.

"No," she sighs, "I will tonight."

"Good," you smile, resting the perfume bottle back on your dresser before grabbing your phone and holding your hand out to her.

She interlocks her fingers with yours as you both leave the suite, the sinking feeling in your stomach never fading.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

Welp, there goes your ride home.

You watch in amusement as your roommate throws back her fourth jello shot of the night, washing it down with a gulp of beer.

You don't blame Minji for breaking her sobriety, especially after the first thing you both saw upon walking through the doors of Delta Sigma Phi was Namjoon leaning against the foyer wall with another girl in his arms. While they weren't official official, Minji loves really hard. And you think Namjoon knew that.

Needless to say, Minji instantly grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the kitchen, where mountains of various alcohol bottles covered the counter.

Minji's not an alcoholic by any means, but she, just like her twin brother, are quick to take it down and even quicker to bring it back up.

A few months ago, during the Autumn fraternity vs. sorority fundraiser, she got so drunk that she blacked out going down the soapy slip-and-slide.

You and Jungkook—well, mostly Jungkook—carried her all the way to his car. Since he was a sober monitor for Delta Sigma Phi, he drove you both home. He ended up staying at your place for the rest of the night while you slowly sipped on strawberry soju and watched Netflix, checking on Minji every so often.

She hasn't had a drink since that night, so her tolerance is probably super low. But that doesn't stop her from handing you a raspberry jello shot before grabbing another from the table and sucking it down like someone might take it from her.

You giggle, gently wiping away the pink droplet of liquid trailing down the corner of her lip with your thumb. She offers you a dazed smile, her eyes hooded, the effects of the alcohol clearly weaving through her system.

"You okay, Min?"

She beams back at you, a little spark lighting up her glossy eyes, "Mhm. Just wanna have fun tonight."

"Okay," you respond softly, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen across her face.

Her head suddenly snaps to the living room. "Oooh, they're playing spin the bottle! Let's go playyy!" Minji gasps, tapping your arm excitedly.

You glance at the game that caught her attention and scan the players. There are a few of your friends, mixed with other people from school whose names you couldn't remember if someone held a gun to your head.

You pat Minji's hand, which was still tapping your arm, telling her to go play and stay close to Yoongi and Hobi. She nods, rushing over to the game with a big smile and plopping down between your friends.

You look down at the jello shot you're still yet to ingest and put it back on the table. Grabbing a solo cup, you pour some cranberry juice into it, glancing at the types of vodkas on display. Your nose scrunches at the cheap brands, your manicured nail tapping the side of the cup in thought before you remember something.

Cup in hand, you make your way to the cupboard below the kitchen sink and pull it open, smiling in triumph as you spot the object of your desire at the back of the cabinet. Bending down, you reach for the bottle quickly before anyone notices you.

"That's off limits."

The familiar smell of his cologne floods your senses before you process his words. You straighten up with a small smile, resting your cup on the counter and turning to face the boy with the pricey bottle of vodka in your hands.

"Even to me?" Your lips pull into a knowing pout, and Jungkook has to force his gaze away from them. Instead, his eyes trail over your outfit, which, in hindsight, was an even dumber idea.

His breath hitches in his fucking throat at the sight of your dress, doing nothing to support your boobs that threaten to spill from the pretty little white fabric. The knot in the noose, though, is the necklace he gifted you on your nineteenth birthday, resting innocently between the valley of your anything-but-innocent tits.

He shakes his head, the corner of his lips tugging upwards slightly as he steps closer to you. You fiddle with the bottle cap while he closes the distance, giving you a moment to drink in how effortlessly his arms fill out his white box-tee.

"No," he says softly, almost laughing at the thought of ever denying you something. "Not you." He takes his bottle of Belvedere from your grasp and unscrews the cap.

You rest against the kitchen sink as your best friend, now less than an inch from your body, reaches around you to grab your cup from the counter. He doesn't say anything as he pours the vodka into the cup, using his familiarity with your favorite drink to know when to stop. Your finger lightly traces over the tattoos spilling from his right sleeve absentmindedly, and he should tell you to stop, or he might drop the cup. But he doesn't.

Once he deems there's enough alcohol in the mix, he lifts the cup to his lips to take a sip. You wait patiently, letting him do his little lip purse before splashing a bit more vodka into the cup and holding it out to you. You take it with a grateful smile, bringing the drink to your lips to taste it as he leans over to get a solo cup of his own. You almost groan when the vodka cranberry hits your tongue. Obviously, it's perfect. He’s annoying like that.

Once Jungkook finishes mixing his drink, he takes a mouthful before returning to you. He catches the way your gaze is fixed on the ground, distraction clouding your eyes, cup resting against your lips as you get lost in your head.

You snap out of it almost instantly when he gets closer to you, putting the cup down next to you so you can slink your arms around his neck when he leans down. But before he allows the feeling of you against his body to make him forget every thought inside his brain, he speaks.

"What's wrong?" he murmurs into the skin of your neck, blindly putting his cup on the counter behind you so he can slip his hands around your waist.

You're quiet for a moment, and if it wasn't for the slight stutter in your fingers playing with the clasp of his Cartier chain, he would think you didn't hear him. He doesn't repeat his question, though, knowing you will answer him in your own time. And even if you don't, that's okay too. But he just won't leave your side the entire night if you're feeling vulnerable.

Yeah, nice excuse for not wanting to leave her alone; his subconscious laughs viciously at him. Jungkook ignores it by burying his face into your neck further.

Your fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck while you take a deep breath, the calming scent of him grounding you. "I don't know," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tightens his hold on you, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back. "Are you getting sick?"

"Yeah, probably. I've just had this weird feel—"

"Kookie, there you are! I thought you got lost getting my drink—oh, hi, Y/N!"

Jungkook stiffens before he lifts himself from you slightly at the sound of Aerum's voice.

You untangle your hand from his hair, poking your head around the side of his large frame to look at the girl strutting into the kitchen. She's pretty, you think as you give her outfit a once-over. If only she wasn't such an insufferable phony, maybe you'd be a little warmer towards her. Maybe.

"Hey, Aerum," you greet uninterestedly, leaning away from Jungkook and ignoring the way he tries to keep you near him.

Lost in his own house? You internally roll your eyes. Why even bother saying something so stupid—

"Is it this one?" she smiles once she reaches you both, grabbing your cup from the counter and taking a sip. "Oh wow, Kookie, it's so good! Is it vodka? Shit, what brand is this?" Aerum squeaks as she takes another sip of your drink.

Jungkook's lips part as he's about to say something about the drink, but you reply with a bored expression, "Belvedere."

Aerum lets out a confused hum as you name the $300 bottle of alcohol. "Huh. I've never heard of it."

You nod, grabbing a bottle of cheap beer as you brush past her to leave the kitchen. "Exactly."

Jungkook and Aerum's hushed conversation fades into the background as you move further away. You reach the living room, where Minji is giggling between Hobi and Yoongi. She grins widely when she sees you enter the room. "Jagi! Come and play!"

You laugh at your roommate, who now has two more empty Jello shot cups and a bottle of cider beside her, which explains the affectionate nickname.

Once you reach the circle, Yoongi and Hobi lean up to give you a hug in greeting before you smush a kiss on Minji's forehead. "Maybe later, jagi. Have you seen our brothers?”

“Mhm! They went outside for a smoke!” She replies distractedly as she’s staring intently at the bottle spinning in the middle of the circle.

You run a hand gently over her hair before turning to Yoongi. Since he’s sober D for his boyfriend tonight, you ask if he can keep an eye on her while they finish their game and if she needs to go home or gets too much to handle, to come and tell you.

Yoongi nods at you with a smile, and you return it before spotting a familiar head of black hair peeking over the back of the couch on the other side of the room.

Approaching the couch quietly, you softly put your beer on the ground before leaning over and covering his eyes with your hands. Mingyu flinches at the unexpected contact, his phone falling from his hands to his lap, but then relaxes as if something clicks.

His warm hands come up to yours, removing them from his eyes before he turns to you with a stunned smile. He takes you in for a second before shaking his head and leaning up on the couch.

You're about to give him a hug but he suddenly wraps his arms around your body, easily pulling you over the couch and laying you down beneath him. You squeal loudly in surprise before it's replaced by soft giggles as Mingyu attacks your neck with kisses, peppering them over every inch of skin he can find.

You draw a breath when there's a slight break in his assault and gesture to your heels digging uncomfortably into the couch. He leans back immediately and pulls them off your feet, placing them on the coffee table with haste that makes you laugh.

Turning back, he lowers his frame to you, your legs subconsciously separating to let him press closer, and he resumes his work on your neck. His kisses move lower, and you let out a sigh at the feeling before he reaches the exposed skin of side-boob peeking from your dress. You let out a quick gasp, grabbing his face with your hands and pulling him up to your face.

He grins at you cheekily, knowing he wouldn't get far but can't find it in himself to regret the action. "Was wondering when you'd get here," he says softly, his voice filled with affection. Your pouty fucking lips covered in that pretty fucking lip gloss distracts him for a moment, and he breathes a dazed sigh, leaning down to rest his face on your chest.

You blame it on the alcohol when the sick feeling in your stomach suddenly returns at the touch of Mingyu's skin on yours.

You blame it on the alcohol when all you can think about as you run your fingers through Mingyu's hair is how it's not as soft as Jungkook's.

You blame it on the alcohol when you let Mingyu snuggle closer into your neck in hopes that you'll feel the same warm sensation as when Jungkook does it.

The nausea, the thoughts of your best friend while you have a gorgeous man on top of you, the pounding in your head as his lips get closer and closer to your necklace. You blame all of it on the alcohol.

The one single sip of fucking alcohol you've consumed tonight.

"Can you pass me my beer, please?" You choke out as his lips are a millimeter away from reaching the skin where your necklace sits.

Mingyu pulls back with a smile, and you almost want to frown at the sweet boy. He deserves so much better. "It's just on the ground over there," you point to the back of the couch, and he nods, leaning over and grabbing your drink.

You release a heavy breath while you play with the hem of his dress shirt when something catches your attention from the corner of your eye. Your fingers tighten slightly around the fabric.

There, leaning with his back against the living room wall, is your best friend with Aerum's lips attached to his neck like a blowfish. Jungkook's brows are furrowed, most likely in pleasure, and his eyes are squeezed shut.

Another wave of the sick feeling washes over you, and you almost let out a frustrated grunt. What the actual fuck is going on with you?

Mingyu leans back on the couch, now with your beer in his hand. Before he can open the cap for you, you snatch it from his hand and toss it to the carpet carelessly. He looks at you curiously, about to ask you what's wrong, but you sit up and swing your leg over his thigh, effectively lodging the words in his throat.

His brows shoot up in surprise before he catches on, his hands finding your waist when you don't waste time pressing your lips to his. Mingyu groans into your mouth when you suckle on his tongue lightly, starting to move against him. Your dress begins to ride up with your movements and deepen the kiss while simultaneously grinding harder into his lap. You can feel him getting harder through the fabric of his jeans, and you zone in on it.

Squeezing your eyes closed tighter to focus, you drag yourself over his covered cock, letting the zipper of his pants graze against your panties. Mingyu detaches from your lips at the sensation, his head throwing back onto the couch as his breathing picks up.

Your hands rest against his chest as you swivel your hips quicker, trying everything you can to spark something in you. Mingyu chokes out a strained fuck when you find the outline of his shaft and let the lips of your covered pussy drag along it.

Nothing. You feel nothing. What the fucking fuck.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is losing himself. His head is still thrown back in pleasure, and you take the opportunity to lean forward and latch your lips to his neck. Your teeth nibble at the skin below his jaw, and he shivers at the action, his hands losing grip on your waist and falling to the swell of your ass. Your movements still haven't relented, grinding against him like you're the only two in the room, and Mingyu doesn't want to admit just how fucking close he is.

He's about to suggest that you guys take it to his room when he feels one of your hands trail down from his chest. His head lifts up to see what you're going to do next, and god, he wishes he didn't, because when you cover the hand of his that's loosely resting on your left asscheek and squeeze? He almost cums in his fucking pants like a teenage boy that just discovered the wonders of third base.

Mingyu does as you wish, grabbing a greedy handful of the flesh with his left hand and uses his right to slide up the back of your neck, returning your mouth to his. You fall into the kiss willingly, letting him lick into your mouth. Letting him take whatever he wants. Mingyu has always been a good kisser. Not even a week ago, he had you dripping from a 10-minute make-out session on his bed. But right now, something inside you tells you that even if you went at it for an hour, it still wouldn't be enough.

You push the sadistic thoughts from your brain and tangle your hands in his hair, nodding against his lips when his hand on your neck drops to your other asscheek and squeezes tightly.

Yes, you think. Touch me. Anywhere. Everywhere. Something is bound to—

"What the fuck?"

Your lips immediately detach from Mingyu's at the sound of the familiar voice booming behind you. You adjust the front of your clothes, which have twisted out of place, and quickly climb off Mingyu's lap. Pulling down the hem of the dress that also rode up a few minutes ago, you blink guiltily at the man staring at you with a disturbed look.

"On my couch? That's disgusting. Take it upstairs or take it to your place, Y/N." Taehyung grits, shaking his head as if it would somehow rid the image of you mounting his frat-mate from his memory.

"Sorry, Tae," you reply to your brother with a purse of your lips before getting over it and looking around for your phone that fell from the pocket of your cover-up.

Mingyu is speechless, gawking at his frat president in horror, not knowing what to say or do. He watches as you finally find the phone wedged between the couch cushions before you lean back onto his chest and scroll through your notifications, un-fucking-concerned.

Mingyu chokes on air, gently lifting you off him and sitting you back up on the seat properly. You give him a confused look, and he returns your gaze with a panicked expression, glancing between you and your brother, who is still standing there glaring at him.

You roll your eyes, lifting Mingyu's arm and throwing it over your shoulder, returning to your previous position. "Don't take him seriously, Gyu. I can't even recall how many times I've accidentally walked in on him and my own friends from high school. And they were doing a lot more than dry humping."

The fact that you aren't bothered helps Mingyu to calm down a bit, but he's still on edge with your brother staring him down.

You glance up at Mingyu when his chest remains stiff beneath your head, and you sigh before turning to your brother. "Tae, you're scaring him. We won't do anything else on your couch, okay? Now shoo, please." You wave him off with your hand.

Your brother just rolls his eyes, looking a little too much like you for your liking, before he nods and says he'll return to patrol the room in 30 minutes.

You watch Taehyung disappear behind the door frame as he heads into another room, and you turn to Mingyu with a teasing grin. "30 minutes? We could be done twice in that time…"

His eyes widen, and he gives another pathetic attempt at suggesting you go upstairs, but when you press your lips to his, the words fizzle out on his tongue as you entwine it with your own.

Jungkook is fucking fuming.

He's absolutely clocked out of the make-out session with Aerum, and she can probably tell that his mind is elsewhere, but he can't bring himself to care, and she makes no move to pull away either.

He feels her getting angsty, desperately wanting to escalate the situation from the way she's pressing harder against him, but Jungkook keeps the pace steady.

He needs to stay in the living room to keep an eye on you because you're obviously not in the right state of mind right now. You're not drunk; he knows what you look like when you've been drinking, and you're basically stone-cold fucking sober. But yet, there you are, one layer away from riding his housemate's cock on his very own fucking couch.

Jungkook would have intervened a long time ago, had he not seen with his own eyes that you were the one initiating every part of the act.

With every swivel of your hips, Jungkook’s heart pounded furiously against his chest. It clenched with every firm squeeze Mingyu placed on your ass, and it shattered completely as you nuzzled into Mingyu’s neck, kissing and nipping at it, just like you did to him in his dreams most nights.

He can’t tear his gaze away. He’s tried—oh, how he’s fucking tried.

He attempted to focus on the pretty girl currently whimpering into his mouth, begging him to touch her, to take her right there in the middle of the room if he so desired. But he couldn’t. His eyes were uncontrollably drawn back to you, to the way Mingyu’s hips lifted to meet yours, each movement a sharp twist to the knife lodged in his pathetic heart.

"Shit," Mingyu groans when the curve of his cock straining against his jeans meets your covered core. "We needa go upstairs, or I'm gonna take you right here on the couch, Y/N."

Your laugh comes out breathy from the frantic movements of your hips as you ignore him, and you lean up so his face can nuzzle between your tits. Your boobs are very sensitive, and that usually does the trick to turn you on.

Why. Isn't. It. Turning. You. On.

You let out a frustrated groan that Mingyu mistakes as a moan of pleasure as he leaves wet kisses against the exposed skin of your tits before he reaches the necklace that's wedged between them. "Fuck, I love this. It's so pretty but looks so dirty on you."

Your skin suddenly fires up at his words, and you feel your hips stutter slightly. "Yeah?" you question in a rush, grinding harder against him to chase the feeling.

"Mhm," he nods, brushing his nose over the pendant.

"Bite it."

He looks up at you, his gaze locking with yours filled with a hunger that hadn't been present all night.

"Bite it?" he repeats, his voice a mix of confusion and intrigue, hips meeting yours halfway as your movements become sloppier, more desperate.

Your head tilts as you nod desperately, "Please bite it."

Mingyu's eyes flicker down to your chest, and he leans in, his lips grazing the skin near your necklace. Your breath catches as he nears the pendant with its two little conjoined rings. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, suppressing the whine that threatens to escape.

He plants a lingering kiss on the surrounding flesh before finally catching the pendant between his teeth. You can't hold back the loud moan that escapes your lips—

It happens in the blink of an eye.

You tumble onto the couch cushions as Mingyu is abruptly yanked away and thrown to the living room floor.

You watch in shock as Jungkook pounces on him instantly, Mingyu barely having a moment to react before Jungkook's fist comes crashing down. It connects with Mingyu's jaw with a sickening crunch that reverberates through the room, drawing the attention of a few partygoers.

Mingyu attempts a recovery, throwing a jab that snaps Jungkook's head to the side, but Jungkook quickly regains his focus. He reels his fist back and hammers another brutal punch into Mingyu's face, then another, then another, then another.

Jungkook doesn't know how many punches he's thrown, or how long he's been on top of his housemate, or whose arms grab him from behind to pull him off Mingyu.

His breathing comes in ragged gasps, his knuckles sting with a throbbing pain, and a fierce rage burns through his veins, consuming him entirely. Adrenaline surges through him as he watches Yoongi and Hobi lift a bloodied, struggling Mingyu off the ground.

"What the fuck, Kook?" Taehyung's voice snaps him out of his daze as he and Jimin drag him to his feet.

You remain frozen on the couch, not shifting an inch. Your gaze is fixed on Mingyu as a cluster of people surround him. One person carefully presses a damp rag against his bloodied face while he leans heavily against the wall, another extends a bottle of water towards his shaking hands.

From the grasp of your brother, Jungkook's eyes follow you as you rise and weave through the crowd around Mingyu.

His heart clenches as he watches the pained expression on your face, the saddest he's ever seen. He watches as you whisper something to Mingyu, who shakes his head weakly and reaches out to pull you closer. Instead, you gently grasp his hand, stroking his knuckles with your thumb as tears start to pool in your eyes.

He sees the moment you utter one final word to Mingyu before you let his hand drop softly to his side and walk away

You return to the coffee table, grabbing your shoes and phone before immediately heading for the exit. You spot Minji, who has tears flowing down her cheeks, and she breaks from Yoongi's hold before pulling you into the tightest hug she can muster.

"Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay? What the fuck was that?!" she cries into your shoulder. You almost smile, knowing her emotions always spill over when she's been drinking, but you couldn't muster one even if you tried. Gently pulling away, you dab at the tears under her eyes before turning your attention to Yoongi.

"Can you take her home, please? I'm going to catch an Uber and I feel like being alone for a bit," you half-lie. You're going to walk home, but he doesn't need to know that. He wouldn't let you walk alone at this time.

"Y/N," Yoongi sighs. He didn't miss the way you dodged her question. He wants to urge you to let him drive you home as well, but the resolve in your eyes tells him you won't budge. "Yeah, I'll make sure she gets home safe."

"Thank you," your voice cracks slightly at the end as you squeeze his hand and leave the room before he can stop you.

You can hear footsteps trailing behind you as you reach the door, and you abandon the mission of slipping into your heels, quickly slipping out the door and slamming it behind you.

The cold concrete bites at your bare feet as you hurry down the steps of the frat house, but you barely notice. The sound of the door swinging open behind you only quickens your pace.

"Please, Y/N. Wait. Please."

The tears you've held back since the moment he climbed on top of Mingyu suddenly fall without your permission, and you scoff, wiping them away furiously.

You don't say anything as you reach the path out of the university and continue your trek to your penthouse. It's dark, the sparse lights of the school providing little guidance, but you don't care. You just keep walking.

When Jungkook catches up to you and tries to take your hand, something inside you explodes. You snatch your arm away furiously, your heels and phone dropping from your hands as you turn to face him. Before you know what you're doing, you push against his chest, shoving him away from you. He barely moves and that makes you even angrier. “Fuck you, Jeongguk!” You shove him again, "Fuck you," again, "Fuck you," again, "Fuck you."

Your voice trembles on the last words, and you can't stop the sob from wracking your body. He reacts instantly, stepping forward to pull you into his arms as you break down.

His hands cradle the back of your head as you shake against his chest, his heart clenching at the sound of your cries. "I'm so sorr—"

You pull away from him, running your sleeve over your face to wipe at the tears. "What about your future, Jeongguk? What if he presses charges? If this gets back to your parents? Affects your student record?" You shake your head in utter disbelief, your hands running through your hair in an attempt to ground yourself. "Mingyu is such a good guy, how could you even—fuck." Mingyu.

Your heart clenches at the memory of him trying to keep you close even after he had the shit beaten out of him. You brought him into this mess. That was all fucking you.

"You can't do shit like that, Jeongguk! You c-can't," you stammer, batting his hand away as your voice cracks again, "You had no right to do that."

"I know, Y/N!" His voice rises, and you see tears welling in his own eyes. "I fucking know! I know I didn't have any right to do that. And I fucking hate it!"

You're speechless, but Jungkook isn't finished, "I had no right to punch Lee Seo-jun when he gave you your first kiss, so I didn't. I had no right to punch Kang Doyun when you told me he felt you up for the first time, so I didn't. I had no right to punch Jeong Jaehyun every time I watched him have you like I wanted to have you, so I fucking didn't!"

Tears stream down your face unchecked as Jungkook's hands gently cup your face, his thumbs trembling as they try to wipe your tears away. "I had no right to punch Mingyu because he has everything I want. But I did. And I know you don't want to hear it, but I don't fucking regret—"

"I hate you."

Jungkook doesn't know what to do when he hears you say those words. He stumbles back slightly, his throat tightening, and his heart slams against his chest so hard he thinks it's about to crack through his skin.

A trembly shake of his head, "No—"

Your tears stop as abruptly as they came, your gaze hollow and resigned. "We need some space. This is unhealth—"

"No, please," the tips of his ears turn red as he chokes back a sob, "I fucked up, baby, I know. I'm gonna fix it. Let me fix it. I don't want space, I-I can't have space," his words tumble out desperately, completely unaware of the nickname that slips out. But it doesn't matter; nothing does, if you leave him.

You pull your face from his grasp and take a small step backward. The weak light posts give you just enough vision to see his bloodshot eyes and broken expression. Your hand twitches, yearning to brush his hair away from his face and wipe his tears—the tears he's crying for you.

Don’t be fucking stupid, your subconscious snarls.

Those tears aren't for you. They're for the idea of you.

If he doesn't have you, who's he going to cuddle up to at night when he's bored and doesn't have a pussy appointment to get to?

Who will pass on his Instagram handle to their classmates when they rave about his insane dick game and want to try it for themselves?

Who will drag him to mandatory family gatherings, knowing his dad would slash his trust fund for missing yet another one?

Not Kim Bora, his first kiss, a week before your own with Lee Seo-jun.

Not Park Soojin, the first girl he felt up under the shirt, three days before you let Kang Doyun do the same to you.

Not Cho Eunji, the only girl he ever took on a second date, the night that you made things official with Jeong Jaehyun.

You spent countless nights crying over a boy who saw you merely as a friend. The little sister that tagged along to playdates because her brother wasn’t allowed to have fun without her. The spoiled daughter of his father’s closest friend, who he was obligated to protect at school because she never hesitated to voice her blunt opinions, especially to those she thought sucked.

The same girl who saved the most sacred part of herself for her best friend. The girl who, without hesitation, turned down every single guy who promised they'd cherish such a precious gift. The girl who prayed to a God she didn't even believe in, hoping Jungkook would realize that the person who loved and cared for him most was right before his eyes all along.

All for that very boy to carelessly give his innocence to some random chick at a high school party, not even bothering to call her the next day.

That was the moment your perception of love shifted. That was the moment you stopped looking for what his words and touches could mean, and started seeing them for what they were. Friendly. Insincere. Meaningless.

You thought the day Jungkook confessed his feelings would be the happiest of your life. You imagined it would erase all the pain, all the tears, as if they were nothing more than a pathetic nightmare.

But you don't feel happy. You feel angry. Angry that the words you've longed to hear don't make you want to fall into his arms and never leave. Instead, they make you want to run and never come back.

So you do exactly that.

You ignore your phone and shoes lying on the pavement. You ignore your best friend's croaky shout of your name. You ignore that the stony road leading away from the University grounds only grows darker and darker the further you go. You ignore the sharp ache in your feet from the rocks beneath your bare soles. And you run.

You run faster than you ever have in your entire life. You run until your legs burn, unused to anything but your two weekly low-impact fucking pilate sessions. You run until Jungkook's yelling fades into the distance behind you.

You run until you can almost see the lights of the main street. You run until you hear his footsteps gaining on you, the stupid lacrosse captain clearing the distance twice as fast as you ever could. You run until the thumping of your heart drowns out the pain of the sticks and rubble digging into your feet.

You run until the light gets brighter. You run until the light gets closer. You run until you realize they aren't streetlights. You run until you realize it's the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. You run until you can't stop yourself quickly enough. You run until you hear the scream of your best friend behind you. You run until you don't feel the impact of the hit. You run until the world around you fades to black.

Your head hits the pavement hard, bouncing slightly.

Jungkook's arms are around you in an instant, cradling you close as he sobs, "No, no, no, baby, please."

The driver of the car, a college kid who looks just as shaken, gets out to check on you, his face pale and stricken.

"Go to the frat house and get Taehyung. Now." Jungkook barks at the boy, though his eyes never leave your face.

The kid nods frantically, dashing back towards campus, stumbling in his haste. Jungkook pays him no attention, his tears falling onto your face as he holds you tighter.

"Hold on, baby. It's okay. It's okay," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over his sobs. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay."

You lay limp in his embrace, your breathing shallow. His tears mix with the dirt and blood on your face as he presses his forehead against yours, his entire body shaking with sobs. He holds you tighter, rocking back and forth as he brushes the hair away from your face.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he sat there in the dark, the cold night air wrapping around you both. What was realistically no more than two minutes felt like two hours. The distant sounds of the campus were muffled, the world shrinking down to just the two of you. Jungkook's tears didn't stop, his heart breaking more and more with each passing second of your silence.

"Ow, fuck." You groan weakly.

Jungkook's grip tightens as he lifts his head. "Y/N," he chokes softly, his hand supporting your head as you try to sit up. "D-Don't try to move too much. We're gonna—we're gonna get you to the hospital, okay?"

You looked at him, your eyes filled with confusion and pain. "Did I really just get hit by a fucking car?"

He shook his head with a teary laugh, his fingers gently caressing your hair. "No," he sniffled. "I managed to tackle you b-before... But you hit your head when we fell. I'm so sorry."

You nodded slowly, your hand resting on his head when he rested it on your chest, and you couldn't help but run your fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry."

His breathing stops, and he looks at you with the most saddened expression you've ever seen. "W-why the fuck would you say that? Don't apologize. None of this is your fault," Jungkook shook his head, his tears falling anew.

"I'm sorry for saying I hate you," you said softly, your hand resting on the side of his neck as he trembled. "If anything’s going to teach me of all people a lesson, it’s a near-death experience...” You let out a pained laugh, “Would hate if that was the last thing I ever said to you.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. "Y/N, you don't know how much I l—"

The sound of frantic footsteps interrupts him. Taehyung's voice calls out in panic, and within moments, he’s kneeling beside you, his face a mix of fear and relief.

"Oh fuck, Y/N," he said, his voice shaking as he quickly assesses your condition. "C'mon, we need to get you to a hospital," he says through teary eyes.

With Jungkook's help, you managed to get to your feet, leaning heavily on him for support. Taehyung saw you struggling to keep your balance and quickly scooped you into his arms, jogging over to his car he left running. He gently placed you in the backseat, and Jungkook was on the other side in an instant, getting you comfortable while your brother rushed to the driver's seat.

As you drove to the hospital, Jungkook didn’t let go of your hand.

Not as he forced you to drink from the water bottle Taehyung passed back to you. Not as he leaned your head on his chest, gently inspecting your scalp for any severe cuts or bleeding. Not as you grunted at him when he jiggled you slightly every time you closed your eyes for a second too long, worried that you were losing consciousness.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

"You've got a mild concussion," Dr. Choi said with a reassuring smile, her voice calm and professional. "You were fortunate. Your head hit the ground hard, but thankfully, there are no signs of severe trauma or bleeding."

Beside you, Jungkook's grip on your hand tightened. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his gaze fixed anxiously on the doctor. "So, she's going to be okay?"

In the cushioned armchair next to your hospital bed, your brother shifted slightly in his sleep. You reached over to gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, careful not to wake him.

Lately, his roles as frat president, lacrosse captain, and his involvement in the family business had worn him thin. The exhaustion had overwhelmed him, and he had fallen asleep almost as soon as he settled into the chair. This really is the last thing he needs to be doing, and so with a final look of guilt, you let your brother rest and turned back to Dr. Choi.

Dr. Choi responded to Jungkook with a nod. "Yes, she'll be fine," she assured him. "Concussions can cause symptoms like dizziness, headache, nausea, and fatigue. She might feel drowsy and out of sorts for a few days, but with rest and avoiding any strenuous activities, she should recover fully within a week."

You blinked, your head still throbbing but feeling a bit more relieved. "So, I can go home?"

"Yes," the doctor confirmed, writing some notes on your chart. "I'm going to release you shortly. Make sure you rest, avoid any physical exertion, and stay hydrated. If you experience any worsening symptoms—like severe headache, vomiting, or confusion—come back immediately, okay?"

Jungkook gave the doctor a firm nod. "We will."

Dr. Choi smiled at him, a soft expression on her face. "Good. And make sure she avoids screens for a bit—no phones, no computers, no TV. Just rest."

You groan while Jungkook just signals his understanding.

As the doctor turned to leave the room and finalize your discharge papers, she glanced back with a knowing smile. "And maybe a break from the drama for a little while too?"

Jungkook's head hung low as he continued to gently caress the back of your hand with his thumb.

"No more boys and no more running into traffic, got it. Thanks, doc." You nodded at the middle-aged woman, who gave you one last amused look before leaving the room.

That was six days ago.

The throbbing ache and, more importantly, the big ugly bump that was once on your forehead have now almost completely faded. If it hadn't, and you were stuck with a permanent scar on your face, you would've hunted down the kid who nearly hit you with his car and told him to finish the job.

Speaking of that kid, he tried to reach out to you quite a few times since you've been absent from classes. He couldn't get in direct contact with you since Jungkook had confiscated all of your devices, but he was persistent. He bugged almost every person he knew to be a close friend of yours until finally, on the second to last day of your 'quarantine', being the chronic people-pleaser that he is, Jimin cracked and brought him to your penthouse.

You were lounging on the sofa, your head resting in Jungkook’s lap as he read aloud to you, when Jimin ushered him in. You felt Jungkook stiffen instantly, and it took your sitting up and pressing down on his thigh to keep him from lunging at the poor boy.

His name is Lee Yongbok, an exchange student from Australia. He's a freshman, 19 years old, and his Korean dialect is fucking adorable.

Yongbok’s eyes were brimming with tears when he saw you, apologies tumbling from his lips for what felt like an eternity before you gently cut him off.

You first asked him if he was crying at your appearance and he just shook his head with a wobbly lip and said he’s just really happy to see you. Thank god. You were worried there was another bump somewhere that Jungkook hadn’t told you about.

You told him it was okay, that it wasn't his fault. That you were the crazy lady who ran in front of his car. That he did nothing wrong.

He dropped to his knees at your kindness, something nobody had ever done before. In fact, "kind" was probably the last word anyone would ever use to describe you.

He offered to pay for any medical bills, any necessities, anything you might need or couldn't afford. You giggled at the thought.

You thanked him for coming to see you. You told him not to lose any sleep over it, that you're okay and he's okay. You gave him your number and told him that when your grouchy caregiver returns your phone, you'd send him a text.

When he was about to depart, he asked if he could give you a hug. You nodded, telling him to come closer because Jungkook's hand was not letting go of your waist.

Yongbok happily pulled you and Jungkook into a joint hug since he refused to move. Jungkook reluctantly participated, giving the kid a pat on the back while he snuggled you both and you couldn't stop the loud laugh that escaped your lips.

Yongbok thanked you one last time before he left with Jimin and Minji, telling you to please let him know if you think of anything you may need. What a sweet boy.

Aside from making amends with Yongbok, and your close friends visiting your penthouse throughout the week to bring your schoolwork and random gifts, you haven’t had much interaction with the outside world.

You haven’t seen Mingyu since that night.

In person, at least. You've been texting frequently and even FaceTimed a few times. His eye was healing well, for which you’re very grateful.

The night Jungkook brought you home after the hospital, you found several missed calls from Mingyu on your phone that Yoongi delivered when he saw it on the ground outside whilst taking Minji home.

Your device ban hadn’t started yet, so you called him back immediately and spent over two hours talking and crying. You apologized for everything you had dragged him into, and he insisted you had nothing to be sorry for.

Mingyu truly is the kindest and most gentle soul, and you’ll always regret hurting him the way you did.

During that conversation, he told you he loved you.

Even though it took a messed-up situation to realize it, you knew you had love for Mingyu too. He had always been there for you whenever you needed someone, whether the nights you spent together were fueled by lust and sexual frustration or not, they were meaningful and amazing. He made it so easy to love him, even if your feelings couldn’t match the depth of his.

Mingyu had undoubtedly gotten the short end of the stick in your relationship, always giving more than he received. In your newfound friendship, you are determined to make it up to him. And you will.

Jungkook, too, had been deeply affected by the night’s events. After you finished up with Mingyu, Jungkook took your phone when you handed it to him and disappeared for an hour.

As far as you know, Jungkook apologized and they talked it out. Neither of them like going into much detail with you about it, which is a little frustrating, but you respect their privacy and don’t push further.

Jungkook did come back into your room with red puffy eyes though, and you softly teased him about crying before you snuggled up together and watched a movie.

Jungkook had taken a week off classes to look after you. You rolled your eyes when he first told you, not taking him seriously. But when you woke up the next day, cuddled against his chest while he scrolled through his TikTok feed, you started to believe him.

And when you tried to lean up and see what he was watching, only for him to immediately turn the device away, adhering to the doctor's orders of no screens, you realized just how serious he was.

Over the past six days, you've fallen into a stupid little domestic routine. Now, as you're almost fully recovered and preparing to return to classes tomorrow, a grey cloud looms over you both. The topic you haven't dared to address since that night is getting closer, heavier. You can both feel it.

That's why, as Jungkook slowly packs his clothes into his overnight bag in preparation for tomorrow and you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your nails, the room is enveloped in a heavy silence.

You knew it was a bad idea to let him stay. To ignore everything that should've been sorted the first morning after the incident. But instead you chose to live in blissful ignorance for six days while you play fucking house.

But come on. Having Jungkook dote on you and care for you for an entire week? Please, that's every female student at Yonsei's wet dream. Quite a few guys, too.

You look up from your nails as he zips up his bag, kicking it to the corner of the room before resting the clothes he'll wear tomorrow on your dresser. He looks over at you, walking to the edge of the bed. For the first time in all the years you’ve consciously known him, he hesitates to touch you.

You blink at him, not moving, not saying anything.

Finally, Jungkook breaks the silence, his voice quiet and raspy, "Should we talk?"

You swallowed, nodding slightly. "Okay."

He sits down beside you, close but not touching. "I meant it, you know. Everything I said."

You hesitate, your gaze fixed down on your painted toes. "And what did you say?"

You can feel his eyes on you, but you don't look up. He brushes some hair—that's growing out nicely as you put it—behind his ear before taking a deep breath. He can't fuck this up.

"I've been in love with you since I learned what love was."

The room goes silent. Neither of you dare to even breathe.

"Wha-huh?"

"I've been in love with you ever since I learned what love was," You repeat.

You finally look at him, and he can't decipher the expression on your face. His eyes flicker between yours, searching for any sign that this is a prank, that Minji is about to burst in with a camera and tell him he's on live television.

"Maybe even before that," you continue, "but I just didn't know what it meant."

Jungkook’s heart races, each beat erratic and intense. He feels like he's about to pass the fuck out.

"No," he croaks.

You blink, "No?"

"No," he shakes his head, "you can't. Y-you can't be. That's not—you're n—what—what the fuck?"

You watch, silent, as he struggles with your revelation, the weight of your words clearly unsettling him.

Oh, you think. You've freaked him out by dropping the L word.

Well, you definitely misread the room there.

It’s not like you haven’t said "I love you" before. You tell each other that often enough—when he drops you off somewhere, at the end of your phone calls, when you give each other random gifts that remind you of the other.

But "I'm in love with you"? Yeah, that one’s a bit new…

Your stomach tightens, but you stay quiet, watching as his hand moves desperately through his hair, as if he doesn’t know what to do.

After a few minutes, he stops and turns to you. He didn't plan for it to go this way. He doesn't know what to fucking do.

You sigh, “I know this changes shit. Ruins everything. I thought I had it under control, but I really don't. And I'm not strong enough to keep pretending. So, if you're okay with still being in each other's lives, we need to set some clear boundari—"

"I fucking love you, Y/N." He kneels in front of you, taking one of your hands into both of his larger ones. "I've been obsessed with you since your mom brought you over to my house when we were five, and you told me my eyes looked like boba pearls."

You look into his eyes as he says that. They really do remind you of tapioca pearls…

"I can't remember a single day of my entire life where I haven't been in love with you. There is no me without you. You are all I can see when I think of my past and all I can see when I think of my future. No matter what you are to me, you're there. In every plan I make. In every dream I have. It's you. It's always been you."

You bite the inside of your bottom lip, fighting back tears. You’ve cried more in the last week than you have in your entire adult life.

"We are so fucking stupid." You sniffle, tipping your head back slightly to try and blink the tear up into your duct.

"We are," he agrees, gently tilting your head down and running his thumb under your lash line to catch the tear.

Once your face is dry, Jungkook's thumb travels down and brushes lightly over your bottom lip. He smiles when it feels exactly as he had imagined, another item mentally ticked off his bucket list.

You're about to ask if he's high when he suddenly springs into action, tackling you back onto the bed. You bounce slightly against the mattress as he holds himself up, careful not to squash you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck as you try, and fail, to suppress a smile at the idiot above you.

"It fucking sucked seeing you with other guys," he confesses, the words he’s been holding back for years finally breaking free.

Your fingers dance across his back, tracing idle patterns on the fabric of his shirt as you respond, “It fucking sucked seeing you with other girls.”

He pulls back slightly to look at you, a pout on his lips. "You should've told me, and I would've—"

“You should've told me!” you interject, giving him a playful smack on the chest. His frown deepens for a moment before breaking into a wide, uncontrollable grin.

He buries his head back into your neck, and you can feel him smiling against you. "You're such a loser," you giggle as you feel his teeth on your neck, not in a sexy biting way but because he's literally fucking grinning against you.

Time slips by quietly as your fingers sketch invisible designs across his back. Eventually, he breaks the comfortable silence. “Do you think we knew?” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin.

“Hmm?” you hum, your hand pausing in its motion to thread through his hair.

He shivers slightly under your touch before elaborating, “Do you think we knew that we were in love with each other?”

Your movements resume, alternating between letting his hair slip through your fingers and gentle scalp scratches. “Yeah, I think so."

He nestles closer, the sensation of your nails against his scalp coaxing a suppressed groan from him. "Why do you think we didn't say anything?"

"I don't know," you reply honestly. "Maybe we were too comfortable. Or maybe we were scared of what it would actually mean."

Jungkook lifts his gaze to meet yours, searching your eyes for answers. “What does it mean?” he asks quietly.

You smile, continuing to play with his hair. “You have a lot of questions,” you tease gently.

His nose scrunches at your evasive reply, and you run your finger down the bridge of it. "Such a pretty nose," you hum.

His eyes flutter shut at the touch, then snap open again. “You’re distracting me.”

The corners of your lips tug upwards. "Am I?"

He nods, making no move to stop the traces of your digit along his face. When your finger brushes the edge of his lip, he turns his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of your finger, his actions drawing a gentle smile from you.

"You don't—do you not want to," he starts, hesitating mid-sentence before pushing himself to continue, “be with me?”

You bite your lip thoughtfully, finishing your gentle explorations of his face, your hand settling back onto his back. “I want to be with you more than anything else in the world, Gukkie.”

He lets out a breath of relief at your words, but his face falls slightly when he senses your hesitation. "But?"

"But," you say softly, "I'm scared. I'd rather have you in my life as my best friend than not have you at all if things don't work out."

He shakes his head, his hand cupping your face gently. “I told you. No matter what you are to me, I want you in my life. Isn’t that the same for you?”

"Of course it is, but you can't guarantee we'll feel this way in—"

“You’re such a beautiful,” he interrupts, planting a soft kiss on your jaw, “intelligent,” another on your neck, “incredible,” he continues down to your collarbone, “pessimist.” He finishes with a kiss just above your heart.

He gazes up at you with a mischievous grin as you narrow your eyes at him. "I will always want you in my life, no matter what shit ends up happening. Even if you tell me you hate me, or you like, fuck my dad or something…" He looks at you seriously, and you roll your eyes, unable to stifle your snicker.

"Well, your dad is kind of a DILF—"

“I’ll never willingly leave your life. And I’ll never do anything to make you want me to leave. And I promise you, on everything that is holy,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to a tender spot below your ear, “I’ll want you in mine for the rest of my fucking days.”

“You better,” you tease, his smile pressing into your skin before you grow serious, “because I can’t lose you.”

Jungkook’s sigh warms your skin, his nose nudging your head back as he murmurs, “You really don’t understand just how obsessed I am with you, do you, baby?”

His gaze lingers on your exposed throat, tracing every swallow, every breath. Unable to resist, he leans in, his lips finding the base of your throat, humming in contentment at the little noise you make.

Slowly, he makes his way to the side of your supple neck, his lips never detaching from your skin on his journey. You feel his breath as he hovers over the area for a second in pausing, and you wonder if it's because he can hear your heart slamming against your ribcage.

No strenuous activities.

His lips finally latch onto the skin of your neck and you feel the tiniest flick of his tongue as he suckles at the flesh.

Avoid physical exertion.

You let out the softest, breathiest fucking moan he's ever heard, and he pulls off your neck with a wet pop. His bunny teeth poke out to nibble at the now moist skin as he slowly moves to your collarbone.

Make sure you rest.

His kisses get lower, hotter, wetter, until finally, his face hovers over your thin little sleep shirt that he's considered throwing down the garbage disposal since you put it on. Bra, nowhere in sight, your hardened nipples taunt him through the pathetic excuse of a t-shirt. He glances up at you with eyes darkened with desire.

Fuck it, you've had enough rest.

You slide your hands up the back of his neck and dra him down to you, your lips meeting his with urgency. You swallow the surprised groan that escapes him, his arms framing your face as he looms over you.

Jungkook feels the tension in his muscles melt away as he surrenders to you. When you part your lips slightly, inviting him closer, he doesn't hesitate.

Your body ignites when his tongue slips into your mouth, lapping against yours and exploring as if it had always belonged there. As your back arches towards him instinctively, he slips large hand behind it, pressing you flush against him.

The countless times he's imagined this exact scenario could easily label him a certified stalker, but nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. He was absolutely fucked.

You're lost in the sensation, the warm air of your bedroom enveloping you blissfully. Nothing but the sounds of your mouths moving against each other's, tongues melting into one. Jungkook swallows the breathy whimper that escapes your lips with pride, his hips shifting forward at the fact that he's the one drawing such a noise from you. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him down, urging him to erase any space left between you.

"Fuck, Y/N," he chokes out, parting from your lips to suck in a deep breath as he feels the warmth between your thighs through his sweatpants.

"I know," you nod dumbly, mind foggy as you grind your hips into his desperately.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "It's never fucking felt like this," he confesses, each word punctuated with a thrust that draws a deeper moan from your lips.

"I know," you whine in agreement, your left arm linking around the back of his neck as you meet his movements, your entire body responding to his every move.

It hasn't felt like this. Ever. You've thought that you've had some pretty good sex in your life, but this is… different. All you’ve done is kiss and grind a little, and yet you can feel those tingles in your fucking toes that people always sing about.

It would be easy to say that it's because it's been eight long days since your last orgasm, but you know that's not the case. It's because it's him.

You've never wanted a cock in you so badly. Especially not after just three measly minutes of dry humping. But god, you're so turned on right now you're pretty sure if he pulled your panties to the side, it would spray at him like a fucking fire hydrant. As you said, it's been eight days; you're a little feral right now…

You feel him stiffening through his sweats, your back arching a little more as you shift and wiggle to try and usher his covered cock through the folds of your covered pussy.

Jungkook's hips stutter when he feels you trying to line him up, and his head jerks up to look at you. He drinks in your blissed-out features; lip between your teeth, head tilted slightly, eyes closed. So pretty.

Your eyes flutter open at the long pause in his movements, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight.

Cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen, eyes hooded.

You almost let a giggle slip when you see the similarities between his horny face and his drunk face.

"Do you want to take a nap?"

You blink at him.

"I'm sorry?"

The pink tinge that coats his cheeks creeps down his neck, disappearing into the collar of his shirt. "I just thought—"

"What?" you ask, maaaybe a little offended, "you don't wanna fuck me?"

His brows furrow as he sits up, his heels resting under his butt as he stares at you like you've just kicked a puppy before his very eyes. "First of all, I want to fuck you. I've wanted to fuck you since you made me pop my first boner at your dumb little pool party—"

"Jeongguk," you cringe, "we were like twe—"

"I've never wanted to fuck someone more than I. want. to. fuck. you." You almost laugh at the serious expression on his face but bite it back when you notice the undertone of worry in his gaze.

"I just want it to be perfect," he sighs, his tattooed hand lifting to brush through his hair, one of his nervous tics. "There's so much I want to do... and I want it all to be, like, perfect... god, Y/N, I'm being such a little bitch—"

"No," you cut him off simply, "you're being really fucking hot."

He looks at you with a slight pout as you shoot him a small smile before sitting up and mirroring his position. Your bare knees touch his that are covered by the gray Celine sweatpants you bought him last Christmas as a stocking stuffer. You're a good deal shorter than him, so your head is tilted up slightly, blinking at him slowly through your lashes.

You watch his gaze soften and you internally smirk. There we go.

You've waited far too long for the man sitting in front of you on your queen-sized bed—staring at you with more lust than you know what to do with—to prolong this any longer.

You can have your perfect night when you're not a week into an unplanned celibacy course, and your clit doesn't feel like it's going to shrivel up and snap off if left unattended any longer.

"If you want to wait, we'll wait." You shrug as you look from his left eye to his right, then down to his swollen lips. "But I haven't touched myself in eight days... And it hurts, Gukkie."

Your head hits the pillow as his mouth is back on yours in an instant. You moan in satisfaction, your lips parting eagerly to let him in further. Your legs wrap back around his waist happily, and your foot trails down to rub soft patterns against his hamstring while his tongue plays with yours.

"This is just a practice run," he grunts as he separates from you, kissing his way down your chest before he gets to the valley of your breasts.

"Yeah, yeah, grace period, whatever you want, baby, just keep going," you blurt in a huff, eyes closed in anticipation as his mouth is about to finally do some damage.

You almost scream when he stops.

You snap your eyes open and look down at the son of a bitch breathing hot air onto your already hot skin while he just smiles at you.

"Say that again."

"Say wha—"

"Baby. You called me baby, say it again."

You stare at him for a moment, your idea to tease him diminishing with the last of your patience.

"Baby," you add a shy pout to really sell it and fiddle with the hem of your shirt, "can you suck on them for a little?"

You watch as Jungkook's smile fades and his eyes unfocus, like he just transported into a different state. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he nods once, almost to himself, before he takes the bottom of your shirt that's ridden up to your belly button and lifts it to rest under your chin. Your tits bounce slightly as they spill from the fabric, and he lets out a soft "fuck" before diving in.

His hot mouth latches to your left nipple, groaning when he feels the bud pebble against his tongue. His lips pucker around the nub, sucking it into his mouth desperately, and he lets out a loud moan. This is it. This is heaven, he thinks.

Your legs shakily unlatch from around his waist, and you rest your feet on the mattress, your knees bent and pressing against his sides while he makes out with your tits.

His teeth graze gently over your nipple before he gives it a little nibble, which causes your back to arch. Doing so forces more of your boob into his mouth and he lets out a low muffled groan through a mouthful of your flesh.

"Mmmf've wanted these in my mouth for a long fucking time..." He slurs when he pulls back. His big hands cup your big tits, his gaze concentrated and focused as he jiggles and plays with them, like he can't believe what he's seeing.

"Do you wanna fuck them?"

Jungkook lets out a loud groan at your filthy words, spoken with such an innocent tone his cock is almost confused as it swells like a fucking water balloon in his pants.

His left hand continues to rub soothingly at one of your tender nipples while the other slips down between you. He looks up at the blurry need in your eyes, and his traveling hand almost misses the waistband of his sweats.

"I always knew you were dirty," he breathes out, the words muffled as he plants soft, wet kisses on each of your nipples, sending shivers down your spine. With a strained groan, he frees his painfully hard erection from the confines of his briefs. "But fuck, baby, this is gonna kill me."

God, the way he says baby. Straight to the fucking core.

You tap his bum with your foot and a pretty smile, sitting up on the bed when he lifts his frame to let you slide out. His angry red cock is flush against his stomach, only the top few inches visible from the briefs that rose back up to cover him.

He lets you usher him to sit at the edge of your bed, his feet digging into your fluffy rug as he tries to ground himself while you settle. Your shirt is still being held up on its own because your tits won't let it fucking fall and Jungkook shakes his head in awe at the sight. Fucking unbelievable.

The moment you kneel on the ground, the tops of your feet flat against the carpet as you lean up slightly, your eyes fixate on his throbbing cock like it's a priceless painting. Jungkook loses his mind.

Your eyes slowly lift to his when you hear his heaved, choky breathing. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth as you fight the urge to smile. "You're so pretty, Gukkie."

"You're prettier, baby," he replies without missing a beat, one hand supporting his weight on the bed while the other gently caresses your face.

A radiant smile spreads across your lips as you turn your face to place a fleeting kiss on his palm. His lips tug upwards at the action before the air is suddenly ripped from his lungs.

Leaning forward, you pull his briefs fully down, unsheathing his entire shaft. You tug the boxers and sweatpants so they rest under his balls, cooing at the way the elastic slightly pushes up his length, making it even angrier as a dribble of liquid gathers at the tip. You lift his shirt absentmindedly to get it out of the way, and he understands, lifting a hand to the back of the neckline and pulling it off his torso.

You barely have a chance to appreciate his tight abs, tiny waist, sinful ink that coats his skin, or the sparkling Cartier chain that dangles from his neck, a mirror of your own.

Your head tilts as you admire the prettiest dick you've ever had in front of you, each vein and ridge perfectly imperfect, complementing each other in a way that would look strange if a single one were to go missing. "Needa..." you hum, entranced, "get it wet first."

"Fuckkkkk," Jungkook moans as you lean down and lick a fat strip from the base of his balls all the way up his shaft, sucking the tip into your mouth.

Your eyes flutter closed on their own, the feeling of his heavy cock weighing your tongue down, making you drowsy and floaty. The scent of your body wash wafts from his skin, igniting a possessive fire in your gut you didn't even know you had as you suckle at the head. The moment he twitches against your tongue, any thought of titty-fucking flies right out your penthouse window. You're not letting him out of your mouth.

"Ohhh-hhh," he stammers as your tongue focuses on the ridge of his tip, lapping at his frenulum like it's your favorite blueberry flavored lollipop.

His hand, which had dropped back to the bed when you took him in your mouth, lifts to run through your hair, brushing it out of your face when it threatens to get in the way of your masterwork. Your eyes blink open in thanks, looking up at him dazedly, and when you catch his own, he throws his head back with a groan.

"Fuck!" He curses as you hum around his shaft, letting your lips part slightly so saliva can drip from your mouth and trail down his cock. His head snaps up to watch as you keep pushing more spit until you deem there enough before your right-hand lifts to clasp around the member.

Jungkook's eyes roll back, the grunts falling from his lips not even registering in his brain as they spew. "Fuck, baby," he huffs out. You wiggle your fingers until you have a good hold on his cock before giving it a few lazy squeezes to get the blood pumping.

"Fucking fuck!" He's absolutely done for, his entire vocabulary vanishing from his mind as you play with his dick like a joystick. Your tongue gives a final flick to lap up the precum spilling from his glan before you inhale deeply through your nose and start to feed the shaft down your throat.

The walls of your throat contract slightly as his thick girth tests your boundaries, but you push through the resistance and force it further until your lips reach your hand gripping the base of his cock.

"Oh my fucking god," Jungkook almost falls backward, but the hand that's not holding your hair out of the way steadies his balance, shaking as it works to keep him upright.

His hips jerk unconsciously when you move your hand from the base, resting it gently against his balls as you inhale through your nose again and finish him off. "Baby! B-fuck!" Jungkook would like to say that it was a manly groan, but it was a pure and outright whine.

His vocality goes straight to your cunt, your clit aching and throbbing against your underwear, screaming at you to let it breathe. You resist the urge to trail a hand down and relieve the pain, instead using it to cup Jungkook's full ballsack and roll it between your fingers. His whines get louder at that, and you almost smile around his cock.

You wait until you feel the familiar sensation of the cockhead tickling the back of your throat, the automatic gag rising through your entire body, making you swallow harshly against his shaft. 

When you swallow, you rid the excess saliva that was in your mouth, so you lift off for a second to gather more. As you do, you look up to your best friend and see him staring down at you like you hung the stars, and the smile finally breaks its way to your lips.

You lean up to give him a kiss, and he meets you halfway, his hand falling from your hair to cup your face as he melts into your mouth. It's short, sweet, and soft, yet it makes your entire body flush with goosebumps.

"I love you so much," Jungkook breathes when you pull away, and you coo at the softy, pressing a gentle kiss against his pretty nose.

"I love you more, my Gukkie," you reply sweetly before returning to the task at hand.

"Not possi—" his words are cut off when you let a stream of saliva drip from your mouth before taking him down in one swift motion.

"Oh," he moans, both hands gathering your hair into a loose ponytail, following the rise and fall of your head as you deepthroat his cock. "Oh, fuck. Yeah, fucking shittt."

You quicken your pace, your right hand like a magnet below your lips, gliding up and down his length as you squeeze it intermittently, picking up on the subtle jerks of his hips. The spit coating his cock squelches with every stroke, the filthy noise echoing in your bedroom, making your hips shift against the heels of your feet. You're so turned on. Why is his dick so fucking pretty?

Your mouth is lethal, dragging all the way until the only thing left in your cave is the tip before gulping all the way back to the base. "Yesss, baby," he chokes, "taking it so well, my baby. So fucking well."

His praise loosens the final screw in your hazy brain, your hand on the base moving to grip his thigh as you gurgle as deep as you can, the tip brushing against your uvula. You gag, hard and loud, spit spilling from your lips as your teary eyes squeeze shut. Your nails dig into his skin, and he lets out the loudest moan of the night, his hips jerking forward roughly, forcing another gag from your throat.

"Mmmmmfh," you moan desperately, squeezing his thigh tightly and running your free hand back to his balls. You roll the sack in your hand, lifting your head up and down his cock with no mercy, sloppily choking on his throbbing length.

His hands tangled in your hair are shaking, his abdomen tensing as he's overwhelmed with pleasure. "God, look at you just taking it all babyy, hhffuckk,” he praises through a grunt, watching the saliva spill out from the corners of your mouth, dripping down to his balls while you fondle them. “Best fucking girl, you know that? Making me feel so fucking good. Just want me to come down your tight little throat, don’t you, my baby?"

Your eyes roll back behind your closed lids as you nod pathetically with a mouthful of his cock. You lift off with a wet pop, your eyes blinking open as you guide your hand from cupping his balls up to his shaft. You jerk him tight and sloppily before leaning down and taking his sac into your mouth. It's big, barely fitting in your mouth, but you force your jaw wider, using your tongue to usher his balls inside.

"Ahhhhffuck," Jungkook whines, his head thrown back in pure ecstasy. Your tongue laps around his balls ruthlessly as you quicken your tugs on his shaft. When you moan greedily, wiggling your head as the sac pulses and rolls against your tongue, Jungkook feels the familiar sensation flooding his body. It's faster and harder than ever before. He tries to gesture you off him, afraid if he speaks he will lose control, but you don't relent.

"Baby, y-you gotta hop off," he heaves, his ass cheeks clenching together to try and hold off the urge to cum.

"Mm-mm." You hum a no through a mouthful of ballsack, eyes fluttering open to look up at the gorgeous man trying to take away your meal. Your hand, running amok on his cock twists and squeezes, never halting as you blink up at Jungkook through your lashes.

"Ah," he whines with a shake of his head, his hips thrusting into the air, your mouth jolting with the movement as it's attached to his balls. You hum happily, tongue flicking against them. You can't wait to see his cum dripping down his abs—

Your mouth is ripped from his balls, hand unwillingly releasing his cock as he throws you back onto your bed with purpose. "Hey—"

Jungkook swallows your whine with his mouth, cutting off your thoughts at the source when his tongue delves through your lips, lapping at the taste of him lingering on your tongue. He successfully makes you forget what unimportant thing you were going to say as he devours you, your mouths moving together, sloppy and wet.

He pulls your tongue into his mouth and suckles on the muscle while his hand runs gently over your still-exposed nipple before trailing down to your shorts. Jungkook groans around your tongue when he brushes lightly over your heat, feeling the fabric coating your pussy-lips wet to the touch.

With a final suck on your tongue, he lets it slide back into your mouth before parting from your lips. He looks down at the area he's tracing light strokes on, and his cock twitches at the sight.

"Oh, baby..." He coos, his thumb running over the wet patch in awe before looking to you. Your lip is drawn between your teeth as you nibble lightly on the flesh, eyes clouded as you stare at him with a mellow haze. "So wet, pretty... Gukkie didn't give her any attention, and she's all achy now, hmm?"

"Mmhm," you nod softly, the pout on your face still visible even with your lip tugged between your teeth. Jungkook pulls his gaze from his thumb and looks at you, all soft and sweet, just for him.

"Need the ache to go away, don't you, pretty?" He mumbles against your mouth, not applying pressure but just letting your lips rest against each other.

"Yes, please, Gukkie." You respond, voice soft as you stare at his lips patiently, waiting for him to give them to you.

"Good manners, baby," he praises delicately before leaning forward and giving you a slow, gentle kiss. You melt into him, the sound of his pleased sigh making your muscles all mushy.

Jungkook pulls back and then presses three quick, rapid kisses against your lips, making you giggle. That seemed to be his goal when the side of his mouth curved upwards at your laugh as he lifted himself off your frame.

He kicks off his sweatpants the rest of the way, and they fall to the floor next to your bed, but he tucks his still painfully hard cock back into his black briefs to hold it for the time being.

Jungkook looks down at his effortlessly beautiful best friend, lying prettily on her bed, hair sprawled out against the pillow while she waits for him to take her any way he desires. Teenage him would be freaking the fuck out if he could see him right now.

His gaze drags slowly up your body, a lingering moment spent on the meat of your thighs, and he swallows before finally locking onto the space between.

You try to will yourself to be patient despite the aching throb coming from your heat, but your leg betrays you and twitches slightly. Jungkook catches the movement instantly.

"Gonna flip you on your tummy, okay baby?" he says distractedly, eyes never straying from the wet patch on your shorts.

"Oka—"

You don't get to finish your sentence before his hands are on your hips and he flips you as gently as a horny lacrosse captain can. A surprised squeak slips out when your face hits the mattress, and you both giggle, Jungkook leaning down to kiss your shoulder with a soft, sorry pretty.

Jungkook has always been a tits guy. Tried and true. It may have stemmed from growing up with a best friend that he was hopelessly in love with who happened to develop the greatest rack he'd ever seen in his life... But right now, as Jungkook stares at your soft, round asscheeks stuffed into those little cotton sleep shorts, he's beginning to rethink his entire life choices.

He kneels at the edge of the bed, using your ankle to gently pull you further toward him. You slide down the bed without any complaints, trying not to arch your back so you can be even closer to him.

Jungkook continues his ministrations on your curves before trailing up to the waistband of your shorts. He pulls them done, your panties coming with them, and he groans at the way the flesh ripples when released from the fabric. He grabs a greedy handful of each cheek with his big hands and gives them a rough squeeze, relishing in the way you push back into his grip.

"So pretty, my baby," he hums, continuing to knead the flesh as he dips to pepper kisses all over the flushed skin.

You whine, your hips grinding into the bed in an attempt to put some pressure on your ignored clit. He notices your movements and presses one last kiss to your right asscheek before sitting back and pulling your bottoms off fully. They fall into a pile next to his discarded sweatpants, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the freedom from the confines.

When one of Jungkook's hands slips between your belly and the mattress, you can't stop the noise of satisfaction that leaves you when he gently ushers you to your hands and knees. You quickly tug your top the rest of the way off, slinking it over your head and handing it back blindly to Jungkook. He takes it from you instantly, chucking it at the growing pile of clothes next to him.

On instinct, you fall to your forearms, nipples rubbing against your duvet as you arch your back, biting your lip when even the warm air of your bedroom feels cool against your burning cunt.

"Fucking hell..." Jungkook chokes out, the sight of your soaked pussy spread and bearing for him, making his mouth water.

"Ah-fuck!" A high-pitched squeal rips from your throat when he leans down and delivers a long, broad lick up your slit.

He lets out a loud moan into your pussy when you jerk back into him at the feeling. You're so fucking wet from being so worked up, and his cock throbs against his briefs at the taste of your juices leaking onto his tongue. Jungkook's hands slide to the front of your thighs to steady you as he loses himself, his tongue wrapping your clit, sucking the hardening nub messily into his mouth. "Mmmmfh," he sighs contently like he was taking a sip of a well-made café latte instead of feasting on your cunt like a madman.

When he releases your clit, dragging the flat of his tongue from the button all the way to your opening, your knees buckle. "Yes, Gukkie, fuckk yes!" You cry, writhing against his sinful tongue.

Jungkook almost purrs in delight, lapping up the slick between your folds, trying to get every last drop. His tongue finds its way to the entrance of your core, teasingly dipping in and out once, twice, before he loses control and thrusts it as far as it can go. "Uhhh-shhhittt," your head falls forward with a shuddery gasp, your walls clenching around his tongue, pulling a low groan from him.

Jungkook's hands slide up from your thighs to rest on your asscheeks, and before you can process the realization that he hasn't used his fingers on you yet, he's gripping the flesh and pulling you harshly into his face. "Uh!" You moan, your ass flush against his face as he buries himself, nose and tongue, right into your cunt.

"Hhhhhhhhhh," you're not even saying words anymore, just useless, incoherent noises spluttering from your lips as you quiver, grinding your pussy back into his face.

He tries not to focus on your other hole, the tight little puckered fucking one that's basically blinking at him. Taunting him. He closes his eyes as he focuses on losing himself in your pussy. Another day, he thinks.

Jungkook's mouth is covered in your juice, his head shaking from side to side as he drags his tongue furiously around your cunt. The filthy sound of your sopping pussy getting devoured by his tongue resounds around your bedroom, Jungkook's hips rutting into the edge of your bed needily.

"Yes, Gukkie, yes!!! So good babyyyy--ohhh fuckkkk!" You scream, your nails digging into the mattress as you grind your pussy back into his face.

Jungkook's eyes roll back, his moans getting swallowed by your slick folds. Fuck oxygen, he hopes he passes out.

He takes one of the hands resting on your ass and brings a finger to your leaky entrance. He pulls away for a millisecond to suck in a breath before dropping down instantly and enveloping your clit with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth. And with that, he finally pushes his middle finger into your hole.

You try to moan, but with the pressure on your clit and the sensation of finally being filled, the only sound that escapes is a strangled gasp. He lets your clit slip out of his mouth before his tongue quickly darts out to flick against it vigorously, his finger delving deeper into your hole with every jab of his tongue.

Your body shudders as he expertly works his tongue and finger in tandem, each movement driving you closer to the edge. "G-Gukkie, I'm so fucking close," you whimper, your thighs trembling around his head.

Jungkook's free hand tightens on your ass, pulling you even closer as he tries to add a second finger, his eyebrows furrowing at the resistance. "Relax baby, gotta let Gukkie in." He gives a particularly hard tongue of your clit, a pleased hum declared into your pussy when he feels your walls loosen to let his other slip in.

His tongue flicks faster, more determined, as he feels your walls flutter around his digits. He pulls back a hair to mumble against your clit, "You can let go now, my baby. I've got you."

With a harsh flick of his tongue and a curl of his fingers, you tense up. "Oh my fuck, Gukkie, yes!" You cry out, your body convulsing as he pounds against your g-spot with his thick fingers. Your eyes roll back, a final scream ripping from your throat as you shatter, your orgasm ripping you apart from the inside out.

Jungkook doesn't stop, his tongue and fingers relentless as they pull every last drop of pleasure from your shaky core. The hand of his that is still gripping your ass slips up to gently rub against your back when you collapse into the mattress.

Tears well in your eyes as Jungkook delivers a final drag of his tongue from your bud to your hole, swallowing every last drop of juice leaking from your cunt. He withdraws his fingers carefully, replacing them with soft, soothing strokes along your inner thighs.

It takes you a solid minute to come down from your high, your limbs still tingling from the hardest orgasm you've had in, well, ever. Jungkook continues his soft strokes against your thighs while you catch your breath, his head spinning and mouth still coated in your remnants.

"I get it now." Your voice is muffled by the comforter you face planted into, and you currently don't have the strength to get up.

"Hm?" Jungkook hums amusedly, his hand still tracing gently over your skin.

"Why girls always want your dick so bad. I get it now. If your tongue is that good, fucking hell..."

Jungkook snorts, leaning down to press a kiss on your lower back before flopping down to lay next to you. You finally lift your head from the blanket to look at your best friend, who's already smiling down at you, his tattooed arm tucked behind his head while he rests against the headboard.

His brow raises when you giggle suddenly and sit up. He doesn't have time to admire your bare tits almost in his face when your hand lifts up to his mouth. You're still giggling as you wipe at the shiny substance that coats his lips. A shocked gasp leaves Jungkook's lips, and he grabs your hand in a flash, his eyes holding clouds of pure betrayal.

"Why would you do that?" He's genuinely upset!

It's your turn to snort this time, lifting a leg over his lap so you're straddling him. "I'm sorry, Gukkie." You entertain him with an amused eye roll, leaning in to plant a sweet kiss against his lips.

Jungkook dissolves into the kiss, about to deepen it when you pull away. His eyes snap open, ready to protest, when suddenly your tongue flicks out, dragging flat across his lips to gather your slick that coats his mouth.

"Mm," you hum, making sure to get every bit around the corner of his lips and even the speck of gloss you see on the tip of his nose.

Jungkook is frozen. His cock thrashes against his briefs as he stares at you in complete awe, your tongue sliding back into your mouth to swallow the juices—your juices—that you just lapped up from his fucking lips.

Your lip darts between your teeth as you try not to laugh at his darkened expression. Looking down at the source of the throbbing against your bare pussy, you let out a teasing coo. "That looks really sore, Gukkie..."

Jungkook swallows. He needs to calm down or he's going to pin you into the mattress and fuck you open, raw.

"It is." He manages to choke out.

You pout, lifting your gaze back to him. "Don't want you to be sore."

"You don't?" He returns softly, dragging his hand over your bare thigh.

You shake your head so cutely that he almost shivers. You lean closer, gaze flickering from his pretty nose and then back to his eyes. "I could make the pain go away if you want..."

"Yeah? You wanna make Gukkie feel better, pretty?"

You nod, the hazy feeling taking over again as he runs his hands gently up your hips, resting gently on the swell of your ass.

You lift off him slightly, his hands moving with you as they're glued to your bum. Jungkook bites his lip at the wet patch you left on his boxers, and he thanks God he did because it muffles the pitchy groan that escapes him when your hand slithers beneath his waistband.

His eyes flutter shut when you give his painfully red cock a few gentle strokes, his head dropping back to hit the headboard.

"Baby," you giggle, "you're so fucking hard."

He lifts his head to give you a deadpanned fucking obviously look, and you just snicker, leaning forward to kiss his pouty lips.

"Oh no. Fuck."

He jerks forward slightly at your serious tone, his hands moving from your butt to cup the one of yours that froze around his dick worriedly. "Huh? What's wrong?"

Your eyes soften as you don't respond verbally, a devastated look clouding your gaze. He sits up seriously now. "Baby, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I don't have any condoms." Your brows are pulled together so tightly, which Jungkook still doesn't like, but he releases a breath at your words.

"Fuck, Y/N. Don't do that. You scared me, I thought you were hurt or something." His head falls back to rest against your headboard in relief instead of pleasure this time.

You frown. "Why aren't you upset? Oh, did you bring some?" Jungkook almost laughs at the thought, lifting his head to watch as you release his dick to glance behind you at his overnight bag.

"What-no, baby. Of course I didn't bring condoms. This is probably the last thing I ever expected to happen."

Your pout is in full swing now, turning back to Jungkook with a very unhappy look. He just shakes his head at your pretty face, planting his hands on the mattress beside him and pushing up to press your lips to his.

When you pull away, Jungkook is about to ask if you want to grind on him over his briefs because he would be finished in approximately thirty seconds—

"I'm on the pill." You say softly.

He swallows. "I know."

"Do you-are you clean?"

"Yeah," he chokes out, "haven't ever not used a condom. And tested after that scare the other week with...uh..."

"Did you really forget her name?" You squint, shaking your head incredulously at his genuine look of confusion.

"I-uh, yeah I don't know... All I remember is that it kinda burned when I peed—"

You roll your eyes. "Her name," you press a quick kiss to his lips, "was Yejin."

"Ohh, yeah—"

"You also did that stupid 10-packet spicy ramen challenge that day." Another quick kiss to his lips.

"Hey, that was for a fundraiser—"

"And I'm clean... Tested with Mingyu."

"Oh." Jungkook's heartbeat picks up. Not at the Mingyu part, okay maybe a little, but mostly at the fact that you're hinting at him taking you fucking raw right now.

Your lips purse, his response suddenly making you feel stupid for asking. Jungkook picks up on the look instantly, his hands cradling your face when you try to look away.

"Baby," you're about to apologize when he continues, "it's your choice. I'd fuck you wrapped in a garbage bag if you asked me to."

Your lips wiggle as you try not to smile, looking back at him with a glint in your eyes. "You're really cute, Gukkie."

"Oh?" He hums, "I thought I was a pussy eating God... but cute works too I guess."

You snicker, falling into his lips and he swallows your soft giggles with his tongue. "So humble," you whisper against his lips when you break away.

Jungkook's about to tease further, but you don't give him the chance, your hand slipping back down to wrap around his shaft. A soft shudder leaves him, his hands falling from your face to grip your ass again, squeezing it firmly.

You're still a bit sensitive, but nothing you can't handle, and you shift forward a little so the lips of your pussy press against his length.

"Oh-fuck." He moans at the feeling of a bare pussy on his cock. And it's your pussy. Holy fuck.

You place both your hands on his thick thighs, leaning back to get the right angle before you slide your hips up and down, dragging his length through your wet slit. Jungkook's hands sprawl over your back when you lean back, cradling you almost, and he keens at the sloppy, squishy sounds that fill the room.

Your clit is alive again, thumping against his cock every time it drags through your lips, and you heave out a strained moan at the fresh wave of arousal that washes over you.

Your hand pushes against Jungkook's chest gently as you sit up, determined. He lets himself fall back against the headboard, face flushed, neck vein visible, while he watches intently. Your knees press into the mattress on either side of his thighs as you lean forward, your hand reaching behind you blindly to grip his shaft before you line it up with your entrance.

Your brows furrow, and you bite your bottom lip hard as you try to press the bulbous head in. Your opening does its best to stretch around the intruder and you let out a relieved whine when it finally gets sucked in.

"Fuck." Jungkook whimpers, his head slamming back hard against the headboard. Your walls burn as you struggle to accommodate his huge length, and he can fucking feel it.

You let the tingles flooding up your spine settle for a second. Then, you take a big breath, and drop.

"Mother fuckkkkk." Jungkook groans, his hands squeezing your ass tightly in shock as you take his entire length in one go.

Your eyes are closed, head thrown back in pleasure as you bask in the feeling for a moment. Every inch of you is filled with his thick girth. You've never felt so full and so fucking good.

You're so wet. So warm. So tight. Jungkook is grateful for the pause in your movements because he thinks he actually would've fucking come if you—

Your hips lift up until all that's remaining in you is his fat cockhead before you sink back down and take it all in one swoop.

Lewd noises spew from his lips as he forces his eyes to stay open, watching you swallow his cock over and over and over.

"So fucking good at that, baby, shit..." Jungkook grunts.

Your nails dig into his thighs at the praise, your head lifting back up to look at him as you increase your pace.

You begin to move faster, riding him with an increasing intensity that makes the bed creak beneath you. The friction and fullness send waves of pleasure through your body, making you gasp and moan. Your hands find his shoulders, using them as leverage as you bounce on his length harder.

"Godssooo fucking good," you pant, your voice a breathless slur. "So deep, Gukkie. C-can feel it in my tummy."

Jungkook's hands slide up your back with a growl, pulling you closer until your chests are pressed together. He captures your lips in a heated kiss, tongues tangling as the rhythm of your hips grows more frantic. The slick sounds of your bodies slamming together fills the room, enveloping you both in desire.

Breaking the kiss, Jungkook's lips trail down your neck, sucking and nipping at your sensitive skin. "Taking it so good, my baby," he worships against your collarbone. "So fucking perfect."

The praise spurs you on, your movements becoming pathetically desperate as you chase your release. You can feel the burning tension coiling in your core, ready to snap, when suddenly his feet move to plant themselves into your mattress and he begins to thrust up into you.

"Oh fuck yes, fuck!" You gasp, your knees trembling as he plows relentlessly into you from below.

"Shittttt," he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you up and down on his cock, balls slapping against your ass as he pistons furiously into your pussy. "So good at riding cock, baby, taking it all like a proper fucking slut."

You cry loudly at his words, your nails digging into his shoulder slightly as you writhe against his thrusts. "It's the pilates," you choke out, "developed good core strength. Great for riding dick."

Jungkook lets out a loud laugh, leaning forward to bury his face in your neck while his thrusts get even deeper. He feels your walls tighten around him sorely, and he heaves a shaky breath before slipping a tattoed hand between you two, thumb attaching to your clit. Your fucked-out uh-uh-uh’s echoes in his ears with every plunge of his cock, fueling him to go harder.

The sloppy bud twitches under his touch, his thumb slipping from how soaked you are, but he doesn't back down. He chases the hard nub and flicks it in time with his thrusts, cock jittering as you let out your loudest moan of the night.

"I'm gonna come, Gukkie. I-I'm gonna fucking come! Oh my goddddd!" you're bouncing on him wildly, your walls clenching furiously with no pattern, completely run with pleasure that you can't control it.

"Come on, baby," he whines through a thrust, his balls squeezing as you get impossibly tighter, begging to let them release their fluids, "Ohh-h-ffuck, can I come too, baby? Can I come in you? Oh fuck, fuck."

You don't even get to answer as you completely shatter, your orgasm taking control over your whole body that you swear you see the light. You cry out his name as best you can, your body convulsing, shaking around his length.

You can't possibly speak as you collapse against his chest but as you fall, you see the pained look in his eyes as he tries not to come. You want it so bad. More than you've ever wanted anything in your life. Before you know what you're doing, your thighs tighten around his legs, your mouth moves to the nape of his neck, and you bite. Hard.

Jungkook spasms, the deepest growl of a moan rips through his throat as he throws his head back and cums, deep and hot, right into your cunt. You whimper around the chunk of flesh captured between your teeth, his thick load tickling your walls as it fills your hole.

You feel complete.

Jungkook's hands gently stroke your back, grounding you as you come down from your high. Nothing but the sound of both your heavy breathing fills your ears before Jungkook breaks the silence. "You did so well, baby."

Your tongue laps and licks softly at the skin of his neck to soothe the subtle teeth marks you left, and he lets out a pleased noise through a shiver. Your head lifts to look into his eyes, a hazy smile spreading across your face when you take in his blissed-out features. "I didn't know sex could feel like that."

Jungkook's eyes flutter open at your words, his stomach clenching in pure joy that his softening cock still tucked up inside of you even lets out a shudder. "Yeah?" He asks softly, a hand lifting to tuck some of your messy hair behind your ear.

"Yeah," you nod with a flutter of your eyes at his gentle touches, "the fact it was you was probably the main factor," you mumble dreamily against his neck when you rest your head on his shoulder, "but that was still the best dick I've ever had."

His heart swells infinitely. You were by far the best pussy he's ever had, but he didn’t think you would share such a thought. He should've known by now that if you are many things, predictable is not one of them.

You wrap your legs around his waist, nuzzling into his neck happily as his cock stays plugged inside of you, keeping his load intact and secure.

Jungkook's arms slink under your arms gently so he can pull you even closer, wrapping you around his chest (and his length) like a koala.

"This has been the greatest night of my entire life, Y/N." He whispers honestly against your cheek before pressing a soft kiss into the skin. "Thank you."

You hum contently, tilting your head up slightly to look at him with a pretty smile. "I love you, Gukkie."

"I love you, pretty." He replies, peppering your lips with another three quick kisses, smiling in satisfaction when another you give him another giggle.

You let the comfortable silence wrap you for a moment before breaking it. "Do we have any pasta left from dinner?"

The mention of dinner makes him think for a moment. He cooked pasta for the two of you, which you ate not long before coming into your room. You ate before sex. And you don’t look like you feel sick.

He gazes down at you, his smile broadening, heart fluttering. "'Course, I made heaps. Are you hungry?"

"Mhm."

"C'mon then," he says, giving your bum a gentle pat, ready to lift you off him and clean you up before feeding you.

"'nna minute..." You mumble sleepily against his neck, and he stops his movements, hands settling back to rub soothing strokes on your bum.

"You want me to carry you, don’t you?" he teases, suppressing a smirk as he feels you clench around him absentmindedly at him reading your thoughts.

"Noo...." your voice trails off, not even trying to conceal your lie. Jungkook chuckles softly, feeling your smile against his skin.

He makes sure he has a tight grip on you, and you him, before he carefully lifts both of you from the bed. He leads you into your ensuite, his long arm reaching out to snatch some toilet paper and a clean hand towel from your shelf as he gently places you on the sink counter.

Jungkook captures the liquid that seeps from your core with the paper as he slowly withdraws. He gives you a chuckly sorry when you wince a little, the thick head of his cock tugging at your walls as he retreats. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips to distract you and slips out with a final tug.

After discarding the used toilet paper, he dampens the towel with warm water and tenderly runs it over your core gently, pulling a pleased sigh from your lips.

Watching your best friend in awe through half-lidded eyes, he makes sure to thoroughly clean up the mess on and in your pussy before he half-heartedly uses the towel to wipe at his wet length.

He chucks the rag into the laundry hamper on the other side of the large bathroom. It lands directly in the basket from his athletic skills, and he turns to you with a cocky smirk.

You shake your head in amusement, "you're a loser."

"Don't talk to me like that, gonna get me hard again."

Your eyes widen in mock shock, before you giggle into his chest. "Knew you'd be into shit like degradation... Just had this feeling."

"Only with you though." It's cliché, but he means it.

You lift your head from his chest. "Only for me, huh?"

Jungkook nods, still standing between your legs as you look up at him from your bathroom counter. His gaze turns a little more serious. "Only yours."

Your head tilts as you blink up at the most gorgeous boy you've ever seen in your life. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Jungkook responds instantly and certainly. His thumbs tremble nervously against your thighs while he waits for your response, and they pull to a halt when you lean up to rest your mouth against his.

"Good," you murmur softly against his pouty lips, "because I'm all fucking yours."

END.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

thank you so much for reading let me know what you think? love you <3

[viarrahx]

𝑩𝑨𝑫 𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 | Geum Seongje

───────────────────────

Seong-je likes bullying little kids on Roblox, and when he tries to influence you to do the same, you end up bullying him instead.

ᯓ fluff I wc : 2.2k I established relationship

ᯓ➤ swearing, death threats, no usage of y/n, gn! reader (?)

first post, kinda nervous lmk what you guys think 👉👈

───────────────────────

Dating Geum Seong-je isn’t always the easiest thing in the world. He has an unbearable amount of attitude towards his pride, believing he is far more superior to anyone else. He’s arrogant and self-centered, so it makes things difficult for your guy’s relationship every now and then.

Seong-je wasn’t the type of guy to say “I love you” often nor is he the cheesy type who would buy you flowers and take you out on cute dates. He was a rough kind of soft; he likes making fun of you and teasing you, but when you express discomfort around teasing towards certain topics, he watches himself.

He has his own way of expressing love, even if it isn’t completely ideal or extremely romantic compared to others. If you didn’t like the smell of cigarettes, he would refrain from smoking near you, or try to at least. A couple of slip-ups here and there, but you appreciated the effort regardless.

Anybody who dared to look at you in the wrong way? He would promise himself that he would gouge their eyes out.

But he does make up excuses about how someone looked at you for longer than three seconds, leaving him with no choice but to beat the shit out of them mostly for the sole purpose of having fun rather than protecting you.

He does protect you when it’s completely necessary though.

He is also barely able to take things seriously. Cool.

Smart—ass remarks coming out of his mouth most of the time? Sure.

He's also a huge fucking bully.

It was Saturday night, and your parents were out of town on vacation for a few days, so ultimately you had the entire house to yourself until the upcoming Wednesday. So you let your boyfriend Seong-je come over and stay for the weekend.

The two of you were in your bedroom, pitch darkness as the only sources of light were your TV, PC, and phone screen. You lay on your bed, mindlessly doomscrolling on TikTok while your music played on your TV, the volume sitting at a good ten percent since you were really only going for a bit of background noise.

And there was Seong-je, sitting on your gaming chair, at your desk playing Roblox.

If you could name one thing he enjoyed doing, it would be bullying little kids on Roblox.

“Fucking bitch, go kill yourself,” Seong-je grumbled under his breath in irritation while aggressively clicking the keyboard.

“Seong-je.” You warned.

He ignored you, eyes not bothering to move away from the screen in front of him.

Taking note of the way he brushed off your warning, you sighed before continuing your endless scroll on social media, not thinking too much about it.

After a few minutes, Seong-je broke the silence once again.

“How the fuck did this loser win?! I killed him like fifteen fucking times!” He shouted as he just stares at the screen in disbelief, and shortly after the sound of keys clicking followed suit.

Unaware of what Seong-je was huffing and puffing about, you came across those crazy Reddit stories and were completely engrossed in the story. How could you resist? It was a story about someone who fell in love with their brother; it was weird, yes, but you were extremely invested in it as you listened to the drama unfold. Your eyes were even locked onto the background, watching someone playing with slime.

On the other hand, Seong-je threatened the person who won the Arsenal game to mic up on a different social media platform to avoid bans, ready to hurl insults in their face about how bad they were.

Watching the guy type short ‘No’s and ‘Why’s fueled Seong-je’s anger even further. Deciding to ignore the risks of getting your account banned, he immediately started talking shit towards the poor guy in the best way he could through Roblox’s chat filter.

You rarely played Roblox, so it was okay.

Which is what Seong-je thought.

And he went completely off that thought carelessly.

[Sourcream7393]: you’re trash

[Sourcream7393]: ##############

[Sourcream7393]: rematch you man horrre

[AwesomeGamerboy_Cool67]: what is man horrre mean?

[Sourcream7393]: means youre a gay

[Sourcream7393]: t-wink

[Sourcream7393]: now rematch

[Sourcream7393]: #############################################################

[AwesomeGamerboy_Cool67]: what is a #########

[AwesomeGamerboy_Cool67]: gay

Seeing how dumb the guy was, Seong-je was dumbfounded before coming to the realization that the guy he was arguing with was a kid.

Smirking, he grabbed one of your plushies that was sitting on your desk and threw it at you in order to catch your attention.

Successfully, you felt the plushie land on your lap and looked away from the phone and at Seong-je.

“Come,” he said, making a beckoning motion with his pointer finger.

Raising your eyebrow, you got up from where you lay and made your way to Seong-je. You stood next to him, wondering as to why he made you come over to him before he pointed at the screen.

“That’s a little kid,” smiling as he watched the kid struggling to send a chat without it filtering.

“Seong-je why in the world would you call a child a manwhore.” You crossed your arms over your chest, not even caring about the fact that this was a kid but more onto the insult he just called him.

“‘Cause I can.” He bluntly stated, before raising his hand towards you and swishing it outward swiftly, “You can go now. Shoo shoo.”

Ignoring his demands to leave, you whip out your phone.

Opening Roblox, you logged into the alt account that your main had previously added. Since Seong-je was playing on your account and was already in-game, you decided to join him.

“Why’d you join?” Seong-je asked, seeing the small grey bar at the top of his screen appear and read out, ‘Fatpugxoxo joined you’

“What kind of shitty username is that?”

“What, is Sourcream7393 better? Is it growing on you?” You queried in a playful manner, a smile forming on your lips as you poked his cheek just to annoy him.

His eyes made their way towards your own, and he glared at you, hard.

Ignoring his glare, you were finally able to load into the game. Pressing the grey play button, you choose to go onto the blue team and spawned in as soon as the round started, immediately focusing your attention on earning kills.

A few seconds in and you were already dying to Seong-je.

“Tryhard,” You told him as your eyes were locked onto your screen, fingers moving as you tried getting a few kills. Seong-je was on the red team and anytime you would kill at least one of his teammates he would immediately come behind you and kill you easily.

“You’re just shit,” He spoke.

“If I was on my PC, I would beat your ass.”

“Ooh, you’re so freaking scary.”

Now it was your turn to glare at him.

While the round was progressing, Seong-je was the team leader for the red team and his opponent, aka AwesomeGamerboy_Cool67 was the team leader for the blue team. And as the round was reaching towards its end, both Seong-je and AwesomeGamerboy_Cool67 were one kill away from winning.

And of course, AwesomeGamerboy_Cool67 got his final kill before Seong-je, claiming victory.

So he threw a fit.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He snapped, slapping his hand onto the desk with a small amount of force.

You on the other hand were desperately trying to bite back a laugh at the way he reacted. Seeing him getting riled up because of a kid on Roblox was definitely an amusing sight for you. And before you were able to make a comment about his unfortunate loss, his fingers were already traveling across the keyboard.

[Sourcream7393]: youre ####

[Sourcream7393]: i hate you

[Sourcream7393]: 1v1 me moron

[Sourcream7393]: ################

[AwesomeGamerboy_Cool67]: why

“Someone’s mad,” You teased, following their chat bubbles pop up in the corner of your screen.

“He’s shit, he only won out of pure luck.” Seong-je quickly argued. “He doesn’t even want to 1v1 me, fucking wuss.”

He sat there, frustration written on his face and voice. Seong-je didn’t take losses very well, especially when it’s to another person.

His eyebrows furrowed before he turned to you. “Say something.”

Puzzled at his words, you asked, “Why?”

“It’s fun to shit-talk kids.” A grin made its way back onto his face. He reached his hand forward and began patting your back, “Come on, ain’t that scary.” he said, reassuring you in a mocking way.

You shot daggers into his face with your own eyes, clearly showing disinterest. “No Seong-je.”

“Why? Too pussy to say a few harmless words?” He made fun of you, his smile widening as he watched your face grow irritated at his words, finding it entertainment in ticking you off.

Refusing again, you scoffed at him before turning your head back to your phone. While you were planning on ignoring him in your head, a different idea popped up. An even better one.

As a small smirk started to forme on your lips, you tapped the chat bubble, and once your keyboard came into view your fingers flew across the screen, typing.

Seong-je examined the way your fingers moved, and noticing the smirk you had on your face, he chuckled. Satisfied that you gave into his words.

Looking back at his screen, he kept an eye on the chat. Waiting for you to say something. “Didn’t know you would give in so easily.”

You hummed, not bothering to rip your eyes away from your phone.

After a second or two, your chat finally popped up.

And once it did, Seong-je’s smile immediately dropped.

[Fatpugxoxo]: Sourcream7393 youre buns at the game

[AwesomeGamerboy_Cool67]: tralalero tralala says yes

“You’ve got to be kidding,” He mumbled under his breath before whipping his head towards you.

“Seriously?” He asked bitterly.

You laughed at his response to your chat. “So serious.”

[Sourcream7393]: ###########

[Sourcream7393]: nobody is talking to you stupid ########

[Sourcream7393]: gamerboy 1v1 me now

[Sourcream7393]: quit dodgin’

[Fatpugxoxo]: stop asking to 1v1 just admit your bad

[Fatpugxoxo]: gamerboy solo’s you

[AwesomeGamerboy_Cool67]: what is a 1v1

[AwesomeGamerboy_Cool67] i do not want to

[Sourcream7393]: stop being scared

[Fatpugxoxo]: he doesn’t want to 1v1 you loser

[Fatpugxoxo]: go eat sourcream

[AwesomeGamerboy_Cool67]: tung tung tung sahur

The way Seong-je was getting more and more aggravated over something as silly as this was laughable. He’s labeled as a scary gang thug and yet he’s in your house, in your room, getting mad over you siding with a little kid on Roblox who refuses to 1v1 him.

Not being able to contain it anymore, you burst out laughing. Was he really this easy to piss off?

Hearing you start laughing, Seong-je instantly powered off your PC and quickly got up from the desk, harshly grabbing your wrist right after.

“You’re done.” He simply demanded, making way towards your bed and having you follow suit before forcefully making you sit down.

“What? Whyyyy it was getting fun,” You whined, lips curving into a frown before Seong-je quickly snatched your phone out of your hands and closed Roblox.

Ignoring your protests as to why he made you stop, he grabbed the TV remote and headed towards the corner of your bed, sitting down.

Snaking his arms around your ribs, he lifted you up and brought you to his chest so the both of you could lay down against the pillows. Completely baffled by his actions, you stayed silent as you witnessed him exit out of Spotify and open up Netflix.

Realizing that you making fun of him on Roblox sent him over the edge, you decided to tease him just a bit more. “Little baby had enough of getting bullied?” You remarked, a playful smile displayed on your face before Seong-je’s free hand immediately covered your mouth, shutting you up.

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed, not bothering to look at you as he scrolled through the countless movies and shows.

You laughed to yourself, seeing him all worked up over a video game was cute to you. Although you would never admit that out loud considering he would probably choke you to death. (He wouldn’t.)

Smiling beneath the palm of his hand, you reached for his wrist and attempted to pull his hand away, but with the strength Seong-je had, you resorted to patting it, letting him know to take his hand off.

After a few pats, he pulled his hand away, still not bothering to look at you.

Once his hand was off your lips, you turned your head towards him, smiling at the way his glasses sat on his face perfectly, he was definitely an extremely alluring person to look at. Shortly after, you then lifted yourself up a bit and planted a small kiss on his cheek.

Seong-je did not falter one bit, keeping a straight face. But after a while of examining him, you notice his ears going red.

Knowing that you weren’t getting anything better than that, you were satisfied and lay your head onto his chest, watching as he was still looking through the movie options.

Once both of you agreed on a movie, one of Seong-je’s arms wrapped around your back, hand resting on your waist.

You loved him, even if he was very limited in showing you that. You knew that he loved you just as much as you did; he just expressed it differently and you were okay with that. He was egoistical, yes. But one thing you loved about him was his loyalty to you, and you couldn’t have asked for more.

[kooklovee]

SOON (m) - JJK

Pairing - bf!Jungkook x gf!Reader

Genre - 18+ established relationship au, fluff, smut MDNI

Wc - 3.8k

Warnings - pussy gf whipped jungkook 😋, lots of kissing n marking, dom jk, drunk jkayy, Explicit smut - unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), gagging, jungkook films oc while she gives him a head, big d jk, dirty talking, praises, hair pulling, fingering, riding, overstimulation, man handling, nipple play, sucking, it's just filth romance sorry😭, flufff at the end, cuddling, a lil marriage talk

a/n - we're still simping over this iconic live, right😭🙇‍♀️

Masterlist | Kofi☕

---------------------------------------------------

Your thumb presses to the scanner and the door to your boyfriend’s house unlocks. Jungkook had your fingerprint added in his new house too. It’s a bigger thing for you than he probably even realizes. It's so deeply intimate, which is always reminded to you every time you come here.

It’s past midnight. Way past actually. You weren't actually in a deep sleep, that is why when you woke with Jungkook’s notification asking if you were awake (which usually translates to him asking you to come over), you were already up throwing on a hoodie and leggings.

There have been too many nights like this to count. Usually him or his brother dropping you off at his house during late nights when schedules didn’t line up, or he’d just want to hold you or he’d be tipsy and overly affectionate. You never complain.

If anything, you secretly love that he reaches out to you whenever he needs you.

You got to know on the way by his brother that he's been doing a live. Which you could only watch some of it in the car before he ended it. But, you did hear about a lot from his brother which made you curious. He’d been free. A little reckless. Completely himself.

And you’d felt..proud.

It takes a certain kind of courage to let the world see you without polish.

You slip your shoes off and walk down the hallway, where you find your boyfriend leaning against the kitchen counter, hair falling into his eyes with a lazy grin as he talks into his phone.

Phone.

Did he start another live?

You’re almost certain you watched him end it.

He tilts his head back and laughs again, completely unaware of you standing there.

You move closer, as silent as you can.

“Babyyy.”

Fuck.

Your eyes snap to the phone in his hand.

Are millions of people losing their minds in the middle of the night as to whom jeon jungkook is calling baby?

You're so fucking not mentally prepared to get your relationship public, especially like this.

You dart sideways trying to duck behind the wall, anything. Your foot catches nothing and you stumble, hand slapping over your mouth to muffle the squeak.

“What are you doing?” he asks, confused at your reaction.

You mouth at him urgently, "Is it live?"

He exhales a laugh after realising. “Baby, relax,” he says, shaking his head, turning the phone for you to see the screen. “It’s Taehyung.” The relief that leaves your body is almost embarrassing.

It's funny how quickly he ends the call and his hands are on you so fast

- except nothing’s funny when he’s looking at you like that.

One arm hooks around your waist and yanks you in until you slam against his chest. The other hand grabs your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks as you feel the cold diamond rings against it.

He kisses you with all lips and tongue pushing in like he’s pissed he waited this long. He tastes like strong whiskey and something sweet. His lips feel hot, as he tries to taste every inch of the inside of your mouth in the messy makeout.

You gasp, trying to breath in just a second, hands flying up to his chest. You feel the way his abs flex when you grab fistfuls of his shirt. The hand on your jaw slides back, fingers tangling rough in your hair, tugging your head back so he can angle deeper. His tongue fucks against yours, slow and filthy now, matching the way his hips roll forward. You feel him hard, pressing right against your lower belly through the jeans.

His hand leaves your hair, sliding down over your hip as he grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes, pulling you up onto your toes so your core grinds right against his thigh. You can’t help the broken moan that slips out.

“Did you watch my live?”

Your knees wobble as he breaks the kiss to drag his open mouth down your jaw, teeth grazing with a bite, making you whimper.

“A little,” you murmur. “On the way here.”

“Oppa told me there's a high chance your company's gonna lose their mind after watching this live.”

He tch’s, tugging your bottom lip before letting go.

“Don’t care,” he mutters, hands sliding up under your hoodie, palms warm on your bare back. You're definitely more turned on by how unbothered he sounds. “Good,” you whisper back.

He doesn’t let the kiss break as he hooks one arm under your ass, the other around your back and scoops you up. Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, ankles locking at the small of his back.

He walks you to his couch, groaning low into your mouth when you roll your hips without meaning to, chasing the friction where he’s already so fucking hard against you.

He drops down, hands everywhere at once-greedy and impatient. Rough palm dragging over and squeezing your breast. The other stays locked on your ass, guiding your hips to grind against his lap.

You’re both a mess already- sweaty, mouths never fully separating. His arm stretches behind you, fumbling blindly and when he brings it back, there’s a sticky-sweet lollipop pressing your bottom lip.

“Open.”

Your lips part as you wrap your mouth around it sucking around it slowly. Your eyes stay locked on his the whole time and his pupils darken instantly.

The hand on your breast tightens, thumb brushing rough over your nipple through your hoodie. You pull off with a wet pop while he snatches it back, shoving it straight into his own mouth.

You push both hands flat against his chest and slide off his lap as your knees hit the floor between his spread thighs. He widens his legs more, making room for you.

The obvious bulge strains against the zipper. You lean in pressing your palm flat over the length of him through the jeans which makes him hiss.

Your lips brushes the strip of bare skin right above his waistband where his shirt’s ridden up, tongue flicking out to taste his skin. Your hand stays pressed on his cock, thumb dragging slow along the underside, teasing the ridge you can feel even through the fabric.

He groans, fingers threading rough into your hair as he curses under his breath, the lollipop clicking against his teeth when he bites down on it as you press harder.

“Keep teasing like that and I’m gonna come in these fucking pants before you even touch me properly.” His fingers tighten in your hair, tugging to make you look up at him.

You drag your tongue in a lazy line down toward the waistband. “Want me to stop?” you ask innocently, even as your fingers start working the button of his jeans.

He laughs almost angry. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He helps you remove it and brings them down until it’s bunched around his ankles. His cock springs free -thick, slapping up against the flat plane of his stomach with a wet smack, veins bulging along the shaft as the tip already leaks shiny bead of precum. Your thighs press together on instinct, trying to ease the sudden ache, but it only makes it worse.

He lets out a smug chuckle reaching down to wrap a hand around the base of his cock, giving it one lazy stroke.

You don’t make him wait as you lean in. One hand wraps around the base where his own just was.

He’s so thick your mouth waters instantly.

You place open-mouthed kiss right to the underside, tongue flicking out to trace the thick vein that runs from base to tip. “Don’t tease,” he warns, hand coming to the back of your head.

You open your mouth wider and take him in, swirling your tongue around the slit to lap up every drop leaking out. He groans, head falling back against the couch.

You sink down further, lips stretching around him, cheeks hollowing as you take more. Halfway down and he’s already hitting the back of your throat.

“Goddamn, baby,” he rasps, fingers tightening in your hair. “So fucking good. Take it all- yeah, fuck, just like that.”

You pull back with string of spit connects your lips to the head for a second before you dive back down, bobbing your head faster. Hand stroking what your mouth can’t reach. He thrusts up into your mouth, fucking your face just enough to make your eyes water. “Look at me,” he growls.

You glance up through wet lashes. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “My good girl. Taking my cock so pretty.”

His fingers twist tighter in your hair, gathering it all in one rough fist at the back of your head. He slowly guides your mouth down further down a little. You gag a little.

Spit pools at the corners of your lips, dripping messy down your chin.

“Should I do another live, hmm?” his hips rocking a bit deeper.

“Let the whole fucking world see how my beautiful girl is on her knees for me,” he rasps, tugging your hair again to make you look up at him through blurry lashes. “How pretty you look choking on my cock. Letting everyone know I’m taken. You’re mine. I’m yours. Fuck—”

You can’t answer- mouth too full. Your core clenches so hard you almost whimper around him. You have no fucking idea what would actually happen if he actually did it. but right now the fantasy alone is enough to make you dizzy.

You pull off him with a gasp- needing air. Strings of spit connect your swollen lips to his glistening tip. You’re panting, chest heaving when you look up.

He’s got a phone in his free hand- camera pointed down at you. Oh my god-

“Jungko—”

You start to scramble back with wide eyes but his grip in your hair keeps you right there.

He chuckles at your cute freakout.

“Relax, baby,” he says, thumb brushing over your cheek to wipe away a tear you didn’t even realize fell. “It’s for my eyes only.”

He guides you back down and you moan around his length involuntarily, the vibration making his hips jerk.

“Eyes on me, baby.”

You look up- straight into the lens, straight into him, mouth working harder. Jungkook's head tips back for a second before he looks down again.

“That’s it,” he praises, thumb stroking your cheek. “My good fucking girl." His thumb brushes your cheek, almost tender, even as his hips rock shallow into your mouth.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs with a wrecked voice. every word makes you clench around nothing.

“Gonna come—fuck, baby. Gonna fill that pretty mouth. Be my good girl and take it all?”

You hum around him. The phone lands somewhere on the couch while he places the lollipop back in the whiskey glass. Both hands in your hair now as his fists tighten around them.

“Fuck—fuck, baby—take it—”

He groans your name like a curse as he spills into your mouth and you swallow instinctively. You stay on your knees panting with lips swollen and shiny, chin messy with spit and him.

His thumb traces your bottom lip. “Come here.”

He hauls you up, wrapping around you, pulling you into his lap so you’re straddling him again. His mouth crashes into yours immediately- kissing you deep, tasting himself on your tongue.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” he mutters against your lips, hands already sliding under your hoodie, shoving it up. His fingers hook into the waistband of your pants tugging impatiently. You stand up letting them down.

Before you get back to straddle him, he's flipping you around fast. Your back slams against his chest, ass settling right over his cock. His mouth latching onto the side of your throat, biting down hard enough to make you gasp.

His hand slides between your thighs. Fingers drag slow over the drenched swollen slit. You let out a broken whimper- hips twitching forward into his touch.

“So fucking sensitive,” he murmurs against your neck.

You grind back pressing your ass against his cock, feeling him harden under you again. “No,” he growls, free hand clamping down on your hip to still you. “Need to prep you first, baby. Gonna hurt my girl if I don’t open you up nice.”

Whether drunk or sober, Jungkook has rarely fucked without prepping you, saying you'd get hurt otherwise, which you indeed can't deny because even after all these years you still haven't been accustomed to his size.

Two fingers slide through your folds, gathering all the wetness before pushing both at once.

You let a sharp moan. Your walls clench hard around the intrusion. “So wet, baby.”

He pumps his fingers fast, pressing right against that spot that makes your vision blur. “Jungkoo—” you gasp, head thrown back harder against his shoulder. He gladly sucks a fresh mark into your skin while his fingers fuck into you faster. His thumb finds your clit and your whole body jerks.

Your moans turn into his name- broken and desperate—as the orgasm crashes through you. Your thighs shake violently, hips jerking in uncontrollable little spasms against his palm.

His fingers keep moving gently as he places soft kisses on your shoulder, the side of your neck, then up to your jaw. “Shh, baby,” he murmurs between them, soothing even though he’s still knuckle-deep in you. “I’ve got you."

You’re twitching from the overstimulation, every nerve on fire. Your hand flies down to grab his wrist, fingers wrapping tight around it in a weak attempt to stop him.

You turn in his lap as his fingers slip out- arms looping around his neck for support.

His mouth never leaves you, soothing kisses trail everywhere- your collarbone, the hollow of your throat. One hand slides under the hem of your hoodie tugging it over your head. Your breasts spill free, nipples already hard and aching from everything.

Jungkook dips his head, mouth covering one instantly. Tongue flicks over the peak, then swirls slow circles that make your back arch. You moan needy- fingers flying up to fist in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against your skin, hips rolling forward instinctively, grinding your still-sensitive core against his cock. He’s fully hard again now, thick and leaking against your thigh.

He switches to the other nipple—while one hand cups the first breast, thumb rolling over the swollen peak.

You moan while your fingers fumble at the buttons of his black shirt. Jungkook shrugs it off. Your hands immediately drags down his chest slow- tracing every ridge, every line of muscle, every coloured tattoos on his arm.

“Wanna ride you,” you breathe out the words for him.

“Yeah?” he leans back a little against the couch. His hands find your hips. “Go on, baby. Take what you want.”

Your fingers wrap around his base as you guide him right to your entrance. The head nudges your folds, before you start to sink down.

You both moan at the same time- broken sounds tangling together. it burns in the best way, filling you up inch by inch until your ass meets his thighs. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulders.

He rubs a soothing hand up your back down to your spine.

You take your sweet time adjusting to the feeling of him and find a rhythm. Jungkook’s head tips back against the couch. His hands always guiding you.

“Fuck—yeah, just like that,” he praises, voice rough. “Look at you riding me so pretty. My good girl."

You speed up even as your thighs feel burning, breasts bouncing with every movement; Jungkook leans forward to catch one in his mouth again, sucking hard while his hand slides around to grip your ass, spreading you open a little so he can thrust up to meet you.

“Goddamn, baby,” he growls against your nipple. “So tight.”

Your nails rake down his back, definitely leaving red lines over. He hisses, bucking up harder.

The couch creaks under you both, wet sounds mixing with your shared moans.

“Fuck—look at you, my love, my sweetheart.”

One thing you've come to known and loved all these years is that Jungkook is very vocal during sex. And loves to hear you as much. You clench around him at his praises. His mouth drags up your neck. Messy and desperate.

“All mine,” he mutters, hot breath fanning over your skin. “All fucking mine.”

“Speak to me, baby,” he growls biting down on your throat, as he marks you. His tongue soothes the sting right after.

Your head falls back, body trembling as you grind down harder. “Kook—” you gasp, voice cracking. “-yours. All yours. Only yours.”

“Good." His thumb finds your clit.

“Fuck—Jungkook—I'm-” you whimper, nails raking down his back.

He bites your earlobe as he whispers hot against it. “Come for me. Come all over me. Let me hear how much you love being mine.”

He thrusts sharper up into you, meeting every bounce, filling you over and over while his thumb doesn’t let up on your clit.

You moan his name like a prayer as the orgasm rips through you. He follows right after, chasing his own high as he fills you up.

You collapse forward, tears pricking your eyes as your forehead drops to his shoulder, body twitching with aftershocks.

Jungkook holds you tight against him, lips finding your temple, your cheek, your lips. One hand slides up your back, stroking you, while the other cups the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair.

“Shh.” he whispers against your temple. “I’m here, baby.”

His hand keeps rubbing your back, warm palm sliding up and down.

“You okay?” he asks quietly. “Too much?”

You manage a small, shaky nod against his shoulder, nuzzling closer as your arms loop around his neck weakly.

He smiles against your hair. “Love you so fucking much. You know that, right?"

He keeps whispering sweet nothings while his hands never stop moving. Your head is tucked under his chin, cheek pressed to the warm skin of his chest. His cock is still inside you- soft now, but he hasn’t made any move to pull out, and neither have you.

“Baby,” he murmurs after a moment.

You hum lazily, nosing into the crook of his neck. “Mmm?”

"Don’t you think it’s time... we should.. you know. After the tour maybe. Make us public.”

You almost still at his words, lifting your head to look at him, to figure if he's drunk talking. but when his eyes meet yours, all you find is an honest confession.

He cups your face with one hand, thumb stroking your cheek so gently. “I don’t want us to be a secret anymore, y/n,” he says. “I want to love you in front of the whole world. Want to hold your hand when we walk somewhere. Want to kiss you whenever I feel like it. Want everyone to know you’re mine and I’m yours.”

You almost whisper out his name, “kook..”, barely there.

He mistakes the hesitation for doubt. His face falls a fraction.

“It’s okay if you don’t want it. I just… I don’t know. I… forget it, never mind—”

You stop him with a kiss- cutting off his ramble.

When you pull back, you keep your forehead pressed to his. “Jungkook,” you say softly. “I..I want it too.”

His eyes search yours. “But.." You swallow, trying to find the words. “I’m scared. It’s a big step.”

“I know, baby. I know,” his hand soothes down your waist. “But you’ve got me. I’m always here. We’ll do it together. Whatever happens, we face it together.”

His nose brushes yours. “I don’t want fans to find out about us directly on our wedding day.”

You swear your heart has never flipped so bad. Heat floods your cheeks so fast you feel dizzy.

Of course, you've talked about the future before. Half-asleep cute whispers about houses, kids, growing old together. Beautiful, dreamy talks.

But bringing up “the wedding” talk in a serious conversation hasn't happened before. and It’s doing things to you. Your eyes sting, feeling overwhelmed from so many ways.

His lips find your cheek as he speaks against it. “What, you don’t want to marry me?”

You swat his chest lightly at his obvious teasing and immediately bury your face in the crook of his neck again, hiding the heat in your cheeks. He chuckles as his arms tighten around you.

One day soon- he thinks.

He’s gonna do it.

Tell the world he’s in love. that he's drowned in love. In you.

Tell them you’re his.

He’ll get to hold you in public. Post a photo of your intertwined fingers.

and kiss you whenever he wants to.

He’ll get to love you out loud.

Soon.

Jungkook presses a lingering kiss to the crown of your head.

He means it.

And he can’t fucking wait.️

[dumplingg000]

★ on mute | Park Humin x deaf!eader

⸻⸻⸻⸻ ★ ⸻⸻⸻⸻

⸻⸻⸻⸻ ★ ⸻⸻⸻⸻

summary: In which a deaf girl meets an overly persistent boy at a convenience store.

type: one-shot, fluff

author’s note: this is my first one-shot! Hope u like it! ♡

~

You weren’t very sure why others disliked deaf people, you were just like them; but you couldn’t hear, you couldn’t communicate with your voice and, you had to use sign language.

‘It’s probably very confusing to them, and it takes a lot to learn sign language’ you thought as you looked at yourself in the mirror,

‘only because people like me can’t hear, others don’t need to treat us like we’re not different, because we are.’ you thought as you looked down, shrugging your shoulders as you started getting ready for school.

You walked slowly as you wandered through your school’s hallway, a little smile on your face, you knew it was weird to admit, but you liked being deaf,

to you, looking at the world in silence was the most beautiful thing you could ever experience, it was so peaceful, when the planet is on mute, even the saddest things could look fascinating.

But then, it was also so lonely, being deaf meant also being alone, people would distance themselves from you, thinking that they shouldn’t even bother— but you don’t blame them,

you had accepted the behavior people around you had, from the ones that ignored you, to the ones that bullied you— you didn’t even bother caring, what could you ever do about it? Speak up?

But all of it didn’t really affect you, you liked your quiet and calm life— until it wasn’t.

That afternoon, you found yourself at the convenience store, hood of your sweatshirt on, deciding if you should buy the normal ramyeon, or the spicy one,

‘This is a tough decision…’ you furrowed your eyebrows before shrugging your shoulders and taking both of them,

then you walked to the drink’s aisle, deciding on a drink to buy, ‘maybe a fruity drink is better than a coca-cola’ you thought as you bit your lower lip, you surely were taking your time.

Gotak groaned softly, “How long is he going to take??” He whispered softly, looking at the person in front of him, who was standing in front of the drink’s aisle for too long now,

“All I know is that I want my strawberry milk” Baku whispered as he stood next to him, huffing lightly,

after noticing that they had been staring at this person’s back for way too long, Baku spoke up,

“Dude, can you please hurry? We don’t have all day” he raised his voice just enough to be heard but—

No answer.

“Yah— are you straight-up ignoring us?” Gotak groaned again, getting a little bit frustrated, just enough to take this person by the shoulder and turning them around.

You gasped as you suddenly got grabbed by the shoulder and turned around, your eyes widening as you noticed these two guys, who looked like they were around your age, staring up and down at you.

Baku and Gotak’s eyes widened a little bit, not expecting a girl, they gulped, but Gotak still spoke up.

‘We’ve been waiting for like 4 minutes’ you managed to understand that through lip reading,

When you realized that you had been lost in your thoughts for too long, your cheeks got red from the embarrassment and you bowed before running to the counter, not even grabbing the drink.

It happened to you way too often— losing yourself in your own mute world, and evertime it interfered in someone else’s life, it was so embarrassing.

Gotak looked at her as she ran to the counter, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion before letting it go, “Whatever, let’s get this strawberry milk—“,

he stopped in his tracks as he noticed Baku’s eyes follow the girl’s movements, he looked in awe, “Dude, really?” he deadpanned,

“Oh my god Gotak— she’s so beautiful!” He whispered loudly as he placed his hands on Gotak and started shaking him,

“You literally saw her face for like 3 seconds!” Gotak groaned, looking at his friend like he just said the stupidest thing in the world,

“Baku always recognizes a pretty face!” He grinned widely, Gotak’s eye twitched, “Why are you talking in third person now—“ he couldn’t even finish before Baku interrupted him,

“Oh no! She’s getting out! I have to get her number bro!” and after that— Baku was immediately out of the convenience store, leaving Gotak standing there annoyed, but not surprised,

“What about your fucking strawberry milk??” He groaned.

You walked out of the store, still a little embarrassed, ‘I have to stop doing that’, you thought to yourself, but then, you got grabbed by the shoulder again, making you turn around,

it was the guy from before, the other one wasn’t with him— he started gesturing and talking really fast, you couldn’t even read his lips,

you thought he was scolding you again for making them wait too long, you didn’t want any trouble so you bowed again before running away.

“Hey wait—!” Baku called after her, he whined in frustration, “I can’t be that ugly right…” he looked away,

“Let me guess” Gotak appeared from behind him, two strawberry milk bottles in his hand, “You got turned down again” he said with a smirk, ready to make fun of him,

“She didn’t even say anything she just— ran away…” Baku said with a defeated look,

Gotak burst out laughing, “I can’t believe you got rejected like that!!” He laughed mockingly, “Shut up!” Baku whined.

Days after, you were at the convenience store again, wanting to get some ice cream, you walked to the freezer, placing your hand on the handle to open it,

but your hand bumped with another one who was about to do the same thing,

you turned around, ready to apologize, but your eyes widened as you realized it was the guy who stopped you in front if the store some days ago!

Baku’s eyes widened, “Hey! You again!” his smile widened, happy to see her again, even though last time was pretty embarrassing for him.

You immediately bowed, cheeks red as you got ready to run away again, but he grabbed your arm, “Please! I promise I don’t bite!” He smiled widely,

you managed to read his lips, calming down a little bit, but still very embarrassed, you looked around awkwardly, then you looked up at him,

when he noticed that you had calmed down, he spoke up, “What are you getting?” He beamed softly, you read his lips again,

honestly— he looked like a beaten up puppy, he was cute too, and he genuinely looked like he didn’t mean anything bad,

you grabbed the ice cream you wanted and pointed it at him, alternating your gaze from the floor to his face,

he smiled widely, ready to speak up again— but he talked too fast, you weren’t able to read his lips, so you just didn’t say anything,

he furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side as he noticed your confusion, “Cat’s got your tongue?” He joked softly,

you were able to understand that, you looked down, then looked up at him and then back down again, sighing softly,

you grabbed your little notebook you had in your pocket, grabbing a pen from the other one, then writing something down—

‘here goes nothing’ you thought before raising your notebook to him.

Baku’s eyes slightly widened, he read the two words written on the notebook:

I’m deaf

Baku was surprised, and immediately embarrassed for not realizing it that day when he straddled her on the street,

but then,

he couldn’t help it when a smile appeared on his face, ‘That means I still have a chance!’ he thought to himself, then softned immediately ‘I scared her that day…’.

You immediately looked up at him when he grabbed your notebook and pen, expecting any kind of insult, he wrote something down and then he lifted up the notebook for you to read:

That’s lit! I never met a deaf person!

Your eyes widened softly, not expecting a reaction like this, you looked up at him, he had a big smile on his face,

then he wrote something again, your eyes following his movements, then he showed it to you:

Can I have you’re number? Let’s be friends!

You looked back at him, your eyes widening even more, you weren’t used to this kind if interactions, it warmed up your heart.

You grabbed the notebook, writing down something, noticing him shuffle a little bit closer, curious to see what you were writing, when you finished, you lifted the notebook:

It’s *your, and okay

He smiled even more when he read what it was written, he laughed, shaking his head, his cheeks a little bit warm.

You smiled softly.

That afternoon you and Baku shared your phone numbers, he saved himself as ‘Baku the great!🏀’ on your phone, you saved yourself ‘Y/n’ on his, but he insisted and added a drink can emoji to it, making you a little bit embarrassed meanwhile he laughed about it,

and for the first time— someone saw you, but not for being different.

~

[seolinguk]

sieun we can all see you

[suhosieun]

it’s genuinely wild how often weak hero gets reduced to "bromance,” like the story is just about a particularly intense friendship and not something far more complicated, far more intimate. this isn't just shippers projecting. this isn't just wishful thinking. you don’t need the director and cast members repeatedly claiming that suho and sieun are each other's first love to interpret that on your own. the narrative already tells you this with absolute clarity.

the queer subtext isn’t subtle. it’s not hidden in glances or throwaway lines. it’s built into the structure of their relationship, in every decision they make. suho knew beomseok had tampered with his bike. that wasn’t just bullying, it was a premeditated act of violence. he knew what kind of danger he was walking into when he went to the ring, and he went anyway. alone. outnumbered. no illusions. he knew he could die. but he went. because they hurt sieun. because sieun got hurt for him.

that’s their language. not confession, but action. not sentiment, but sacrifice. die for each other. kill for each other.

and sieun, who had always been defined by his discipline, his detachment, his spotless academic record? he lets himself spiral. he got expelled. stopped eating. stopped sleeping. stopped going to cram school. when he found out suho was in critical condition, he froze in the middle of the street and didn’t move, even with a car speeding toward him. as if life without suho wasn’t a life worth returning to.

he came back from a coma asking for suho, looking for him. suho was already in one because of him. they revolve around each other like twin stars caught in gravity’s pull. love doesn’t always look like romance, but that doesn’t make it less real. or less queer.

so no, it’s not just a bromance. and if that’s all you see. if you can watch all of that and not feel the weight of what’s being said without words? then i'm sorry, but you’ve missed the entire point.

[starliteonearth]

A lot of people seem to think Sieun's and Suho's relationship is just sweet and lovey dovey and nice, and completely miss the darker, violent side of their connection. For hurting Sieun, Suho breaks Yeongbin's hand like nothing and sits there completely unbothered while that boy cries in pain at his feet. For hurting Suho, Sieun smashes Wooyoung's ankle with a dumbbell and leaves him screaming on the floor, utterly uncaring. Both are capable of great violence and are deeply obsessed with each other to the point of unleashing it on others with no fucks given.

[sosimimimi]

restless

[clearxx]

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ | PRETTY LITTLE LIAR.. |

| ⋆.𖥔˚ yandere weak hero class various x f! reader | yandere/dark mini series.

── .✦ summary: IN WHICH... you accidentally got transported into a yandere fic about your favorite k-drama.. weak hero class.. but you weren't reborn as the main character, no.. you were reborn as a victim of them.. a victim that gets brutally killed by one of them.. you weren't gonna let them kill you.. so, you faked your death.. and planned to haunt every one of them.. your revenge to make them suffer.. but accidentally, you made every one of them obsessed with you.. accidents happen right..?

── .✦ warnings: very dark themes, unhealthy behavior, relationships, friendships, murder, jealously, toxic people, manipulation, trauma, suicide, mental issues, betrayal, smut, everyone is aged up to 17-18, ooc, unhealthy obsession, stalking, grammar mistakes, etc .ᐟ

── .✦ obsessive love interests:

⋆.˚ .𖥔˚ → Yeon Si-eun |the stoic one that always see through you..|

⋆.˚ .𖥔˚ → Ahn Su-ho |the chill one that got a unhealthy obsession with you once you disappeared..|

⋆.˚ .𖥔˚ → Park Hu-min |the cheerful one that got a dark secret, the dark secret including you..|

⋆.˚ .𖥔˚ → Go Hyun-tak |the one that hates you but can't stop thinking about you..|

⋆.˚ .𖥔˚ → Geum Seong-je |the crazy one that is obsessed of hurting you in any kind of way..|

⋆.˚ .𖥔˚ → Na Baek-jin |the one that can't let go even though he was the one that hurt you..|

⋆.˚ .𖥔˚ → Seo Jun-tae |the weak and shy one that fell over heels for you once you vanished..|

── .✦ chapters ↴

‧₊˚ ┊PROLOGUE | available!

‧₊˚ ┊CHAPTER ONE | to be soon...

‧₊˚ ┊CHAPTER TWO | to be soon...

‧₊˚ ┊CHAPTER THREE | to be soon...

‧₊˚ ┊CHAPTER FOUR | to be soon...

‧₊˚ ┊CHAPTER FIVE | to be soon...

‧₊˚ ┊CHAPTER SIX | to be soon...

‧₊˚ ┊CHAPTER SEVEN | to be soon...

‧₊˚ ┊CHAPTER EIGHTH | to be soon...

‧₊˚ ┊CHAPTER NINE | to be soon...

‧₊˚ ┊CHAPTER TEN | to be soon...

❝ I'M GONE BUT I'M EVERYWHERE...❞

── .✦ ⋆˚ taglist (open):@coolasiangal123 @mossyivy

── .𖥔˚ a/n: oh em geeee, I finally did the masterlist for this series!! tell me if you want to be on the taglist and I promise imma do the prologue soon, well tysm for reading this <333

[pinkpantherbby]

sea, sand and us:

synopsis: a solo trip was supposed to be your fresh start—a place where nobody knew you surrounded, by the blue ocean. you escaped to breathe, but jungkook became the reason you forgot how. he belonged to someone else, wanting him felt like a betrayal to your own ideals. the space between you kept shrinking. touches lingering too long with glances speaking louder than words, tempted you reach for something forbidden.

desire doesn’t disappear just because it’s inconvenient.

genre/warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, mdni, angst, smut, fluff, reader was cheated on, vacation trope, forced proximity, unresolved feelings with misunderstanding, jealousy, mentions of drinking, skinny dipping, neck kissing, biting, oral (f receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex (don’t do it), cowgirl position, orgasm (m & f receiving) and squirting.

w/c: 12.2k

a/n: thank you so much to everyone for the support on my last fanfic! you guys have no idea how grateful i am💕 hope you enjoy this one :)

the waitress had already asked you three times if you were ready to order, but you weren’t. you were still waiting for him, your now ex-boyfriend.

you were sitting all alone in the best restaurant in town which you had made a reservation for months ago for your second year anniversary. you had spent the whole afternoon getting ready—making sure your waves looked perfect, that your makeup looked flawless and you were wearing the new dress you had bought last week.

you were saving it for this special occasion—yes, it was a little expensive, but it was totally worth it in your mind. you smiled at the idea of him getting to the restaurant and looking at you with admiration, paying attention to all the time you had dedicated to him—like you always wished he did.

you waited and waited, sipping from the glass of wine you had ordered for both of you. you didn’t even like wine that much, but he did—and you wanted this night to be special for him.

you knew something was wrong when he didn’t answer the first call, by the fifth one you just felt stupid. it was sent straight to voicemail again. you started to get worried, maybe he had forgotten? after all he had been so busy balancing college and work for the last week, it would be a shame if he didn’t remember your anniversary, but he had an excuse you supposed…

the waitress asked you one more time if you were going to order something and you repeated that you were still waiting for someone, you caught a glimpse of pity in her eyes as she nodded her head at you.

you felt a little embarrassed, everyone was with their partners, enjoying a nice dinner together, laughing and chatting with no worries. you thought you looked pathetic sitting on your own, all dressed up for him.

as time went by, disappointment was filling your heart. people were starting to leave the place and he still hadn’t shown up. you left the money for the bottle of wine you didn’t even get to finish and went to your apartment with a bitter feeling taking over you.

the walk home was horrible, the cold night breeze creeping into your body making you shiver. the high heels you were wearing didn’t make it any better. you could feel your feet getting hurt with each step you took

when you finally got to your apartment you threw yourself into the couch and instantly grabbed your phone to try to reach your boyfriend again, but the call kept ringing unanswered. you ran your hand across your face frustrated when your phone buzzed out of nowhere. a hint of hope peeked through your heart thinking it was him explaining what had happened, but instead it was a message from an unknown number.

you opened it with a bad feeling and little did you know what was waiting for you. it was a blurry photo of what seemed to be a house party, you squinted your eyes and zoomed in it trying to understand what was going on.

your eyes widened and your heart dropped.

it was him, it was your boyfriend. he was kissing a random girl whose face was not visible. the only thing you could see was her dark red dyed hair as he grabbed her waist pulling her body closer to his.

you couldn’t believe this, your hands started shaking and you accidentally dropped your phone—hitting the ground with a loud thud. you felt like you couldn’t breathe, stomach in knots, tears streaming down your face and a lump in your throat.

everyone had warned you he wasn’t a good guy, but you decided not to listen, believing you could maybe change him and that something good would finally happen to you.

you were done, you were done with him and with all the stupid things you had done for him. you were so tired of being the only one trying hard for the relationship, paying attention to all the details and basically losing your dignity for him.

the only thing that kept you together were his fake promises, he used to say he would change for you and that all the rumors about him were just lies to make him look bad.

you picked up your phone and simply turned it off. you didn’t call him or text him again that night, you didn’t want an explanation or an apology, you had had enough of humiliating yourself.

you went to the bathroom and removed all your makeup you had spent so much time on, and nobody noticed—harshly washing it all with water, you felt so ridiculous and embarrassed for yourself.

you looked at your face in the mirror, runny mascara all over your cheeks and your breathing heavy. you had a weird mix of feelings, on one hand you felt heartbroken—a part of you thought that your relationship could work with love and dedication; but on the other hand, you’ve always known deep down something like this would happen in no time while being with him.

he would give you some signs that clearly showed who he actually was. the way he never asked how your day was and never expressed any kind of emotion towards you—he didn’t even hug you, he would only kiss you when greeting you and you couldn’t remember the last time he had held your hand without looking around first.

you thought that was okay, he used to say he wasn’t affectionate in public, but he wasn’t in private either. he wouldn’t do something as simple as cuddling with you or at least kissing your cheek. you thought to yourself that nobody is perfect and everyone has their flaws—but it gets to a point.

that’s the other side of love nobody talks about—when even though someone is slowly destroying you in every way possible, you still don’t give up on them. refusing to let go of the idea that he would open his eyes and he would treat you like someone he supposedly loves.

that day you reached your limit, and after years of having no self respect; you swore that you would never disrespect yourself like that ever again.

you dried your face with a towel and went to sleep with a heavy feeling in your heart, but also knowing this could mean a fresh start for you. after being blinded by a man who didn’t appreciate or even love, it felt like you could see clearly again after a really long time.

…

five months had passed since you broke up with him, your phone was filled with missed calls from him allegedly trying to clear things up, texts unanswered and him trying to get your attention for the first time since you met him. why did he only care about you when he lost you?

all you wanted to do was to disappear, even though you weren’t trapped in his arms anymore—that didn’t take away the fact that you had been betrayed and he had played with your heart as if it was just a little toy. there were even times when you thought you deserved that.

when you walked down the college hallways you could hear whispers from people who haven’t spoken to you ever saying that you were so dumb for thinking he would change for you, criticizing how delusional you were about him, it was as if everyone knew this was going to happen—but what they didn’t understand was that you thought you were dumb too.

because it wasn’t until someone you didn’t even know shoved how he really was right into your face that you decided to leave him, and maybe that would be the only way you could have freed yourself—finally deciding to take a look at him and stopped looking the other way, clinging to his so-called “good side” which was simply a mask he wore to hide his true self from you.

when you complained about his behavior with you he would always console you and say he was so sorry. he would say he didn’t deserve you, that someone like you shouldn’t want to be with him—and you felt so bad every single time, he didn’t listen to you before changing the subject and making you feel like shit for questioning his love, that didn’t even exist.

you wanted to start over, to forget everything that happened to you; but you couldn’t. you had to face the real world and keep going no matter how hard things were. you found yourself painfully counting down the days until summer break; all you wanted to do was to be alone and not seeing any of your shitty classmates for some time…

it all changed when one day in class you overheard a conversation between two girls behind you—talking about how they wanted so bad to go somewhere far away for the summer, somewhere where they could disappear for a while.

you had a sudden epiphany, that’s exactly what you needed—going away. of course you couldn’t move away, but for some weeks of summer it would be nice for you to go by yourself to a place you had never been before.

you thought that being somewhere where nobody knows you would heal you at least just a little. there’s some sort of freedom in being unknown.

that day when you got home, you grabbed your laptop and started searching for plane tickets to the farthest place you could think of. somewhere peaceful yet unfamiliar—you needed to step out of your comfort zone

you suddenly found a fair price ticket for Maui, Hawaii. you had never even heard of that place, you looked it up and your jaw dropped. it was like a slice of green paradise placed right in the middle of the deep blue ocean.

you didn’t think about it twice and spent most of your savings booking a flight to it in a month and a half, making a reservation in a beautiful hotel too. maybe it was an impulsive decision but you didn’t really care, you just wanted to make something good for yourself one time.

for the next days you couldn’t stop smiling daydreaming about your first solo trip to that gorgeous island. now you weren’t counting down the days with sadness and desperation, constantly waiting to be all alone and do absolutely nothing the whole break—but waiting with excitement and happiness for meeting a new magical place that was instead, waiting for you.

that’s how you found yourself at the airport now, just you and your suitcase with a bright smile plastered on your face. you were determined in having a good time and trying to forget about all the stuff that had happened at least for a while. it would just be you and nature with no stupid boys in your mind (or at least that was your objective)

despite your excitement, you couldn’t help but feel a little panicky when you entered the airport—your brain had spent all day imagining the worst case scenarios that had a very low probability of being real, but the chances are never zero you thought…

what if your suitcase got lost, or if it got confiscated in security checks? or imagine if you get lost and you lose your flight… or what if they find something bad in your bag and get arrested for it?

you shook your head and came back to reality. you firmly grabbed your suitcase’s handle and went to the check-in counter to show your ticket and drop your luggage.

you sighed deeply and started walking to security check with some other people that helped you to guide your way through the airport

when you got there, they made you leave all your belongings in a plastic tray—including your cellphone, your passport and even the jewelry you were wearing

you walked through the security scanner, crossing your fingers for everything to be in order. a green light lit up, which meant you were good to go. you smiled with relief and grabbed your stuff—bag hanging in your shoulder, cellphone in your hand and you put your passport in your jeans back pocket.

you made it to immigration, showing your plane ticket one more time before finally reaching to the boarding area

everything seemed to be alright, you were in time and your flight hadn’t been delayed. you finally had some time to relax before it was time to get in the plane

you were reading the travel guide book for Maui you had bought a couple days ago. there were so many things to do—it was filled with national parks, breathtaking beaches, snorkeling in the sea with the sea creatures, and even though you weren’t a big fan of it there were a lot of mountains to hike. you had tried hiking before and it didn’t go so well… maybe it’s better for you to stick with the beach.

at some point you got hungry and started walking around searching for something that wasn’t terribly overpriced, it would’ve been better if you had brought some food from your apartment

you refused to buy something to eat when you could simply get a coffee without spending half of the money you had brought, they would probably give you a small meal in the plane anyway.

as you were walking your way back to your gate, you realized people were already standing in line to board your flight—you grabbed your things quickly and made your way to the back of the line

they were asking for people’s passports once again. you reached for it in your back pocket, when you slipped your hand inside of it you found nothing. your heart stopped for a second and your eyes widened with fright—maybe it was on the other one?

you quickly checked and didn’t find it there either, this couldn’t be happening. it’s your first time traveling alone and you already lost the most important thing you needed?

you began to frantically search through your bag—digging through papers, makeup and extra clothes you had bought, praying for your passport to appear magically inside

you found nothing, you were sweating, hands trembling with desperation. the line was slowly getting shorter, meaning you had to show your passport in no time

you had no idea where the hell you dropped it—it could be at the security check, at the boarding control, on your way to the coffee shop or at any escalator you had passed

the worst part is that you didn’t have the time to go and look for it, if you did so you would definitely lose your flight and of course they wouldn’t wait for a stupid girl to find her passport which could be in any part of the airport

that’s it, your whole trip was absolutely ruined. you didn’t even get to your destination before messing it up, the only time you decided to do something nice for yourself and it was a failure. and to make things better it was all your fault. the only thing you can do now is to go home and hope the airline had a little compassion for you and beg them for a refund, at least the half of what your ticket was…

someone suddenly touched your shoulder making you get out of your panic spiral. you turned around and your eyes met with probably the most gorgeous man you have ever seen. he made you forget about your lost passport in a matter of seconds

he had big, round brown eyes that looked at you curiously yet cutely in some way. his hair was straight and black, it looked so soft and silky you wanted to touch it so bad. all of his face seemed almost ethereal for you, with a couple of piercings decorating his plump lips

“sorry, is this yours?” he said as he handed you nothing else but your precious passport, you didn’t even care about it anymore. you were so focused on his tatted hands with his long fingers wrapped around the small navy booklet

“you dropped it at the security checkpoint, we tried to give it back to you but you were already gone!” a feminine voice pulled you out of your trance, it was a dark red-haired girl right next to him. of course he has a girlfriend.

your eyes darkened with a little disappointment, and for a second you forgot why were you were there. to forget about a stupid boy, you didn’t need anymore situationships or new lovers.

“oh yeah, thank you so much… i was starting to think my trip was ruined” you said trying to laugh it away.

“i think we are all going to the same place! are you going to Maui too?” the red haired girl spoke with a bright smile in her face

“yes… i need to get away for some time” you answered—if someone like him was going to the same place as you, you wouldn’t get to achieve your goal of keeping boys out of your head

“that’s amazing! by the way this is jungkook and i’m dayeon, it’s a pleasure to meet you! we don’t need to ask your name, we took a little peek at your passport just to find you, nothing creepy” she joked making all of you giggle

“pleasure to meet you too” you said a little shyly, you were not used to people being this nice when you first met them

“this is so exciting, maybe we can do some excursions together as travel buddies!” dayeon spoke brightly "isn’t that nice jungkook?”

“yeah…” he said softly as you caught him looking at you up and down as if he was carefully analyzing you

when you looked back it was already your turn to show your documents and get in the plane

“i think we should get going, enough chatting for today!” she laughed

you just smiled gently at her and made your way to the gate, you had cleared every single obstacle life had put in your way today… except now you have another one, a really good looking one.

when you were finally inside the plane you quickly found your seat, it had a decent position. you couldn’t complain when you were going to the most beautiful place on earth while staying in a very nice hotel—but you did wish you had gotten the window seat to take some pictures…

…

you were buckling your seatbelt when you heard that laugh again, it was dayeon which was obviously sitting next to jungkook. she was whispering something into his ear, making him giggle softly.

does she ever shut up?

oh my god, why were you being so mean? she was literally the nicest girl you had ever met and you were hating on her for apparently no reason

you took a deep breath and put on your sleeping mask to try and get some rest—plus out of sight out of mind…

you woke up after some hours feeling well rested, for your sake the flight attendants were serving some food—you thought you would go crazy if you didn’t eat something in the next minutes.

your thoughts were interrupted when you saw jungkook walking down the aisle towards you, you tried to pretend you didn’t see him by avoiding eye contact—the mere sight of his presence made you flush.

“you finally woke up” he joked when he reached your seat, gently leaning his body against the seat next to yours

“did you come all the way over here just to check if i was still asleep?” you shot back trying to hide your nervousness

“dayeon asked me to come, she didn’t want you to lose your meal” jungkook said as he scoffed from your question

“oh… that’s sweet of her. say thanks to her for me” you answered with a gentle smile

even though you thought your short conversation was over he was still there, standing while looking at you with a peculiar look in his eyes—you couldn’t tell what it was, and it was really hard to read his expression when he looked so pretty like that

jungkook had his hair a little messy, probably he had slept for a while too. his face was kinda puffy but it only made him look even cuter

“umm jungkook…?”

“yes?” he replied with a grin on his face probably trying to pretend he didn’t notice what he was doing

“i think you should move, the flight attendants are trying to serve everyone’s food and you are standing in the middle of the aisle” you said trying not to burst out of laughter

he turned his head quickly only to find the crew with the meal cart waiting for him to move so they could continue

“oh. i’m sorry” he mumbled with all of his face red from embarrassment “i guess i’ll see you again when we land” he said quickly to go back to his seat and stop bothering the flight attendants

…

you had devoured in five minutes the pasta tray they had given you—it wasn’t even that good but as you were starving it tasted like heaven for you, washing it down with water to stay hydrated for the remaining one hour and a half there was left.

you put your headphones on and spent the rest of the flight listening to your main playlist you had downloaded, enjoying your favorite songs when suddenly “Do I Wanna Know?” by Arctic Monkeys started playing

you don’t know what happened at the moment, but as you listened to it you couldn’t keep jungkook out of your head. it was almost as if something had possessed you, every single line connected with something you had been feeling about him

“Are there some aces up your sleeve?” reminded you of how he looked at you in the airport when you saw him for the first time, what was he trying to say? was this one of his tricks to keep you thinking of him? was there even a trick?

“Have you no idea that you’re in deep?” made you think if jungkook had realized the effects he had on you, all it took for you to blush and get nervous was a simple glance from him

“Do I wanna know? If this feeling flows both ways” made your mind drift with the idea of this feeling being one-sided, of course it was. his perfect girlfriend was sitting next to him—why would he think of you the way you were?

but

“Been wondering if your heart’s still open” brought to your mind the possibility jungkook’s looks weren’t meaningless, that maybe you weren’t the only one feeling this way…

that’s it. you’ve had enough. why were you thinking this over the guy you just met at the airport and know nothing about? and worse of all—he has a freaking girlfriend. what is wrong with you?

you spent the rest of the time trying to sleep but it was impossible, you felt so guilty about having weird thoughts about jungkook. you don’t even know how old he is or something… and of course you would never interrupt such a sweet couple like him and dayeon after what had happened to you…

finally after what felt like the longest hour of your life you landed at your destination, despite you had slept most of the flight you felt exhausted. all you wanted to do was get to your hotel and sleep the whole night to have some energy for tomorrow.

after successfully getting your suitcase back you were making your way outside the airport to find the cab the resort had sent for you to take. as you were walking, you felt some rapid steps behind you and immediately recognized that energy

“there you are!” dayeon spoke to you getting closer to you with jungkook following her from behind “can you believe our cab cancelled last minute? i don’t know how we are going to get to our hotel…” she said with concern in her voice

“that sucks… i heard you can hire one inside the airport for a bit of extra money, maybe you can get a discount if you ask nicely” you replied trying to cheer her up a little bit

you stepped outside and your car was already parked in the street waiting for you—it was a black, nice car with the hotel’s logo printed in the door.

“oh. my. god.” you looked at dayeon’s face and she had a wide grin plastered in her bright face “we are going to the same resort! this must be destiny, right jungkook?”

he just stood there not saying anything but looking as surprised as her

“well… if you guys want to we can share the cab, i already paid for it but there’s not a problem really” you offered since you felt bad for them, they would probably spend more than this whole trip in just a ride to the hotel

“really? would you do that?” she said with gratitude in her eyes as you nodded to her “thank you so much! you have saved us!”

“it’s not that big of a deal, i owe you a favor for the whole passport thing after all” you said trying to calm her down

all of you loaded your suitcases inside the trunk and got in the car to finally go to the resort, what you hadn’t thought of was that you would have jungkook painfully close to you the whole way.

he was sitting in the middle, dayeon on the left side and you were on the right seat. you were a little uncomfortable with his pressure invading your personal space, you hadn’t realized how… big he was

jungkook was occupying half of the backseat, he was so close it was insane to ignore your knees brushing against his—you wondered if he had noticed it too, because he hadn’t moved his legs not even a little.

you could even smell him, he had a fresh, masculine intoxicating scent that made your head dizzy. as weird as it sounds, you could smell him every day. the small space made it feel as if you were sniffing his body directly

you didn’t feel okay with all of this and rolled the window down, getting some fresh air before losing your mind

…

after what it felt like an eternity for you, you got to the hotel. it was beautiful, full of wood structures, tropical gardens and warm lights that made it seem so peaceful

you stepped out of the car basically gasping for air. after the driver helped you with your luggage everyone thanked him and you couldn’t wait to get to your room

you stepped inside, walking to the reception to ask for your room keys when someone touched your shoulder. it was him

“hey i wanted to give you this, i couldn’t let you pay for the cab of all of us by yourself” jungkook said as he was handing a couple of bills

“oh no, that’s not necessary” you denied a little shyly

“please just take it, i’m not going to leave you alone until you accept it” he said pulling his hand closer to you

anything would be better than him not leaving you alone—you smiled softly as you took the money from his hand, brushing his fingers for a second too long

“thank you jungkook” you spoke hoping he didn’t notice the redness in your cheeks

“it’s nothing, good night” he replied as he walked to his room

that night when you were in bed, you could still feel his fingers against yours like a ghost. you closed your eyes and went to sleep immediately, refused to think about him one more second

…

you woke up to sunshine hitting your face, your room had a floor-to-ceiling window that let you see the most beautiful view ever. a gorgeous beach with crystal clear water with a hint of turquoise, sand meeting the tall palm trees and a gigantic, green mountain in the background. it looked straight out of a painting

the sky was clear and the sun was shining bright, it was a perfect day to go to the beach. you got up happily and changed your pajamas to one of the bikinis you brought, you tied it up tight and put a simple sundress over it

you packed your beach bag with a bottle of sunscreen, sunglasses and a small book you had brought. you were ready to spend a relaxing day by the sea—you were already smiling and feeling calm, you believed any beach in the world was where you belonged

as soon as you got out of your room and you were closing the door, you noticed the person who was staying next to you was also coming out.

“morning” a man with a familiar voice spoke, and you immediately knew who that was

you’ve got to be kidding. you raised your head and saw jungkook—not only you were at the same place, same hotel but he was also staying at the room next to yours. it felt like life wants you to keep thinking of him constantly.

“hey, i didn’t know we were neighbors” you joked as shyness sparkled out of your eyes

“yeah me neither… you heading to the beach too” jungkook asked you with that weird look in his eyes

at this point you were starting to think he was purposely following you

“yes, it’s a nice day outside… how about you?” you said secretly hoping he wasn’t going too

“me too, i can’t wait to go for a swim” he replied you with a cute smile

“oh cool…” you murmured trying not to sound as anxious as you were “you know what? i think i forgot something in my room… you go ahead” you lied to avoid a deeply uncomfortable walk with him

“don’t worry i can wait-“

“no. i mean don’t wait for me, i don’t want to hold you up” you rushed before letting him finish

jungkook nodded his head at you and made his way to the beach, finally leaving you alone. you sighed, finally breathing correctly. you were seriously considering going somewhere else just not to be close to him.

you woke up and realized how stupid you were being, he was just a man… a very distracting one. but jungkook wouldn’t stop you from doing whatever you wanted, this was your vacation and you could do what you wanted

you would just spot where he was and stay far away from him, you were determined to spend a nice, relaxing day without jungkook making you go insane just by showing up.

when you got to the hotel’s private beach, you were looking for him everywhere but couldn’t see where he was. jungkook wasn’t at the sea and nor on the beach loungers. maybe he decided to go somewhere else? or maybe he had other plans with dayeon… in any way, good for you

you took off your sundress leaving you only in your bikini and lay down on the lounge, wanting to get some tan.

after some minutes you were on the verge of falling asleep—the soft swash of the waves with a light breeze blowing softly across your body made you feel warm and sleepy

just as you were about to sink into sleep you felt the sun fading away, a dark shadow hitting your body now instead of the bright, shining sun. you suddenly felt a few water droplets dropping towards your face—it’s impossible the weather changed this fast

you jumped started when you opened your eyes and found jungkook, who had just gotten out of the sea, standing next to you looking at you a little creepily

“god, you scared me…” you breathed with your heart pumping rapidly

“sorry—i just wanted to know if you had any sunscreen, i forgot mine” jungkook explained to you

you didn’t hear a single word he said because he was now shirtless, just in a swimsuit. you noticed it wasn’t only his hand that had tattoos, but all of his right arm and part of his chest too. it was impossible to focus when he had such a hot body—all of his torso was perfectly sculpted

jungkook had muscular arms with huge biceps, a strong back with a broad pair of shoulders that looked the size of your head and toned abs with well-defined lines. the water droplets all over him only made him look even better.

“are you okay…?” jungkook interrupted your unholy thoughts

you realized you were probably gone looking straight at his body like a pervert

“oh sorry, yeah i have a bottle in my bag. use whatever you need” you finally answered after a couple of minutes of zoning out because of him

“great, thank you” he said with a smile as he reached for the sunscreen inside your bag. he opened the bottle and started applying it all over him

you couldn’t help but look from the corner of your eye how he spread the product across his delicious body, you felt like a creep but you were really enjoying the view. how he was sliding his tatted hand up and down his biceps or the way jungkook slowly rubbed the sunscreen across his big chest was basically making you drool.

“can you help me with my back please?” he shot suddenly

you opened your eyes wide with surprise—admiring him and touching him were two things very different things. you admit you felt a little uneasy with that, even though you would enjoy running your across his back you thought that wasn’t okay

“umm where’s dayeon?” you asked awkwardly

trying to let him know this wasn’t really good since he had a girlfriend

“uhh i don’t know, probably having breakfast? c’mon you don’t want me to get a sunburn” he had a point, in any case you would explain everything to her if she asked you about it…

you got up to reach his back correctly, squeezed the bottle to get a little product on your hands and rubbed them together.

you began by his shoulders, feeling how wide and broad they were. you were slowly moving your fingers against him to apply the product perfectly. you followed by his back, getting more sunscreen out of the bottle because how big it was—you ran your hands up and down, and side to side to cover every inch of it.

you could feel his soft skin every time you touched him, as you traced his waist with the palm of your hands over and over again you could feel a warm sensation spreading all over your stomach

you went all the way up again to apply some to the parts of his arms he couldn’t reach. you had to hold back with all your might not to squeeze a little his biceps, being careful not to make him uncomfortable even though this was already a little intimate

“there you go—i think you’ll be good, no sunburns at all” you joked making jungkook laugh, it sounded so beautiful almost as music to your ears

when you finished dayeon arrived where you were, good thing she didn’t get here a minute earlier

“hey guys! i was looking for you” she said with her classic enthusiasm “i was going to ask you if you wanted to go to a party tonight with some friends i just made”

“you’ve been here less than a day and you already have friends?” jungkook teased her

“well you do too” dayeon said as she looked to your direction with a smile in her face “please guys it’ll be fun” she pleaded to both of you

“i guess so… i’m in, how about you?” jungkook asked you with a confusing spark in his eyes

“yeah okay” you said not being sure of the decision you just made, but you have to get the most out of this trip anyway…

“good! be ready by noon” dayeon grinned with visible excitement

what the hell have you just gotten yourself into? you needed some minutes to be alone so you excused yourself to go for a swim.

as you got closer to the sea the smell of salt intensified, the waves reaching for your feet letting you feel the warm water running through your skin

you went fully into the water submerging your whole body into the ocean—it had the perfect temperature and it was so clear you could see some tropical fish, colored with bright shades of yellow and even rainbow.

you came up to the surface and started floating on your back letting the water guide your body freely in the calm water. you felt a strange feeling in your stomach, but it wasn’t the butterflies jungkook had caused you a moment before—now it was guilt, and you couldn’t handle it properly

you were doing the exact same thing they had done to you when you found out your boyfriend cheated on you. that girl had probably felt butterflies and attraction to him even though it was wrong, just like you were doing.

you felt so wrong, it felt like you were in the middle of a beautiful relationship. they were basically the absolute couple goals for everyone—how they looked at each other with nothing but love in their eyes, the way they would laugh together at everything and how they worked things out together without freaking out. if it was you and your ex-boyfriend whose cab had been cancelled at the airport, he would have lost his mind and treated you like a worthless thing.

you couldn’t deal with it all anymore and got out of the ocean with a heavy feeling on your shoulders. when you got to your lounge you grabbed your stuff and went to your room—you felt dirty and nasty in someway, not because you had just been in the sea, but because of the guilt and shame.

as soon as you stepped in, you ran to the shower and tried your best to wash it all away. you were scrubbing your skin so hard you scratched your left forearm harshly, a thin stream of bright red blood started coming out of the scratch. it burned so bad even though it was half the size of your pinky

you felt like an idiot for everything, a couple of tears started pouring down your cheeks. all you wanted was to have a good time and forget about the things that happened back home, was it too much to ask?

you closed the water and as you stepped out of the shower you wrapped yourself in a towel. you began to look for something to clean your wound, something like alcohol or antiseptic. you found nothing.

you were starting to get a bit mad at that point, frustration and stress filled your head. you stopped yourself, you were on vacation you weren’t supposed to feel like that—you were supposed to be calm and relaxed, not about to loose your mind

you took a deep breath and cleared your mind, all you had to do was go for a walk and find the nearest pharmacy to buy something to clean your forearm and then avoid jungkook for the rest of the day. he made you feel things you were supposed to forget.

…

after some hours, you had went to every pharmacy near the hotel but they had all ran out of what you needed, how is it possible they didn’t have something as important as alcohol? at least you were able to grab some lunch on the way—it was a poke bowl filled with fresh fish, a base of a rice similar to the sushi one, sesame oil with some spicy mayo

it was so good all your pain went away for a second, all of your bad mood minutes ago was probably due to your hunger too. you were making your way to the resort when you remembered you had to go out tonight

what bothered you wasn’t the part of going to party, you don’t usually go out but still enjoy it from time to time—it was jungkook. you needed to run away from him at all costs, otherwise you would go mad

even though it would probably be something calm—a bar by the beach, with music and some drinks, you were a little anxious. you would have to meet new people and make conversation with them, getting to know new people always makes you so nervous. but at least it would be just for tonight…

you had finished getting ready—you wanted to look especially pretty that night because you hadn’t glammed up since a long time ago. the eyeshadow and mascara on your eyes looked perfect, your cheeks had a cute shade of red because you were sun-kissed, you had carefully curled your hair for it to have some beach waves and you were wearing a short, white dress with subtle floral patterns on it.

you put a pair of white kitten heels to be comfortable yet cute, styled the outfit with your favorite accessories and sprayed a little bit of perfume. it was a fresh smell with coconut and jasmine notes, paired with citric scent making it sweet but not overpowering.

when you accidentally sprayed it over your forearm, it hurt and burned even worse. you hissed in pain and quickly covered the wound, you seriously need to buy some band-aids tomorrow.

before stepping out you looked at your reflection for one last time in the mirror, fixed your hair and put a little lip gloss. you felt beautiful after months of misery, you smiled softly at yourself and opened the door to leave

as soon as you walked outside you bumped into something hard yet warm, you opened your eyes only to find your face buried in jungkook’s chest. both of you pulled away shyly

you expected him to apologize or say something but when you raised your head to meet his face, jungkook had a special glow in his eyes and his mouth was slightly open.

he had his usual piercing gaze on you, but there was something different this time… it was as if his eyes had softened yet widened their size when he looked at you

“do you need something?” you asked jungkook coldly

“oh sorry… i just came here to say everyone is waiting for us at the lobby” he explained as he came back to reality “you look really pretty by the way” jungkook confessed as he giggled a little

you could feel your face get a little red by his compliment, but decided to avoid it and not acknowledge it—after how you felt today, you didn’t want to come between jungkook and dayeon anymore, no matter how good he made you feel.

you just stepped outside instead, causing him to move out of your way to close the door. you started walking to the elevator without looking back at him

you could hear jungkook’s steps following you from behind, which only caused you to walk faster to avoid being remotely close to him.

when you reached the elevator both of you got in rapidly and accidentally pressed the lobby button at the same time, leading to your fingers to brush softly against his. you could feel all of your face burning with embarrassment at his subtle touch.

you moved away from jungkook as far as you could, leaning your back against the elevator wall. unintentionally, you let out a loud sigh—making him look at you once again, but this time with concern.

“are you alright? you seem a little tense” jungkook spoke worried

“i’m fine. i’m not tense.” you shot back coldly, clearly lying to him

even though you had already answered his question, he kept looking at you. you were tired of this unsettling stare so you turned your head to look at him too, you wanted it to seem challenging and intimidating—instead it came as vulnerable and with a dash of love, almost as if your eyes were a reflection of your buried feelings.

when you noticed how you were looking at jungkook you quickly turned your head away, awkwardly staring at the floor with shame

it followed an uncomfortable minute of silence. it was just you and him in there, and in someway his presence made the elevator feel even smaller than it already was. even though there was a big distance between you, it felt as if you were impossibly close to him.

the elevator bell rang suddenly making you think you had finally reached the lobby—instead for your surprise, it had stopped in a random floor where a crowd of people got in

you don’t know how it happened but you ended up glued to jungkook’s body. he was so close to you you could smell his scent and feel his breath against your neck, giving you goosebumps

you had your back pressed to part of his chest—you knew he could see you but you couldn’t see him. you crossed your arms uncomfortably without realizing your wound was on full display just for jungkook

you knew he was looking at it, probably with furrowed eyebrows and a worried expression. you quickly covered your injury with your palm a little ashamed

jungkook was about to open his mouth to say something, probably to ask what had happened to you when you finally got the lobby—the small bell rang and the doors opened for you.

everyone including you stepped out, you felt like you were able to breathe correctly. across the room you spotted dayeon waving her hand at you excitedly, next to her were two girls and one boy who seemed nice

when you and jungkook got close she introduced everyone. they were a group of childhood friends that were here for the man’s birthday, whose name was taeyang

now everyone was walking to a beach bar that was close to the hotel. you were chatting with the people you just met, they were so nice and funny. all of you were sharing funny stories with each other and you were bursting out laughing, they were hilarious.

you suddenly realized you didn’t know where jungkook and dayeon were. you turned around only to see them walking together far away from all of you, and she was whispering something to his ear

jungkook looked so weird, he had a dark look in his eyes, his jaw was clenched and he seemed like he didn’t like the new group. this time his look wasn’t focused on you, but on taeyang. he was to your side while still talking to you as you looked back at jungkook.

you turned your head back confused, had you been too mean minutes ago? you began to feel bad for him, but then remembered—you weren’t doing this because you wanted to, it was because you didn’t want to interfere with a relationship like they had done to you.

you shook those thoughts away from your head and tried to focus on the conversation once again, you wanted to have a good time and nothing was going to ruin it…

when you got to the bar, there was calm music playing and dim lighting decorating the place. it was right next to the beach, which offered you a beautiful view of the calm ocean. the sky was still clear and it didn’t take long for the sunset.

all of you sat down in a table for six, you and jungkook were on opposite ends as the rest of them filled the space between you. taeyang sat beside you, tucked into the corner

you kept talking to him when the waitress came to take your order. everyone was asking for beer or fruit cocktails, but you still hadn’t decided what you wanted. since you hated the bitter taste of alcohol you were indecisive

suddenly taeyang got close to you and whispered softly to you

“i recommend you the passion fruit and orange cocktail if you don’t like the taste of alcohol, you won’t even notice it” he said almost as if he could read your mind

when he pulled away from you jungkook had his eyes glued to yours—he didn’t have his classic shine in them anymore, instead they looked dark and serious. he was playing with his lip piercings as he looked away from you with an unreadable expression on his face.

you were so confused, you had no idea what was wrong with him. the waitress distracted you from your thoughts when she asked you what you wanted, you listened to taeyang and ordered the drink he recommended you

now you were looking at jungkook, trying to understand what was going with him but he didn’t look back at you. he was busy talking to dayeon and the girls. you decided to ignore it and go back to the conversation you were having with taeyang

he was talking about how he met dayeon at the hotel, it was when both of them were having breakfast she talked to him for the first time. after that, taeyang introduced her to the girls while the waitress came with everyone’s drinks.

yours was in a big glass filled to the top and came with a straw in it. when you sipped unsure if you would like it or not, your eyes widened with delight—it was probably the first cocktail you actually enjoyed, its taste was so sweet you were starting to doubt if it had alcohol in it.

taeyang kept talking to you, except you were too focused at the moment on your new favorite drink. you just nodded your head at him or laughed at whatever he was saying

given that your body wasn’t used to drinking, you could sense its effects on you quickly. your shoulders felt lighter and a little numb, your cheeks got more red than they already were and a warm sensation was spreading all over yourself.

you looked at jungkook again with your eyes a little half-lidded eyes. he was already staring at you—his dark gaze glued to you as he pressed his tongue against his cheek.

a sudden hollow, slurping sound coming from your straw interrupted your staring contest with jungkook. you looked down at your glass and it was completely empty, with only a few ice cubes left at the bottom

you had downed all of your drink in just a few minutes without even realizing. you furrowed your brows confused and disappeared—you hadn’t been there for long and you’ve finished drinking before anyone else.

you excused yourself to go to the bar counter and ask for the same cocktail. as you made your way, you felt a little dizzy but you weren’t drunk yet—just a bit tipsy

you took a seat by the counter and asked for your cocktail. while you were waiting, you rested your head in your hand and sighed, you felt kinda bad for your behavior with jungkook a while ago. you were trying to get rid of your guilt by ignoring him, but the only thing you got was more of it—it seemed like it would follow you wherever you go.

a familiar voice brought you back to reality as you spiraled into your thoughts about the same man who was next to you.

“if you ask me, i don’t think you should keep drinking” jungkook said to you as he sat on the stool next to yours.

you turned around lazily and looked at him for a second, when would it be the day he realized you just wanted to be alone? you felt a bit annoyed at him, you didn’t know if he was doing all of this on purpose

“well i didn’t ask you. i’m not even drunk” you shot sharply at him. you didn’t mean to say that to jungkook, but holding back your words was harder when you drank.

“i didn’t say you were drunk, but you’ll be in a couple seconds if you don’t stop drinking that fast” he answered apparently unbothered

“again, i didn’t ask for your opinion” you snapped

jungkook just sat there without saying anything for a second, you looked away from him trying to distract yourself from how mean you were being.

“why are you being like this?” he simply asked

the guilt in your guts intensified even more, but you were doing this for a cause. you just didn’t want to hurt somebody else like they’ve hurt you.

“and why do you care so much?” you said back, hoping for him to just leave.

“because you aren’t being this rude to taeyang” jungkook said with his jaw tight

you definitely weren’t expecting that answer, he confronted your attitude with no problem.

“one second you are avoiding me or being tense, and then i see you laughing and smiling at him like nothing is wrong” he spoke frustrated

you couldn’t deal with this anymore and finally owned up to the consequences of your actions. you really owe jungkook an explanation since your behavior was clearly affecting him

“fine, i’m sorry” you admitted “it’s just that… i don’t want to get in the middle of you and dayeon. i guess i was catching feelings for you even though i’ve only known you for a couple of days” you said with your voice trembling with nervousness for what would jungkook think about your feelings.

“why would you get in the middle of me and dayeon?” he asked with a confused look in his eyes

“you know, i don’t feel comfortable feeling that towards you since she is your girlfriend. i wouldn’t dare to come between a couple as sweet as yours” you explained

“dayeon is not my girlfriend.”

…

your heart dropped straight to your stomach, your eyes widened with shock and your jaw dropped. you must have heard him wrong… this is impossible.

“what…?” you said anxious

“i met her at the airport too, she just helped me to find you to give you back your passport” jungkook said while he was just as surprised as you

“but you guys had booked a cab together to pick up both of you after that…?” you muttered hoping all of this was a joke

“yeah, we did that after we met and found out we were going to the same place” he explained calmly

“and what about when you guys sat together on the plane and couldn’t stop laughing at each other?”

“the seats were just a coincidence, and you already know how dayeon is. she wouldn’t stop joking about anything the whole flight” jungkook proved you wrong once again

“oh my god… i’m so dumb” you breathed

you ran your hands across your face still processing all of the information you’ve just found out. you sighed loudly covering your face with embarrassment—how could you have jumped to conclusions like that? they had never introduced themselves as a couple, but you were so afraid of doing what they had done to you you just assumed they were.

“did you really think we were a couple?” jungkook asked you with a little smile on his face, probably holding back his laugh too.

“yes…” you admitted with pure shame taking over you

not only all of what you’ve done to jungkook was absolutely pointless, but you had just confessed to him unintentionally. if you’d known he and dayeon weren’t dating, you would have never explained your feelings to him.

the waitress suddenly arrived with your drink and put it on top of the counter in front of you—but the glass tipped just enough for the drink to slosh, a few alcohol drops spilling onto the cut on your forearm

it stung instantly, the wound throbbed in pain as you squinted your face in pain and quickly covered it. jungkook grabbed your shoulder in concern as he tried to look at your cut.

“i think it’s time for us to go, i think i have something to clean it in my room” he said as he guided you with his hands to stand up and leave the bar

your legs were paralyzed, you couldn’t move. that’s when you realized how heartbroken you actually were—you had spent so much time trying not to hurt anyone, you didn’t realize the one you were hurting was yourself.

all the overthinking, the guilt and sadness were slowly eating you alive. you wouldn’t let yourself enjoy a time away without ruining it, you couldn’t free yourself from the pain

tears suddenly fell down your cheeks, you had never felt this dumb. all this time you thought that a vacation or simply the passing of time would fix you, when in reality everything was in your hands—only you had the power to move on.

a hand extending towards you drifted you away from your thoughts, you looked up at jungkook. he was still there and was reaching out to help you like nobody else ever did

you stared at his hand for just a second before grabbing it softly, letting your fingers intertwine with his freely. you squeezed it gently, letting jungkook know you were ready to go with a genuine smile following.

during your walk back to the hotel none of you let go of each other’s hands, you were walking in silence while his thumb was slowly caressing your hand

it wasn’t an awkward silence, in fact, you had never felt more comfortable with someone’s simple presence. maybe it was because jungkook’s wasn’t simple—you felt as if your absence of words only made him understand you better.

…

when you got to his room, jungkook instantly went to his bathroom to look for something for your wound. he also had a large window with a view of the beach—the sun was starting to hide beneath the mountains, tinting everything in shades of gold

you got closer to have a better look when you noticed it had a handle. you curiously slid it and it opened fully, all this time it wasn’t a simple window. it was a sliding glass door leading straight to the beach.

a soft breeze blew through your face, gently brushing your hair. you took off your heels and stepped out, feeling warm sand against your feet. you walked towards the ocean but stopped just a few steps before reaching it, the waves crashing ahead of you

the beach was silent and peaceful, there was nobody at the sea or the shore. it was just you and the ocean.

you settled onto the sand with your legs crossed, not bothering about having to wash yourself later. you sighed deeply and just stayed there with no worries, you could feel a weight fading away from your body. it was as if you were finally able to breathe correctly.

you heard steps getting closer to you, when you looked back jungkook was walking towards you with some cleansing products. when he got close to you he sat right by your side.

“alright, give me your arm. this can hurt a little” jungkook said as he dampened a piece of cotton with alcohol

you didn’t hesitate and gave him your forearm, he grabbed it with one hand as he began to rub the cotton gently against your wound with the other. it burned and throbbed too, but you knew jungkook wasn’t hurting you. he was healing you.

you did your best to stay still as he cleaned your wound. when he was done he carefully placed a band-aid on top of it, it didn’t hurt anymore.

“thank you” you said as you looked into his eyes “and i’m sorry too, i probably made you uncomfortable” you muttered with a shy tone

“it’s okay, you didn’t make me feel that way… in fact i feel the same way about you” jungkook confessed with a reassuring expression

you stayed quiet for a second, trying to process what he had just said.

“you mean… you like me back?” you asked stunned

“well yeah… wasn’t it obvious?” he said with a soft laugh escaping his lips

“since i thought you were taken, no it wasn’t obvious” you laughed with him

a minute of silence followed, it was just you and him looking at each other. you were finally able to tell what was in jungkook’s eyes, it was nothing but love. he looked down at your lips for a second, making you feel butterflies all over your stomach.

“you know what i really want to do right now?” he asked you suddenly

“umm, no….” you replied trying to hide your nervousness

“let’s go for a swim” jungkook said out of nowhere

“i don’t have my bikini with me, sorry” you said with a smile “you can go if you want to, maybe i should get going to my room…”

“no. i want to go with you” he interrupted you “and i don’t have my swimsuit either”

“jungkook your room is just a few meters away” you replied with a blank expression

“yeah but i don’t really feel like walking…” jungkook explained with a funny look in his eyes

you suddenly understood in a matter of seconds what he wanted to do. you didn’t know if he was always this bad at hiding things, or if you were good at guessing them.

“why do i have the feeling you want to go swimming naked?” you shot at him

“what? how did you know?” jungkook admitted

you just smiled at him and got up, he was looking at you while he was still sitting. you reached your hand to jungkook to help him get up, which he gratefully took and stood up in an instant.

jungkook had clear excitement in his face, his eyes were shining brightly and were slightly squinted due to the wide smile plastered on his face

he took off his shirt in the blink of an eye, revealing his tatted arm and the body that had you loosing your mind a couple of hours ago. he looked at you, impatiently waiting to see your bare skin.

you took off your dress not breaking the eye contact, only leaving you in your white lace set. you were feeling bold and shameless—if it wasn’t from the alcohol running down your blood, you probably wouldn’t be doing this.

jungkook looked down at your body, his eyes showed desire but not lust. he observed it carefully and slowly, admiring every single detail of it as if it was a true work of art

you looked at his too, not feeling ashamed now. you were finally able to admire it correctly—every trace of tint in his strong arms and his perfectly toned torso

you began walking towards the ocean as he followed you. you unclasped your bra and took off your panties, letting him all of your frame freely.

you got in the ocean, the warm water touching your naked body completely for the first time. you were swimming away, your feet still reaching the sand beneath you. suddenly you felt a pair of big hands grabbing you by your waist, making you turn around

before you knew what was happening, you felt jungkook’s mouth smashing against yours. your eyes widened in surprise but quickly melted into the kiss. the plumpness of his lips contrasted with the cold metal of his piercings. you grabbed him by the back of his neck, deepening the kiss even more.

both of your lips moved swiftly, as if you’d kiss each other multiple times before. it was a hungry, needy kiss—he wasn’t ashamed of showing his desperation at all, neither were you. he slightly turned his head to get a better access to you and slid his tongue into your mouth recklessly

you revived it gratefully, smiling a little into the kiss as you explored his mouth too. your lips parted slightly letting the kiss grow intently and heated. jungkook played with your mouth boldly yet craving for more of you.

it was when he suddenly bit your lower lip softly you accidentally let out a whimper escape your lips. he stopped just for a second, pulling away from the kiss. just as you were to apologize; he grabbed you by your hips, pressing your body to his. you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms to his broad shoulders

both of you could feel each other’s bared, hot skin. the sunset only made the water grow warmer, golden rays reflecting on it look breathtaking.

the kiss was now different, it showed the urge of feeling one another’s body. jungkook pulled away once again and looked straight to your eyes as if asking for permission, you answered him by just pressing your lips together one more time

you unconsciously moved your hips softly, causing your hot center to rub his hard bulge. you and him moaned softly, just a simple friction was enough for both of you to go crazy.

jungkook pressed his fingers harder into your hips, letting you know he wanted more. you glared and started grinding your hips again. you couldn’t see it, but you knew his dick had a really good size

it felt long and wide, every time his tip rubbed your entrance you felt yourself growing needier. he was enjoying it too, each time you slid your wet slits against him, he let out a low groan and squeezed your hips harder.

both of you were lost in the pleasure. the kiss had lost its way and was now a sloppy, wet mess—but feeling each other’s mouth was just enough for you. low moans escaped your mouth occasionally, making jungkook go feral

it was one particular brush of his head against your clit that made both of you lose your minds. your body jumped slightly and you felt tingles all over your body, making you moan louder.

none of you could do this anymore, you couldn’t last one more second without feeling him inside of you. “i need you” came out of your mouths at the unison, as if you shared the same thoughts.

…

both of you got out of the ocean to go back to his room as he was still carrying you. as soon as jungkook stepped in, he threw you in the bed, not even caring you were soaked and would leave it all wet.

but it didn’t matter because it wasn’t only your whole body that was wet, it was your pussy too. it was dripping and he knew it. he slowly got close to you, with his arms on both sides of your head

jungkook got down and started devouring your neck, he wasn’t kind at all. he sucked relentlessly—his tongue tasting the mix of saltiness of the sea water and the sweetness of your perfume, creating a delicious taste for him.

all you could do was moan and grab to his arms, feeling as if you didn’t you would fall apart. jungkook bit gently into the sensitive skin, leaving a trace of red marks. with each bite he could feel your body squirm, he chuckled a little only to leave a tender kiss upon the marks

his kisses slowly went lower and lower—going to your collarbone straight to your breast biting especially hard there. your perked nipples demanded his mouth attention; but all he did was press a soft peck to both of them, letting you grow more desperate for him.

jungkook followed by your stomach, where he licked a long stripe all the way to your pussy. he stopped there and pulled away just to take a look at it. it was covered with arousal with your clit perky and touch-starved.

you looked down at him and saw him smiling at it. you couldn’t hold it together and when you were about to protest, he licked a slow stripe from the bottom to the top

you threw your head back instantly with a loud moan coming straight from your guts. jungkook began to play with your clit with the tip of his tongue while sucking it harshly. he alternated between the perfect amounts of pressure and flickers.

he let your over sensitive clit rest a little while he dived into your entrance, teasingly circling it with his tongue. jungkook raised both of his hands to your nipples, torturously pinching them and twisting them

he slid his tongue all the way inside of you, going as deep as he could. the point of his nose pressed against your clit, giving you pleasure in every way possible.

the noises that your pussy made were unhinged, wet and slimy at the same time. the soft whimpers coming from jungkook made everything sound absolutely pornographic. he was moaning as if he was the one getting blown, and it only made the knot in your lower stomach get tighter.

he exploded every single place of your insides, reaching for spots you didn’t know they could make you feel so nice. jungkook pulled your nipples slightly, causing your back to arch and him get impossibly deep and close to your pussy. his nose pressed hard as he licked a special spot inside of you

you scratched his back slightly while you pulled him closer with your legs—jungkook groaned loudly, the vibrations of it traveling all the way to your lower tummy. the knot suddenly snapped, legs trembling and some tears streaming down your cheeks. he looked up at you with his face full of your milky arousal

jungkook licked the rest of it left in his lips, leaving them clean.

“you taste amazing…” he said while gasping for air

you grinned and didn’t waste more time before turning around, leaving jungkook laying down with his back against the bed frame and you on top. you took a minute to admire your beautiful view

he was looking at you in awe, his lips glistening with a mix of your arousal and spit, and messy hair making him look even more gorgeous.

you looked down and he was desperate—his dick was bigger than you felt while being in the water, tip a little red leaking with pre-cum and erected perfectly to the top ready for you. you didn’t waste a second and put your knees on both sides of his hips, hold yourself by his shoulders and sat on his throbbing cock. raw.

both of you moaned each other’s name loudly while breathing rapidly. you just stayed there, still. memorizing every detail of his length while letting you adjust to his size

“y-you feel so good…” you breathed

“please just start moving, i need it” jungkook pleaded you

you obeyed him with no hesitation, you moved your hips upwards and sinked into him again. jungkook grabbed your waist to help you. you picked up a steady pace quickly, moving your hips up and down while arching your back letting him go even deeper.

every time his dick sinked in you moaned his name like a prayer while he groaned and furrowed his brows with pleasure. the skin slapping with each other combined with your wet pussy sounds had both of you in a trance

you could feel him reaching parts of you no one else had ever touched, not even yourself. his tip kept bruising a particularly sensitive spot, spongy yet soft. you tried to go faster, but you were too cock-drunk to fasten the movement of your hips.

jungkook just couldn’t hold it together anymore and held you still as he stared thrusting his hips mercilessly into your pussy. his rapid, ruthlessness rhythm made you go crazy

you arched your back even more making you feel him right in your guts, your now came uneven and broken. you threw your head back while babbling nonsense.

out of nowhere, jungkook rubbed your overstimulated clitoris with his middle and index fingers. something in between a moan and a scream came out of you when you suddenly felt as if you were going to pee yourself

you tried to tell him to stop but it was useless, all you could do was keep screaming his name repeatedly. he slammed his dick too deep inside of you—which led to a water-like liquid come out of your pussy, splashing to jungkook’s torso and a little bit sprinkling yourself.

you blushed in embarrassment but he kept rocking his dick into you, chasing his own orgasm. your slimy walls tightened after reaching your climax, squeezing jungkook harshly

he groaned loudly as his hot, creamy cum spilled deep inside of you, it was so much a bit of it came out of you while he was still buried deep in you.

you were both covered in sweat, gasping for air and throat sore. he didn’t pull out yet and you fell into his warm chest coming out of your high. you realized all of his bedsheets were dampened with water and your arousal, your cheeks blushed in embarrassment for what just happened

“i don’t think you can spend the night in here” you joked

“that’s why i’ll sleep with you tonight” jungkook answered, not being sarcastic or joking either

you looked up to him while a sweet smile formed in your lips, a soft glow in your eyes shining too.

“thank you jungkook” you said sincerely

“for what?” he asked confused

“for staying, no matter how i am” you confessed

“that’s not something you have to thank me for” he said with a reassuring smile

“it is for me” you said softly before pressing a kiss to his forehead

[gguksprincess]

𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝜗𝜚 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤

SUMMARY -> in which jungkook can’t resist his star student.

WORDS -> 6.8k (approx 30 min read time)

WARNINGS -> jungkook x female reader, unprotected sex, praise kink, age gap (if you squint), power imbalance (professor and student), slowburn, size kink, jungkook is kinda pathetic

now playing: silk lingerie, - kali uchis˚.⋆♪

you had been a teacher’s pet since grade school.

all of that hard work got you into one of the most prestigious universities in your country. you were proud of your grades—the teachers and professors throughout your academic career were happy to give them to you.

professor jeon was nothing like any of them. 

the first day, you showed up to class early and sat in the front (of course). you didn’t know what to expect. professor jeon was fresh meat, the newest professor in your school. no ratemyprofessors profile, no student horror stories, no face. 

he fascinated you the moment he left his office and awkwardly stumbled into the lecture hall. you leaned in to take a closer look.

he was young, not that much older than you and heart achingly handsome. when his eyes met yours, a strange warmth coursed through your veins.

matters of the heart were foreign territory for you. yes, you had heard about your roommate’s various talking stages and hookups, but you never thought this would be anything like this. your heartbeat picked up. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him and he hadn’t even said a word.

he nearly dropped his laptop bag on the podium, fumbled with the hdmi cable to his slideshow, making the screen flash blue. he muttered an apology.

professor jeon cleared his throat, “um—hello. good morning. i’m professor jeon. jungkook. i mean—or dr. jeon. either is fine. not jungkook. not just—anyway.”

he laughed nervously.

silence.

you stared.

he ran his fingers through his jet black hair. “this is my first semester teaching. so, um. be gentle.”

the class laughed lightly.

you didn’t. you felt something shift in your chest. not authority, not intimidation.

but tenderness.

you were hooked. 

art history became your favorite class. it met on tuesdays and thursdays from 5pm to 7pm. you heard your classmates complaining about how they were bored by the material, how the class was too long, but you just never understood why. 

you could listen to professor jeon talk for an eternity. the way his eyes lit up when he saw a certain brush stroke. how he talked with his hands when he was excited. how he fumbled with his hdmi cord, always having problems with the connection before every class. you’d always get up to help him.

“you had the magic touch,” he said to you one day, “you always fix it.”

you replayed that moment in your head for days.

a week into the course, he announced a new resource for you all: homework videos. he filmed them weekly to explain core concepts. 

“they’re probably unnecessary,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “but i know the content can get…intense.”

you were the first one to watch the video the night it was uploaded. 

he was in his office, books stacked behind him. he stumbled over terminology, corrected himself mid sentence, and laughed awkwardly.

“okay,” he said in the video, “that made no sense. let me start over.”

you rewinded that part three times. you didn’t need the help. you have a 100%. 

but you watched every video. every week. the moment they drop. sometimes twice. sometimes to hear his voice.

you wondered if professor jeon had a wife. he was young, yes, but someone like him couldn’t be single. you imagined him with a woman, looking at her with the same brightness in his eyes he has when he talks about his favorite art pieces.

it made you sick. 

you wanted to be that woman.

when he sent an email to your class about office hours, you knew you had to be there. 

you didn’t have any questions. you just wanted to “clarify something.” he looked surprised to see you, like he expected no one to come. 

“oh! hi. it’s you—um. front row? hdmi?” he ran his fingers through his hair.

“yes, professor.” you smiled.

he gestured to a chair, “everything okay with the reading?”

you nodded. “i just wanted to ask about the emotional framing of the baroque martyrdom.”

he blinked, just staring at you for a moment.

you swallowed.

“that’s… actually a really great question.”

you talked for thirty minutes.

you noticed him relaxing with you. he smelled like fresh laundry up close, which somehow felt more intoxicating than any cologne would. 

by week three, you were there every monday. he started to expect you.

・・・・・

jungkook squinted as he reread your paper for the third time. 

the subject does not desire possession. only closeness. only the warmth of standing near something luminous and being allowed to witness it. 

he had that part circled since the first time he read it. something about it stuck with him in ways he couldn’t describe.

he knew educators weren’t supposed to have favorites, but if he was honest, he did and it was you. teaching at this university was a very impersonal experience and you were one of the only students he’s gotten to bond with. you were brilliant, your papers a delight to read. when you answered questions in class, he felt immense relief.

when he got excited to see you at office hours, he told himself it was because you were academically engaged. 

not because you sat too close.

not because you smelled vanilla and paper. 

not because of how your lip gloss caught the light.

and definitely not because he let his eyes wander to how your perfect legs would cross under your desk. 

you were beautiful. that was a simple, undeniable fact. 

office hours with you became the highlight of his week. 

you really listened to him. chin resting on your palm, eyes steady on his mouth as he explained to you, brows knitting together ever so slightly.

“so, in caravaggio’s work, the light is meant to…” 

you bit your lip in concentration. his brain short circuited.

he trailed off into silence, taking you in for a moment. heat crawled up his neck.

“dr. jeon?” you asked softly.

hearing his name come from your lips made his heart skip a beat. he ran his hands through his hair. 

“yes, i’m sorry. i lost my train of thought. what was i saying?”

you blinked up at him so innocently, adjusting yourself in your seat. you somehow ended up closer to him, “the light reveals what the subject can’t say.”

“that’s right.”

he stared at you for half a second too long. you made him feel smart. seen. important when he was so afraid of being seen as incompetent.

one day, he checked your name on the gradebook out of pure curiosity. you had the highest average by far. you didn’t need office hours. yet you never missed them. 

that night, he replayed his conversations with you. 

the way you looked at him. 

it’s not normal student interest. it’s softer. lingering. he swallowed.

you’re just enthusiastic, he told himself. but he knew what a crush looks like. he’s had them.

he disregarded that thought.

it was pathetic to think that someone like you wanted him. you were brilliant, beautiful, and had a bright future ahead of you. and most importantly you were his student. 

he was awkward, and you probably thought he was incompetent but were too nice to show it. he was projecting.

but a part of him wished he wasn’t.

at office hours that week, you showed him a draft of an upcoming paper. he stood behind you, scanning it over your shoulder.

he leaned down slightly, his hand gingerly rested on your shoulder. 

he could smell your coconut shampoo. he swallowed. his voice lowered subconsciously.

“this line stood out to me,” jungkook said. “the way you describe longing… it’s intense.”

you just nodded.

jungkook reread it.

the tragedy is not that he is distant. the tragedy is that he believes himself unworthy of being wanted.

something about that felt too personal. 

he pushed it down.

you followed the prompt, right?

it’s art analysis.

you couldn’t be writing about him.

that night, he couldn’t get the sweet scent of your shampoo out of his mind. 

when he finally got your paper in his hands on a late night in his apartment, he was very impressed. you were his star student, of course.

just his star student.

not the girl he counted down the days till he saw.

not the girl who made mondays his favorite day of the week.

not the girl who bit her lip when she was concentrating.

not the girl who made his body feel things he definitely shouldn’t.

just his student.

he loved reading your papers. your syntax was perfect and your analysis was refreshing. the prompt was about longing and devotion in the assigned piece. he wanted to see what you had to say.

but something was strange.

the cruelest irony is that he fears crossing a line that has already blurred.

his brows furrowed. 

what did that mean?

it was a stretch to say it was relevant to the piece.

jungkook leaned back in his chair, the paper still in his hands.

he read the line again.

the cruelest irony is that he fears crossing a line that has already blurred.

his stomach dropped.

that wasn’t about a painting.

that wasn’t about some baroque martyr suspended in dramatic lighting.

that sounded like—

no.

he shook his head and scrubbed a hand down his face.

you were just good at this. you wrote with emotional precision. that’s all. you were perceptive. intense. maybe a little dramatic.

he kept reading.

the viewer aches not because he is unattainable, but because he cannot see what she sees when she looks at him.

his throat went dry.

she.

not the viewer. not the audience.

she.

jungkook’s fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the page.

it was probably stylistic. plenty of critics used gendered language. it didn’t mean anything.

he forced himself to keep going.

he stands illuminated before a room full of people and still insists he is ordinary. that is the greatest misunderstanding in the composition.

his chest felt tight.

illuminated before a room full of people.

standing in front of a room.

insisting he was ordinary.

he thought about the way he apologized during his first lecture. the way he said be gentle. the way you had looked at him like he wasn’t something fragile but something worth protecting.

his pulse started to thrum in his ears.

this is ridiculous, he told himself.

he is projecting.

he is lonely.

he is reading into things because he wants to.

she didn’t mean it like that. 

but then—

he flipped back a page.

devotion often attaches itself not to grandeur, but to sincerity. to the quiet way he fumbles with cords before speaking. to the nervous laugh he cannot seem to outgrow.

his breath stuttered.

that wasn’t—

that couldn’t—

he actually dropped the paper this time, the soft rustle loud in his silent apartment.

fumbles with cords.

nervous laugh.

those were details.

not abstract traits.

details.

jungkook stood abruptly, pacing once across his small living room before running both hands through his hair.

no.

you wouldn’t.

you couldn’t.

you were brilliant. careful. disciplined. you followed prompts. you didn’t blur lines.

he was the one blurring them.

he was the one noticing how close you sat.

the one replaying your voice saying dr. jeon late at night.

the one counting down to mondays.

this had to be him reading what he wanted to read.

but when he picked the paper back up, his hands weren’t steady anymore.

the tragedy is not that he is distant. the tragedy is that he believes himself unworthy of being wanted.

his jaw clenched.

unworthy.

he had said that word before. not to you. never to you. but to himself. in the mirror. in quiet moments when imposter syndrome clawed at his ribs.

how could you possibly know that?

unless—

unless you were paying attention the same way he was.

unless when he thought you were just listening, you were seeing.

really seeing.

a slow heat crept up his neck, down his spine.

shock first.

then disbelief.

then something far more dangerous.

hope.

he sank back into his chair, staring at your name typed neatly at the top of the page.

you.

you with the highest average in his gradebook.

you who didn’t need office hours.

you who sat too close.

you who bit your lip when concentrating.

you who looked at him like he mattered.

how could someone like you—

want someone like him?

the thought made his head spin.

it was impossible.

and yet the evidence was sitting in his hands in twelve-point times new roman.

he pressed his thumb lightly over the line again.

fears crossing a line that has already blurred.

a line.

between what?

student and professor.

he inhaled sharply.

this was wrong.

this was dangerous.

he should shut it down immediately. draw a boundary. grade the paper objectively. pretend he never read between the lines.

but instead, he found himself wondering—

when you wrote he, were you picturing him?

when you wrote she, were you picturing yourself?

his heart hammered harder at the possibility.

that wasn’t academic curiosity.

that was desire.

he stood again, restless, pacing a second time.

this is inappropriate.

he is your professor.

you deserve better than his loneliness.

but the image of you at that desk, looking up at him with those wide, steady eyes, wouldn’t leave him.

what if he wasn’t imagining it?

what if you really—

he stopped that thought before it could fully form.

he dropped back into his chair and grabbed a red pen.

his hand hovered over the top of the page.

for a long moment, he didn’t write a grade.

instead, almost without thinking, he wrote:

see me after class.

he stared at the words.

his pulse thundered.

he had no idea what he was going to say to you.

he just knew he couldn’t keep pretending he didn’t see it anymore.

and he couldn’t keep pretending he didn’t want it to be true.

he dreamt about you that night. 

・・・・・

see me after class.

your heart dropped. as you reread the line on top your paper.

no grade. just that written in red pen.

what could he mean? professor jeon loved to read your papers. he told you that it was a delight to grade them.

you had tailored your writing style to fit his tastes. to get the praise and approval from him that you grew to crave. the thought of him suddenly disapproving was heartbreaking.

you knew you couldn’t have him, but at least you had his professional admiration.

did you just lose that too?

that class was the first to feel slow.

professor jeon avoided eye contact with you, directing his attention away from the front row for the whole two hours. he called on other students, and pretended as if you weren’t there. 

you were addicted to his attention, and you could feel the withdrawals. 

when class finally ended, you stayed in your seat, looking over your notes as everyone else filed out of the lecture hall. 

he closed the door behind the last student and locked it.

you swallowed.

“professor, i—“

“one moment please,” his tone was colder than normal as he tidied up his podium and approached you.

you were silent, your heart pounding in your chest.

“i wanted to talk about your essay,” he went to sit in the chair next to you.

you looked down, fiddling with the hem of your skirt, “is it… inappropriate?” you were quieter than you wanted to be.

“no,” he said. you felts his eyes boring into you but you refused to look up. “just… very honest.”

the silence stretched.

“you write longing like you understand it intimately.”

that was when you looked up, meeting his searching eyes. your breath trembled.

“maybe i do.”

you had no idea why you said that. he slid closer. “is there… someone you’re writing about?” his eyes softened.

you couldn’t lie to him. “yes.”

his head tilted, “does he know?”

you studied his face. his skin was perfect, free from blemishes that you’d normally see from someone this close. his thin rimmed glasses slightly slipped down his face and framed his beautiful brown eyes.

you still couldn’t lie to him.

“i think he does now.”

the silence was suffocating. 

your heart is slamming against your chest. heat crawled up your neck. he could probably see the slight blush on your cheeks. 

professor jeon nervously laughed the way he does when he mixed up his words or lost his train of thought. 

you could hear the disbelief in his voice, “you’re… you’re brilliant.” he ran a hand through his hair, “you could have anyone.”

you leaned in, “i don’t want anyone.”

he slid closer.

“why me?”

his voice was raw, honest. his professor persona was gone, replaced with something softer.

“you look at me like i matter.”

that was his undoing.

he had never been the object of someone’s longing.

he was always replaceable. invisible. occasionally admired for his usefulness. 

and here you were—beautiful, bright, the top of his class, looking at him like he was sacred.

something snapped.

“this is a terrible idea,” he whispered. 

“tell me to leave.”

he couldn’t.

his hand moved, almost involuntarily cupping your cheek.

it was soft against your cheek. you melted into the touch. 

he inhaled sharply.

you kissed him first.

soft, uncertain. he froze for a moment, shocked. 

he caved.

he kissed you back, hands hovering over your waist. it was clumsy. breathless. desperate. you pulled away, stunned. he stared at you like he just jumped off of a cliff.

“w-we can’t do this,” he muttered. 

you grabbed his hands, guiding them onto his hips.

“then stop.”

he doesn’t.

you climbed on top of him, hips bracketing his. 

he kissed you this time. deeper, slower, memorizing. it was overwhelming for the both of you. you had never been wanted like this. 

then reality slammed back in. 

you were on campus. the door was unlocked. the building was probably empty, this was a night class, but it wasn’t empty enough. if anyone saw you, he would be fired and your scholarship would be in jeopardy.

the risk seemed to process in his head as well. you climbed off of him, expecting him to push you away. 

instead, he said, “we have to get out of here.”

we.

・・・・・

this was idiotic and jungkook knew it. 

you walked out of the lecture hall first, and he set a five minute timer to leave after you.

you met him in the empty faculty parking lot. the air was cool, the sky was dim. he unlocked his car with shaking hands. 

this was insane. 

you got in the car anyways. 

the moment the door shut behind you, he looked at you.

then it all started over. you gave him a kiss before buckling your seatbelt. it was urgent. his hands framed your face like he couldn’t believe you were real. he pulled back, starting his car. 

he was grateful his apartment was clean when you walked in. you stepped inside like it was sacred ground. he closed the door, locked it, and shut the blinds.

he just stared at you, nervously standing in his living room. 

“you deserve someone better,” he blurted, breaking the silence.

it wasn’t modesty. it was insecurity. 

“i don’t want better. i want you.” you said matter of factly.

he sat on the couch. you climbed on top of him again, gingerly positioning your clothed heat on top of his crotch. his hands hovered over your hips. 

“can i?”

you nodded. his hands rested on your hips, rubbing light circles that made you melt further into him. he kissed your again, his tongue curling with yours as your hips began to subconsciously rock into his. he didn’t stop it.

jungkook hadn’t done anything like this since he was in grad school, your touch making him realize how starved he’s been. he shuddered as your hips found a rhythm grinding against him. 

he tilted your chin up, trying to to deepen the kiss. you did your best to keep up, and he pulled back.

he pulled back, cupping your face. “relax,” he whispered, “let me.”

and when he kissed you again, you obeyed, melting under him as you let him take control of the kiss. he smiled into it.

you were always such a good listener. 

your hips began to rut into him faster and faster, clearly chasing something you didn’t fully understand. he noticed your movements were clumsy, uncoordinated, a coil tightening in your stomach that needed release.

his hands tensed on your hips, stilling you.

“easy,” he murmured, “let me help you.”

his fingers slid down, slowly inching underneath your skirt. “can i?”

you nodded, breathless. his knuckles brushed against your panties. you gasped, leaning into the touch.

“so responsive,” he made eye contact with you. “has anyone touched you here before?”

you shook your head, unable to form words. a possessive rush ran down his spine.

he slipped his hand into your panties, finding you soaked and swollen. you cried into the touch, hips bucking against his hand.

“shhh,” he soothed, his other hand  coming to cup the back of your neck, “i’ve got you, just feel.”

his fingers explored you slowly, deliberately. he watched every expression that crossed your face, cataloging your responses like he studied art. when his thumb softly massaged your clit, you whimpered and tried to grind against his hand again.

“p-professor…”

he slowed down, cupping your cheek. “look at me,” he coaxed.

you obeyed immediately.

“can you call me by my first name here?” he asked, thumb rubbing circles into your cheek. 

it felt wrong to you to call your professor by his first name. he was someone of greater knowledge. someone older. someone to respect.

someone with his hand in your panties as you sat in his lap. 

the way he studied you melted your heart. he stared at you with a reverence that you never thought you would receive.

you couldn’t say no to him.

“j-jungkook,” you whispered.

he felt himself twitch in his pants. something about the way it rolled off your tongue had him dizzy.

he cursed under his breath. “again, please baby.” he asked with pleading eyes.

that nickname made you shudder. you obeyed, “jungkook.”

jungkook gave you a quick kiss, “good girl. just my name. only my name.”

the praise was addictive.

he circled your clit with his thumb while sliding one finger inside you. you clenched around him instinctively, your body reacting to the foreign intrusion. the sensation made you whimper.

“baby…” he rested his forehead against yours, “you’re so perfect for me.”

you whined.

something in him snapped. he added another finger, pumping them in and out and stretching you while he rubbed circles on your clit. his doe eyes stared down at you.

his bottom lip trembled. “i can’t believe i let you sit in my office hours for weeks and didn’t know you wanted this. i-i tried my best to not look at you,” he rambled between open mouthed kisses to your cheek and her jaw, “you’ve always been so good to me… so sweet. i could’ve had you so much sooner.”

you gasped as he found the sweet spot on your neck. he took a moment to suck and nibble on it. “if i tried to touch you like this right in that lecture hall, you probably would’ve let me… just spread your legs and let me take what i wanted, right? because you want this as bad as i do, right?” 

you bit back a moan and nodded as the pace of his fingers picked up. the combination of the fingers and the pressure on your clit was overwhelming. your breath came out in short pants.

you came with cry, your body shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you. jungkook held you through it, his movements slowing as you rode out your orgasm.

when you finally gathered yourself, you were slumped against him, your face buried in his neck. you could feel his hardness pressing against you through his slacks. he removed his fingers, the loss making you whine.

you had never experienced anything like that before.

“did you like it?” he asked, his voice rough.

you were still staring at your lap, overwhelmed. he tilted your chin up with his finger.

“eyes up,” he corrected softly.

you looked up at him with wide, yielding eyes. he wanted to devour you. he wanted to rip all of your clothes off, bend you over on the couch, and take you over, and over, and over until you couldn’t walk. until the only thing you could say was his name. you were so eager to please that you probably would’ve let him.

but you didn’t deserve that. you deserved something sweet and slow.

he smiled at you, “we’re not done yet.”

he lifted you effortlessly, body going limp in his arms as you clung to his shoulders. you were in a daze and he could tell. 

jungkook didn’t waste any time. he opened his bedroom door, kicking it shut behind him with his heel.

the first thing you noticed about the room was that it smelled like him—sandalwood and old books. 

he laid you out on the bed like you were something precious, his soft mattress dipping under your weight. you stared up at the ceiling, your heart still hammering against your ribs, your skin tingling all over. your skirt rode up to your waist.

“look at you,” he murmured, “so pretty.”

he crawled onto the bed. your thighs spread instinctively. he noticed, grinning.

he positioned his head between your thighs, looking up at you as his fingers brushed your waistband.

“what are you doing?” you whispered.

he looked up at you, “can i taste you?”

your breath hitched, “…yes.”

he pulled off your skirt, unbuttoning your shirt and taking off your bra for good measure, leaving you only in your panties. he pulled back for a moment to take you in. you blushed.

he pulled your panties down slowly and tenderly, letting out a soft gasp as he saw the remnants of your orgasm slipped out of your panties and dripped down your thighs. 

“oh baby,” he said, “you made a mess, didn’t you?”

you whimpered. it was music to his ears.

“it’s okay,” he coaxed, taking off his fogged up glasses and setting them on the nightstand. “i’ll clean you up.”

that was when he bent down and licked a stripe against your sensitive flesh. your thighs instinctively closed against the sides of his head. he moved his hands to rest on your knees.

“keep your legs open,” he commanded softly.

the second swipe made you cry out, back arching off the bed. he groaned, the sound going straight through your core, feeling that coil tighten all over again in your tummy. 

“jungkook…” you whined, hands tangling in his hair.

“just relax,” he mumbled against you, vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. “let me take care of you.”

your back arched again, and he held your hips down. the restraint made you dizzy. 

he was a starving man, and you were the feast. he ate you out with desperate, enthusiastic hunger, his nose nudging against your clit as he lapped at you. he didn't just want to please you—he wanted to consume you.

you were melting into the mattress, completely overwhelmed. you wanted to grind against his face, to chase the friction, but his hold forced you to stay still. you were his to use, his to taste. you let him do all the heavy lifting, letting his tongue and his hands do the work while you just surrendered to the sensation.

you whimpered. high, helpless, embarrassingly sweet. the praise, the quiet command, it unraveled you faster than you thought possible.

he could tell.

your breathing turned ragged and your stomach started fluttering again, he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked. it was soft at first, then with steady, pulsing pressure. your whole body locked up. a broken little sob tore out of your throat as the second orgasm crashed through you, sharper and deeper than the first.

he didn’t stop.

he licked you through every aftershock, slower now, almost tender, until your whimpers turned into soft, overwhelmed sniffles. only then did he finally pull back, lips glossy, cheeks flushed, pupils blown so wide the brown was nearly gone.

he crawled up your body carefully, caging you without crushing you. his forearms bracketed your head. you could smell yourself on his mouth, on his chin, and the realization made fresh heat bloom low in your belly.

jungkook looked… ruined.

his hair was a mess from your fingers, shirt half-unbuttoned, chest rising and falling too fast. he stared down at you like you were the most devastating thing he’d ever seen.

“you’re shaking,” he whispered, brushing your hair out of your face. his thumb traced your bottom lip. “was that too much?”

you shook your head immediately, eyes glassy. “n-no… it felt so good…”

his expression softened into something dangerously fond.

he kissed you then, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. you moaned quietly into his mouth, small hands clutching at his shoulders like you were afraid he’d disappear.

when he pulled back just enough to speak, his voice cracked.

“baby…” he swallowed hard. “can i… can I be inside you?”

your breath hitched.

the question hung between you, heavy and reverent.

you wanted to say yes. you did want to say yes. but the sudden rush of everything, body over yours, the damp heat still pulsing between your legs, the sheer size of him pressing against your thigh through his slacks—made your brain short-circuit.

you stared up at him with wide, dazed eyes. lips parted. no sound came out.

jungkook’s face fell the tiniest bit. misreading your silence as hesitation, he started to pull back.

“i’m sorry—i shouldn’t have—”

your hands grabbed his shirt before he could retreat.

he froze.

you didn’t speak, just looked at him—soft, overwhelmed, trusting—and slowly shook your head no. not no to him. no to him stopping.

understanding flickered across his face.

he exhaled shakily. “you want me to keep going?”

a tiny nod.

“but you’re… you’re not saying anything.”

another tiny nod. your cheeks burned. you liked this, seeing the normally composed, fumbling professor come apart. liked the way his voice was starting to shake.

jungkook dropped his forehead to your shoulder, breathing hard.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered. then, quieter, almost broken: “please. sweetheart, please. i need to feel you. i need it so bad. i haven’t—fuck, i haven’t let myself have anyone since i was studying for my master’s. i buried myself in books and data and—and then you walked into my class and i… i can’t think straight anymore.”

his hips rolled once, involuntarily, grinding his clothed length against your soaked core. he groaned low in his throat.

“i’ll go slow. i swear. i’ll stop the second you want me to. just… please let me inside you. please.”

the please sounded almost pathetic. desperate. nothing like the quiet authority he carried in lecture halls.

and you loved it.

you stayed silent a little longer, letting him unravel.

his breathing grew uneven. he started pressing soft, pleading kisses along your throat, your jaw, the corner of your mouth.

“i’ll take such good care of you,” he whispered against your skin. “i promise. i just… i need you. need to feel how warm you are. how tight. please, baby. please say yes. i’m begging you.”

your heart squeezed.

finally, soft, barely audible—you breathed:

“…yes.”

jungkook made a broken sound in the back of his throat.

he kissed you fiercely once, then sat back just enough to yank his shirt over his head. belt. button. zipper. he shoved everything down and off in one impatient motion.

when he settled back over you, completely bare, your eyes widened.

he was… big.

thick. long. flushed dark at the tip and already leaking. the sight made your thighs tremble.

“i—i don’t think…” you whispered, suddenly small and unsure again.

jungkook noticed immediately.

he leaned down, cupping your face with both hands.

“hey,” he soothed, voice velvet-soft. “it’s okay. it’ll fit. i promise you it will. we’ll go as slow as you need. you’re so wet for me already… it’ll be so easy. is that okay?”

you swallowed. nodded.

he reached between your bodies, guiding himself to your entrance. the blunt head nudged against you—hot, slick, insistent.

“breathe,” he murmured. “just breathe for me.”

you did.

he pushed in barely an inch.

your breath caught. the stretch burned immediately. sharp. intense. you whimpered, fingers digging into his biceps.

“shhh, shhh,” he kissed your temple, your cheek, your lips. “you’re doing so good. so perfect. look at you taking me already.”

another slow inch.

the burn sharpened. tears pricked your eyes.

“jungkook—it hurts—”

“i know, baby. i know.” he stilled completely, trembling with the effort of holding back. “just stay with me. relax around me. let me in slow. you’re so tight… fuck, you feel incredible.”

he kissed you through it. soft, open-mouthed, distracting. whispered praise against your lips.

“you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.”

“so good for me.”

“taking me so well even though it’s your first time.”

“i’ve wanted this for so long.”

little by little, the sting began to melt. the fullness turned heavy, aching, good. 

addictive. your hips shifted experimentally.

a soft moan slipped out.

his eyes fluttered shut. “that’s it… that’s my girl.”

he sank the rest of the way in one careful glide.

you both groaned.

he bottomed out, hips flush to yours, and stayed there—letting you adjust, letting himself feel every fluttering pulse around him.

“you’re perfect,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “so perfect. feel that? that’s us. just us.”

tears slipped down your temples—not from pain anymore, but from how full you felt. how wanted. how seen. he kissed them away.

“move,” you breathed after a long moment. “please… please move.”

he did.

slow. deep.

every drag of him inside you lit up nerves you didn’t know existed. the ache turned molten. sweet. you wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer.

he groaned your name like a prayer.

“you feel so good,” he rasped. “so warm. baby, you’re squeezing me so perfect.”

you keened at the praise, nails raking lightly down his back.

“more,” you whispered. “please.”

he gave it to you—still controlled, still careful, but deeper now. harder. the bed creaked softly beneath you.

“look at me,” he murmured.

you did.

his eyes were liquid dark, reverent.

“i’m so proud of you,” he said, voice shaking. “letting me have you like this. trusting me. you’re everything. you know that? everything.”

your eyes fluttered. the coil was building again—different this time. deeper. all-consuming.

“jungkook—”

“i’ve got you,” he promised, hips rolling in that perfect grind. “come for me, baby. let me feel it. please, baby.”

you shattered.

harder than before. clenching around him so tightly he cursed under his breath. your whole body shook, soft cries muffled against his shoulder.

he followed right after, hips stuttering, burying himself as deep as possible as he spilled inside you with a long, broken moan of your name.

for several long minutes you just held each other. breathing hard. sweaty. trembling.

he pressed the softest kisses to your hairline, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose.

“you okay?” he whispered eventually.

you nodded against his chest. smiled sleepily.

“more than okay.”

he exhaled, relieved. wrapped both arms around you and rolled so you were tucked against his side, still connected.

“stay,” he murmured, almost shy now that the urgency had passed. “just… stay with me tonight?”

you nuzzled closer, already drifting.

“always.”

the apartment was quiet in a way it had never been before.

not tense.

not forbidden.

just quiet.

the kind of quiet that settled after something life-changing.

you were wrapped in his sheets, hair messy, lips swollen, limbs pleasantly heavy. the world felt softer around the edges. unreal.

jungkook was sitting up beside you, chest rising and falling slowly, still trying to steady himself. he looked wrecked in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion and everything to do with disbelief.

you were looking at him like you had just discovered something sacred.

he ran a hand through his hair and let out a small, almost shy laugh.

“are you sure you okay?” he asked, voice lower than usual.

you nodded immediately. “perfect. all because of you .”

that made his ears turn pink.

he disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and came back with a warm cloth. the gentleness in his movements made your chest ache. he knelt beside you on the bed like you were fragile porcelain.

“let me,” he murmured.

he was careful. attentive. not clinical, but reverent. like this mattered. like you mattered.

you watched his face while he cleaned you up, the concentration in his brows, the softness in his eyes. he kept glancing up to check your expression.

“tell me if anything feels uncomfortable,” he said quietly.

you shook your head. “it doesn’t.”

he exhaled, relieved.

when he was done, you sat up slowly and took the cloth from his hand.

“my turn,” you said.

he blinked at you. “you don’t have to.”

“i want to.”

that softness again. that eagerness that kept undoing him.

you guided him back onto the bed, pushing him gently until he was the one lying down. he let you. completely.

there was something so vulnerable about him like that, broad shoulders against white sheets, hair falling into his eyes, chest rising steadily under your gaze.

you were just as careful with him.

your touch was slower, lighter, almost curious.

he swallowed hard.

“you’re staring,” he muttered.

“i am.”

he huffed a breath that might have been a laugh.

“why?”

you shrugged slightly. “i never thought you’d look like this.”

“like what?”

“soft.”

that made him go quiet.

when you finished, you tossed the cloth aside and crawled back toward him without hesitation. skin to skin. you pressed yourself against his side like it was instinct.

he stiffened for half a second. not because he didn’t want you there, but because he wasn’t used to it. not used to being held.

then his arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies.

you rested your cheek against his chest.

he smelled like clean laundry and something warmer now. something entirely his.

“was this okay?” you mumbled sleepily.

his arm tightened around you.

“yeah,” he said softly. “it was more than okay.”

your fingers started tracing idle patterns against his skin.

that was when you noticed it fully. the ink winding down his arm.

you lifted your head slightly, eyes scanning the dark lines and shaded details of his sleeve.

“i never thought you’d have tattoos like this,” you murmured.

he looked down at you, amused. “like what?”

“like this,” you repeated, dragging your fingertip slowly along the edge of one design. “i thought you’d have, like… a tiny minimalist one. something academic.”

he laughed, the sound vibrating under your ear.

“a tiny minimalist one?”

“maybe a paintbrush,” you said seriously. “or something pretentious.”

he laughed harder at that.

“i’m not that bad.”

you hummed, tracing another section carefully. “it’s pretty.”

“pretty?”

“yeah.” your voice was soft, sincere. “i liked that it didn’t match what people expected.”

he watched you with an expression that shifted from amused to something deeper.

“you didn’t seem surprised,” he said quietly.

“about what?”

“that i wasn’t what people expected.”

you rested your chin on his chest and looked up at him.

“i’d known that since the first day.”

his fingers slid into your hair absentmindedly.

“you were full of surprises too,” he murmured.

you smiled sleepily. “like what?”

“like how brave you were.”

you flushed at that.

“i was terrified.”

“you didn’t look it.”

you tucked yourself closer into him, your leg sliding between his instinctively. he inhaled softly at the contact but didn’t move away.

“i liked being close to you,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

his hand stilled in your hair.

“i liked you being close,” he answered.

the room went quiet again, but it was different now.

comfortable.

your fingertip continued tracing the lines of his sleeve, slowly, carefully, memorizing. you followed each curve like you were studying something important.

he watched you the entire time.

like he still couldn’t believe you were there.

like he was afraid if he closed his eyes, you’d disappear.

“don’t look at me like that,” you mumbled without opening your eyes.

“like what?”

“like i’m going to vanish.”

his breath caught.

you opened one eye and smiled faintly.

“i wasn’t.”

his arm tightened around you again, pressing a soft kiss into your hair.

“good,” he whispered.

and for the first time since the line had blurred, neither of you felt like you were falling.

you just lay there, skin to skin, quiet and tangled together, tracing ink and memorizing warmth, like you had all the time in the world.

author’s note: this took forever to write bc i got super self indulgent😭 i hope you enjoyed it, i’ve had this idea for a while. thank you for reading<333

MASTERLIST