i mainly write about jeongguk, of bts! use of korean name, lowercase intended ♡
"if there is a book you want to read, and it is not yet written, then you must write it yourself" -my dearest toni morrison
one of your girls
after the death of his parents in an accident, your family takes in a young boy. he becomes one of you, and you can't imagine a life without him. you watch him grow up, and slowly come to terms with the fact that he was never yours for the taking. (you were the one who was always there, it's not fair.)
santa baby
in which you wait all night long for santa, as you have been every year, for as long as you can remember. expecting a swollen belly and a full white beard, you're surprised to see a tall, dark, and handsome stranger staring back at you.
or
santa gets caught red-handed and has to play it off.
kaleidoscope
you had heard stories about “the guy you meet at 19”. friends, family members, hell, even online communities complained about it. supposedly, when you turn 19, sometime within that year, you meet a guy who turns your whole life upside down. your first love, your first heartbreak. one year. 365 days, 5 hours, 49 minutes.
see both sides like chanel
your best friend, jeongguk, has only ever dated boys. unbeknownst to you, (he was also into girls).
turkish coffee
there is a custom in turkey of adding salt rather than sugar to the coffee of the suitor who visits your home to ask for your hand. imagine jeongguk's surprise when he takes a sip of the coffee his soon-to-be-dear-wife made, to be met with.. salt?
or
what is a little salt in return for marrying the love of your life?
beautiful, dirty, rich (series, ongoing)
your entire life is a façade; to be rich, you have to act rich. until you meet someone who shows you that some things, you simply can't cheat your way into.
this isnt even the full thread, there are even MORE tweets to this thread that i think are really necessary to read if you do what op is talking about! it is not enough to know that feeling this way hurts the people you love, we already know that.
this rest of the thread continues after the third tweet from the reblog.
like THE FULL THREAD is genuinely so reassuring.
sometimes, it is not enough to just know, sometimes you might need that reassurance of "do you really think of me when i'm away?" and someone reassuring you that yeah, they do. and evaluate that! trust that! just like op did.
and then learning that ykw, it's NOT any of my business really. and finding comfort in that trust that like. whether they are or aren't thinking of me, they really do love me.
this full thread changed my life and i am ALWAYS going to give the full thread because the parts people cut out aren't enough for the people experiencing these things, speaking as someone who does. it, really it just makes us, made me, feel bad about my own capabilities when i saw the unfinished thread.
warnings: swearing, 18+ content, usage of violent terms, reader is hoooornyyy
wc: ~3k
a/n: inspired by personal experience. i'm still grieving.
you stumble into a dark alleyway, lips locked with another's. coming up for air, you inspect the man practically attached to you.
tall, buff, tattooed, smooookin'. lips plumper than ripe berries and eyes brighter than stars in a pitch black night sky.
god damn.
no time to think.
you grab him by the collar and devour him anew.
you tangle your hands in his soft locks, and he impatiently gropes the flesh of your ass. sighing into the kiss, you rub against his hard bulge.
you have never been so content. truthfully, you can keep going just like this for a few hours, minimum.
"need you," you mumble.
swiftly turning you around, he pins you against the wall. you're sandwiched between the wall and his firm body, pressing against your core just right.
hot breath against your ear, he whispers behind you, "make pretty noises for me, beautiful."
with you distracted, he sneaks an arm across your waist and dips it into your panties.
right as his fingers brush your lower belly and reach where you need him most desperately,
you wake up.
and you scream.
loud.
"jesus did someone die?" your roommate busts into your room, frantic and concerned as ever. "what the hell is the matter with you?"
in silent defeat, you grab your pillow and smash it against your face.
sighing and no longer concerned for your wellbeing, she leaves your room confused but somewhat used to your antics.
rubbing your legs together, you almost cry under your covers. guess your fingers will have to do, yet again.
"you do not understand. that was my fucking soulmate."
"a guy your brain made up touches you once and he's your soulmate?"
"shut up. you literally don't get it. i am so utterly devastated i could kill someone."
"you know what really is devastating? being in a dry spell so severe your brain has to resort to making up hallucinations."
"you have 3 seconds to run before i kill you."
"the only way you'll be killing me is with your delusion. i think i'm good."
"it's not funny! i saw his face, i physically felt his hands! this was like, cosmic. otherworldly. life-changing."
"you mean panty-changing."
"you dare mock my feelings? i woke up and felt like someone ripped my heart out and stomped on it. like my other half was ripped from my hands. like we were connected in a past life. like-"
she snorts, "yeah, connected by divine pussy."
"i'm mourning. i'm mourning and you're laughing."
"mourning!!" she laughs in disbelief, "you sound like you just got dumped by casper the horny ghost."
"i swear to god-" you chase her around the apartment for a solid 15 minutes after that.
two weeks have passed since your.. very realistic dream.
you've forgotten about it, but you could feel it in your body that your brain chemistry was altered. people may think you're exaggerating, but you really mean it when you say you haven't been the same ever since.
food doesn’t taste right. music doesn’t hit the same. the sun? dimmer. the first sip of hot coffee on a chilly morning? slightly colder.
maybe your roommate was right. maybe you're simply too touch deprived.
god, this is sad.
as you finish adding the last few things on your grocery list to your cart, you turn around to head to checkout. until you accidentally bump into someone.
"sorry! sorry!" you blurt, immediately bending down to help the stranger pick up what he dropped.
"shit, no worries," he says, crouching down to help you.
and that's when you see it; his tattooed hand.
what is it with you and tattooed men? the universe must really be torturing you. this was like dangling candy in front of a child then snatching it away, knowing you were never gonna give it to them in the first place. cruel.
"you really don't have to, it's fine," he adds.
wait.. that voice? sounds familiar?
you slowly, slowly stand up, heart pounding in your chest, finally meeting the stranger's eyes.
your soul leaves your body. your eyes damn near pop out of their sockets.
you stand there silent, like a damn fool. smiling awkwardly, he takes his stuff and walks away.
you don’t move. you don’t breathe. was this… was this another hallucination? are you so horny that your brain has started projecting men into real life like some kind of thirst-induced hologram?
you slap yourself once. no, surely not.
you slap yourself again. nope. pain is real. surely you’re not that mentally unwell. right? right? you had your mental issues but you were certain none came with hallucinations.
peeking over at checkout, you see him there, bagging his items like it’s just another tuesday. then he leaves, disappearing out the automatic doors. just like that.
you’re frozen, gripping your bag of frozen blueberries like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality.
he's real. this has to be some cosmic joke.
"babe, life isn't a k-drama," your roommate says, voice dripping with sarcasm as she flops onto the couch, completely dismissing your very real emotional crisis. "listen. i know how you feel. dry spells are no joke."
you facepalm.
"no, really!" she continues, undeterred. "one time i went 3 months without dick thought i started having revelations from the heavens above."
you glare at her. "cut your shit, i'm serious! he was real and he looked exactly the same as the dream. maybe slightly taller and definitely hotter, but it was him."
she raises an eyebrow, not even trying to hide her amusement. "so, let me get this straight." she leans in, finally entertaining your story for a minute.
"you mean to tell me that you experienced textbook soulmate-ism; seeing a complete stranger in a dream and then accidentally bumping into him a few weeks later? that you’ve met in a past life, or that your souls are like, intertwined in some deeply meaningful, cosmic way? a destined interaction?" she mocks as she wiggles her fingers, mimicking magic.
she wiggles her fingers dramatically, mimicking magic, and you groan so loud it echoes.
turning on your heel, you storm back toward your room. you don't know why you even bothered to begin with.
"wait, wait!" she calls after you, cackling. "you know, taehyung's not dating anyone right now. want me to send you his number?"
you ignore her, marching faster.
"ooo, since you're psychic now, can you tell me my grade on tomorrow's test? or what my mom's cooking for lunch today?" she adds, trailing behind you like an annoying toddler.
you slam the door in her face so hard the hinges rattle.
serves her right.
you are going to kill your roommate.
one, for not believing you.
and two, for dragging you to a club where taehyung conveniently happened to be, and her only informing you as you were literally walking in.
he's not bad by any means, not at all. in fact, he's got the whole package. good looks, charismatic, talented and has men and women tripping over themselves for his attention.
your point is proven when you immediately spot him speaking to three women. you're no body language expert, but five more minutes of him entertaining them and they're gonna pounce on him.
you're just.. not interested.
you had met before at one of your roommate's work outings. you chatted for a bit, shared a drink. it took you, what? an hour? maybe less, to realize that friends were all you could ever be. the chemistry just wasn't there.
you don't actually hate your roommate for it, you know she just wants you to be happy. you're just irritated because you're so horny. and the only relief you've gotten in the past two years was your recent sex dream. that one touch was enough to send you spiraling into madness. she was right, dry spells really are no joke.
after 20 minutes of forced small talk, fake smiling, and one or maybe two shots later, you excuse yourself to the bathroom; thankful for any relief from this endless and agonizing night. horny and bored out of your mind do not go well together.
in front of the mirror, you stare at your reflection. get it together.
you fix your hair, touch up your makeup, and give yourself a little pep talk.
tonight this ends. you’re not walking out of here empty-handed.
be it taehyung or literally anyone else, someone is coming home with you. no more of this pathetic nonsense. your fingers deserve a break. so do your batteries.
as you dry your hands and exit the bathroom, you almost trip. before you faceplant into the floor, firm hands grab your waist, steading you.
you sigh in relief. a broken ankle definitely meant no dick tonight. you were that desperate.
"easy there," a voice says, rich and smooth like velvet and honey. sugar, spice and everything nice.
oh, no. no. no. no.
cosmic joke? this is a full on prank.
your guy, yet again.
at this point, you're convinced you're either in a simulation or someone is filming this for a prank show. whoever was controlling your character needed to grant you some reprieve. some grace, please!
he’s smiling down at you, eyes glinting with amusement. "are you ever gonna say anything?" he teases. "so far you've just ogled me and stayed completely silent. have we met before?"
your brain short-circuits. the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a dreamy and borderline pathetic sigh, "yes, we have."
"we have?" he asks, brows knit together in confusion, head tilting slightly.
"i think i'd remember you," he adds as he grins. that smug, boyish kind of grin.
your heart is doing somersaults, but your brain kicks in just in time. shaking your head quickly, you wave it off like you didn’t just sound like a lovesick creep.
"sorry, no we haven't." you force out a chuckle. "must have misheard."
idiot, idiot, idiot.
he laughs softly, extending his hand, "jeongguk. nice to meet you."
you take his hand, trying not to combust from the electricity that shoots up your arm. instant sparks. "sorry for being a freak. you just... reminded me of someone."
his eyes twinkle. "all good memories, i hope?"
you laugh, nerves making it come out a little breathy.
"thank you for saving me."
you internally cringe at your choice of words. throwing yourself off the nearest bridge would be less painful than this.
'thank you for saving me?' what is this, a disney movie? It’s not like he pulled you from a burning building.
he chuckles, unfazed, and waves it off like it’s no big deal. "see you around, then."
walking away, yet again, he leaves you burning up and in awe.
many drinks later, you end up on the dancefloor, your roommate, god knows where, doing god knows what with god knows who. you've learned not to ask.
you dance (the testosterone) your heart out. you close your eyes and you let go for the first time that night.
swaying your hips, you feel a hand slide around your waist from behind, firm and confident. a spark shoots through you, electrifying every nerve. you're caught off guard, but you don’t stop.
leaning into the touch, your body instinctively recognizes the connection. the hand tightens slightly, fingers splaying against your hipbone, guiding you in perfect sync with the music. the warmth of a chest presses against your back, and your skin prickles with electricity.
you turn your head slightly, stealing a glance at the stranger behind you. but when your eyes catch his—your breath hitches in your throat. all words die right then and there. futile devices.
turning around to face him, you throw your arms around his neck, pressing your body dangerously close to his. instinctively, he makes a home for his hands on your hips, and like an intruder, makes way for a muscular thigh right in between yours.
"i think you're gonna kill me." he murmurs, his voice low and laced with lazy lust.
looking up at him, you're unable to hide the need that kisses every delicate feature on your face. eyes twinkling, lips slightly agape, eyebrows knit.
you can’t take much more of this.
without thinking, your hand finds his, and you tug him toward the edge of the dance floor. he follows without hesitation, his grip firm, a clear indicator of impatience rivaling yours.
stumbling out of the club, the night air hits your skin like a slap. pure whiplash to your practically scorching hot skin. a giggling mess, your hands tangle with your hot dream man's.
as he calls for a cab, you stand behind him. emboldened by the alcohol and adrenaline, you rise on your tiptoes and press your lips to his neck; inhaling the scent of sweat and cologne. oh how you've missed that smell.
his breath hitches, but he doesn’t stop you.
minutes pass. no cabs. no patience.
without a word, he grabs your wrist, his touch sending another jolt through you, and pulls you into a dark alley.
holy.
shit.
holy shit?
before you can process it, his lips are on yours, hot and demanding. you moan into his mouth, equal parts pleasure and relief. your dark days are behind you. the curse has been broken, your dry spell is finally over.
his hands find your waist as you press into him, mouths moving like you’ve done this a hundred times before. then, with a swift motion, he spins you around, your front hitting the cool, rough wall. his body is a furnace against yours, hands exploring like a man starved.
you can take a wild guess what happened next. only this time, there was nothing to wake you up.
maybe you'll become a psychic medium for a living.
a few months later, you and jeongguk start officially dating.
it was nice to finally put a name to the face.
one lazy sunday afternoon, you're both sprawled on the couch, his head resting in your lap as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair. the soft hum of a movie plays in the background, but neither of you is really paying attention.
"you know i had a dream about you before i met you?" you blurt out, your voice casual but your heart racing the moment the words leave your mouth. sometimes you really are the very cause of your own demise.
jeongguk's eyes snap open, and he tilts his head to look up at you, a curious smile tugging at his lips. "come again?"
instantly regretting your admission, you try to brush it off, waving your hand dismissively as you shift, attempting to slide out from under him. "oh, it's nothing. forget i said anything."
"no, no. get back here," he chuckles, sitting up quickly and grabbing you by the waist before you can make your escape. with surprising ease, he spins you around, pulling you onto his lap.
"finish that thought," he says, his voice low and teasing, eyes sparkling with amusement.
"nothankyou!" you squeal, trying to wriggle free from his grasp and attempt to escape once more, but he’s stronger, and it's far too late now.
laughing, he hoists you up and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing as he gets up; trapping you in bicep jail.
"jeongguk! put me down!" you whine, your fists playfully pounding against his back as you kick your legs in protest. "let me oooouuutt!"
"i will," he says, taking slow, exaggerated steps toward the kitchen, "once you spill."
"fine, fine!" you huff dramatically. "put me down before my head explodes!"
he finally sets you down gently, but not without keeping his hands on your hips, his gaze locked onto yours with an expectant grin.
"well," you start, biting your bottom lip, "before i bumped into you that one time at the grocery store, i had a dream about you. and, uh… you looked exactly the same."
his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and for a moment, he’s silent. then, a wide grin spreads across his face. "that is the craziest thing you've ever said. and you say some pretty crazy shit, might i add." he leans in closer, fully invested. "what kind of dream?"
you feel your cheeks heat up, turning beet red as you avert your gaze.
"baby...?" he draws out the word, his tone laced with playful curiosity. his fingers start poking your sides, making you squirm and giggle. "what kind of dream?"
"well, what do you think?" you yelp, your embarrassment reaching new heights as you cover your face with your hands. you find yourself wishing once more the earth would swallow you whole.
still confused, he racks his brain for a few moments before it finally dawns on him.
and then, laughter erupts. hearty and unrestrained, gradually making his whole body shake. "so that's why you were so weird back then?"
"gee, thanks!" you shoot back, rolling your eyes, though you can’t help but laugh along with him.
"am i wrong?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. "you had your mouth open like a fish. i was half expecting a fly to stumble right into your mouth."
"you've made your pointtt," you groan, dragging out the last word dramatically. "it's not every day you meet the man from your wet dreams, so yes, forgive me if i was a little tongue-tied."
crossing your arms, you try to look annoyed, but your smile gives you away.
"oh, i'll knock that attitude out of you," he grins mischievously.
before you can react, he scoops you up again and walks you over to the couch, dramatically plopping you down with exaggerated care. you squeal, laughing uncontrollably as he pins you beneath him, his face hovering inches from yours. you immediately regret your life decisions.
oh yeah…. i get you oc (unfortunately). i’m just like her (sadly news) and one of these days i had a crazy dream with some guy. i couldn’t see his face, just his body and he whispered in my ear “baby, let’s go to bed” in the most honey voice ever!!!!!!!!! the rest of the dream well…. you know!
it was amazing and let me totally destroyed 😁
——-
"you sound like you just got dumped by casper the horny ghost." (ok that reference was so fun!!!!
warnings: swearing, 18+ content, usage of violent terms, reader is hoooornyyy
wc: ~3k
a/n: inspired by personal experience. i'm still grieving.
you stumble into a dark alleyway, lips locked with another's. coming up for air, you inspect the man practically attached to you.
tall, buff, tattooed, smooookin'. lips plumper than ripe berries and eyes brighter than stars in a pitch black night sky.
god damn.
no time to think.
you grab him by the collar and devour him anew.
you tangle your hands in his soft locks, and he impatiently gropes the flesh of your ass. sighing into the kiss, you rub against his hard bulge.
you have never been so content. truthfully, you can keep going just like this for a few hours, minimum.
"need you," you mumble.
swiftly turning you around, he pins you against the wall. you're sandwiched between the wall and his firm body, pressing against your core just right.
hot breath against your ear, he whispers behind you, "make pretty noises for me, beautiful."
with you distracted, he sneaks an arm across your waist and dips it into your panties.
right as his fingers brush your lower belly and reach where you need him most desperately,
you wake up.
and you scream.
loud.
"jesus did someone die?" your roommate busts into your room, frantic and concerned as ever. "what the hell is the matter with you?"
in silent defeat, you grab your pillow and smash it against your face.
sighing and no longer concerned for your wellbeing, she leaves your room confused but somewhat used to your antics.
rubbing your legs together, you almost cry under your covers. guess your fingers will have to do, yet again.
"you do not understand. that was my fucking soulmate."
"a guy your brain made up touches you once and he's your soulmate?"
"shut up. you literally don't get it. i am so utterly devastated i could kill someone."
"you know what really is devastating? being in a dry spell so severe your brain has to resort to making up hallucinations."
"you have 3 seconds to run before i kill you."
"the only way you'll be killing me is with your delusion. i think i'm good."
"it's not funny! i saw his face, i physically felt his hands! this was like, cosmic. otherworldly. life-changing."
"you mean panty-changing."
"you dare mock my feelings? i woke up and felt like someone ripped my heart out and stomped on it. like my other half was ripped from my hands. like we were connected in a past life. like-"
she snorts, "yeah, connected by divine pussy."
"i'm mourning. i'm mourning and you're laughing."
"mourning!!" she laughs in disbelief, "you sound like you just got dumped by casper the horny ghost."
"i swear to god-" you chase her around the apartment for a solid 15 minutes after that.
two weeks have passed since your.. very realistic dream.
you've forgotten about it, but you could feel it in your body that your brain chemistry was altered. people may think you're exaggerating, but you really mean it when you say you haven't been the same ever since.
food doesn’t taste right. music doesn’t hit the same. the sun? dimmer. the first sip of hot coffee on a chilly morning? slightly colder.
maybe your roommate was right. maybe you're simply too touch deprived.
god, this is sad.
as you finish adding the last few things on your grocery list to your cart, you turn around to head to checkout. until you accidentally bump into someone.
"sorry! sorry!" you blurt, immediately bending down to help the stranger pick up what he dropped.
"shit, no worries," he says, crouching down to help you.
and that's when you see it; his tattooed hand.
what is it with you and tattooed men? the universe must really be torturing you. this was like dangling candy in front of a child then snatching it away, knowing you were never gonna give it to them in the first place. cruel.
"you really don't have to, it's fine," he adds.
wait.. that voice? sounds familiar?
you slowly, slowly stand up, heart pounding in your chest, finally meeting the stranger's eyes.
your soul leaves your body. your eyes damn near pop out of their sockets.
you stand there silent, like a damn fool. smiling awkwardly, he takes his stuff and walks away.
you don’t move. you don’t breathe. was this… was this another hallucination? are you so horny that your brain has started projecting men into real life like some kind of thirst-induced hologram?
you slap yourself once. no, surely not.
you slap yourself again. nope. pain is real. surely you’re not that mentally unwell. right? right? you had your mental issues but you were certain none came with hallucinations.
peeking over at checkout, you see him there, bagging his items like it’s just another tuesday. then he leaves, disappearing out the automatic doors. just like that.
you’re frozen, gripping your bag of frozen blueberries like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality.
he's real. this has to be some cosmic joke.
"babe, life isn't a k-drama," your roommate says, voice dripping with sarcasm as she flops onto the couch, completely dismissing your very real emotional crisis. "listen. i know how you feel. dry spells are no joke."
you facepalm.
"no, really!" she continues, undeterred. "one time i went 3 months without dick thought i started having revelations from the heavens above."
you glare at her. "cut your shit, i'm serious! he was real and he looked exactly the same as the dream. maybe slightly taller and definitely hotter, but it was him."
she raises an eyebrow, not even trying to hide her amusement. "so, let me get this straight." she leans in, finally entertaining your story for a minute.
"you mean to tell me that you experienced textbook soulmate-ism; seeing a complete stranger in a dream and then accidentally bumping into him a few weeks later? that you’ve met in a past life, or that your souls are like, intertwined in some deeply meaningful, cosmic way? a destined interaction?" she mocks as she wiggles her fingers, mimicking magic.
she wiggles her fingers dramatically, mimicking magic, and you groan so loud it echoes.
turning on your heel, you storm back toward your room. you don't know why you even bothered to begin with.
"wait, wait!" she calls after you, cackling. "you know, taehyung's not dating anyone right now. want me to send you his number?"
you ignore her, marching faster.
"ooo, since you're psychic now, can you tell me my grade on tomorrow's test? or what my mom's cooking for lunch today?" she adds, trailing behind you like an annoying toddler.
you slam the door in her face so hard the hinges rattle.
serves her right.
you are going to kill your roommate.
one, for not believing you.
and two, for dragging you to a club where taehyung conveniently happened to be, and her only informing you as you were literally walking in.
he's not bad by any means, not at all. in fact, he's got the whole package. good looks, charismatic, talented and has men and women tripping over themselves for his attention.
your point is proven when you immediately spot him speaking to three women. you're no body language expert, but five more minutes of him entertaining them and they're gonna pounce on him.
you're just.. not interested.
you had met before at one of your roommate's work outings. you chatted for a bit, shared a drink. it took you, what? an hour? maybe less, to realize that friends were all you could ever be. the chemistry just wasn't there.
you don't actually hate your roommate for it, you know she just wants you to be happy. you're just irritated because you're so horny. and the only relief you've gotten in the past two years was your recent sex dream. that one touch was enough to send you spiraling into madness. she was right, dry spells really are no joke.
after 20 minutes of forced small talk, fake smiling, and one or maybe two shots later, you excuse yourself to the bathroom; thankful for any relief from this endless and agonizing night. horny and bored out of your mind do not go well together.
in front of the mirror, you stare at your reflection. get it together.
you fix your hair, touch up your makeup, and give yourself a little pep talk.
tonight this ends. you’re not walking out of here empty-handed.
be it taehyung or literally anyone else, someone is coming home with you. no more of this pathetic nonsense. your fingers deserve a break. so do your batteries.
as you dry your hands and exit the bathroom, you almost trip. before you faceplant into the floor, firm hands grab your waist, steading you.
you sigh in relief. a broken ankle definitely meant no dick tonight. you were that desperate.
"easy there," a voice says, rich and smooth like velvet and honey. sugar, spice and everything nice.
oh, no. no. no. no.
cosmic joke? this is a full on prank.
your guy, yet again.
at this point, you're convinced you're either in a simulation or someone is filming this for a prank show. whoever was controlling your character needed to grant you some reprieve. some grace, please!
he’s smiling down at you, eyes glinting with amusement. "are you ever gonna say anything?" he teases. "so far you've just ogled me and stayed completely silent. have we met before?"
your brain short-circuits. the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a dreamy and borderline pathetic sigh, "yes, we have."
"we have?" he asks, brows knit together in confusion, head tilting slightly.
"i think i'd remember you," he adds as he grins. that smug, boyish kind of grin.
your heart is doing somersaults, but your brain kicks in just in time. shaking your head quickly, you wave it off like you didn’t just sound like a lovesick creep.
"sorry, no we haven't." you force out a chuckle. "must have misheard."
idiot, idiot, idiot.
he laughs softly, extending his hand, "jeongguk. nice to meet you."
you take his hand, trying not to combust from the electricity that shoots up your arm. instant sparks. "sorry for being a freak. you just... reminded me of someone."
his eyes twinkle. "all good memories, i hope?"
you laugh, nerves making it come out a little breathy.
"thank you for saving me."
you internally cringe at your choice of words. throwing yourself off the nearest bridge would be less painful than this.
'thank you for saving me?' what is this, a disney movie? It’s not like he pulled you from a burning building.
he chuckles, unfazed, and waves it off like it’s no big deal. "see you around, then."
walking away, yet again, he leaves you burning up and in awe.
many drinks later, you end up on the dancefloor, your roommate, god knows where, doing god knows what with god knows who. you've learned not to ask.
you dance (the testosterone) your heart out. you close your eyes and you let go for the first time that night.
swaying your hips, you feel a hand slide around your waist from behind, firm and confident. a spark shoots through you, electrifying every nerve. you're caught off guard, but you don’t stop.
leaning into the touch, your body instinctively recognizes the connection. the hand tightens slightly, fingers splaying against your hipbone, guiding you in perfect sync with the music. the warmth of a chest presses against your back, and your skin prickles with electricity.
you turn your head slightly, stealing a glance at the stranger behind you. but when your eyes catch his—your breath hitches in your throat. all words die right then and there. futile devices.
turning around to face him, you throw your arms around his neck, pressing your body dangerously close to his. instinctively, he makes a home for his hands on your hips, and like an intruder, makes way for a muscular thigh right in between yours.
"i think you're gonna kill me." he murmurs, his voice low and laced with lazy lust.
looking up at him, you're unable to hide the need that kisses every delicate feature on your face. eyes twinkling, lips slightly agape, eyebrows knit.
you can’t take much more of this.
without thinking, your hand finds his, and you tug him toward the edge of the dance floor. he follows without hesitation, his grip firm, a clear indicator of impatience rivaling yours.
stumbling out of the club, the night air hits your skin like a slap. pure whiplash to your practically scorching hot skin. a giggling mess, your hands tangle with your hot dream man's.
as he calls for a cab, you stand behind him. emboldened by the alcohol and adrenaline, you rise on your tiptoes and press your lips to his neck; inhaling the scent of sweat and cologne. oh how you've missed that smell.
his breath hitches, but he doesn’t stop you.
minutes pass. no cabs. no patience.
without a word, he grabs your wrist, his touch sending another jolt through you, and pulls you into a dark alley.
holy.
shit.
holy shit?
before you can process it, his lips are on yours, hot and demanding. you moan into his mouth, equal parts pleasure and relief. your dark days are behind you. the curse has been broken, your dry spell is finally over.
his hands find your waist as you press into him, mouths moving like you’ve done this a hundred times before. then, with a swift motion, he spins you around, your front hitting the cool, rough wall. his body is a furnace against yours, hands exploring like a man starved.
you can take a wild guess what happened next. only this time, there was nothing to wake you up.
maybe you'll become a psychic medium for a living.
a few months later, you and jeongguk start officially dating.
it was nice to finally put a name to the face.
one lazy sunday afternoon, you're both sprawled on the couch, his head resting in your lap as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair. the soft hum of a movie plays in the background, but neither of you is really paying attention.
"you know i had a dream about you before i met you?" you blurt out, your voice casual but your heart racing the moment the words leave your mouth. sometimes you really are the very cause of your own demise.
jeongguk's eyes snap open, and he tilts his head to look up at you, a curious smile tugging at his lips. "come again?"
instantly regretting your admission, you try to brush it off, waving your hand dismissively as you shift, attempting to slide out from under him. "oh, it's nothing. forget i said anything."
"no, no. get back here," he chuckles, sitting up quickly and grabbing you by the waist before you can make your escape. with surprising ease, he spins you around, pulling you onto his lap.
"finish that thought," he says, his voice low and teasing, eyes sparkling with amusement.
"nothankyou!" you squeal, trying to wriggle free from his grasp and attempt to escape once more, but he’s stronger, and it's far too late now.
laughing, he hoists you up and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing as he gets up; trapping you in bicep jail.
"jeongguk! put me down!" you whine, your fists playfully pounding against his back as you kick your legs in protest. "let me oooouuutt!"
"i will," he says, taking slow, exaggerated steps toward the kitchen, "once you spill."
"fine, fine!" you huff dramatically. "put me down before my head explodes!"
he finally sets you down gently, but not without keeping his hands on your hips, his gaze locked onto yours with an expectant grin.
"well," you start, biting your bottom lip, "before i bumped into you that one time at the grocery store, i had a dream about you. and, uh… you looked exactly the same."
his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and for a moment, he’s silent. then, a wide grin spreads across his face. "that is the craziest thing you've ever said. and you say some pretty crazy shit, might i add." he leans in closer, fully invested. "what kind of dream?"
you feel your cheeks heat up, turning beet red as you avert your gaze.
"baby...?" he draws out the word, his tone laced with playful curiosity. his fingers start poking your sides, making you squirm and giggle. "what kind of dream?"
"well, what do you think?" you yelp, your embarrassment reaching new heights as you cover your face with your hands. you find yourself wishing once more the earth would swallow you whole.
still confused, he racks his brain for a few moments before it finally dawns on him.
and then, laughter erupts. hearty and unrestrained, gradually making his whole body shake. "so that's why you were so weird back then?"
"gee, thanks!" you shoot back, rolling your eyes, though you can’t help but laugh along with him.
"am i wrong?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. "you had your mouth open like a fish. i was half expecting a fly to stumble right into your mouth."
"you've made your pointtt," you groan, dragging out the last word dramatically. "it's not every day you meet the man from your wet dreams, so yes, forgive me if i was a little tongue-tied."
crossing your arms, you try to look annoyed, but your smile gives you away.
"oh, i'll knock that attitude out of you," he grins mischievously.
before you can react, he scoops you up again and walks you over to the couch, dramatically plopping you down with exaggerated care. you squeal, laughing uncontrollably as he pins you beneath him, his face hovering inches from yours. you immediately regret your life decisions.
i think failed connections really take a toll on you more than you think they would
the act of putting yourself out there only to be mocked, rejected or simply ignored
it is the bravest act and it’s never easy. nevertheless, it is the price of living authentically, and also unfortunately the only way to eventually find your people ❣️
your entire life is a façade; to be rich, you have to act rich. until you meet someone who shows you that some things, you simply can't cheat your way into.
your entire life is a façade; to be rich, you have to act rich.
until you meet someone who shows you that some things, you simply can't cheat your way into.
pairing: ceo jeongguk x fraud reader
warnings: swearing, catfishing, manipulation
a/n: my first series.. a bit nervous about it, but please let me know what you think :) enjoy!
to be rich, you have to act rich.
you and your roommate and best friend of many years, eunji, have been pretending to be rich for the past two years.
you were skeptical at first, but when you got into your first paris fashion show, that's when you knew this might actually succeed.
apparently, when people think you're important, they give you everything you want.
it started with a dare.
eunji’s balancing a cheap bottle of rosé on her knee, scrolling through instagram. "bet we could sneak into that," she says, flashing her screen at you. paris fashion week, influencers dripping in designer clothes, flashing cameras, and velvet ropes.
you laugh it off at first. but the idea lingers. later that night, after too much alcohol and not enough common sense, you both raid your closets, throwing together outfits that almost look designer if you squint hard enough. a pair of knockoff sunglasses here, a thrifted blazer there. you practice your walk in the mirror; chin up, eyes forward, head held high.
the next day, you arrive at the venue, hearts pounding. but something strange happens.
as you look straight ahead and strut right through, the security guy barely glances at you. the crowd parts. the cameras flash; maybe by accident, maybe not. but no one stops you.
later, sitting in the back row with a glass of champagne you definitely didn’t pay for, eunji leans over, whispering, "that was too easy."
one fashion show turns into another. and another. soon, you’re not just sneaking in—you’re invited. or at least, that’s what people think.
you start studying the scene. watching how the rich move, how they talk. the subtle flexes: a casual mention of a vacation home in the maldives, an offhand complaint about a yacht’s engine problems.
you learn to drop hints without overplaying your hand. eunji masters the art of the perfect instagram post, carefully curating your shared feed to make it look like you’ve been living this life forever.
it's been your party trick ever since.
that wasn't your last brush with wealth.
as you got bolder, you started going to places you purposely knew rich people frequented. or at least that's what the internet told you.
rooftop bars with $20 cocktails, hotel lobbies where the marble floors gleamed a little too brightly, art galleries where the paintings were just as pretentious as the people admiring them. you and eunji would walk in like you owned the place.
it was easy, once you realized how little it took to blend in.
the rules were simple: look the part, play the part, and never let them see you sweat. you and eunji learned that fast. wealth wasn’t about money; it was about perception.
the rich weren’t just beautiful and powerful—they were dirty.
it's a dirty game you were playing. a dirty game in a filthy world.
it wasn’t just about sneaking into fashion shows or getting free drinks.
no, the game got dirtier the deeper you went. men with too much money and too little conscience started noticing you. you knew their type—married with a mistress on speed dial, or single but treating women like accessories to match their suits.
none of them were good men. they were the kind who treated waiters like furniture, snapping their fingers to call them over; like they were at their beck and call. the kind who thought their money could buy loyalty, love, you.
the first time a man offered to buy you something outrageous, it was in one of those places. a dimly lit bar at the top of a five-star hotel, where the view of the city felt like it was reserved for people with trust funds and offshore accounts. you were sitting at the bar, swirling a drink you could barely afford, when he slid into the seat next to you.
stephen, with a p. mid-thirties, expensive watch, the kind of suit that whispered old money.
the conversation started the way it always did—where you’re from, what you do, the kind of small talk that feels like a performance. you mentioned, offhandedly, that your laptop was on its last leg, crashing mid-paper like it had a personal vendetta against your degree. you didn’t expect much from it; just a throwaway comment. that was your humor.
but then he laughed, like it was cute, like you were cute. and with the ease of someone who never had to check their bank account, he said, "send me the specs. i'll take care of it."
you nearly choked on your drink. but you kept your cool, because that’s the rule. don't ogle and squeal like a damn fool; act like you’ve been here before. like men buying you thousand-dollar electronics is just another thursday.
later that night, when you stumbled back into your apartment—tiny, cramped, with the leaky faucet you never got around to fixing—eunji was waiting. the second you closed the door behind you, the facade cracked, you could finally breathe. you both screamed into pillows, half in disbelief, half in exhilaration, like teenagers who’d just pulled off the ultimate prank.
two days later, the laptop arrived. brand new, still in the box, with that fresh-out-the-factory smell.
you and eunji hovered over it like it was some kind of sacred artifact.
"i'll be damned," she said in amusement, hands on her hips.
with a shrug you add, "money talks."
you weren’t just scraping by anymore—you were winning. and that was just the beginning.
the next guy flew you out to milan for the weekend because you joked about never having seen italy. the one who “accidentally” upgraded your hotel suite to a penthouse overlooking the seine.
after that, the finance bro who bought you a cartier bracelet after a month of dating, saying it matched your “timeless beauty.” you still wore it sometimes, not because of him, but because it reminded you of the game you were playing—and winning.
they never really had you. you were always three steps ahead, smiling just enough, leaning in just close enough, keeping them wrapped around your finger while you stayed untouchable at a safe distance.
you and eunji would come home after these nights, collapse onto your couch, and laugh until your stomachs hurt. you’d trade stories like war veterans, compare gifts, and toast to the next big score with whatever cheap wine you had in the fridge.
it wasn’t just about the gifts. It was the thrill of it. the rush of knowing you were beating a system that was never designed for girls like you.
but the thing about dirt—it clings to you, even when you’re wrapped in silk and drowning in champagne.
they were predators, but so were you.
or at least, you learned to be.
it was in the lies you told, the masks you wore, the way you started to forget where the real you ended and the act began.
it was fun at first—a joke, a thrill. but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like a game. the stakes got higher, the lines got blurrier, and you started wondering if you could ever really wash it all off.
because in this world, the glitter hides the grime. and the higher you climb, the harder it is to tell the difference.
this summer, you and eunji decided to take your two-woman show to monaco. the billionaire's playground.
back at your hotel room, both of you get ready. the faint hum of city traffic seeps in from the cracked window, mingling with the low hum of your shared playlist. your shared room smells like dry shampoo and overpriced perfume samples swiped from department store counters.
you each had a small collection of luxury items you took extra care of, only ever dry cleaning them and wearing them with the utmost care. you exchanged clothes when you wanted to switch it up, relying on each other to keep the ruse going.
your suitcase lies open on the bed, its contents meticulously arranged: the few luxury items you’ve both collected over the years like precious artifacts. a chanel blazer you snagged from a thrift store but had tailored to perfection, a pair of louboutin heels eunji found on ebay, scuffed on the sole but flawless everywhere else, a silk gucci scarf you both swear was a lucky find, even though you’re pretty sure it’s a knockoff.
eunji stands at the mirror, her hair twisted into loose waves, holding up two dresses; one black, one red. she eyes your reflection in the mirror.
"thoughts?"
you glance over from where you’re carefully steaming your blouse, a saint laurent that’s been dry-cleaned more times than you can count.
"the red says 'i own a yacht', but the black says 'i own the company that makes yachts'," you reply.
giggling, she sets the red dress back down to put the black on. "got it."
eunji moves to your side, rifling through your jewelry tray—the bracelet you share, the pearl earrings you got from that flea market but pretend are heirlooms.
grabbing the bracelet, she clasps it around your wrist with practiced ease.
"you wear this tonight. it matches you."
you nod, adjusting the bracelet on your wrist; your good luck charm. meanwhile, she slips into your heels. it’s routine by now, this exchange of identities, this careful curation of the personas you took on.
before heading out, you both step back to inspect each other in the mirror. you take turns doing a spin, making sure no left detail leaves way to reveal yourselves. one wrong move, one slip-up, and the illusion cracks.
word travels fast in this world, everyone is connected; the rich were very particular and serious about the company they keep. and you definitely couldn't afford to be blacklisted, shunned. not when you've come this far.
from the outside, you look like you belong to this world—lounging on fat trust fund bank accounts in tiny bikinis and piña coladas in your hands.
but only you and eunji know the truth; hiding in the tags carefully tucked away, credit card limits stretched thin, and whispered pep talks in hotel rooms like this one.
eunji grins, grabbing her clutch.
"eat the rich, baby."
and with that, you’re out the door, high on adrenaline, walking the thin line between who you are and who the world thinks you are.
fake it till you make it, right?
you never would have imagined faking it would get you invited to one of monaco's most famous fundraisers held for a-class actors celebs and trust fund babies.
the rooftop hums with soft jazz, laughter, and the faint clink of crystal glasses. dim lighting envelops the space, the kind that makes everything feel like a secret.
eunji grins, checking herself in a nearby mirror one last time. "you know, if we pull this off tonight, drinks are on me."
"if we pull this off tonight, drinks are on him." you shoot her a look, nodding to an older man at the bar. she laughs, playfully hitting you.
"i'm gonna be right back." eunji says, pointing to the bathroom.
with a smile and a nod, you make your way over to the bar. sitting down, you order a glass of wine.
you see her before she sees you.
she was elegant, poised, the kind of woman you'd see in old black and white movies. she also took a seat right next to you.
"i'll have what she's having" the woman motions her hands to the bartender, referring to you.
intrigued, you silently sip on your drink.
"i don't believe we've met," she starts, finally addressing you.
"there are many people here," you jest.
"and i know almost every single one of them," she says with a chuckle, one eyebrow raised. "i'm isla. isla montgomery."
as you exchange introductions, she makes small talk. you soon learn about her travels and the two companies she owns.
you don't share much about yourself, and she doesn't pry, either. it seems that she's very fond of herself; which is probably for the best.
feeling a tap on your shoulder, eunji finally graces you with her presence, two eons later.
giving isla an apologetic smile, you excuse yourself. mirroring your smile, she gestures for you to go, assuring you it's no worry.
"who was that?" eunji inquires as you both walk away.
"isla montgomery." you mock with a sarcastic tone and a roll of your eyes, glancing at eunji.
"very fancy," eunji laughs.
spotting a private blackjack table sits slightly apart from the crowd; you and eunji eventually make your way over there.
you watch as men with gold chains and women sprawled across their laps make starting bets with a few months' worth of rent, more or less.
lapping around the table from a distance, you slowly make note of their cards. their movements. their thought processes. you’ve been watching the table for an hour, quietly cataloging every tell, every mistake masked by arrogance and overpriced whiskey.
one guy was doomed the minute he was dealt his hand, a few couldn't bluff to save their lives.
either way; you already knew who would win.
about a half hour later, the result was as you had predicted.
"hey, i'm gonna tap in next round," you inform the croupier.
he nods, preparing your chips.
"what? are you serious?" eunji whisper-yells at you, lightly holding your arm to stop you. "there is no way you can go toe to toe against men who have nothing to lose! you'll be betting on your hard-earned life savings, for god's sake!"
"which is why i won't lose." you affirm.
confidence is everything in your world. it's what got you here in the first place.
"everyone at that table was horseshit. i think i have a fair shot."
"sounds like someone's confident," you hear a presence make itself known behind you.
turning around, your eyes meet the source of the voice.
a chiseled face, every line etched with precision; features carved like stone, softened by the warmth in his eyes.
a tall, well-groomed man who looks only relatively older than you and eunji.
not to mention incredibly sexy. and filthy rich, judging by the sheer amount of body jewelry he's wearing.
he raises a brow and nods his head towards the blackjack table, "think you can take my buddy taehyung?"
you follow his gaze to the blonde—taehyung. you remember him.
slick, confident, a little too eager when he thought no one was paying attention. one of the better ones, but still horseshit.
"how much you wanna bet?"
there’s no pause. no calculation. just the soft clink of his glass against the marble bar as he sets it down and says,
"i'll bet a million on you, golden girl."
the words hang there, heavier than the jazz, sharper than the city lights glittering below.
you blink, processing. you thought he was going to bet on his buddy. that’s how these games work; back your guy, show loyalty, play it safe.
but he’s not playing safe. he’s betting on you.
your pulse kicks up, but you don’t show it. instead, you lean in slightly, your voice low, laced with the same easy confidence he just threw at you.
"a million? you sure you’re not drunk?"
his grin is lazy, but his eyes are razor-sharp. "not drunk. just good at reading people"
you pick up your drink, letting the cool glass ground you, then glance back at taehyung. "let's see what blondie's got."
a million. jesus.
these people really have nothing better to do with their money.
despite your shock, you were just glad you didn't have to bet with your own money.
you move toward the table, every step deliberate, like you’ve already won. in reality, you were just trying to fathom what you got yourself into.
showtime.
you're not supposed to be here. not at this party, not at this table. but here you are, sliding into the empty seat like you own it, your dress catching the light just enough to look expensive. despite your internal panic, you don't fidget. that’s the rule. act like you belong, and no one will question it.
and never, ever show weakness. the lions won't hesitate to pounce.
you play with calm precision, not reckless but with just enough boldness to stir curiosity. you don't count cards, you read people.
betting when others hesitate, folding with a slight smirk like you know more than you let on.
years of quietly observing wealth were being put to the test, at this very moment.
you’re dealt a 9 of hearts and a 6 of spades; that’s 15. not great.
taehyung has a face card showing: an 8 of diamonds. strong position.
you get another card: 5 of clubs. now you’ve got 20—almost perfect.
everyone expects you to stand. it’s the smart move.
but you don’t.
you tap the table. "hit me."
gasps ripple around the table. the dealer hesitates, then deals. 9 of spades. you bust with 29. game over.
taehyung smirks as he plays his hand, thinking you’re reckless. jeongguk watches closely, his interest sharpened.
"guess i was feeling bold," you say, flashing a sheepish smile.
everyone assumes you've made a rookie mistake. they laugh it off, but in that split second, you've done something much more subtle: you've read taeyhung's body language.
he doesn't leave himself open for too long, immediately putting his poker face back on.
but you've already seen it—that tiny flinch in his jaw when you hit on 20. he wouldn’t have risked it. he’s cautious, calculated. but now? now you’ve thrown him off balance.
you've watched him closely, just long enough to notice the tiny flinch when you hit on 20. he doesn’t want to take risks like you did—he’s more cautious—but his pride won’t let him stand back and let you crash and burn. he watches you, and that tiny hesitation is all you need.
so when he faces a similar hand, he hesitates; like you had expected.
your words from earlier echo in his head: "the bold move is the smart move."
the smart move is to stand. but the weight of his friend's million-dollar bet on you lingers in the air, clouding his judgement. he starts to second guess himself.
taehyung knows he can't lose here, not after all the bluster. he should stand, but he feels the weight of the moment. it’s too much.
looking around, he tries to read the room.
taehyung picks up on the tension. if you're confident enough to risk hitting on 20, maybe you know something he doesn’t.
you smile next to him, tilting your head like you've already won.
his ego can't handle it.
and so he taps.
pushing away your chips, you get up. as you rise from your seat, you lean down, voice low enough for only him to hear.
"you play the cards. i play the player."
it hits him right as the dealer flips taehyung’s hidden card. he had 15, just like you did earlier. thinking you were reckless, he copied your moves.
he hit when he should’ve stood—
—and bust.
jeongguk chuckles quietly, not surprised.
"she's good."
you walk back over to him. leaning back against the bar, a slow grin spreads on his face.
"i didn’t bet on you to win the hand. i bet on you to win the game."
and you did.
maybe not the blackjack game, but you won the game.
leaning into his ear, you whisper, "what's a million anyway, right?"
with a soft triumphant smirk, you straighten up and walk away.
Summary: As you travel to unveil secrets, you slowly, surely, find your way back to Jungkook. The final act starts now.
➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader
➳ rating:18+
➳ genre: enemies to lovers, royal!au; angst, fluff, smut
➳ warnings: talks about hook-ups, arguing and fighting, tears, a very bad uncle, (mention of past) minor character death, jk is hurting, tension, misunderstandings, anger, a slap…, revelations; explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, grinding, brief cockwarming, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, teasing, dirty talk, tiddie sucking, he just loves her tatas, slow and rough sex, bits of sub!jk :D and then dom!jk, big dick jk, he comes on her tummyyy, some giggly sex, feelings !!, jk is very vocal, begging, praises, super brief pain kink (?), multiple orgasms. lmk if i forgot something :’)
➳ wc: 34.3k what the actual fck
➳ a/n: here goes the last one. thank you so much for all the love and support, guys. i adore you so much 👑🤍
➳ a/n2: this is part 3 to my mini-series candles & flames !! find the mpost below<3
SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST
MASTERLIST | WIPs
How long have you been sitting on the cushioned seat and forcing your drooping eyelids to remain open now?
i wanna start this off by suggesting you write a book. that is how premium quality your writing is.
this series single-handedly got me through my wisdom tooth extraction. from anxiously waiting at the dentist to now recovery, it truly was a very nice consistent & companion to have by my side; whom i could count on to always to deliver and boost my mood.
coming back to your work has made me forget how breathtaking your style is, the way your words flow and the just-right pacing you always somehow nail.
to add the cherry on top, i would like to finish this off by saying idk if this made me wanna get my ass to work to write better or delete my account altogether because nothing i write can ever compare to your brilliance.
that said, i hope you remain healthy happy and creative so we can (selfishly) continue to get masterpieces written by you such as these. (all jokes, please prioritize the first two above all)
The next two weeks go by quickly. Despite a constant feeling of anticipation for… something, you spend that last Friday very busy at work, not thinking too much about Jeongguk except for whenever your eyes land on the big bouquet of flowers he sent a few days earlier. No matter how frustrating your work and some of your colleagues might be, you have a hard time keeping yourself from smiling when you admire the gift. It fills you with happiness, and although you slept at his place only two nights ago, it makes you long to see him again.
Jeongguk invited you to have a drink with his coworkers after work, but you had to inform him that due to a deadline, you would unfortunately not make it. Instead, you invited him over to your place afterward, at which he smiled and happily accepted.
It’s nine p.m. when there’s a knock on your apartment door. Closing your laptop, you leave it on the kitchen table next to the bottle of wine and two glasses, making your way toward the door. With each step, your heart rate increases until it’s borderline painful and the rough beats set off the butterflies that reside in your stomach.
“Hi,” you greet quietly with a growing smile when you open the door to see him. He’s wearing all black again; a leather jacket and black jeans on the looser side, and grinning endearingly at you with two bags–one of them being take out–in his hand.
“Hi,” he mirrors, stepping inside and right into your awaiting embrace. Resting your arms around his neck and breathing him in, you reflect on how it makes you feel like something's falling into place. He smells a little like beer but mostly of his cologne and fresh air.
Bending down briefly, he puts his free arm under your butt and picks you up, spinning you around to the sound of your happy laughter before carefully setting you down again.
“Are you hungry? I brought the Chinese.”
“Maybe I changed my mind? I’m thinking I might rather have some Korean, actually,” you grin up at him, giving him a final tight squeeze before dropping your arms from around his neck.
He puts the bags down to remove his jacket and shoes, exposing a black oversized t-shirt. “I think that’s illegal.”
“Worth it,” you shrug, watching him scrunch his nose cutely at you.
Having been to your apartment a few times already, Jeongguk easily finds his way to your kitchen where he places the Chinese on the counter, having left the other bag–probably containing his last personal things from work–in the hallway.
Which reminds you, “So how was it? Your last day?”
“Good, although a little bittersweet,” he shares, his voice still nothing but casual.
You go to stand behind him, lifting your hand to stroke his back briefly. It’s incredible how firm he is, the loose t-shirt not hiding his muscular physique in the slightest.
“This is for sure the sweetest part of it,” he continues, making a show of turning around and stalking toward you, slowly walking you backward toward a corner of your kitchen. He’s smiling deviously, and goosebumps line your arms as you look up at him inches away.
“We should eat,” you inform, knowing that if you give in now, the food will go cold, and you’ll be too tired to heat it up later.
“Mhm,” he hums but shows no intention of moving; in fact, his dark eyes are staring down at your lips intensely.
“The food, Jeongguk. Not me,” you scold playfully.
He licks his lips, still focusing wholeheartedly on your mouth as if it’s calling to him. “Why not both?”
“We’ll see. If you’re good, then maybe,” you tease, following up by biting your bottom lip slowly.
“You’re actually so mean to me,” he complains, stepping back with a dramatic pout.
It makes you laugh, and your heart beats with fondness.
While Jeongguk prepares the food, he gives you the job of finding something to watch in your living room. When zapping through streaming services doesn’t return anything promising, you settle for something pretty interesting on Youtube instead.
“Wanna learn about giant historical sharks?” you ask when you hear footsteps approaching.
“Uh,” Jeongguk appears, looking a little confused, two bowls in his hands. But a grin quickly spreads across his lips when his eyes land on the paused documentary title on the screen. “Sure! You know, I get that Megalodons technically don’t exist anymore, but part of me kinda wishes they did. How cool wouldn’t that be?”
“I’d never, ever set foot in any body of water if that were the case, though,” you argue, definitely a hundred percent sure you don’t wish for the monstrous sharks to still be swimming in the dark depths.
For the next minute, Jeongguk’s eyes sparkle as he tries to convince you of just how amazing it would be, rattling off reasons with a passion that almost makes you reconsider. As you listen, you can’t help but think about how easy it still is to talk to him, how natural it feels. Not much has changed in that regard, even from when you were just… coworkers? Friends? Whatever it was, that same comfortable ease lingers.
He sits relaxed, munching on his food with his full attention on the TV and your shared commentary. Like always when you’re with him, you have the best of times, and you feel so incredibly full of… satisfaction.
As soon as the bowls stand empty on the table but the documentary still has an hour to go, you start to gravitate toward each other, just like you always did at work. These days, however—when he actually has your permission—Jeongguk is a lot touchier.
You feel right at home in his sturdy arms, his hands sweetly rubbing what parts of your arms, legs or back that are comfortably in reach as the documentary heads toward its finale, both of you watching attentively.
When the screen turns to black, you stretch before slowly standing up, and with the bowls in hand, head into the kitchen. Jeongguk mumbles something about the bathroom, and so you part ways.
Due to your own previous laziness, the dishwasher is still occupied by a load of clean dishes, and so with a small sigh, you place the dirty bowls in the sink to start emptying the machine first.
At first, you don’t think too much about it, but after a few minutes, say closer to ten than five, you start to wonder if it isn’t almost… suspiciously quiet? But you don’t have time to ponder too much before you feel an almost… looming presence behind you.
His warm breath against your ear and the feeling of his radiating body heat against your back bring memories of that last night before you walked away. For a few seconds, you stand there like that; you with a clean glass in each hand, and Jeongguk behind you, his body barely touching yours. Until he reaches around, grabbing the glasses from your hands to put them on the counter before grasping your wrists. Surprise fills you as he then pulls them behind your back, until you hear his voice.
”You’re under arrest,” he declares, and something cold and metallic clinks around your wrists.
You blink, turning your head to see that he’s dressed in a black, suspiciously familiar outfit, smiling deviously again. Lost for words, you take a moment to admire him–at least what you can actually see from your limited point of view–your heart skipping what feels like multiple beats.
He knows just as well as you do that you can’t resist him when he’s wearing a cap, his black hair pushed away from his face and exposing all of his black, very defined eyebrows, his forehead, and his eyes. It just brings a whole other dimension to his face, and he might honestly be the most handsome man to ever walk the earth. Additionally, you're well aware of the fact that the cap doesn't come alone.
”Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law,” he informs, letting his face take on a more stern expression.
”Uh, what? Why?” You ask from over your shoulder. “I haven’t done anything?”
”Oh, you absolutely have,” he scoffs. “You’re under arrest for the corruption of a good and honest man.”
You try not to let your growing smile show too much, but it’s definitely hard, especially as he continues.
“It’s absolutely vile what you’ve done to the poor man, making him unable to think about anything else other than you, essentially ruining his life.”
”I swear, officer, I’m innocent. You must have me confused with someone else.”
”I don’t think so. I recognize a vixen when I see one,” he explains, and you feel him pressing himself just a little closer. “The world will be a safer place for all the good men out there with you finally in custody.”
”Well… I demand a fair trial,” you argue because roleplaying or not, you’re not going down without a fight.
”I’ll be as fair to you as you’ve been to your victim.”
Contemplating tactics, you soon settle on one you’ve seen attempted before but hoping for a slightly different outcome. So with your hands cuffed behind your back, you start to feel for him, tracing your fingers as best you can over the seam of his pants and discovering that he’s rock hard under your fingers already. You guess the thought of surprising you with the outfit really turned him on.
“Officer, please, I didn’t mean to,” you plead, your voice sultry as you play along, doing your best to pull down the zipper of his pants. At least he’s not wearing a belt.
“You should’ve thought about that before you went and ruined someone’s life,” he steps even closer, pressing himself flush against you to make it easier for you to reach the waistband of his boxers. “How do you think that poor man is feeling? Huh? Going crazy when you’re not around? Dreaming of you and your touch?”
Heart beating quickly at his words, you try not to let him see just how he’s successfully melting you in a weirdly romantic way. Instead, you trace the elastic band, managing to dip a few fingers underneath. But then... nothing. You retract your hands, holding them motionless behind you and acting oblivious.
When a few seconds pass without you doing anything, you hear Jeongguk scoff, “Oh, you little tease. You don’t want to pay for your crimes?”
He pushes against you so that your hips are pressed against the counter, holding your hands a little higher behind your back to give him room to rub himself against your ass.
“This isn’t ethical, officer.”
Surprising you, he stops, and you can practically feel the air shift. He holds your cuffed wrists with one hand, lifting the other to gently push a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Reminds me. You’re into this, right?”
”I mean, I’m innocent?” you joke. “But yeah, I am.”
He chuckles, “Good, okay. I’m not… You know this–the power play–is pretty much as far as it gets, but we’ll use the traffic light system anyway, alright?”
”Mhm,” you confirm, but there’s one more thing on your mind. ”What are your limits?”
For a second, his hand stills in your hair. “None. At least within the somewhat normal realm.”
“But isn't there anything you just don’t… like?”
There’s a silence, one that starts to worry you the longer it lasts. You know you’ve asked before, but you don’t quite buy his previous answer. There has to be something he’s not into.
“Is there… something that I’ve done already?”
“No, no,” he’s quick to explain, “It’s just something that… it’s not that important. I don’t mind too much if it happens to be something you’re into.”
“Jeongguk… tell me, please.”
“Fine,” he relents. “But I’m telling you, it’s not that big of a deal. I… just don’t like to be degraded. Playful banter is okay; I like that, but being called worthless and such in a serious tone, I don’t like that.”
Your heart clenches at his words, and you wonder if he’s ever felt like he needed to put up with things because he’s a man and men are supposed to not care?
“I don’t want that, either,” you assure softly. “I want it to be playful and sweet, always. I already trust you to only do what you think I’m comfortable with, but I also want to trust you to only let me do what you’re comfortable with.”
“Okay,” he agrees just as softly.
“Okay,” you repeat. “Uncuff me for a second, please?”
It doesn’t take very long before you feel his hands twist the small key inside the cuffs. You don’t wait for him to unlock both sides; as soon as your left hand is released, you turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck.
He’s so, so pretty to you. So strong and so powerful but also so good. So funny and so sweet, making your life warmer and better just by existing in it. You haven’t seen this vulnerable side of him too often, but you’re thinking it’s mostly because the circumstances haven’t put you in these kinds of situations a lot yet.
“I love you,” you smile.
His round eyes widen subtly, but you don’t miss it. And you don’t feel scared.
Then, as he’s truly processed what you just said, he’s smiling widely, pulling you closer by your waist.
“I love you more,” he grins before he lets his eyes narrow playfully, ‘realizing’ something. “Almost suspiciously much. Which reminds me… What you’ve done isn’t exactly ethical either, and you need to pay for your crimes one way or another.”
Before you have time to think too much about how he lets a little too much happiness shine through at the end, he’s picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder, making you shriek in surprise.
Laughing, you don’t put up much of a fight as he heads into your bedroom, gently placing you down to sit on the edge of the bed. It’s at that moment, when he comes to stand before you, that you get your first real good look at all of him. Besides the black cap with white lettering on it, he’s got the black outfit from top to bottom, and the sleeves rolled up to right below his elbows, exposing all the veins and tattoos. To say that he looks mouth watering just isn’t enough, and you can’t quite decide if the cocky smirk he’s wearing only adds to it, or if it mostly makes you want to make him lose it.
Taking another step, he lifts his hand to gently grab your jaw, still gazing down at you with that smirk. But even then, you can clearly discern the warmth exuding him; the happiness and excitement pooling in his round eyes. His gaze softens further as he looks at you. Until he seemingly… ‘realizes’ something again.
“Oh, no, no,” he tuts, “You think you can use your little tricks on me too? Seduce the law?”
It’s the way he says it that has a chuckle—almost a snort—slipping out of you.
”Something funny, miss?”
”As a matter of fact—“
”—Don’t care. I can tell you’re trying to corrupt me too,” he interrupts, his eyes narrowing as he ‘contemplates.' “Because why would I have this… this urge… to have you sit on my face, when in reality, I should be stuffing your mouth?”
He puts his thumb to your bottom lip as he ponders. Naturally, you take it into your mouth while still meeting his eyes. He watches you intently as you lick around it before sucking softly.
”Oh, you little…”
Surprising you, he pushes you down onto the bed, and while you’re still bouncing, rolls you over onto your stomach. You try your best not to laugh.
Before you can convince him to leave you uncuffed, he reaches for the silver cuffs still dangling from your one wrist and closes them around the other.
“I’m innocent, though, I promise.”
“Actually, I know you’re not. Maybe I should stuff your mouth? All you do is lie, and you did seem rather… enthusiastic about having something in there.”
In a swift motion, he lifts you up into a sitting position by your upper arms, then comes to stand in front of you, smirking down at you once more.
Doing your best to get your plan in motion, you bat your eyelashes at him. “Will you uncuff me, then, officer? I’m really innocent, I swear, but regardless… You’re too big, and I’ll need both of my hands to make it good for you.”
He contemplates. Have you give him a sloppy blowjob or really, really work his cock in the way you’re so good at? Seems to be a difficult choice.
”Hmm, okay, fine,” he finally hums, reaching around to uncuff you again, “But you’re not innocent.”
Your left hand is freed and then your right, and you take note of the way Jeongguk tosses the cuffs onto the bed slightly to your right. Then he straightens up and waits.
In turn, you place your hands on his thighs, slowly working them up until you can rub him over his pants. Like clockwork, his breathing quickens marginally, a detail that always makes your mouth water.
“God, you’re so big,” you say as you trace the outline of his cock, trying not to break character at the very porn-coded lines. “And hard.”
Jeongguk notices your struggle, rolling his eyes playfully and having to do his best to stay somewhat in character when you take him out of his pants and immediately kiss his shaft.
It’s definitely true though; he’s very big and very hard, but of course, it’s not a surprise to you at this point.
Licking a wide stripe along the underside, you use one hand to hold him still while the other lowers to gently massage his balls. It’s very obvious when you glance up at his face that he’s trying to stay quiet; his lip bitten and his eyes shut. He’s always been very responsive to the slightest stimuli, which logically shouldn’t have made him the greatest porn star, should it?
He loosens up a tad when you take him into your mouth, and you get to work on your plan, working your hands and mouth over him in the same kind of slow rhythm you used to jerk him off to at work. You swallow around him once, twice, before returning to your tried and tested pace. Like you expected, he soon lets out a big, distracted breath, and you take the opportunity to reach for the handcuffs on the bed.
Before he can really understand what’s happening, you reach for his wrists and somehow, you manage to cuff them together behind his back, his dick having fallen out of your mouth, bobbing and covered in your glistening saliva.
”Oh would you look at that, officer?” You say, rising to your feet and pushing him back on the bed instead. It kind of surprises you when he falls back onto the mattress because what are the odds of you actually succeeding with your plan when your opponent is so much bigger and stronger than you are?
”Sit on my face,” he groans, looking desperate where he lies on the bed, his hands locked behind his back.
It makes you chuckle, and you won’t deny that it’s definitely tempting. You’ve never sat on his face like that, and while you know it would be an experience, you have other plans in mind. “No.”
Instead, you straddle his lap, giving his cock a few jerks before moving your hands to his black, long-sleeved uniform shirt. One after the other, you unbutton the buttons, until his naked chest is there for you to stare at.
”Should I leave you here?” you wonder, placing your index finger right at his sternum and dragging your nail down slowly down the middle of his chest, hard enough to leave a little pale line but not hard enough to hurt. “Make a run for it?”
Realizing what you’re referring to, he’s very quick to give you his opinion. “No.”
”Mhm, okay. Well, what should I do with you, then? It’s not every day you have an officer at your mercy like this. Especially not one like you.”
“Sit on my face or let me fuck you,” he offers, grinning.
“You want me that badly?”
“Yeah. You’ve infiltrated my brain, and all I want is to fuck you. First on my tongue and then on my cock.”
“Hmm. Okay,” you accept, watching him light up in a way that would be cute if it wasn’t so vulgar. Maybe it’s still cute. “You can use your mouth. But no hands.”
“What? But I need to fuck you on my fingers too?”
“You didn’t specify.”
He huffs, and you laugh, letting yourself fall off him and onto the mattress, right beside him. With quick fingers, you unbutton your jeans and pull them down your legs, making sure to leave your thong on.
“Go ahead,” you say as you lift your t-shirt over your head, tossing it onto your floor and then your bra too.
Despite being cuffed with his hands behind his back, Jeongguk sits up easily, moving to the right position between your legs without much trouble.
“Do I take them off?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at your panties.
“If you can?” you reply, spreading your legs wider for him and watching his gaze fall from your face.
“If I can?”
You don’t answer his cocky repetition of your words; you just smile teasingly at him as he lowers his face and begins step one of his mission. It’s entertaining to say the least, watching him knock his cap off in the process of trying to be suave and pull your black lace panties down by his teeth. He does well, but it’s definitely fun to see him struggle at least a little bit, his frustration growing just slightly, and his well-defined muscles working to keep him in position without the use of his hands.
Eventually, he succeeds, and you help him by pulling the panties down the last stretch of your legs, throwing them onto your floor as well.
Half a second later, Jeongguk is already burying his face in your cunt, licking roughly at your clit as if to punish you.
“Fuck,” you breathe, throwing your head back at the intense feeling. He’s got every nerve in your body on fire, and it’s so intense that your hips move, trying to get away.
“Stay still,” he breaks away to complain, granting you a temporary calm.
“I literally can’t. Not when you’re doing it like that, crazy,” you say, already sounding out of breath.
“Let me use my hands. It’ll be better for you, trust me.”
”You think I’ll fall for the same trick I pulled on you?” you laugh.
He whines. ”But this is hard. I want to hold you down.”
You grin at him, ”Tough luck.” But you do still reach for one of your thickest pillows to place under your hips and elevate your butt, making it easier for him.
”I guess I’m just another victim of yours,” he states with a ‘sad’ shrug. The theatrics have you laughing, something abruptly interrupted when he leans down to lick straight at your clit.
“Oh, fuck,” you curse, instinctively reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair.
This time, he takes on a slightly different approach, slowing his pace down. When the sensations are less overwhelming for you, you don’t move around as much, making it easier for him to eat you out. Which he does, not stopping for a second until you’re mewling his name over and over.
He only lifts his face from your sensitive core when you’re on the way down again, your eyes shut as you try to regain your breath. However, the calm doesn’t last very long, and your eyes fly open when you suddenly feel something big pressing against your cunt.
His eyes meet yours, and you think the vision presented in front of you might actually kill you. Jeongguk is so hot, sitting between your legs, his hands cuffed behind his back, slowly, slowly trying to push in and seeing if you’ll stop him.
“Don’t break it,” you warn. The truth is that it’s always a bit of a tight fit at the start, and that’s after he’s fingered you open.
“I won’t,” he promises. “I just wish I could use my hands.”
You grin when his cock slips sideways a few times. Like always, you’re wet as fuck, but it might just not work without someone guiding it in.
“Uncuff me, please.”
It’s not that you think he’s actually upset, but you’d rather be safe than sorry. “Color?”
He shuts his eyes in mild exasperation. “Green.”
You consider his plea, settling on a compromise. “Tell you what. Since you’ve been a good boy for me, I’ll cuff your hands in front instead?”
He nods eagerly, but you think you see a trace of something… else there too. “Can you take off my shirt as well?”
You sit up, narrowing your eyes at him in warning. “Don’t try anything, officer. You’ll regret it if you do.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
Despite his sweet words and even sweeter eyes, he does try something. You collect the key to the handcuffs from the pocket of his pants, but before you uncuff him, you move around to his back, pulling his shirt down his shoulders. When the cuff falls from his right wrist, he tries to pull it free from your hold altogether, but soon finds that he can’t. Because it’s stuck inside the sleeve of his shirt, which you buttoned as tightly as you could around his wrists. In fact, you buttoned both sleeves around their respective wrists.
With both hands essentially cuffed by his shirt, he realizes that there’s not much he can do. Perhaps if he was standing on solid ground with his hands in front of him, but not while he’s on his knees on your bouncy bed with his hands still tied (loosely) behind his back.
You chuckle, hugging him from behind and kissing his shoulder, “You think I’m dumb or just naive?”
He huffs, and you continue to laugh as you help him move his arms over his head, bringing them to the front where you re-cuff him and remove the shirt.
“Aw, babe, don’t be sad. I’ll let you fuck me? Should we take off your pants as well?”
In an instant, his mood changes, and he nods eagerly. You help him out of the black cargo pants as well before he follows your lead, getting into position once more. With the thick pillow under your butt again, you spread your legs in front of him, inviting him in. This time, he doesn’t spare a second, plunging his fingers into you a few times before guiding his cock inside you.
"Fuck," you curse, holding onto his strong, veiny arms.
Although you’re dripping wet, and he’s rock hard, it’s still very much a tight fit.
“Have I corrupted you?” you ask, biting your lip briefly as he continues to push inside slowly but firmly. “Since you’re so eager to fuck me?”
“Yes,” he groans as he bottoms out. “Thinking about being balls deep inside you all the time.”
“Fuck me good then, officer.”
“Oh, believe me, I will.”
But to Jeongguk’s surprise (and despair), you reach for the small silver chain that holds the cuffs together, and you pull on it, enjoying the way his balance being slightly thrown off makes him struggle a little. Even more, you’re enjoying the way he’s using all of his core muscles right in front of you. And of course, the way his cock feels inside you as he tries to pick up the pace. Because no matter how much you try to mess with him, he always feels so good. His touch makes your skin heat up, his playful gaze has your heart fluttering, and his scent makes you absolutely crazy. The way he's so eager to fuck you makes you feel like the sexiest woman on earth.
”Come on, you can do better,” you taunt him sweetly. “This is a little weak, huh? A little slow?” You tease, even though your insides are repeatedly hit with pleasure, and you’re biting down a high-pitched moan containing his name.
Then you remember your earlier conversation, immediately trying to gather your thoughts. “This is okay, right? I’m not too mean to you?”
He looks at your worried face and grins sweetly. “No, you’re fine. It’s frustrating, but God, I fucking love it.”
“Good, because th—that’s what you get for trying to trick me,” you smile, pulling on the cuffs again, a little harder this time.
He loses his balance temporarily and narrowly avoids falling on top of you.
“Thought the… officer was going to punish me for—for something, but I’m not sure he’s ever fucked anyone?” you ponder loudly, voice a little strained and breathing a little too heavily for simply laying there and taking it.
“Oh, that’s it,” Jeongguk exclaims and somehow, he pulls back on his wrists, forcing you up and into a sitting position and lifting his cuffed hands above your head, caging you within his arms. He manages to turn you over, and then, you’re trapped. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your voice, nearly squeaking with every harsh thrust, sound throughout the apartment as he sets his preferred, brutal pace.
”Color?” He asks in between breaths, right by your ear.
”Green, fuck.”
You wonder how it seems like you always end up in this situation, but are you really complaining? No, you're definitely not. In order to quiet yourself at least a tad, you place your mouth to whatever parts of his skin that you can reach. At first, it’s his arms, tightly holding you around your chest and shoulders, and then, as he lifts you off the bed and turns you around, pressing your back against the bedroom wall and bouncing you on his cock, it’s his neck that’s closest in reach. He's warm, and he's sweaty, and he makes you feel like no one has before.
“I hope this will deter you from trying to seduce another good man,” Jeongguk warns, breathing heavily as he puts you back down and with his arms still locked around you, turns you around to enter you from behind.
You lean against the wall, barely enough brain power left to construct a sentence, but you do your best anyway, feeling the high approaching as Jeongguk picks his pace back up.
“Depends. I have this-this one man… that I… Is it okay if I... stay with someone I’ve already corrupted?”
“No more–no more victims?”
“No more victims.”
“Yeah," he grunts, "I guess that’s okay.”
“Good–fuck, Jeongguk, I’m gonna–”
“Me too,” he grunts, and not long after, you feel how something snaps inside you, and pleasure washes over you.
He holds out a little longer, his thrusts slowly quickening, but only allowing himself to empty inside you when you urge him to. It's such an intimate moment when he finally stills behind you, his arms pulling your torso up, and his hot and heavy breaths warming your neck.
You stand there for a moment, in his sweaty embrace, trying to catch your breath as well. Then you turn to face him, his dick slipping out of you. You know you’ve made a mess, but at the moment, you can’t do anything but stare up at him.
“Will you uncuff me?” he finally asks, and you nod, ducking under his arms to search for the key.
When you find it, you make quick work of the cuffs, and the moment they fall to the floor, Jeongguk picks you up.
The action has you laughing as always, and he carries you to the bathroom, smiling at your happy laughter.
“You go first, and I’ll clean up in the meantime.”
You’re spent. Not only did you have a long day at work, but to then get fucked six ways to Sunday? Too tired to think about drying it before bed, you don’t wash your hair, but you definitely scrub your body clean of both his and your sweat and other bodily fluids.
When you step out of the bathroom, dressed in only a towel, Jeongguk is still naked and in the process of changing the sheets. You smile, letting your satisfied eyes travel over his skin.
“Your turn.”
He looks up and grins in that sweet and happy way at you.
“I’ll be done soon,” he assures, reaching for a pillow case out of the six matching ones he’s pulled from the top shelf in your closet.
You approach the closet doors, yourself, opening them to scavenge for something to wear for the night. “I can finish up,” you tell him from over your shoulder.
“Alright.”
Settling on a large, black t-shirt with a washed-out band print and some gray shorts, it takes you approximately ten seconds to change, and when you’re dressed, you pick up where Jeongguk left off, putting the pillows into the clean pillow cases.
If you had to guess, Jeongguk’s shower lasts a whole five minutes, and after another two, you hear the bathroom door open. By then, you’ve already cuddled up to the clean sheets and the fluffy, fresh-smelling pillows, your eyes starting to droop.
“So, uh… care to explain these?”
You lift your gaze, focusing it on the half-naked man entering the room, only a towel around his waist. Your face takes on a very amused expression, and a small laugh escapes you, watching him gesture to his very muscular chest and neck area.
“I tried counting them,” he starts, looking down at the dark pinkish hickeys that cover his skin. There are three on his right bicep, maybe four on his upper chest, and then a few on his neck and shoulders.
“But you can’t count that far?” you tease.
He chuckles. “Exactly. I made it to ten.”
You watch as he rummages through one of the drawers in your closet, the one you’ve already given him to fill with his clothes just like he’s given you a part of his closet. He puts on some boxers, and then he takes his towel, as well as the one you left at the foot of the bed while the bathroom was occupied, and he leaves to throw them in the hamper.
When he returns, still with an amused look on his face, you lift the duvet to invite him into the warmth, an invitation he gladly accepts. He gets in between your legs, placing one arm on either side of you, and you wrap both of yours around his neck, your fingers softly playing with his hair.
“So?” he urges, reminding you that you never answered his question, although you’re pretty sure he already knows the answer.
“You’re mine now. All mine, only mine,” you explain and it’s truly disgusting how head over heels in love you sound. “I wasn’t allowed to leave any marks before, but now I can.”
“Finally, right? Although I’m sure people will wonder if I’ve actually quit or not,” he smirks.
“Hmm. I think that if they know you well enough, then they’ll realize.”
Realize that he's got someone so happy, now that he only belongs to them, that they can't help but express it.
Letting your eyes travel over the skin you can see, you’re pretty sure others–if allowed to see more than the three bruises on his neck–can understand the story behind the marks. You’ve wanted him for so long, and now he’s finally yours to love. All yours.
Releasing a deep and tired sigh, Jeongguk rests all of his body weight on you. It doesn’t bother you, and you decide to run your fingers through his hair and over his naked back for a while. You don’t think you’ve ever been this happy, and it definitely wasn’t an outcome you ever dared to even wish for.
“This is the best part,” he mumbles into your neck after a while, and your already happy heart fills even further with love.
“Of what? Of sex?”
“Of everything.”
You hug him tighter against your body. “You know what? I think I agree.”
“Also, what are the stats? I think I won again so that would make it like… eight-zero to me.”
“Uh, you did not win,” you argue, releasing your tight hold on him to continue drawing patterns with your nails on his back. “I had you under control far longer. Also, you weren’t even in control that last bit because I literally let you fuck me.”
“No, I clearly won. All that matters is who came out on top and that’s always me.”
“Yeah, because I like to rile you up. You’re a man, you’re built to thrust, so it’s not weird that you fuck me better than I fuck you if you wanna get technical. You’re also way more experienced than I am, so you have the skill. But it’s all about intention. I let you because I know it’s the nicest for both of us. That makes me the winner.”
“No, I know I won. And next time, I’ll make it even clearer. Also, you ride me like absolutely no one, I don’t wanna hear you claim anything else.”
“You always say that,” you comment the first half of his statement, ego boosted from the second.
"Yeah, but this time I mean it. Also, I brought a bunch of costumes, so I'm thinking firefighter next time? Teaching an irresponsible woman a lesson?"
You feel your cheeks almost hurt from smiling, and you can’t help but think back to when you saw him in the firefighter outfit. He looked absolutely incredible, but you’re also reminded of how much it hurt to not have him around. Truly, having him is what matters; the steamy and fun sex is just an added bonus.
"Or... Hot woman sets something on fire to get the firefighters to come, tying one of them up and having her way with him?"
He hums. "But at the end, he breaks free and overpowers her, and she learns that setting something on fire on purpose is a bad idea, and even if you think a fire is ‘controlled,’ it can still be dangerous."
You nearly laugh out loud at his surprisingly realistic reasoning.
"Hm, I don't think so, and I literally don't think you'll be able to break free unless I let you."
That's definitely a lie, and you feel a chill run down your spine just as much as you feel the butterflies when he speaks again.
summary: there is a custom in turkey of adding salt instead of sugar to the coffee of the suitor who visits your home to ask for your hand.
imagine jeongguk's surprise when he takes a sip of the coffee his soon-to-be-dear-wife made him, to be met with.. salt?
or
what is a little salt in return for marrying the love of your life?
pairing: jeongguk x reader (interethnic rs)
content: korean boyfriend visits your home to ask for your hand in marriage, requesting a place in your very turkish family. sickeningly cute, i love this sm.
warnings: cursing, mentions of sex
wc: 1k
a/n: hope y'all don't get sick of me.. i finally finished exams and i love writing little drabbles like these ㅠㅠ enjoy!
you can hardly believe it; you’re buzzing with nerves. tonight, your boyfriend is finally meeting your parents to ask for your hand in marriage.
it feels surreal, you never thought you'd see the day. on jeongguk time, one day is an entire year. after four (and very rewarding, of course,) years of dating, this is nothing short of a miracle.
you can't say it's been easy. dating someone outside of your culture has been.. a whirlwind, to say the least. some jokes would get lost in translation, traditions needed to be learned, mannerisms getting used to..
but it didn't matter when it came to jeongguk. nothing mattered when it came to him. you were willing to learn the entire history of korea, if need be. he wouldn't even have to ask you to, the very prospect of being able to understand him wholly burned you blue. you knew there was only so much you can learn about a person outside of their culture, their heritage, their roots.. you wanted to know him inside out.
in fact, you would crawl into his skin if physically possible. but that's besides the point.
as for your parents, they were on the fence at first, but they came around. you knew they were only looking out for you; in the best way they knew how to.
when you hear the doorbell ring, you jolt. seated on your vanity chair, you take one last look at your reflection.
your hair is done up, simple makeup enhancing your features and beautiful jewelry adorning your body.
and of course, the star of the show, your dress.
you wear a satin maxi dress, elegant and timeless.
here goes nothing.
walking out your bedroom door, you spot your father motioning jeongguk inside your living room.
your boy looked dashing. you didn't think it possible for a human being to look so other-wordly; it's like he gets better looking every time you see him.
all done up in a black turtleneck and slacks, he was dressed to the nines and ready to impress.
your heart melts. he knew how important this was, and you had no doubt he wanted to do his absolute best for you.
you and jeongguk knew everything about eachother. there was simply no room for secrets in your relationship; you knew him like the back of your hand.
there is one thing you haven't told him, though.
a certain.. custom in turkey.
you add salt instead of sugar to the coffee of the suitor who visits your home to ask for your hand. it's a custom that's been carried on for centuries, the bride-to-be and her parents being in on it.
the act of drinking the salted-coffee demonstrates the groom’s patience, tolerance, and willingness to endure challenges in the marriage.
failing to drink the coffee or reacting negatively however, might be seen as a lack of patience or commitment. the bride’s family could take note of his reaction as a sign of his personality, or how he might handle challenges in marriage.
you would be lying if you said you weren't a little worried. your parents were a wild card.
so when you get up to obey your father when he tells you to make them coffee, you brace yourself.
buzzing with anticipation, you prepare 4 cups of coffee.
sugar, sugar, sugar, salt.
you just hope he doesn't get mad. oh god, what if he spits it out in front of your parents? that'll be a hard one to come back from. you're not as fickle, but your dad will surely lose all respect for him.
slowly coming out of the kitchen, tray in hand, you walk back over to the living room.
you lean to place the tray down, locking eyes with jeongguk, who sits right in front of you.
"thank you, love," he coos with adoration, immediately getting up to take the tray from your hands and help you set it down.
you smile lovingly in return, taking your seat on the opposite site.
and you watch in anticipation.
a few minutes pass, and nothing happens. you breathe in, out.
jeongguk makes small talk with your mother, slowly bringing the small porcelain cup to his lips. finally, show time.
he takes a sip.
gaze catching yours; he stares directly at you.
one second, two seconds pass..
and then he gulps.
tight smile plastered across his face, he shifts his focus back to your mother, picking up their conversation. as if nothing happened.
did he just..
in awe, you keep watching him. surely he has to give some sort of reaction? you wouldn't blame him; god knows you would have thrown up had it been you!
but nothing.
minute after the next, he drinks more and more, finally finishing his cup and placing it on the coffee table in front of you.
no more tricks up your sleeve, you finally focus on the conversation unfolding in front of you.
and the night went on.
"it was so nice meeting you, mom and dad. i look forward to planning the engagement," jeongguk says, the evening finally coming to end.
he continues, "and thank you darling, for the delicious coffee. bless your delicate hands."
with a subtle smirk only you notice, he takes a hold of your hand and brings it up to his lips, to kiss.
"you look beautiful, by the way," he whispers in your ear.
your parents bid him goodbye, closing the door after him.
"i'm impressed," your dad starts. "i didn't think korean boy had it in him, to be honest with you," he says with an amused chuckle.
"you've gotta give it to the kid. when i tried that with your father, the poor guy's face turned beet red! killed us all of laughter," your mother adds, reminiscing. "a real catch you got there."
"come on now, it wasn't that bad.." your dad says with a roll of his eyes, huffing in disbelief.
"you pushed that cup so far away from you it almost fell off the coffee table! yeah, right."
as your parents bicker back and forth, you retreat to your room with a besotted smile. you can't believe he did it either.
you are sooooooooooo going to fuck his brains out.
summary: your best friend, jeongguk, has only ever dated boys. unbeknownst to you, (he was also into girls).
pairing: jeongguk x fem reader
content: best friends to lovers, sexual tension, fluff, reader is a little absentminded, jk is a damn tease
warnings: cursing, (it gets steamy)
wc: 2k
you and jeongguk have been friends for the past seven years.
jeongguk has only ever dated boys.
does that a gay man make? no! of course not, you knew this. it is the big year of 2025 after all. sexuality is a spectrum; and you were never one to judge.
leaning in, jeongguk brushes his lips against yours.
and that's how you ended up kissing your very gay best friend.
or, not? i guess?
you don't know if it was because he was your best friend; instantly crossed off as a potential lover in your mind anyway, or because he was always sporting a new shiny boy toy every couple of weeks. or the crop tops he wore all throughout high school. or the sexy fireman posters plastered all over his dorm room walls in college! either way; you never would have expected to end up bent over on his couch on a random tuesday afternoon.
but one thing is for sure.
you were stupid.
oh so very stupid.
you're probably wondering how you got here.
well, let me walk you through it.
it all started with an incident that happened a few months ago.
your best friend, jeongguk, was on your bed, ranting to you about his new fling.
"i can't believe i ever thought jimin and i could work," he complains.
grabbing the hem of your blouse, you lift it up and off your body, tossing it across your room.
left in your black lacy bra, you scour your closet for something to wear.
a minute or so passes, and you finally notice the silence that falls upon the room. you turn around to find him visibly preoccupied, going through his phone.
"you were saying..?" you tap his shoulder.
clearing his throat he continues, maintaining eye contact with his phone, "i just don't think he's the one for me. he's too.. flaky?"
you've always found it adorable how jeongguk got shy at times like these. it's been seven years and he has remained ever the gentleman, never taking advantage of your friendship or abusing the amount of trust you put in him. you never had reason to doubt him anyway, it's not like you were exactly his... type, per se.
"i agree, babe. you deserve way better than that," you say, returning to the agonizing task at hand; finding an outfit amidst the chaos that is your closet.
finally picking one out, you hold up the hangers against your body, standing in front of your full length mirror to see how it would look on you.
"what do you think of this?" you ask, lost in thought.
"your black skirt would go along better," jeongguk mumbles from your bed.
"right? i thought so too." putting the hangers down, you bend over to grab said skirt from your bottom drawer.
from an outside perspective, one could consider you shameless.
from jeongguk's perspective, he found you amusing.
and from your perspective.. well, the most complicated thought in your mind right now was putting together a damn outfit.
an hour later, you and jeongguk sit at your table eating the brunch he cooked you, catching up on your busy lives; as was your routine together.
"and this girl i was fooling around with at the time-"
your brain short circuits.
"come again?"
"what?"
"sorry, i thought you said girl." you say with a dismissive laugh, "imagine that."
"i did." he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows and an amused smile.
the entirety of your coffee is wasted in your spit take.
you wish you were exaggerating.
cleaning up the mess you made on the table, you backtrack.
"you like girls???"
"..yes?"
looking at him suspiciously, you scramble to find your words. you didn't want to offend him, but he had caught you very off guard.
"did you think i was gay?" he asks, with a raise of his eyebrows, fully dumbfounded this time.
"i've just.. you've always.. i've only ever seen you with guys?"
"well yeah, those are just the ones i've encountered, i guess."
"you're telling me we've been friends for the past seven years, and i'm just finding this out now?"
"damn. when you put it that way, you sound like a real bad friend, you know," he says with a chuckle, casually gulping down the rest of his coffee.
with a small smirk and a tilt of his head, he gets up and walks up to you. "don't worry, you're still not my type." he whispers in your ear.
"if you need me, i'll be with the community dick!" he yells out as he walks away, taking your dignity and your pride with him; the last of it escaping with the final click of your apartment door.
"god how stupid am i?" you complain, rather dramatically, to your other best friend, hoseok. "i mean, how could i just blatantly assume he was gay? what if i made him uncomfortable before and he never told me? i'm a terrible friend!" flailing your arms, you ignore the dirty looks from onlookers passing by.
"i'm sure if you had made him uncomfortable, he would have told you. this is jeongguk we're talking about? are you trying to tell me he has any sort of filter?" he jokes, trying to cheer you up.
repeatedly bumping your head into the wall in front you, you surrender to the sea of embarrassment you found yourself drowning in.
"you should have seen my face. as if i wasn't stupid enough already, i made things awkward and rethought every interaction we've ever had, like, right in front of him. you could literally see the gears turning in my brain. i probably looked like a bloated pufferfish blowing bubbles. stupid, stupid, stupid," you repeatedly smack yourself in the face.
"wait. you're gay though, right??" you ask, suddenly feeling as insecure as ever.
"yes babe, i came out to you in the 12th grade. still as straight as rupaul." he says with a chuckle, finding your meltdown completely adorable.
reaching behind you, he takes hold of your seatbelt and fastens it.
you can't help but burn bright red. what the fuck is wrong with you? what ever changed? he's still jeongguk. your jeongguk. the same jeongguk whose clothes you helped clean from vomit, after he got drunk one too many times back in college?
you feel like ripping all your hair out.
maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
jeongguk had picked you up from work, and you were on your way to his place to hang out, as usual.
"so it's either that or fried chicken.. what do you think?"
"huh?"
"i said what do you want to order??"
"oh.. anything is fine, thanks," you say awkwardly, clearing your throat.
"okay then?" he says as he starts the car.
a few hours later and the evening was going smoothly. perhaps too smoothly.
mishaps forgotten, you and your best friend sit in his living room, eating, laughing, and watching desperate housewives. just as you always have been for years.
"i'm gonna go get us some more drinks," you say as you get up, making your way over to his kitchen.
"he's such an idiot," you mumble to yourself as you chuckle, remembering the joke jeongguk had cracked a minute prior.
initially you open the fridge to check for beer, but there wasn't any; so you resort to plan B: the fancy wine he stores in his top cupboard.
you stand on your tiptoes and extend your arm up, trying to reach the wine bottle.
suddenly you feel a prescence behind you. last time you checked, brick walls can't move. so if 1+1 equals 2; then warmth, musky vanilla and hard equals jeongguk.
you see a bigger arm reach up and get the job done. "here, let me."
"thanks.." and just like that, the strange feeling is back.
you knew there was no way the evening could go smoothly. no, you're never that lucky.
pulling away, jeongguk pops open the wine bottle, pouring crimson liquid in two glasses.
you jump up to sit on the kitchen counter.
"have you picked out an outfit for the gathering yet?" he asks, taking a sip of his wine.
"nope," you say with a sigh, shoulders slumped in defeat. "it seems like everything i try doesn't look as good on me as i imagine in my head."
"but everything looks good on you, doll."
"are you putting the moves on me, jeon?" you say, jokingly; waiting for him to laugh along.
inching closer, closer, closer.. he stops and situates himself between your legs.
"and what if i am?" he mutters with a deep hushed voice. "am i making you nervous?" mere inches between your faces laced with thick, undeniable tension. he dare not raise his voice a single octave; for that could ruin the intimacy of it all.
whether it was something in the air or the liquor in both your systems, something between you had shifted.
this was not your gay best friend.
this was someone much more dangerous.
"we really.. really shouldn't.." voice barely above a whisper, you manage to let out with every remaining ounce of self-control you have. a feather light hand on his chest, you fruitlessly attempt to push him away; physically melting into his touch instead.
grabbing your hand, he holds it in his.
"do you have any idea how batshit crazy you drove me all those times, stripping half naked right in front of me?" he starts, voice raspy and full of need, slowly tracing his finger along your thigh, going up, up.. "mindlessly running your mouth, bending over in your tiny panties.. when all i wanted to do was bend you over myself, and put you in your place? my best friend of seven years, assuming my sexuality.. tsk tsk.."
ghosting a hand over your throat, he firmly grips your chin, lifting your head up to meet his gaze.
"do you want me to show you.." with a sinister smirk he breathes into your ear, "just how much i love women?"
your breath catches in your throat.
it was at that moment he leaned forward and crashed his lips against yours, closing the gap between you.
78% nitrogen and 21% oxygen in the atmosphere, but right in this very room and in this very moment; it's 100% you, jeongguk, and your breathless pants. a different third gas; the kind that smells like blurring the lines between you and your best friend. potentially damning a solid friendship, and throwing years down the drain. not 1% was spared for rationale.
both of you are forced separate, bound by your human bodies, in need of air.
ravenous, you grab his shirt collar and shoved him right against your face, devouring his lips once more.
with a groan, his free hand grabs your calf, hitching your leg against his hip. you wrap it around his waist, while the other hangs low; your heels hanging poorly on your foot and finally dropping to the floor with a clank.
both of you move rhythmically at first, then it gets sloppy; a sense of urgency overwhelming you. your lips move together with hurry, adrenaline coursing through your body; as if replacing the very blood that flows through your veins. chasing his lips, you just about swallow him whole.
not that he minds, he seems adamant on doing the exact same.
tangling your fingers in his hair, you angle your head better to ensure your prey is perfectly trapped. an act of cannibalism.
it was primal in the most natural way, finally letting go after an entire night of need and clouded lust.
"mm'not.. here," you mumble in between kisses.
finally picking you up and wrapping both your legs around his waist, he wastes no time leading you to the nearest surface he could find. well, as good as he can see, anyway.
and that's the story of how you hooked up with your bisexual best friend.
summary: there is a custom in turkey of adding salt instead of sugar to the coffee of the suitor who visits your home to ask for your hand.
imagine jeongguk's surprise when he takes a sip of the coffee his soon-to-be-dear-wife made him, to be met with.. salt?
or
what is a little salt in return for marrying the love of your life?
pairing: jeongguk x reader (interethnic rs)
content: korean boyfriend visits your home to ask for your hand in marriage, requesting a place in your very turkish family. sickeningly cute, i love this sm.
warnings: cursing, mentions of sex
wc: 1k
a/n: hope y'all don't get sick of me.. i finally finished exams and i love writing little drabbles like these ㅠㅠ enjoy!
you can hardly believe it; you’re buzzing with nerves. tonight, your boyfriend is finally meeting your parents to ask for your hand in marriage.
it feels surreal, you never thought you'd see the day. on jeongguk time, one day is an entire year. after four (and very rewarding, of course,) years of dating, this is nothing short of a miracle.
you can't say it's been easy. dating someone outside of your culture has been.. a whirlwind, to say the least. some jokes would get lost in translation, traditions needed to be learned, mannerisms getting used to..
but it didn't matter when it came to jeongguk. nothing mattered when it came to him. you were willing to learn the entire history of korea, if need be. he wouldn't even have to ask you to, the very prospect of being able to understand him wholly burned you blue. you knew there was only so much you can learn about a person outside of their culture, their heritage, their roots.. you wanted to know him inside out.
in fact, you would crawl into his skin if physically possible. but that's besides the point.
as for your parents, they were on the fence at first, but they came around. you knew they were only looking out for you; in the best way they knew how to.
when you hear the doorbell ring, you jolt. seated on your vanity chair, you take one last look at your reflection.
your hair is done up, simple makeup enhancing your features and beautiful jewelry adorning your body.
and of course, the star of the show, your dress.
you wear a satin maxi dress, elegant and timeless.
here goes nothing.
walking out your bedroom door, you spot your father motioning jeongguk inside your living room.
your boy looked dashing. you didn't think it possible for a human being to look so other-wordly; it's like he gets better looking every time you see him.
all done up in a black turtleneck and slacks, he was dressed to the nines and ready to impress.
your heart melts. he knew how important this was, and you had no doubt he wanted to do his absolute best for you.
you and jeongguk knew everything about eachother. there was simply no room for secrets in your relationship; you knew him like the back of your hand.
there is one thing you haven't told him, though.
a certain.. custom in turkey.
you add salt instead of sugar to the coffee of the suitor who visits your home to ask for your hand. it's a custom that's been carried on for centuries, the bride-to-be and her parents being in on it.
the act of drinking the salted-coffee demonstrates the groom’s patience, tolerance, and willingness to endure challenges in the marriage.
failing to drink the coffee or reacting negatively however, might be seen as a lack of patience or commitment. the bride’s family could take note of his reaction as a sign of his personality, or how he might handle challenges in marriage.
you would be lying if you said you weren't a little worried. your parents were a wild card.
so when you get up to obey your father when he tells you to make them coffee, you brace yourself.
buzzing with anticipation, you prepare 4 cups of coffee.
sugar, sugar, sugar, salt.
you just hope he doesn't get mad. oh god, what if he spits it out in front of your parents? that'll be a hard one to come back from. you're not as fickle, but your dad will surely lose all respect for him.
slowly coming out of the kitchen, tray in hand, you walk back over to the living room.
you lean to place the tray down, locking eyes with jeongguk, who sits right in front of you.
"thank you, love," he coos with adoration, immediately getting up to take the tray from your hands and help you set it down.
you smile lovingly in return, taking your seat on the opposite site.
and you watch in anticipation.
a few minutes pass, and nothing happens. you breathe in, out.
jeongguk makes small talk with your mother, slowly bringing the small porcelain cup to his lips. finally, show time.
he takes a sip.
gaze catching yours; he stares directly at you.
one second, two seconds pass..
and then he gulps.
tight smile plastered across his face, he shifts his focus back to your mother, picking up their conversation. as if nothing happened.
did he just..
in awe, you keep watching him. surely he has to give some sort of reaction? you wouldn't blame him; god knows you would have thrown up had it been you!
but nothing.
minute after the next, he drinks more and more, finally finishing his cup and placing it on the coffee table in front of you.
no more tricks up your sleeve, you finally focus on the conversation unfolding in front of you.
and the night went on.
"it was so nice meeting you, mom and dad. i look forward to planning the engagement," jeongguk says, the evening finally coming to end.
he continues, "and thank you darling, for the delicious coffee. bless your delicate hands."
with a subtle smirk only you notice, he takes a hold of your hand and brings it up to his lips, to kiss.
"you look beautiful, by the way," he whispers in your ear.
your parents bid him goodbye, closing the door after him.
"i'm impressed," your dad starts. "i didn't think korean boy had it in him, to be honest with you," he says with an amused chuckle.
"you've gotta give it to the kid. when i tried that with your father, the poor guy's face turned beet red! killed us all of laughter," your mother adds, reminiscing. "a real catch you got there."
"come on now, it wasn't that bad.." your dad says with a roll of his eyes, huffing in disbelief.
"you pushed that cup so far away from you it almost fell off the coffee table! yeah, right."
as your parents bicker back and forth, you retreat to your room with a besotted smile. you can't believe he did it either.
you are sooooooooooo going to fuck his brains out.
summary: your best friend, jeongguk, has only ever dated boys. unbeknownst to you, (he was also into girls).
pairing: jeongguk x fem reader
content: best friends to lovers, sexual tension, fluff, reader is a little absentminded, jk is a damn tease
warnings: cursing, (it gets steamy)
wc: 2k
you and jeongguk have been friends for the past seven years.
jeongguk has only ever dated boys.
does that a gay man make? no! of course not, you knew this. it is the big year of 2025 after all. sexuality is a spectrum; and you were never one to judge.
leaning in, jeongguk brushes his lips against yours.
and that's how you ended up kissing your very gay best friend.
or, not? i guess?
you don't know if it was because he was your best friend; instantly crossed off as a potential lover in your mind anyway, or because he was always sporting a new shiny boy toy every couple of weeks. or the crop tops he wore all throughout high school. or the sexy fireman posters plastered all over his dorm room walls in college! either way; you never would have expected to end up bent over on his couch on a random tuesday afternoon.
but one thing is for sure.
you were stupid.
oh so very stupid.
you're probably wondering how you got here.
well, let me walk you through it.
it all started with an incident that happened a few months ago.
your best friend, jeongguk, was on your bed, ranting to you about his new fling.
"i can't believe i ever thought jimin and i could work," he complains.
grabbing the hem of your blouse, you lift it up and off your body, tossing it across your room.
left in your black lacy bra, you scour your closet for something to wear.
a minute or so passes, and you finally notice the silence that falls upon the room. you turn around to find him visibly preoccupied, going through his phone.
"you were saying..?" you tap his shoulder.
clearing his throat he continues, maintaining eye contact with his phone, "i just don't think he's the one for me. he's too.. flaky?"
you've always found it adorable how jeongguk got shy at times like these. it's been seven years and he has remained ever the gentleman, never taking advantage of your friendship or abusing the amount of trust you put in him. you never had reason to doubt him anyway, it's not like you were exactly his... type, per se.
"i agree, babe. you deserve way better than that," you say, returning to the agonizing task at hand; finding an outfit amidst the chaos that is your closet.
finally picking one out, you hold up the hangers against your body, standing in front of your full length mirror to see how it would look on you.
"what do you think of this?" you ask, lost in thought.
"your black skirt would go along better," jeongguk mumbles from your bed.
"right? i thought so too." putting the hangers down, you bend over to grab said skirt from your bottom drawer.
from an outside perspective, one could consider you shameless.
from jeongguk's perspective, he found you amusing.
and from your perspective.. well, the most complicated thought in your mind right now was putting together a damn outfit.
an hour later, you and jeongguk sit at your table eating the brunch he cooked you, catching up on your busy lives; as was your routine together.
"and this girl i was fooling around with at the time-"
your brain short circuits.
"come again?"
"what?"
"sorry, i thought you said girl." you say with a dismissive laugh, "imagine that."
"i did." he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows and an amused smile.
the entirety of your coffee is wasted in your spit take.
you wish you were exaggerating.
cleaning up the mess you made on the table, you backtrack.
"you like girls???"
"..yes?"
looking at him suspiciously, you scramble to find your words. you didn't want to offend him, but he had caught you very off guard.
"did you think i was gay?" he asks, with a raise of his eyebrows, fully dumbfounded this time.
"i've just.. you've always.. i've only ever seen you with guys?"
"well yeah, those are just the ones i've encountered, i guess."
"you're telling me we've been friends for the past seven years, and i'm just finding this out now?"
"damn. when you put it that way, you sound like a real bad friend, you know," he says with a chuckle, casually gulping down the rest of his coffee.
with a small smirk and a tilt of his head, he gets up and walks up to you. "don't worry, you're still not my type." he whispers in your ear.
"if you need me, i'll be with the community dick!" he yells out as he walks away, taking your dignity and your pride with him; the last of it escaping with the final click of your apartment door.
"god how stupid am i?" you complain, rather dramatically, to your other best friend, hoseok. "i mean, how could i just blatantly assume he was gay? what if i made him uncomfortable before and he never told me? i'm a terrible friend!" flailing your arms, you ignore the dirty looks from onlookers passing by.
"i'm sure if you had made him uncomfortable, he would have told you. this is jeongguk we're talking about? are you trying to tell me he has any sort of filter?" he jokes, trying to cheer you up.
repeatedly bumping your head into the wall in front you, you surrender to the sea of embarrassment you found yourself drowning in.
"you should have seen my face. as if i wasn't stupid enough already, i made things awkward and rethought every interaction we've ever had, like, right in front of him. you could literally see the gears turning in my brain. i probably looked like a bloated pufferfish blowing bubbles. stupid, stupid, stupid," you repeatedly smack yourself in the face.
"wait. you're gay though, right??" you ask, suddenly feeling as insecure as ever.
"yes babe, i came out to you in the 12th grade. still as straight as rupaul." he says with a chuckle, finding your meltdown completely adorable.
reaching behind you, he takes hold of your seatbelt and fastens it.
you can't help but burn bright red. what the fuck is wrong with you? what ever changed? he's still jeongguk. your jeongguk. the same jeongguk whose clothes you helped clean from vomit, after he got drunk one too many times back in college?
you feel like ripping all your hair out.
maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
jeongguk had picked you up from work, and you were on your way to his place to hang out, as usual.
"so it's either that or fried chicken.. what do you think?"
"huh?"
"i said what do you want to order??"
"oh.. anything is fine, thanks," you say awkwardly, clearing your throat.
"okay then?" he says as he starts the car.
a few hours later and the evening was going smoothly. perhaps too smoothly.
mishaps forgotten, you and your best friend sit in his living room, eating, laughing, and watching desperate housewives. just as you always have been for years.
"i'm gonna go get us some more drinks," you say as you get up, making your way over to his kitchen.
"he's such an idiot," you mumble to yourself as you chuckle, remembering the joke jeongguk had cracked a minute prior.
initially you open the fridge to check for beer, but there wasn't any; so you resort to plan B: the fancy wine he stores in his top cupboard.
you stand on your tiptoes and extend your arm up, trying to reach the wine bottle.
suddenly you feel a prescence behind you. last time you checked, brick walls can't move. so if 1+1 equals 2; then warmth, musky vanilla and hard equals jeongguk.
you see a bigger arm reach up and get the job done. "here, let me."
"thanks.." and just like that, the strange feeling is back.
you knew there was no way the evening could go smoothly. no, you're never that lucky.
pulling away, jeongguk pops open the wine bottle, pouring crimson liquid in two glasses.
you jump up to sit on the kitchen counter.
"have you picked out an outfit for the gathering yet?" he asks, taking a sip of his wine.
"nope," you say with a sigh, shoulders slumped in defeat. "it seems like everything i try doesn't look as good on me as i imagine in my head."
"but everything looks good on you, doll."
"are you putting the moves on me, jeon?" you say, jokingly; waiting for him to laugh along.
inching closer, closer, closer.. he stops and situates himself between your legs.
"and what if i am?" he mutters with a deep hushed voice. "am i making you nervous?" mere inches between your faces laced with thick, undeniable tension. he dare not raise his voice a single octave; for that could ruin the intimacy of it all.
whether it was something in the air or the liquor in both your systems, something between you had shifted.
this was not your gay best friend.
this was someone much more dangerous.
"we really.. really shouldn't.." voice barely above a whisper, you manage to let out with every remaining ounce of self-control you have. a feather light hand on his chest, you fruitlessly attempt to push him away; physically melting into his touch instead.
grabbing your hand, he holds it in his.
"do you have any idea how batshit crazy you drove me all those times, stripping half naked right in front of me?" he starts, voice raspy and full of need, slowly tracing his finger along your thigh, going up, up.. "mindlessly running your mouth, bending over in your tiny panties.. when all i wanted to do was bend you over myself, and put you in your place? my best friend of seven years, assuming my sexuality.. tsk tsk.."
ghosting a hand over your throat, he firmly grips your chin, lifting your head up to meet his gaze.
"do you want me to show you.." with a sinister smirk he breathes into your ear, "just how much i love women?"
your breath catches in your throat.
it was at that moment he leaned forward and crashed his lips against yours, closing the gap between you.
78% nitrogen and 21% oxygen in the atmosphere, but right in this very room and in this very moment; it's 100% you, jeongguk, and your breathless pants. a different third gas; the kind that smells like blurring the lines between you and your best friend. potentially damning a solid friendship, and throwing years down the drain. not 1% was spared for rationale.
both of you are forced separate, bound by your human bodies, in need of air.
ravenous, you grab his shirt collar and shoved him right against your face, devouring his lips once more.
with a groan, his free hand grabs your calf, hitching your leg against his hip. you wrap it around his waist, while the other hangs low; your heels hanging poorly on your foot and finally dropping to the floor with a clank.
both of you move rhythmically at first, then it gets sloppy; a sense of urgency overwhelming you. your lips move together with hurry, adrenaline coursing through your body; as if replacing the very blood that flows through your veins. chasing his lips, you just about swallow him whole.
not that he minds, he seems adamant on doing the exact same.
tangling your fingers in his hair, you angle your head better to ensure your prey is perfectly trapped. an act of cannibalism.
it was primal in the most natural way, finally letting go after an entire night of need and clouded lust.
"mm'not.. here," you mumble in between kisses.
finally picking you up and wrapping both your legs around his waist, he wastes no time leading you to the nearest surface he could find. well, as good as he can see, anyway.
and that's the story of how you hooked up with your bisexual best friend.
summary: Supposedly, when you turn 19, sometime within that year, you meet a guy who turns your whole life upside down. Your first love, your first heartbreak. One year. 365 days, 5 hours, 49 minutes.
pairing: jeongguk x reader
content: artist reader, tattoo artist jk, use of korean name, overuse of the word 'lover', fluff, their favorite hobby is admiring eachother, angst, angst, then more angst, shared trauma, basically just life happening
a/n: bare with me as i try to figure out my writing style ㅠㅠ i almost cried while writing this. or maybe i got some chappell in my eyes, idk. enjoy!
.ılılılllıılılıllllıılılllıllı.
Kaleidoscope - Chappell Roan
0:24 ─●──────── 3:42 ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
It's funny, isn’t it? For someone who had it all figured out at 18, standing here at 23 and watching him pack his bags for the last time, you can’t help but let your mind wander. Somewhere between 18 and 23, you tumbled (on a rock, a Jeongguk shaped rock) and you’ll never be the same.
You had heard stories about “the boy you meet at 19”. Friends, family members, hell, even online communities complained about it. Supposedly, when you turn 19, sometime within that year, you meet a guy who turns your whole life upside down. Your first love, your first heartbreak. One year. 365 days, 5 hours, 49 minutes.
That was all bullshit of course.
Jeongguk was not your first love, nor your first heartbreak. Nevertheless, you know what he was? He was your first clash. Your first storm, the first rain after a long hard year of drought. there’s no other way to explain it. He didn’t sweep you off my feet or visit your house with a boombox on his shoulder begging for you back, but it all turned out just the same.
"This seat taken? All the others are." You hear a voice call out, snapping you out of your creative flow.
You look up to see the most beautiful pair of mahogany orbs you've ever seen.
You look around, most of the seats empty.
Confused, you answer, "Sure?"
He pulls out the chair in front of you, with a huge grin.
"I'm Jeongguk," He says, extending a hand for you to shake.
His t-shirt sleeves strain against his biceps, and you finally notice his inked arms. What you don't notice is holding onto his hand for a few seconds too long, entranced by the stunning artwork.
Letting go with an awkward clear of your throat, you pull your hand back to rest on your laptop's trackpad.
"You are breathtakingly beautiful, and I would've beat myself up for the next two months if I didn't talk to you."
Arriving at the Jazz bar Jimin invited you to, you scan the room to find him.
Locking eyes with him, you make your way across the room to where he's sitting.
You loved being friends with Jimin.
Jimin was charismatic, chic. Always dressed to the nines with his leather jackets and designer boots. He carried around this sense of subtle dominance, deep down he knew he controlled every room he walked in. But most importantly, he was also the gentlest friend you could ask for.
If you ever needed a shoulder to cry on or a pair of hands to hold your hair back when you throw up, Jimin made sure you knew he was always one call away. As were you, when it came to him.
"You made it! Hello, hello, hello!" Jimin chirps, extending his arms out only to engulf you in a bear hug.
"I can't wait to see Tae on stage!" You say, coming out from the hug.
The main event of the night; Taehyung, Jimin's boyfriend, was to perform a song with his band tonight.
"Come! Sit with us." Jimin says, leading you back to his table.
You notice five men already seated. Upon first glance, you didn't notice anything unusual, all of you exchanging greetings. That was until your eyes land on the last man on the far end.
"You again?" You blurt out of surprise.
"Me again. Hi beautiful." The familiar man says with that cheeky grin of his, his eyes having been already fixated on you the minute you walked through the door.
"Wait. You two know each other?" Jimin asks confused, looking back and forth between the two of you.
"You can say that.." You answer meekly, looking away.
Looking back at Jeongguk, Jimin waits for an explanation.
He only gets a shrug from the younger man and another grin from him in response as you move to sit next to him.
"No, you're gonna tell me! I want to know." Jimin complains as he sits down.
As the night went on, you and Jeongguk got to know each other more. You had always longed for the organic in relationships. An organic meeting, organic conversation, and most importantly; organic chemistry. It seemed like the man in front of you checked all your boxes.
It turns out you and Jeongguk were way more similar than either of you initially thought.
You both had this sense of freedom, like no matter what anyone told you. If you had your mind set on something, you'll make it happen, simply because you willed it so.
You carried this sense of carelessness-- no, that's not the right word. Lightness? Ease? navigating the world. Like in the end, nothing really matters. Both of you live life on a whim. You joked about hoping it wouldn't be your downfall, then laughed it off.
"Do you ever look at the stars?" You say, laying on your back, looking up to the sky.
"Do I ever look at the stars?" He slowly repeats, laying on his stomach, admiring the freckles on your face. "Hmm.."
“I don’t need the stars. I have your eyes to look at.” He answers after a few seconds of fake pondering.
“That’s so sappy oh my gooooddd”
“What can I say? You make me sappy baby.” He says with a stupid grin, brushing strands of hair away from your face.
You and Jeongguk had been dating for a month and a few weeks now. Initially scared shitless to open your heart up again, you're glad you've made that decision. You can confidently say you've never been happier.
You continue, "You don't ever like, count them? You know they're actually dead, right?"
"Dead? Whaaat? That's crazy," He says, smiling like a lovestruck idiot.
Finally shifting your focus to the man next to you, you glance sideways, “God, I love you. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”
It's your 1-year anniversary with Jeongguk. Both of you were inseparable at this point, where one of you went the other followed. From that point onwards, both your lifestyles tangoed and merged into one. His friend group became yours, your favorite spots became his, and everything else that could be shared, was. It was the most delicate display of intimacy; domesticity.
After taking you out to a nice romantic dinner, both of you ended up at your apartment. One of the many things shared within your relationship was your homes. This, being his second one, wasn't unfamiliar to him.
Gently tracing your curves, Jeongguk lay sideways. His head propped up on his elbow, admiring you. Opposite him, you lay on your side, reading your book.
"Watcha' readin'?" He asks in a silly tone, the very one you'd use to talk to a kid.
With a sly smirk and a brief glance at your lover, you answer him.
"Smut. Steamy, filthy smut. But after the passionate romance, of course."
"Oh? Anything in particular you'd like to recreate?" He takes on a challenging tone, slightly amused.
"Maybe."
"Can I see?"
"Nope. You'll have to figure it out yourself."
"Not even if I ask politely?"
"Nnnnope!"
And just like that, the calm before the storm ended. You had dug your grave and laid in it. All that was left now, was to await your fate-
"You cheeky little minx, come here," He says with a renewed vigor, swiftly getting on top of you and getting straight to work tickling your sides.
"Nooooo, please, please," You say breathlessly in between tickles.
You're not sure if it's physically possible to laugh your way to a six-pack, but it seemed to you that in those 30 seconds it had been made possible.
"Alright, baby please!" You yell, desperately gasping for air.
Finally freeing you from this relentless torture, Jeongguk stops. As the laughter dies down, both of you pant with stupid smiles plastered across your faces. With Jeongguk still on top of you; his weight balanced on both his arms, you stare into each others eyes.
"Y'make me feel so loved, y'know.. You're my person, gguk." You coo, affectionately brushing his hair away from his face with one of your hands.
"Thank you for trusting me enough to be that for you, baby. You make me the happiest man on this damn planet. I mean it."
"Move in with me." You blurt out.
"Okay."
"You spend most of your time here anyway, my apartment can fit both of us, you have clothes everywh- what?"
With a giggle, he repeats, "Okay. I'll move in with you"
"That easy?!" You scoff.
"Who told you it was hard?" Scrunching his nose at you, he continues, "I'd carry the sun aflame; scorching hot and all, with my bare hands for you should you ask. Are you really surprised?"
"Jesus, Shakespeare. You trying to get into my pants or something?"
"Maybe. Is it working?" Flashing you a bunny smile, he leans down to place a soft kiss on your lips.
You roll your eyes, but without an ounce of annoyance.
"For the last fucking time Jeongguk, stop leaving your clothes all over the place!" You let out, irritated.
Ignoring you, he keeps scrolling through his phone.
"Hey! Did you hear me?" You continue, waving your hands in front of his face.
"Why are you yelling right now? That's really unnecessary."
"So your answer is to ignore me?"
"You know I don't like being yelled at. Speak to me like a normal human being."
"I would, if you were behaving like one."
"Whatever," He says with a tsk.
Jeongguk isn't usually unreasonable, it was just one of those days. Both of you have those days sometimes. Now, more than usual though.
"I asked you to move in with me because I love you. Now stop being a child and pick your damn clothes up." You spit, tossing his shirt that was once sprawled out on the floor, in his face.
A few hours later, both of you head out to meet your friends.
Arriving at the hangout spot, you and Jeongguk take your seats next to your friends.
"There you are, lovebirds!" Hoseok yells out excitedly, standing up to greet you.
The drinks kept coming. You could handle your liquor, but you knew Jeongguk couldn't exactly do the same.
A steady stream of alcohol was maintained. One drink, two drinks, then the next, and the next.. He gulped them down with ease one after the other, until he was slurring his words.
"And then I told him; that can't possibly be right, you're not exactly the brightest" Jimin says, the entire table bursting into laughter at his story.
"How are you guys? Enjoying the domestic life together? Tae asks, slowly sipping his drink next to Jimin.
Silently glancing over to Jeongguk, you brace yourself as you watch him prepare to speak.
"Loooooove this one," He blurts with a lopsided smile, throwing his free arm around your shoulder. "Always has to keep the house all neat and tidy,"
"Baby, you've had a bit too much to drink, yeah? I think we'll head out now guys."
Noticing the awkward shift in the air, the guys agree with you and tell you it's fine, gesturing for you to get up.
"It's not like y-you always pay attention t'me. W-why do you only pay attention when you're- scolding me?" Jeongguk continues, in between hiccups.
"C'mon. Up you go," You say ignoring him, wrapping your hands around his torso to get him up.
With Taehyung's help, you finally manage to lay Jeongguk's (very heavy) body across the backseat of his car.
"Thanks, Tae. God knows I would've ruptured a disc had I attempted that alone."
"It's really no problem, cupcake. Make sure to text us when you get home safe, alright?"
With a sigh and a nod, you get into the driver's seat.
"Why are you being like this?" You murmur, starting the car.
One of your favorite past times with Jeongguk is spending time together doing your own thing. It's the best and most efficient way to get things done while silently supporting the other. It also tells you a lot about how comfortable and safe you make each other feel. You have nurtured this relationship so carefully, and watched it blossom into what you have now. Jeongguk knows this, he knows how at ease you feel during these simple, mundane times.
What you haven't told him though, is you have something you enjoy more.
Secretly admiring him as he works.
Sometimes when he's fully immersed in the task at hand, you secretly stop what you're doing and just stare at him. There were times you even pretended to do something, just so he can get busy and fail to notice your piercing gaze.
You can't help it. In your eyes, he's perfection itself.
So this time, as he was typing up an essay, you grabbed your sketchbook and got to work.
Spilling ink to fill the blacks of his eyes, carving out the beautiful slant of his nose, the little mole under his lip.. His sweet honeyed features come together to breathe life into your drawing.
This isn't the first time you draw him. Time and time again, you've tried to mimic his essence on paper. You're not one to brag, but you'd like to think you're a good artist. Great even, from what your professors have told you; but try as you may, you have never once been successful. No amount of charcoal or white highlights on the canvas in your hands could capture a glimmer of your lover's warmth.
"Is that.. is that me?" You hear a voice say, snapping you from your thoughts.
Whoops.. Guess you got careless and accidentally drowned in his eyes for real this time.
Your cheeks turn a rich shade of crimson as you shyly nod.
Sliding his laptop off his lap and taking his glasses off, he asks, "Can I see?"
Reluctantly, you hand him the sketchbook.
"It's not finished.. I was gonna shade some more and add highlights-"
He flips through the pages, looking at the earlier pages.
"Wait!" Leaning over, you try to grab the sketchbook from his hands. However, he manages to swiftly move his body, lifting the sketchbook out of your reach.
Nevermind that he caught you drawing him, that entire sketchbook was filled with sketches of him.
Finally reaching the first page, his eyes scan the page to read the words written in cursive,
"୨୧ Jeongguk Sketchbook ୨୧"
He stayed silent for a few minutes.
"Baby.. Are you mad at me?" You ask, concerned. With a bite of your lip, you anxiously wait for him to say something.
"I'm gonna marry you one day," He says, looking into your eyes in awe.
"I wish my professors reacted that enthusiastically upon seeing my work," You giggle, relieved. "Also, is that a threat?"
"It's a promise," He says with a roll of his eyes, fighting a grin.
Settling into his accustomed place between your thighs, he gets on top you.
"You have an essay to write. No funny business, mister." You jokingly scold, patting his butt with your foot.
"Okay mom," He says with a smile as he starts kissing all over your face.
"Nooo, why'd you have to say that before kissing meee" You whine, turning your head left and right to avoid his kisses.
Scrolling through your phone, you wait at the tattoo parlor Jeongguk works at for him to be done with his client.
Handing you a bottle of water, Yoongi takes a seat next to you.
"He'll be out in a few. Just wrapping the client's tattoo." He informs you.
"Can I see that?" You gesture to the tattoo book on the table, "Jeongguk" written on the cover.
Handing you the book, he starts, "Quite the talented one, your boyfriend. We have lots of artists, but his work really is a sight for sore eyes. Clients usually go for him."
With a giddy smile, you open the book, "You know when I first met him, his tattoos were the first thing that caught my eye. Not to brag but, I don't doubt any of that for a second."
Chuckling, Yoongi gets up. "I'll be in my office if you need anything."
With an appreciative nod, you thank him.
Feeling the couch take a dip, you smell him before you can see him.
"Hi baby," He takes a seat next to you.
"Hi my love," You lean in to kiss him. "I knew you were talented but holy shit, your hands were kissed by angels."
"The only angel that's ever kissed them is sitting next to me. So you're right, I guess." He says, nodding in agreement.
Tracing the lines in the book, you stare in awe. It seems your lover renders you speechless most of the time you're with him.
"Soo... I did a thing," Jeongguk says as he enters your shared apartment, taking off his shoes.
"Uh-oh."
"No uh-oh. C'mere," He beckons with his hand, buzzing with anticipation.
Turning off the stove, you make your way over to him.
"Close your eyes,"
"Okay, now I'm scared."
"Hurry uuupppp."
Placing your palms over your eyes, you reluctantly obey.
"No, not your hands. Give them to me."
Suspicious, you keep your eyes shut and reach out your hands for him to take.
You hear the sound of fabric shuffling, then feel your fingers touch warm skin.
Warm.. engraved skin?
"You can open them now."
Your jaw hangs open.
"Oh baby, That's beautiful.." You say, your eyes welling up with tears.
Staring back at you is your birth flower, tattooed on Jeongguk's side below his ribs.
"Since you were so in love with my designs, I thought I'd make you one your own."
Chuckling, you reply, "Shouldn't it be on my body then?"
"You make a good point, but my body is yours, so by extension, this tattoo is also yours."
"Okay smarty pants." You say with a smile, wiping away the tears rolling down your face. "Let's go watch a movie."
One kiss. Two kisses.
"Baby.." He says, turning his head away.
"Let me make you feel good. Just relax." You graze your hand along his chest.
With a sigh, he sits up, letting your hands fall.
Frustrated, you get up.
"How much rejection can I take?" Finally fed up, you burst. "How many times are you gonna shut me out?" This hadn't been the first time Jeongguk denied you. He's been mentally withdrawn from you for a few weeks, coming up with one excuse or another.
He rubs at his temples.
"I try and I try and I try. You don't talk to me about what bothers you, you barely touch me anymore.. What am I supposed to do, Jeongguk? You're with me but you're not even here." Desperate for an answer, you plead.
"I already told you. I'm taking more courses this semester, and Yoongi wants me to work extra shifts at the parlor. Not exactly an aphrodisiac for me."
"Baby, stress will always be a part of our lives. You have to lean on me when it gets hard, that's what relationships are for. We're a team now, you can't keep shutting me out like this."
You had always been upfront with Jeongguk about the importance of communication within your relationship. You could handle just about anything, but not this.
Crackle. Pop.
It was New Year's Eve, you heard fireworks go off outside your home.
At almost midnight, you were waiting for your boyfriend to come back.
Sitting under your skylight, you admire the show in the sky. The light illuminates your face as you gaze up.
You feel your phone vibrate in your lap.
J<3: "Working late."
J<3: "Don't wait up."
Life had a funny yet cruel sense of irony. Everyone was out celebrating, while over here, it seemed like your whole life was coming to an end.
After what feels like hours of dreary silence, you hear the front door open. He's home.
Nervously pacing back and forth in your shared bathroom, you wait for him to come into the bedroom.
God, it wasn't supposed to happen like this.
You hear footsteps. Turning around, you meet his eyes.
"I'm pregnant." You say abruptly, with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
At 21, this is the last thing you expected to happen. It seems you had gotten careless. Young and in love.
After a few moments of utter silence, both of you sit side by side on your bathroom floor.
"Fuck. Fuck, okay. Fuck."
You burst into tears for the third time that night.
"I'm not ready.. we're not ready.. Can't believe this is really happening.. ggukie, what are we gonna do? m' so scared"
"Hey, hey, hey.. It's okay. We'll get through this. You hear me, baby? We're gonna be alright. It's okay. I've got you. As long as we both have each other, nothing else matters." He reassures, pulling you both into the bathtub, cradling you into his chest.
"Sure it's happening sooner than we thought, but this was the plan all along angel, wasn't it? hm?" He says softly, wiping away your tears. "We'll get married, once you pop out this little one we can get a house in the suburbs.. My parents can help us out financially.. My love, look at me. Deep breaths."
You calm down, finally catching your breath. You had forgotten you weren't gonna be alone in this. You felt as long as you had Jeongguk, you were ready to face anything.
"What about school?" You ask.
"You can take a gap year. I'll drop some classes and make sure I'm by your side."
"I'm gonna be a dad." He says after a long silence. You feel tears wetting your shirt, unsure whose they were.
And maybe it was going to be alright. Because you were in his arms. Carrying his child, you were going to have your own family. With the man you love.
You finally allow yourself to feel excitement. The joy of becoming a mother. You allow yourself to feel hope, the kind that comes with the promise of a seedling sprouting from the dirt.
One thing you admired about him was his humility. Perhaps one of the most powerful things he does is; at his best and most successful, my baby comes back home and kneels before me. Looking up at me, I see in his eyes everything I ever prayed, could pray, and would ever pray for.
My lover never once forgot me. No matter what it was, he always shared it with me. Not once has he ever treated me as less than.
"Baby! Guess what I gooot!" You hear the front door shut.
Truthfully, things had gotten better after your big news. Remarkably better. Jeongguk had been paying extra attention to you, making sure you’re well tended to, fed, comfortable.. It was almost like how you two were in the beginning. When it was still fresh.
Running into your room excitedly like a little kid, Jeongguk holds up a pair of baby socks.
"Look how adorable!" He exclaims, eye twinkling.
Smiling fondly, you entertain him as you rub your already swollen belly.
"I can't believe they make socks that tiny." You reply with a soft chuckle.
"I know, right? I didn't even know someone's feet can be this tiny!"
At 3 months pregnant, things weren't as bad as you had initially expected. You had taken a gap year, like Jeongguk suggested, and both of you were doing just fine.
Having him by your side made everything so much easier, and you wondered why you ever thought you couldn't do this. Being his lover and the mother of his child was the easiest and most natural thing for you.
Unrequited
/ʌnrɪˈkwʌɪtɪd/
adjective
(of a feeling, especially love) not returned.
Can love be one sided?
A question I'm sure has been passed around for centuries past. After all, I'm sure you're familiar with the term "unrequited love".
So can it be?
Well, I don't think so.
I believe people who claim it, mislabel infatuation. Love can never be one sided. As far as I'm concerned, in order to fall in love, both sides have to have experienced their fair share of vulnerable moments. Human moments. For the word "love" to be spoken and for it to be real, it has to exist tangibly, undeniably, between two people. Love does not shy away and hide, love stands tall and proud; like the biggest elephant any room has seen.
If there really is love on one side, it's mirrored on the other side as well.
Some may argue, the term "unrequited" still stands, because the other person may feel love, but not the romantic kind intended; I beg to differ. Love, no matter its form, will warm you from the inside out. To deny its existence on the other side merely because you don't like how it takes shape and presents itself, is a selfish act of fraud.
As usual, good things don't last.
You like to think the love was there. It really, irrefutably, was. And most days, that's what get helps you get by. After all, the life growing inside you was proof of it. Or was, anyway.
Looking at your bathroom mirror, you see a woman you don't recognize.
You have the same eyes, but hers are weighed down with dark rings. Where you once saw a bright curious girl, stands a woman foreign, burdened with tribulations; the aftermath of adolescence.
Turning to the side, you lift your shirt up to reveal your stomach. You lightly ghost your hand over your abdomen. Pang in your chest, sting in your eyes. Breathe, 1, 2, 3.
You walk into your shared bedroom to find Jeongguk seated on the bed with his phone in hand.
Your steps coming to a halt, you look up at him. With dead eyes, you mumble quietly, "I lost the baby."
"What was that?" He asks, unable to quite make out what you were saying.
"I lost the baby," You repeat, loud enough for him to hear this time.
Frozen in shock, he stares at you with wide eyes.
"..What?" He says with a whisper, tears instantly flooding his eyes.
You stay silent.
"Are you- Are you sure??" He asks with urgency, immediately springing up from the bed to stand infront of you.
With a slow and apprehensive nod you reply, "Just got back from a checkup."
Jeongguk raises his hand to rub his face. You flinch.
Mortified, Jeongguk looks at you with wide eyes.
"Did- baby did you just flinch? What the fuck?" He says, hurt written all over his face.
You slide down the wall behind you, needing anything to stabilize you. Of course you weren't expecting him to hit you. Were you? You don't know anymore. Your body has become foreign to you, and you curse it for always betraying you throughout your years. This time, it had been the biggest betrayal of all.
Jeongguk immediately reaches to grab your weak body, kneeling on the ground with you.
He takes you in his embrace once more, and a cruel, ironic sense of Déjà vu washes over you. Once more, you lie in each others arms. Only last time marked a beginning, this time marked the end.
But the love was there. Right?
If Jeongguk hadn't been touching you as much before, now he really didn't, at all. It's not that he didn't try, he has, a few times. But you really, really can't bring yourself to let him touch you right now. When you shared that with him, he understood, he really did. But after all, how long can someone be understanding, until they finally realize, they've had enough?
"It's been months.. I understand how you feel, and it's no easy thing what we just went through. What you went through. You're so strong, mama. So strong."
Mama. You could almost hear the crack in your heart.
"I don't wanna sound like an asshole, and I'll never, ever force you; so long as I draw breath.. but baby I long for you. I just want to connect with you like we used to.. I ache for your touch. I know it's not easy, but can you please try?"
"I know, I know. I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry," You whisper, averting your gaze to the floor with tears in your eyes.
"I think we should take a break." You blurt out, breaking the silence.
"What?"
"I need a break."
"From me?" He asks, voice coming out more fragile than intended. Jeongguk knew your relationship has become rocky to say the least, but what he wasn't expecting was this.
You stay silent.
"Okay.. If that's what you need." He lets out, defeated.
Getting up, you grab a suitcase and start packing clothes.
"Where are you going?" Alarmed, he instinctively gets up to follow you.
"To Jimin's."
Agonizing silence.
"Do you have to do this?"
"Yes."
You feel suffocated. You've heard of post-miscarriage hormones, and you don't know if that was what was causing your recent irritability, but it seemed like everything and everyone around you annoyed you. Never in your life would you have imagined that would include Jeongguk. You hated yourself for it. You tell your lover everything, but this one secret you were prepared to take to the grave.
"You're welcome to sleep with other people, if you'd like."
"You really need to stop making these decisions all on your own." He says, sounding fed up. "I don't fucking want to be with anyone else. Do you really think it's about the sex for me?"
Angrily stomping over to you, he gently grabs your face, forcing you to look into his eyes.
"Do you really think, all I want is a fucking nut?" Laughing in disbelief, he lets go of your face, ruffling his hair in frustration. "I want you. You."
Biting your lip, you grab your suitcase and make your way to the front door and text Jimin to let him know.
You hear a sigh and footsteps behind you. "Here, let me." Jeongguk says, taking ahold of your suitcase before you can argue.
With a small smile, you follow behind him. Even when he's hurt, he takes care of you.
You get in your car. Adjusting the mirror, you see Jeongguk looking back at you in the reflection. Forcing yourself to look away, you start driving.
Making your way inside Jimin's apartment, both of you take a seat on his couch, setting your suitcase beside you.
"What happened?" Jimin asks hesitatingly, scared to set you off. He knows of everything that happened the past few months, upset with you after realizing you had hid it from him for a while. He wasn't upset with you, but rather the fact that you had endured it alone all this time. But he understood. He could never blame you.
"We had a fight. Well, sort of," You explain with a sigh. "I told him I needed a break."
"Is it okay if I hug you?"
Upon your immediate approval, Jimin leaps into your embrace.
"I don't know where to begin," He starts, voice muffled by your clothes. Slowly pulling away, he catches your eyes.
"You've had it so hard. So hard." Tearing up, he continues, "If a break is what you need, I'll gladly support it. I may not always fully understand what you're going through, but know you always always have my full support regardless."
Seeing your angel of a friend cry, tears are brought to your eyes as well.
"Why are you crying? Aren't I supposed to be the one doing that?" You say, chuckling.
"So I can't cry now? Let me cry, woman!" Matching your energy, he replies.
You would never admit it to the man waiting for you at home, but within the confinements of your best friend's living room, you finally allow yourself to speak it aloud.
"Looking at him reminds me of what happened. He reminds me of her."
With a knowing nod, Jimin takes your hand in his.
"Our baby. God, Jimin, I couldn't stand to be in that room a minute longer."
You're glad you had your best friend alongside you all these years. Seeing you in all your states, he's the one person you can truly call family. Love like this, you were sure of. Love like this, you could never let go of. Love like this, you've learned to truly cherish.
You spent a little over a week at Jimin's.
You and Jeongguk hadn't been talking, and you noticed he was spending longer and longer hours away at night. Tonight you decided, enough is enough.
"Where the fuck have you been?" You spit out like venom, spotting the messy haired man at the front door. After waiting all night for Jeongguk to finally come back home, your voice had gained an edge.
"Does it fucking matter?" He answers, matching your vulgarity. A habit both of you, unfortunately, picked up.
"It's 4 am. You left without a word and now you smell like an entire fucking candy shop. Think I don't know what you get up to?" Because like any human being, despite making it clear you were okay with him sleeping with other people, the very idea broke whatever was left of your heart into tinier fragments.
You continue, "You think the loss of our babygirl hasn't impacted me? It hurt me the most. As I was sitting here, grieving your fucking child, you were out fucking whores. Instead of being with me and helping us get through it, you fucking bailed on me. You abandoned our relationship. You abandoned me."
"Watch your mouth. That's not fair. That is not fair. I have never unfaithful to you. We haven't been fine for a damn long time and you know it."
You knew you weren't being fair. You knew he wouldn't cheat on you, either. But you couldn't stop. You couldn't bring yourself to stop. You had reached the point of no return, and all your anger had come up to the surface to breathe. Claws, sharp edges and all, 'I am here. I am here.' it screamed.
“That doesn’t mean you stay out all night every single day and pretend I don’t fucking exist! If you want to break up, grow a pair and fucking say it to my face.”
"Frankly, that's none of your concern. You lost the right to what I did a long time ago."
If it weren't for the four years you've known this man, you would've missed the slight stutter in his words. You've memorized every freckle, every curve, every dimple.
"Are you drunk?" You ask slowly. Your anger dialing up to 100.
Ignoring you, he makes a beeline for the spare bedroom door. Where he had been sleeping for the past- you can’t even remember how long it’s been.
You don't know when you reached this point. It was all sunshine and rainbows, then it all went downhill. Well, you can't say it was sudden. To tell the truth, you and Jeongguk's relationship has been strained for a long time.
Upon asking him to move in with you, you had thought being in close proximity with your lover would make you grow closer. On the contrary, within the same four walls and under the same roof, you had never felt further from the person you were supposed to love for the rest of your life.
"Iseul."
He stops in his tracks.
"That's the name I had picked out for her. Iseul."
Turning around, Jeongguk looks at you as if you had just slapped him.
"That's a beautiful name," He murmurs.
"She would've been ours. Would've looked just like you, to a T. I bet she would've had your beautiful big eyes."
"She would've had your laugh.." He chokes out, tears flooding.
"We were supposed to get married and grow old together. What has become of us? Since when were we like this?
"Shit baby, I don't know. I don't know." Slowly walking over to you, he pulls your head in his chest. He holds you with the same frailty he used to. Back when you were younger. Back when he loved you. When you loved each other. It seems like nowadays all you do is fight.
Your communication has gone to shit. It was like both of you were speaking a language the other couldn't understand.
"We had something didn't we?" You whisper into his chest, your tears staining his shirt. "We loved each other, at some point, right?"
“Of course we did, baby. Of course we did. What we had, though humble, was real and I would never change it. The love was there."
He continues, "You’re gonna find so much better. you’re gonna have so much greater. We’re not meant for each other. God knows what we went through wasn’t easy. it was fucking hell. We fought tooth and nail to get here, I know your pain. I’ve seen your pain, it is mine too. Maybe it isn't fair to say this, but we need to get out of this bubble. Long as we keep coming back here, we’ll always be reminded of all the hurt and the pain. We both need fresh starts. We deserve it."
"Is this really happening? This is really happening. Oh god. Oh my god." Feeling a panic attack coming on, you try to take deep breaths.
Jeongguk hugs you tighter, gently stroking your back.
"That's it baby, breathe. Breathe, lover, breathe. Nice and slow, just like that. There we go, my love."
It passes, but the heartache doesn't, so you settle for keeping your face nestled into his chest, crying your heart out.
You love him. Oh god, you love him like you breathe air. But he's right, neither of you can live like this.
"I wish I hated you. You asshole, I wish you made me hate you." Weakly punching his chest repeatedly, you sob into his chest. "Would've made things so much easier."
Gently stroking your hair, he softly hums.
"Thank you for making this decision for both of us. God knows I'm not strong enough to leave."
"It's because I love you so much, I can't bare to see you like this. It kills me every waking fucking day."
Stepping away from your embrace, Jeongguk retreats to your bedroom.
Looking at him confused, you sniffle.
"Lovesong" by Adele blares through your apartment.
Stepping back out, he approaches you again.
"Come here, love."
Extending a hand out to you, he invites you to dance.
And so you did.
I hope my lover never forgets me.
Bonus
Silence.
You were once a teenager with loud thoughts. Loud, angry, vengeful. You were so, so angry. Now there's just silence.
Listening to the ocean waves crash against the rocks, you admire the scenery in front of you. Even in their violence, it seems to you that those very waves kiss the surface of the rocks, only to retreat in shyness. How romantic.
Was the ocean always this beautiful?
a/n: please let me know what you think! truthfully, i think i could've added more of my writing (beyond narration, i mean), but i didn't want to leave this rotting in my drafts for too long. if there's one thing i learned about being a creative, hiding your creativity, refusing to share it with the world, or putting it off is not only a waste; but you're denying beautiful, alike souls the pleasure of enjoying your work ♡
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