❥ Content/Warnings: MDNI 18+ | musician!joon, producer!reader, arguing (oc has mommy issues), hitting, crying, kissing, breast play, fingering, confession?!
❥ Notes: should i make this into a mini series? :)
You never truly believed you would ever find your person, so you turned to the next best thing: music. Music never left you on read, kept you up at night wondering when it would respond, or fucked you and snuck out the next morning.
It brought you tranquility and peace; it gave you something you never even knew you needed. It kept you grounded when nothing else could. And that was all you needed to keep moving forward in your life.
You spent your entire life writing and producing music in the bedroom of your childhood home. That was until your mom decided it was time for you to do something with your life instead of being cooped up in your room, trying to bond with music.
“You don’t get it!” you cried, hoping your mom would finally understand you.
“Y/N, this music thing isn’t going to work out for you in the long run, honey!” your mom said, a worried look painted across her face.
“No, you don’t get to tell me what’s going to work for me!” you shouted, your words bouncing off the walls and right back at you. “You were always so against me pursuing music… why?” you blurted out. “Are you scared I’m going to end up like him? Hmm—is that what this is?
Your mom looks like she has just seen a ghost. Before you can register what’s going on, the palm of her hand makes contact with your cheek. She just stares at her hand like something has overtaken her body.
“Y/N…” she says shakily.
You don’t know who this is. You don’t know this woman—this woman who is supposedly your mother. Your mother would never.
“Y/N, sweetie I am so sorry… I don’t—” she says, trying to reach out to you, but you step back, rejecting any connection with her for now.
“I always told myself that I was never going to end up like him or let the industry tear me limb from limb, but you never had any faith in me, did you?”
Before she can say another word, you start scrambling, grab your things, and make your way out of your bedroom and toward the front door.
Once you hit the sidewalk you reach into your pocket and pull out your phone.
[8:25 PM] you: ru busy right now?
[8:26 PM] joon: no y wsp?
[8:28 PM] you: i need somewhere to stay tonight.
[8:30 PM] joon: is everything ok?
[8:30 PM] you: joon i really don’t want to talk about it
[8:30 PM] you: im sorry :(
[8:31 PM] joon: yeah no i totally understand
[8:31 PM] joon: but im free :) !
[8:34 PM] you: k be there in 20.
You finally show up at Namjoon’s apartment. You’ve held your composure the whole way here but the second the door opens everything just—crumbles.
You collapse into his arms. “Hey hey…what’s wrong?”
You try to answer, but all that comes out is another broken sob. Your fingers fist into the back of his hoodie like if you let go, you’ll fall apart all over again.
“Shh,” he murmurs, one hand rubbing slow circles against your back. “You don’t have to tell me anything right now.”
“I’m sorry,” you choke out. “I just…I didn’t know where else to go.”
“You never have to apologize for coming to me.”
The words hit harder than they should.
Your knees nearly give out, but he catches you before you can sink to the floor.
“Come inside.”
The apartment is warm.
He quietly locks the door behind you before guiding you to the couch. A blanket is draped over your shoulders before you even realize you’re shivering.
“I’ll make some tea,” he says softly.
“Joon you don’t have to.”
“I know.”
He disappears into the kitchen anyway.
The silence isn’t awkward. It’s gentle.
Safe.
When he comes back, he sets the mug in front of you before sitting beside you—not too close, just enough that if you wanted to lean on him, you could.
You stare into the steam rising from the cup.
“I feel stupid.”
“You’re not.”
“I should’ve handled it better.”
He shakes his head.
“People say that after they’ve survived something difficult,” he says quietly. “Not because they actually failed.”
Your lip trembles.
“I keep thinking maybe it this is my fault.” you say holding the cry waiting to escape from your throat.
Namjoon’s expression softens immediately.
“Y/N no...”
He doesn’t hesitate.
“Whatever happened… if it hurt you this much, then your feelings are real. And you don’t have to convince me of that.”
The tears start again.
This time you don’t even try to stop them.
He opens his arms without saying a word.
You melt into him.
For a long time, neither of you speak. Just you him and the silence.
The only sound is your uneven breathing and the quiet hum of the rain beginning outside.
Eventually he rests his chin lightly against your head.
“You can stay here tonight.”
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not.”
“…What if I don’t feel okay tomorrow either?”
He smiles sadly.
“Then we’ll figure out tomorrow, tomorrow.”
You let out the smallest laugh through your tears.
“There it is,” he says. “I was wondering if I’d get at least one smile.”
“It wasn’t even a real smile.”
“It counts.”
You roll your eyes, but you don’t move away.
Instead, you settle closer, finally letting yourself relax.
For the first time all night, your heartbeat begins to slow.
And with Namjoon’s steady hand resting against your back, the world doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.
You turn around to face him and start to straddle his lap, your legs landing on either side of his thighs. “Joon, I need you.”
“Y/N, we really shouldn’t—” You cut him off.
“Namjoon, please…” you cry out. “I don’t want to feel what I’m feeling right now.” You bury your face in his neck, kissing the sensitive area right under his ear. “I want to feel you,” you whisper in his ear.
“Y/N, I don’t want to take advantage of your emotions right now,” he breathes softly, your movements taking effect on him.
“You aren’t, I promise,” you cry out.
“Y/N…I don’t think we should have sex,” he breathes out.
“Then at least make me feel good…please?” you say, running your fingers up the nape of his neck and looking into his eyes. “Joonie, please?” you cry out.
“Okay…” he groans.
A smile beams across your face. You capture his lips with your own, and his hands find their way to the middle of your back. You waste no time discarding your shirt and pants. After getting rid of your pants, you make your way back into his lap. He is about to move toward your breasts before stopping midway and looking up at you as if he is seeking validation.
You nod, understanding what he is looking for.
He starts planting tender kisses along your chest, his hands finding their way to the clasp of your bra.
“Can I…?” he asks, looking deep into your swollen eyes.
“Please…” you say reassuringly. Your bra finds its new home on the floor of Namjoon’s apartment. He starts indulging in the beautiful breasts presented in front of him.
Your fingers find his nape, letting the feeling of his buzz run across your fingers as he sucks and circles his tongue around your pebbled nipple. When he scrapes your sensitive skin with his teeth, you moan and pull against his scalp. You’re so deep in the throes of euphoria you can’t even remember what happened tonight.
“Namjoon, I need you,” you moan. His hand runs across your laced panties. “Touch me, please.”
Namjoon reaches his hand into your panties, running his fingers through your folds, your arousal coating his fingers.
“I’ve got you, beautiful,” he says, watching the way your body tenses up. “More, Joon…I need more,” you belt out.
“Whatever you want, Y/N…” Namjoon studies the expressions appearing on your face to see what makes you react. He pushes two fingers inside your tight hole, scissoring them in and out.
“Oh my fuck—” you scream.
“Does that feel good?” A grin creeps onto his face.
“Yes, Joon—oh my god, yes!” Tears begin to well up in your eyes. “Right there!” you yelp.
He maintains the slow pace, letting you build. His other hand rubs your hip soothingly.
“Right here?” You nod. “Just like that. Ride it out. I’ve got you.” He picks up the pace when he feels you tightening around his fingers.
“I’m gonna—” You’re cut off by your own gut-wrenching orgasm.
“That’s it, cum for me—you got it,” he encourages you.
Your head falls onto his shoulder, your arms wrapping around him. You start crying.
“Y/N…?” He pulls you off him to get a better look. “I’m sorry, I—” He cuts you off.
“Y/N, you have nothing to be sorry about.” He cups your face.
“I do,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “I just…” You laugh quietly, even though there isn’t anything funny. “I don’t even know how to be a good daughter. Hell, I don’t even know how to be a good friend.” Silence settles between the two of you, heavy enough to make your chest ache.
“Wait—did I just use you?”
The confession tastes bitter on your tongue.
Your eyes widen almost instantly, panic replacing the numbness you’ve been trying to hide behind. “No.” You shake your head, a little too fast. “No, that’s not how I feel about you. God, Joon, I hope you don’t think I used you.” Your voice cracks at his name. “I like you.” A pause. Softer this time. “I really, really like you.” You look down at your hands, unable to meet his eyes. “Probably more than you’ll ever know…”
synopsis: you & namjoon have been inseparable since kindergarten. as you navigate through college life that bond continues with pretty kisses and set routines. when you're in a bad mood on a busy day, namjoon has to remind you to not act out.
warnings: 8k words, no usage of y/n, somewhat underground!bts, touches of dom/sub relationship, brat tamer!namjoon, bratty/spoiled! reader, hyperfem! reader, fingering, reader is described as “little” and namjoon “big” but only in height, spanking, face slapping, reprimanding, car sex, exhibitionism (only for the foreplay,) oral (f!receiving), dirty talk, praise, mating press, rough & unprotected sex, creaming, choking, hair pulling, backshots, very mean!namjoon, calls himself daddy towards the end, he has a filthy mouth, size kink, AGAIN...
ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ. author's note: repost from my old account. luv joon & his short hair so that’s what i’m referring to >.<
since the first "get to know you" day of kindergarten, you and kim namjoon have been inseparable. having clicked as soon as a light blue clad joon's eyes met pastel pink and bows you during lunch time.
he could vividly remember the sloppily written lettering of your name on the small "hello, my name is" sticker laid prettily on your left shoulder, the thick curls of your hair pulled back into a ponytail with pink ribbon decorating the base.
the way your eyes lit up as you opened your hello kitty lunch box to find it full of sweets and a quick, homemade meal with chicken cut up into the shape of a bunny. watching as you pushed the box between the two of you to share, chubby cheeks stuffed to the brim.
though, he loved to leave out the part where he cried as the school day came to a close, balling a tiny yet impossibly tight fist into the fabric of your dress to the point where he had to be pried away by his eomma and promised that he'd see you the next day.
as time went on and in middle school came, you two would be seen attached at the hip: walking to school together with namjoon carrying your bag and tying your shoes, bringing you to class, and so forth and so on.
it was safe to say that from then on, the pair of you had wreaked havoc on each of the poor teachers of your school careers; gossiping in the back of class, being utterly unproductive during group projects, and many, many others that led to weeks spent in the library after school for detention.
see, as you graduated to high-school nothing changed.
sure you'd grown far maturer and became introduced to a world full of negative influences, but the bond between you two never wavered. the red ribbon of fate still connects you thoroughly by the pinky finger.
namjoon became captain of the robotics team and you a cheerleader, but your set routine as best-friends lingered—strengthening even.
he began growing protective, seeing as you were the same pretty little innocent thing you'd been since elementary, still dressed in pink and bows but now catching the unwanted attention of the outside world.
and when rumors of the two of you being together found themselves slithering into the minds of the student body, joon didn't do a thing to stop them, reveling in the comfort it gave him with assurance of your safety.
it even landed you a golden spot in the high-school yearbook of superlatives, both your names written in bold letters under 'Most Likely to Stay Together After Graduation.'
and stay together is exactly what you did.
fast forward to your senior year of college, it's the first semester and you and namjoon share a small yet comfortably luxe apartment in the heart of seoul, decorated to a distinct mixture of the two of you—lots of greenery and wooden accents for namjoon with pink throw pillows and hello kitty shaped plant pots for you.
it's endearing, seeing traces of your familiarity and passion like a juxtaposition throughout the home. wouldn't want it any other way.
about nine thirty is when you pop up out of bed, your hair strewn about your head askew to the left, proof of your habit of being quite the wild sleeper.
you make quick work of hopping the shower and starting your daily routine, lathering yourself in your favorite honey vanilla lotion and layering the scent with a lightly scented perfume.
by the time you throw on a matching set and your favorite robe, fuzzy slippers on your cold feet before trudging into the living room, you catch sight of namjoon bare chested with a pair if oversized plaid pajama pants hanging low on his waist, a watering pot in hand as he tends to the plants he likes to call your children.
the morning sun beams brightly between the white, linen curtains of the room, the harsh light bothering your eyes and makes you bring a nimble hand up to try and block it out whilst grimacing.
"and she finally awakes. morning, baby," he smiles, eyes low but ever so expressive as he looks at you with nothing short of adoration.
"there's tea and oatmeal for you on the counter. go on and eat for me, okay?" namjoon's always been a morning person, finding himself awake at the ass-crack of dawn to read, meditate, and do a little bit of writing here and there.
so it doesn't surprise you that he's chipper so early, cheesing, voice a little louder than intended. though, it does make you grumble with annoyance and pout, mood sour as your head pounds.
not saying much as you walk to the marbled island counter that sits dead smack in the center of the kitchen, your kuromi mug steaming from the peach tea he'd made and next to it, a brown wooden bowl and spoon filled with warm oatmeal that's topped with berries, honey, and vanilla granola—just to your preference.
"remember, we have to stop by the studio to meet up with the guys today," he's calling out to you. "gotta leave out by eleven."
"i know, joon," you grumble, snarky and mean but you really don't mean it. you just weren't feeling the best and your words escape you without the slightest thought of how they might sound.
"don't start. fix the attitude before we leave out," he says, voice stern and commanding as he washes his hands, drying them before leaning back onto his palms when he goes to glare at you shoveling food into your mouth.
you pause, cheeks round and swollen with oatmeal. "'m just tired."
"i know, princess. once we get back home, you can take the rest of the day resting up," he's promising, kissing your forehead from across the counter, and reassuring you that it'll be quick.
you hum and namjoon finds it all too amusing when you stomp your little self over to the sink, sulking and pouting as you wash out your dishes.
it takes everything in him not to take matters into his own hands and straighten you out right then and there. spanking your lil ass raw 'till you remember your manners but it's early, and hopefully the combination of food in your system and sun on your skin puts you in a better mood.
you drag your feet up the stairs, the sound of your slippers scrapping against the wooden flooring making him groan. "pick up your feet," he says, scowling when you merely put your middle finger up in his direction.
that's strike one.
at the vanity situated on your side of the room specifically dedicated to you and your makeup process, you sniff whilst putting the finishing touches to your beat: gold highlighter in your inner corners and a black wing on the outer, pink blush on your cheeks. you put extra attention on your makeup today, hoping that it would help with your mood.
just a heads up, it didn't.
namjoon stands dressed in all black: a pull over hoodie with a white tank underneath that's peeking out at the bottom, oversized, black sweatpants, a leather bomber jacket, and pairs it with low top, nike blazer courts. he leans against the door frame with crossed arms, admiring as you line your lips with brown and fill the inside with pink gloss.
"how are you feeling," he asks as he makes his way toward you, hands grasping onto your shoulders when he stands behind your chair. you make eye contact in the mirror, him almost immediately catching sight of your lip jutting out on instinct.
"do you think i look pretty?" you disregard his prior question, responding with your own because you need confirmation on days that you feel like shit.
he smiles at your reflection, bending down to speak into your ear and takes pride in seeing your reaction. squirming in your seat. "the fuckin' prettiest, baby."
"do you really think so?" he coos at your round eyes that stare back into his within the mirror. “or are you only saying it because you have to?”
"i know so, my love.”
you commend him for his efforts but it just wasn't enough. you were too far deep.
"god, i just want this day to fucking end," you say and it makes joon press his lips together and you know why. he's always hated when you cursed, believing that pretty girls shouldn't say ugly words, and he's right, usually is. but right now, you're blind to what differentiates ugly from pretty.
the angel on your shoulder tells you to revert back to old ways, fall into line and be his good girl for the day, but the devil on the opposite reigns supreme, poking and stabbing at namjoon's buttons that are clearly lined with the warning, "do. not. touch." it’s just so tempting.
"what'd i say about today?" you hear his voice ask, eyes now low and mean, just waiting for you to give him reason to take you over his lap. you're working your way up to strike two. just about one and a third now.
"to not act out and to fix my attitude." you roll your eyes as you recite the words, standing before nudging him out of the way so you could get pass. grabbing your bag, you leave the room with knitted brows. "ugh."
it takes namjoon a moment to gather himself. you hear him speak a few sharp words under his breath before bringing the skin of his lip between his teeth to stop himself, feeling the pot start to boil with each passing moment. but he breathes, tells himself that this run should be quick, the faster it goes, the quicker he can get you in bed and figure out a way to make this tantrum go away.
joon can't help the clenching of his jaw, chewing on his tongue as he heads downstairs, your jacket in his hand. taking care of you, he helps you work your arms into the sleeves of it: his old letterman jacket from highschool in which his name decorates the back with the number "7" underneath it. ironic, right?
his eyes peer down at you when he goes to open the door for you, shutting it and making sure to lock it once you know you have everything, because you're known for leaving things behind and throwing an absolute fit once you realize.
there's been so many times where you've been late for reservations, gathering, events, because fifteen minutes into the ride, you're only then noticing that you left your lip gloss on the kitchen counter and proceed to cry until he's forced to drive back to get it.
the boys have always told him that he's spoiled you rotten. giving you anything you could ever ask for at the drop of the dime just because he likes it when you're smiling from ear to ear. he's been giving you your way for the longest because you're so pretty when you look up at him with awaiting eyes.
it's been so long catering to you, expecting everything to fall into the palms of your hands. it's gotten so bad that whenever you hear the word 'no' directed towards you, you're immediately storming off and throwing a hissy fit.
it's not your fault for being princess, is what he likes to say. trying to justify both his and your actions but when push comes to shove, there's no other possible outcome other than being faced with the fact that you're a spoiled little brat and it's ultimately his fault.
that's why you huff when he goes to grab at the passenger side door handle just so that you wouldn't have to—just because you know you've got him so tightly wrapped around your pinkie finger.
he tugs at it, waiting for you to tuck your head under the frame and when you don't, he's bringing his free hand to the crown of your head, pressing down to force you into the plush of the seat as if he were a cop detaining a suspect before slamming the door shut.
there's nothing that you want more than to curl up into a ball and run back into the comfort of your own home, hands tightening into little fists and they rest on your thighs.
you can't help but take notice on the way namjoon's jaw bulges from its clinching, pearly white teeth grinding because he's this fucking close to being mean. this close to leaving you crying because that's the way you're trying to make him feel—like a fucking asshole.
he doesn't understand it. namjoon can't see to understand for the life of him how a girl so pretty can be so utterly filled with the overwhelming urge to be such a brat despite getting everything she's ever asked.
you wanna go out shopping for your girls trip next month? one that he's funding? yeah of course, he's holding your bags and trailing behind an empty handed you from store to store.
you've been looking at that one dior bag for the longest, right? the next day, you see a pretty box wrapped up in a pink bow with a bouquet of dozens of your favorite flowers resting in the bed when you come back from your weekly luxury spa visit.
but when he asks you for one thing. that being to put your attitude aside for just a couple hours, he's met with nothing. nada. zilch.
it infuriates him. the sweet, round faced namjoon with a thick wallet and a means to please you starting to fade into the version of himself who doesn't put up with your bullshit and isn't afraid of putting you in your place.
it's a rarity that you're in trouble—or even falling close to it. he's always been patient with you, able to talk to you in just the right tone to hold you off. gets your head floating and molding you until you break away from that more brattier side of you.
it's easy to do but quite frankly, namjoon is becoming fed up with your shit.
the night before, you had been fine. he'd held you in his arms, kissed both sets of your lips as a reward, whispered in your ear sweet nothings until your eyes fluttered shut. everything was perfect. absolutely what could've changed overnight?
when he made it to the driver's side of the car, lips pursed shut and pads of two fingers to the feature as he pulled out of the parking spot, you found yourself practically compressed against the passenger side door, head leaning against the cool glass, trying to melt and camouflage into it.
you know he still cares when he motions with his fingers and tells you to put something on the radio, eyes never moving from their position on the road.
and you do so, otw by khalid sounding from the speakers. it's mellowing, soothing. has the knot at the small of your back diminishing, making you sigh as you watch the blur of tall buildings and street lights shoot past you.
it's a fairly quick ride to the studio, being midday on a tuesday, everyone's already at work so traffic is minimal. namjoon's easily able to put an extra force behind his foot on the gas, weaving in and out of lanes because the streets are pretty much dead.
parking in the small lot situated at the back of the building, joon takes a look to his right to see you dozed off. eyes closed, hands folded in your lap whilst your neck bends uncomfortably to the right.
gently, he rests his hand on the side of your face, softly hoisting you up before unbuckling your seatbelt. "mama, we're here," he speaks just above what describes a whisper.
it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, squinting once they finally open before you realize a tense groan. "mm, joon, can i just stay in here," you ask, comfortable in your spot. it's not like you were going to do anything in there but sit off to the side. could he just let you be?
"i don't know how long i'll be here for. you have to come in," he's saying, shaking his head back and forth. one good look at the way your face morphs into an unfitting scowl, he knows he's gonna have to take a different approach.
he removes his keys from the ignition, stepping out of the car before he's rounding the hood and making his way to your side. you watch as he opens the passenger door, leaning his body forward to where his upper half is in the frame, face now leveled with your own and just a few inches away. so close that you can smell the mint on his breath.
"don't get in here acting a fucking fool," he says, gripping into your chin when you go to turn your head the opposite way. his tone catches you off guard. only then do you realize that he's had it about up to here with you.
you pull your face away from his, only to get back a thick hand wrapping around your neck, fingers pressing into the base tightly to have you drawing closer and closer. his lips ghost your own as he's growing more stern and stern. "do it, and see what happens. i'll embarrass you."
"okay, joon." your eyes water, but he knows it isn't real. big, fat crocodile tears because you know its his weakness. you think they'll work but he's too far deep, grabbing your hands to guide you from the car's seat.
still, your lip is jutted out in a pout, allowing for yourself to be pulled up to the stairs of the studio, dark double doors opening before you in which you're stepping into with your free hand pulled into a fist.
the other six that make up bangtan are already situated in their designated booth, engaged in playful banter as they wait for the leader.
upon walking into the room and immediately catching sight of two free chairs seated to the far left that you just know namjoon will be pushing you into, you quickly decide against it when you see an empty chair next to jimin. you're then pulling your hand from his larger one to make a beeline directly to it.
he cuts his eyes, leaving the situation alone for now. he'll let you think you've gotten under his skin when in reality, you're just digging yourself deeper into a problem you'll have to face once you get home.
at this point, it's inevitable.
jimin stifles a laugh when you make your way over. pretty face balled up tightly and he thinks you resemble an angry little bunny. "hi, pretty," he greets, smiling when you sit and wave.
"hyung, what'd you do to her," jungkook turns to ask namjoon, a ball point pen pressed to his small notebook in which holds the lyrics of their upcoming album. "looks just about ready to knock someone's head clean off."
that makes them all laugh and you have to grab onto the underside of the chair to stop yourself from calling an uber and leaving. pronto.
its humiliating when namjoon chuckles, sitting down and making himself comfortable on the couch in which yoongi and hoseok does too, legs parted with his arms crossed at his roomy chest. "she wouldn't swat at a fly, let alone lay hands on somebody," he speaks, having zero regard for the way you glare at him from the other side of the room.
you want to say something, want to argue back with a sharp tongue and harsh words but namjoon's voice back in the car played repeatedly in your mind, the look in his eye when he grabbed onto your throat. it was grounding enough to have you pursing your lips to keep them shut.
leaning back in your chair, you pull out your phone, your case glimmers and gleams, rhinestones catching onto the iridescent light illuminating the room, and namjoon watches as you type, biting down on his tongue while a smile forms on your pretty lips.
you're typing away to someone with eager eyes, fingers tapping and your nails clanking against the screen and it drives joon mad. so utterly and completely insane. it's a little irrational but you probably could've blinked in the wrong way and his top would pop the fuck off.
you've made his patience wear dangerously thin. just a little more pressure until it snaps.
an hour and a half passes, full of paperwork signing and a few touch ups to certain tracks here and there. at least forty-five minutes of it was spent with you giggling under your breath at whatever pops up on your for you page and direct messages from friends.
a few times, you even tilted your screen into jimin's direction in between topics to show something you found funny in which he would always watch and chuckle before shooting a quick glance into his hyung's direction, welcomed with the sight of slitted eyes and a clenched jaw, and he's quick to put two and two together.
when yoongi finishes playing the tracklist for their new album, bangtan decides to call it quits, even so much as setting up an impromptu hotpot and karaoke night for celebration amongst the guys.
but unfortunately for you, namjoon has other plans. "can i rain check tonight," he asks before continuing. "i have to have to get home and do some work around the house."
your eyebrows shoot up, dropping your phone into your lap to look at him incredulously knowing damn well it's a lie, but you keep your mouth shut and wait until they exchange words, saying that it’s no problem and to get home safely.
"don't touch me," you say, wincing when namjoon tightly grips onto your forearm, neck bulging with veins as he seethes.
you're done for.
each of his buttons are pressed, control switches in gear—set in stone. there's no running or hiding because now, you're on strike three and no amount of faux tears can get you out of the lesson you're about to get taught.
"walk or i'll throw your lil ass over my shoulder," he says, voice deep, demanding, and leaving no room for back talk, and you can't make space, either. "and i dare you to try it. i really fuckin' do."
it has you pressing one foot in front of the other, legs shaky whilst your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. seems you might've bitten off way more than you could chew.
you and jimin lock eyes and immediately you're met with a smile so sickly sweet because he knows that'll be that last touch of gentle you'll get. the dark glint in his hyung's eyes tells him everything he needs to know.
you're fucked. both literally and figuratively.
good luck, he mouths over before you're being dragged out of the studio by the intense grip on your arm. you'll need it.
you shake in namjoon's hold, back flexing away from his touch when his hand moves to the back of your neck, clutching tightly. it's grounding. keeping your head from straying too far from the harsh reality of the situation at hand.
"been acting out your fuckin' ass all day," he speaks, fumbling with his keys to press the unlock button. but he waits to put you in the car, turning you around so that you face him.
you're able to see the skin of his forehead crease in annoyance, his thin eyebrows that arch with anger, and his lips that utter sharp words.
"you're being mean, joonie. don't be mean to me," you say, thinking it's gonna get you somewhere but news flash: it doesn't.
"i'm being mean," he laughs but it's humorless. tongue drawing circle on the wall of his inner cheek to stop himself from causing a scene. “you've been mean to me this entire morning and when you finally get me to where you've wanted, i'm being mean?"
"get in the fuckin' car." when you go to interject, he's grabbing your face, digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks so that your lips jut out in a pout. "don't talk to me."
he then nudges you away, going to round the trunk till he's getting situated into the driver's seat, not even opening your door like the gentleman he is. because right now, fiery hot annoyance bubbles within him and he's ready to put you in your place. asap.
you huff as you get into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut at your side before your arms are crossing over your chest that heaves, pretty tits pressed against your forearms and it takes everything in namjoon not to pull your top down and suck on your pebbled nipples right then and there.
"don't slam my doors. you know how i feel about that," he speaks, not bothering to look at you because he knows it'll have him crumbling. he needs you to learn. to learn that there's a time and place for everything. and the day that he actually needs to get things done is absolutely not one of them.
"i honestly don't care," you say, looking out the window so that you wouldn't have to face namjoon's intimidating eyes. "wouldn't be slamming shit if you just left me home."
that's when you feel the press of namjoon's nike clad foot to the gas pedal. "you keep talkin'," he grunts out when the driver beside him honks, continuing when he bobs the lanes in order to get around them. "keep fuckin' digging a hole you can't cry yourself out of."
"but imma tear your lil ass up when we get home. don't even worry about it."
your lips part into a silent gasp, eyes widening. "what, that's not even fair. you've been acting like an asshole to me all day! i just wanted to stay home and get some rest because my head was fucking pounding, namjoon."
"i asked you to do one thing. one thing only. gave you tylenol, fed you, and asked you to do one thing as simple as be good and you do the exact opposite." his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. "and now you wanna cry wolf because you're in trouble."
he's chuckling, low in a deep rumble from the center of his chest. you can feel the irritation bubbling up, rising to his neck in the form of stubborn veins and its suffocating. too much.
it's only when the car slows to a stop at a red light when namjoon acknowledges you, looking in your direction with mean eyes. "get in the backseat," he's saying as he presses down on the lock of your seatbelt, hearing the familiar 'click!' before he's roughing you up. "hurry the fuck up."
tears swell your eyelids at his tone. "stop cursing at me," you retaliate, voice small though the increasingly wet patch in your panties is thick, filled with arousal because the duality of him has you spinning. it's satiating.
"you only seem to listen when i speak to you like this so get in the fucking backseat. now."
it has you scrambling, your miniskirt catching onto the rounds of your ass when you go to climb over the center console and into the back, legs feeling like jelly but it feels so good.
the light turns green and off joon goes, speeding down the streets but one arm reaches behind his seat that's already slightly pushed back to accommodate his size, making it easy for his hand to grasp onto your ankles placing them onto the console before he's pulling down your skirt, never removing his eyes from the road.
he’s always been good at multitasking.
"get her ready for me," he says and now it's crazily obvious why he put you there. the backseat windows are tinted, only being able to see out but not the other way around. it blocks the view of inside the car, giving the perfect place to have you spread out and completely at his mercy.
you give him what he wants without needing further instruction, fingers shooting down to pull inside the skimpy cloth you call underwear and immediately being met with cool air directly on your clit. it makes a shiver run up your spine before you're spreading your pussy lips open, fingers in the shape of a ‘v’ as they glisten with your honeyed slick.
sucking in a breath through your front teeth in the form of a hiss, you and namjoon lock eyes in the overhead mirror, and it makes you gasp when his free hand slaps at your clit, palm hitting repetitively until you squirm.
"joon, joonie, i'm sorry, baby," you whine and hiccup, closing your legs over his hand, leaving it between your thighs that spasm from the sensitivity of your clit. but you forget namjoon's strong, easily able to get himself out of it by nudging them apart with his elbow as if it was nothing.
"hold them the fuck open. stop playing with me," he speaks and it's so mean but nonetheless has you growing wetter and wetter with each passing moment.
you put your forearms underneath the backs over your knees, toes curling when they press up against the seats up front. so undeniably spread open that it's degrading.
simultaneously, your fingers resume their thumbing at your pussy, tips catching at your entrance before dipping in, making room for the thickness of namjoon's dick that's soon to come.
the squelching is obscene, loud over joji's 'night rider.' your pussy talks, singing along to the beat that plays lowly through the speakers. you wish you could block out the sound, finding it embarrassing as is.
the pace you build up is slow but ever so needy, clenching around your digits and they drag in and out before scissoring, stretching it out. but you need more, need to feel namjoon. have him inside you.
so you beg, plead, "please, joon. touch me, please. i'm so sorry." tears run down your face, eyeliner dripping already because you've never been able to handle what you dish out, and namjoon finds it funny. the irony.
the way you're so quick to break, being so apologetic and sweet when beforehand you were nothing close. again, namjoon can't help but laugh.
"you already crying?" and in response, you nod your head, still fucking yourself as you spew. "i'm so sorry. i-i didn't mean it."
his hand finds home between your legs and you think he's gonna slip his fingers in but are sadly mistaken when another forceful slap is laid to your cunt. "shut up. i don't want to hear any of that shit. you wanted this so deal with it."
"but—"
he cuts you off before you can get the rest of your words out. "but nothing. hush." by then, he's already pulling into the garage, car being placed in park.
but when he goes to step out, he merely uses the control gears on the side of the seat to maneuver it closer to the steering wheel, providing more space for him to join you in the backseat.
when he rounds the trunk of the blacked out audi, pushing himself into the seat behind the passenger's side, he's pulling you to him, legs dangling off the side of his wide shoulders. "been acting up all day," he mumbles, lips puckering up but they don't meet the ones north. they trail downward, latching onto your clit, sucking so that he can feel it rub against his tongue.
you moan, back arching against the coolness of his dark interior, hands trying to clutch onto him, to push or pull, give some sort of relief to the emptiness of you but he's grabbing your wrists, pinning them to your stomach. "you don't get to touch me," he speaks, the breath from his words battering up against your core, leaving you shaky and defenseless.
he licks a stripe before spitting, messy in the way he eats because he wants you dripping, easy enough to slide in and out of without working up a sweat. namjoon plans on wrecking your shit, leave you walking funny for days, a reminder that pretty girls don't cry when they get what they deserve.
you have no choice but to sit there and feel him spit, suck, lick, repeat, over and over again, the sound of his smacking and you gushing loud in your ears until your muscles flex, ankles crossing over one another behind namjoon's necks, the heels of your feet digging into his back.
"stay right there. please, please, please," you cry, hands thrashing in his unrelenting hold and best believe your pleas aren't anywhere near quiet. it has him bringing his free hand up to your mouth, middle and ring fingers tapping on your glossy lips.
you know what he wants, so like the good girl you're trying so hard to be, you open, letting the pads of his fingertips rest heavily on your tongue before you're wrapping your lips around them, tongue swirling around the length of them as a welcome.
he's momentarily given you a reason to shut up, fucking your mouth with his fingers whilst he eats your pussy like it's the last supper. namjoon has always found pleasure in pleasuring you, loving the way you tasted like honey on his tongue, the way your moans would pull him in like a siren would a sailor. it was a danger, the way you had him wrapped around your little finger.
your thighs tighten around his head in which he's blind to, the sharp strands of his buzz cut poking at the sensitive skin there but still, he never lets up his tongue's dipping into your entrance, licking into your gummy walls that clench as you near your orgasm.
you twitch, gargle around his fingers that press to the back of your throat until you're drooling, unable to speak. but you try, incoherent babbling mixing with the sound of namjoon between your legs.
when your spasms grow quicker, he's forced to let go of your wrists, palm striking down onto your hips that rut on his face, dragging your clit up and down his nose, and it's all too much. way too much. so involuntarily, you're stopped, body pausing in the shock of your orgasm that wrecks through you without warning.
"did i tell you to fuckin' stop? keep going," he spits, spanking your ass and urging your forward, drinking up every bit that pours from you.
the way you bunch up his jacket in tight fists is endearing, almost getting namjoon to reach up and smash his lips onto yours but he stops himself, keeps up his hard exterior because he knows he needs to put you in your place. learn your lesson.
"so good, joon. right there," you whine, head thrown back as he cleans you up with his tongue, lapping up any left over so that he can slide your underwear and skirt back into your lower half before bringing your face up to his with a grounding grip onto the column of your neck.
his lips hover over your own, practically daring you to kiss him. you know better though. his mean gaze on you says that you're in for a real treat, so you wait for him to speak, too scared to break the silence that blankets you.
"you've been out of line ever since you woke the hell up. i'm tired of you acting like you don't know shit."
"but i apologized," you say, eyes round and compliant as you look at him. you're a complete 180 of how you acted this morning. now docile in the way you shrink under his gaze.
his palm smacks against your cheek, stinging hotly but it adds fuel to the fire, makes your stomach full with butterflies. "mhm, but you don't mean it. just saying what you know i want to hear." namjoon's tugging you, putting his muscles to work as they sit you upright. "get out."
he's opening the door, ducking down in order to push himself out of the frame, and he doesn't look back because he knows you'll follow, making sure to press down on the lock button situated on his keys once he hears the shut of the car door.
your hair is messy, matting up in the back because of the friction between the strands and the fabric of the car seats. the wobbliness of your legs lead to the stairs, walking past the threshold and into your home in which namjoon holds the door and waits for you to get in just before gathering the thick strands at the back of your head, using it as leverage to urge you deeper into the home.
you gasp at his handling, his chest clung to your back as he pushes and pulls. you can't help but bring your hand up to his, clutching onto his wrist to try and ease his grip.
his breath is hot on your ear, whispering right into it as he bends forward to meet your level, ass pressed against his upper thighs while the growing bulge in his joggers swells. "by the time i get up those steps, you better be just how i want you."
and you bolt, quick to kick your chunky shoes from your feet and pull the jacket from your arms, left in a little skirt and an oversized soccer jersey, though you don't get time to dwell before rushing to take it all off, left bare save for the pink set of your bra and panties. the thickness of your curls resting at your shoulders.
heavy feet fall onto wooden flooring of the hall, partly creaky, or maybe it was the sound of your heart thumping in your ears. namjoon makes his way closer to your shared bedroom, his own outwear discarded and now left in a white tank and his bottoms.
your eyes are round and glassy when you look at him, regret all over your features because you know you're in for it. the way he rounds the bed to sit at the side of it before beckoning you over to him with the simple gesture of his fingers.
he wrangles you over his lap, right arm wrapping around your waist to keep you in place while his left hand rubs at the smooth skin of your ass before striking down, the smack so hard that it has you yelping.
"y'so pretty baby but act so fuckin' bad," he speaks, unwavering when he continues to reprimand you. "make it so hard for me."
“you know i hate seeing you cry.”
you call out for him, grabbing onto his calves for stability, thighs shaking in delicious pain because while it hurts, it feels so good, adding to the slick between your legs. the tears begin to run for the third time in the last half an hour, hands going to push at his but you're being stopped with the one along your waist, pinning your wrists to your lower back.
"you've done enough. be a good girl, would you," he questions but doesn't wait for an answer. "'s exactly why you're in this predicament now." ass perched up while he spanks it raw.
his hits are rough and repeated, taking the time in between to massage them just to take that momentary relief away once more at the bat of an eye. he even slides his finger between your folds to pick up a little bit of your wetness so that he can smear it across your ass.
namjoon's hungrily listening to every whine and scream that he draws from you, his cock unbearably stiff within his boxers, tip leaky and with a pinkened blushed undertone from its neglect.
it's only when he's done with you that he brings it to attention, pulling at the back of your hair to pull your face up level to his, eyeliner dyed tears streaming down your cheeks and he coos, kissing your forehead, but still, never touches your lips.
he knows you need it, the way your eyes are cloudy, waiting for him to get you exactly where it's easy to break to down: giggly and ever so moldable. pushing down your more bratty side and swapping it out for the good girl.
so he places you on the bed, sits you in his previous position whilst he rids himself of his clothes. chest and below bare and tanned with the small ribbon bow tattoo that represents you resting on his left pec, kneeling down just enough so that he can unclamp your bra and discard your panties before pursing his lips to leave a glob of spit catching onto your entrance, adding to your already drenched cunt.
"needed me, baby? you needed me to fill you up to put you in a better mood," he questions. “all you had to do was ask. you’on need to do the extra shit.” bringing a hand to his cock to jerk, standing back to his feet to drag his tip from your clit to the strip of skin just above your puckered hole. he just just keeps doing it, back and forth, up and down, until your grow restless, quivering, advancing to wrap your legs around his hips to bring him closer.
but namjoon easily slides into you and presses his palms to the backs of your knees, pushing so that they rest at either side of your head so that you’re completely folded.
the stretch hurts, makes you vulnerable and at the hands of his mercy but you wouldn't want it any other way, laying the future of your orgasm in his hold because you know he'll cater to you in every way possible.
his hips rut, pelvis to pelvis, heavy balls pressed to the swell of your ass as he digs deeper. and your pussy spasms, hugging him, sucking him in like a whirlpool. it makes namjoon lay his weight onto your chest, picking up his pace.
“slow down,” you whine, lips parted with your head thrown back, he takes one hand from your leg to wrap around your throat, bringing your attention onto him. maintaining gut-churning eye-contact.
"take this shit," he speaks, harsh and cruel. staring into your eyes and it makes you want to shrivel up. "been fuckin' with me all day so take this shit."
“d-didn’t mean to.”
he drops his hips a hurried slam, pounding into you like you owed him something. it was unrelenting. forceful. upon the impact of his dick sliding into you, your body jerks up higher onto the bed.
“mm, look at you. be actin’ all tough in public but as soon as you get on this dick, you go silent.”
leaning over, namjoon puts his thumb onto your bottom lip, sliding it between so that he can pry open your jaw, getting your mouth wide enough so that he can spit directly into your mouth but some inevitably falls onto your cheeks and he seals, smearing it, berry lip gloss smudging while your skin stings.
he laughs in your face, finding you to be the prettiest thing. even when you’re absolutely wrecked. pussy pulsing, titties bouncing, tummy folding, and knees resting beside your head.
“you boutta cream on me,” he asks when he feels you tighten and you nod, spent on the feeling of him splitting you open with a smile on his face. “this your shit. just go ‘head.” namjoon continues to dog you out, watching as the familiar white ring coats his dick at the base and he loves the sight.
before you get the chance to come down from the high of it all, namjoon’s taking matters into his own hands and is once again repositioning you as if it were nothing. the swiftness of it gives you whiplash. he's strong without reason, makes it entirely too easy to turn you to lay on your chest in the middle of the bed, arms behind your back whilst your ass points up, arched impossibly low that it strains your spine.
his palm is pressed to your cheek, pushing your head down into the mattress. one knee to the plush of the bedding while the other is bent with his foot flat as he thrusts entirely too deep.
it's hard hearing the soppiness of you taking him in, hearing your pussy talking back, pleading to take it easy because he's being so rough and you can barely keep up. he leaves you gaping when he pulls out and kisses your clit to see it jump just to push back in with fervor afterward.
with your face forced onto its side, watching through the mirror of your vanity as namjoon loses himself in your warmth, thrusts growing sloppy and straying away from its pattern, you blindly reach behind you, feeling the weight of his dick drilling into you.
"move your hand," he speaks sternly, calling you by name and its grounding. but you can't bring yourself to do it, trying your hardest to intercept his pace by pressing down onto his lower stomach. pretty nails dragging down the skin.
"i can't, joon," you plead, eyes rolling to the back of your head, toes curling. "god, it's too much." you involuntarily break your arch, back hunching, going to stand onto your knees to get namjoon to let up but he doesn’t let you.
pressing down on your back, moving your hand himself and pulling your hips up to get you right back into position he wants you, namjoon isn’t one for mercy as he digs back in. "nah, don't run from it.” he lays a heavy smack to your ass, watching as the flesh jiggles, so he does it again.
and again. and again. and again.
“fuck me back, baby.” he knows you’re gone when you do as he says without hesitation, smiling to himself as he feels his own toes curl. “yeah, you got it. fuck…keep goin’.”
and just like that, you’re back to your old ways. taking everything that he has to offer. throwing your ass back onto him to meet his thrusts. it has him reaching a hand down to pinch and roll your clit between two fingers, building you up so that you’ll be milking him in no time.
“all you wanted. this is all you wanted. you know daddy’s got you, baby,
a few more plunges in and you’re fluttering, cream flowing out of you, running down your thighs, and that causes a ripple effect on namjoon, his balls constricting as he paints your walls white.
and when you shake so much that you're one step away from sliding off the bed, namjoon chuckles before holding onto you tight, laying his sticky chest into your back and grabs the side of your face to smack his lips to yours.
❥ Genre: MDNI 18+ | established relationship, angst
❥ Word count: 400+ (sorry)
❥ Notes: this is my first one shot/fic ever so please read it with grace and if there’s anything i should work on please let me know :) !
You’re doing your usual spring cleaning around the house—the normal mopping, wiping down everything, and I mean everything. You feel like being a little extra today, so you decide to dust the cabinets.
Grabbing your duster and climbing your step ladder, you swat away the dust when something catches the corner of your eye: something blue. It’s a blue box with a ribbon.
What could it possibly be? “What the hell-?” you say, wearing the most peculiar look on your face. You open the box. Pictures. There are pictures of a couple—a happy couple. You look closer and realize that one of those people is your boyfriend. Mingyu. Why would he keep these? Why would he hide them?
You rush down the step ladder and into his office.
“Baby, I was just coming—” he starts, but stops speaking when he notices the hurt in your eyes. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”
You don’t respond. He looks up from his desk, his expression shifting from focus to surprise as he sees you holding the box. His eyes widen slightly, recognizing what you’ve found. Mingyu stands quickly, a mix of guilt and anxiety crossing his face.
“Y/N... I can explain…” You cut him off.
“I’m going to ask you one question, and I’m only going to ask it once.” He waits for the words to leave your mouth, bracing for what’s to come. “Do you still love her?” you ask, a cry escaping your throat.
“Y/N it’s complicated…I-” He breathes out with a piece of guilt attached to it.
“You didn’t answer my question…” You say looking deep into his eyes but it doesn’t connect because his eyes are fixed on the box in your hand.
He closes his eyes briefly, the truth evident in his pained expression. When he opens them again, they meet yours directly. “Yes…” His admission is quiet but honest, as though it physically hurts him to say it out loud.
You can’t even make out the words; your mind is running all over the place. All you can do is cry—a sound that escapes your throat.
His face crumples at your cry, guilt washing over him. He reaches for you instinctively, but stops himself midway. “I never wanted to hurt you with this. I tried to move on completely. I really did. For you.”
Your feet start moving before you even realize it, and you slowly back away from him.
“Y/N, look at me… please,” he says, reaching for you.
Before you know it, your body hits the floor, your knees pressing against your aching chest, and your lungs feel like they’re going to burst out of your chest.
He lowers himself to your level. “You have to believe me. What I had for her is nostalgic…”
⇢ RATING/GENRE: m/18+ | college au, fwb, smut, fluff, angst
⇢ WC: 12.8k sorry
⇢ WARNINGS: emotional at points, fighting rip, oc lowkey in her villain era, they both say mean things to eachother (nothing tew intense), jk is not a himbo >:(, characters are forced to face their insecurites </3, misunderstandings, finger sucking, oral sex (f and m recieving), 69 action if u squint, brief ass eating, a little manhandling, titty sucking (obvi), flavored lube, butt plug moment, miss hitachi is finally here !!!, unprotected sex, corruption kink, squirting, overstimulation, slight dom jk, a bit of manhandling, praise, creampie, maybe unrequited love, maybe not (lol jk u'll find out), where's waldo but instead of waldo its bam
⇢ SUMMARY: sparks fly as you try to forget about jungkook.
⇢ NOTES: it’s finally here! if you haven't read pt 2 in a while, i'd suggest rereading it before reading this part! maybe even pt 1 bc callbacks. you might miss a few things if you don't. kinda nervy to post this bc everyone was so conflicted. hopefully the ending is satisfying for all. also sorry if the smut is meh, this piece was more plot driven than other things i’ve written. thank you so much for the love and support on this series. seriously cannot thank you guys enough. very bittersweet to be saying goodbye to it but i hope you stick around. love you and as always feedback is v appreciated !! big ty to @floweryjeons for betaing !!
⇢ SERIES MASTERLIST
dumbo do u want lunch? i can drop it off in about 30
You were midway through a three hour lab and you really needed to focus. Unfortunately, the professor’s droning was easily overtaken by incessant vibrating. You peek at your phone with a scoff before shoving it back into your pocket.
Jungkook doesn’t get the hint.
dumbo i’ll just get the usu
dumbo lol i forget… ur lab is in room 305 in the civic engagement building right?
Room 222 in the science building. You don’t correct him, though.
It was difficult to ignore the sharp, self-inflicted stabs that pierced through your back whenever he texted you. But you had to rip the bandaid off before it had time to adhere to you entirely. You hadn’t talked to him in days. Not since he lied to you.
Whenever you had the urge to respond, you went through memories. Pictures of him looking unamused, pink pout scrunched up as you smushed his cheeks together. Videos of his nostrils fluttering as blaring snores filled your dorm room; your soft giggles in the background.
Little snapshots of the present that were now the past.
You were slowly weaning yourself off of Jeon Jungkook.
Your phone goes off again during your break.
dumbo hey i’ve been waiting for like 20 min
dumbo gonna head out since ur probably caught up. free until about 4 tho so text me if u want anything i’ll come back
dumbo or we can just get something after the showcase?
dumbo are you running late?
dumbo you know it starts at 7p right?
dumbo ik you hate being late so i’m starting to get nervous…
dumbo just let me know that you’re safe please
Those texts were sent nearly three hours ago. You’ve tried to distract yourself with homework, Sailor Moon, and the watermelon mask you were currently washing off your face. Nothing helped. The guilt lingering in your chest was heavy and you wish it would trickle down the drain like the abandoned products.
You sigh, shaking your hands vigorously to flick off the excess water. A damp knuckle presses your phone screen. It’s 10 p.m. on a Friday. Back at square one.
The scent of your green tea moisturizer fills your nostrils as you glide the creamy substance over your skin. Fingertips dancing gently across the surface of your plump cheeks. The touch is soft and delicate, just like his was-
Intrusive thoughts make you want to remove your frontal lobe.
You try to remind yourself that although vibrant and dashing, Jungkook was anything but your knight in shining armor. Greedy. Disgusting. Selfish. Just like the rest of the men who tried to conquer the tall brick walls of your heart, mind, and body.
You look at yourself in the mirror. Despite the brightening mask, your dewy skin was dull. The inner corners of your big eyes were overtaken by winding red branches. The thick black bags under them appear even heftier than your beloved Playboy duffel. Your plump lips are coated in your Laniege lip mask. It’s candy-flavored, but it doesn’t taste as sweet anymore. You look lifeless.
Did cutting Jungkook off really affect you that badly?
Or perhaps you always looked like this, and the loss of him made you realize how truly gloomy and lackluster things were before.
For the past two months, your reflections were filled with pearly white teeth and crinkled eyes. Being with Jungkook was careless and irresponsible in all the right ways. Whenever you were with him, the negative thoughts that often plagued your mind were forgotten, and you were just… free.
But look where that got you.
The sound of your phone pinging brings you back to reality.
dumbo tae said that you’re home with mina…
Taehyung. What a little snitch. You’ll make sure that Mina punishes him adequately.
dumbo not sure what your deal is but i’m fucking heated
“What do you know, Taehyung?” You sneer his name like a curse; the nasty ‘T’ word.
“I know everything,” he responds nonchalantly, flipping through his absolute mammoth of a textbook. He nods his head toward the guilty party beside him. “Your bestie told me.”
“Liar!” Mina gasps, smacking his sweater-clad bicep. Her voice lowers immediately when Taehyung shushes her. You were in the library after all. She looks at you exasperatedly. “I didn’t tell him like- ‘everything’ everything.”
“I don’t need to know everything.” He closes the hardcover book gingerly, peering at you over the thick black rim of his glasses. You’re convinced they’re a sham, and he only wears them to look professional and intellectual. “My keen deductive reasoning has led me to the conclusion that this situation is—in fact—fucking ridiculous.”
You gawk at bluntness. “Aren’t you literally studying to be a therapist?”
“Psychiatrist,” he corrects with a cheesy grin. “I’m allowed to tell you when you’re being childish.”
“Tae, be nice.” Mina warns with a scowl, holding her index finger out right in front of his nose. “I know Jungkook is your friend, but he’s grimy.”
“I swear, I’m not trying to be a dick.” Taehyung laughs, raising his hands up in surrender. “I’m just giving perspective. I care about you, __.”
“Sure you do.” You answer curtly, rolling your eyes.
“And-,” Taehyung claps his large palms together, fingertips pointed towards you in an accusatory fashion. “-I know Jungkook better than both of you.” He gestures between you and Mina. “He’s not a bad dude.”
“He-,”
“He ditched her to go to a party!” Mina beats you to the punch, voice whiny and frustrated. “And lied about it! He’s trash!”
“Thank you, Mina,” you whisper-shout, placing a finger over your lips to remind her, once again, that you were still in the library. As much as you love her, you didn’t necessarily want all of campus knowing your dirty laundry. Your eyes scan the dimly lit room for eavesdroppers. Luckily, it was fairly empty at this time of day.
“Why don’t you just talk to him?”
“It’s not that simple, Tae,” you sigh, turning your attention back to the empty word document on your laptop screen. In the twenty minutes you’ve been sitting here, you have only managed to type the essay’s title and your name. Spelled wrong. Sneakily, you correct the typo before anyone notices.
“Maybe…” Mina starts, lips scrunching to the side in contemplation. She looks at her boyfriend innocently before tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Playing all the right cards. “Maybe… you could talk to him for her? Or do a little snoopy snoop to see what he’s up to?”
“There’s no way in hell I’m playing double agent for you guys.”
“Come on, Tae!” Mina pouts. “It could be fun!”
“No,” Taehyung laughs, shaking his head. “I refuse to get in the mid-,”
“Hey!”
Taehyung’s words are cut off by an uncomfortably familiar voice. Its usual soft, playful tone was laced with sternness. The sound makes your spine straighten.
Jungkook.
You were so distracted that you hadn’t heard his clunky black boots stomping towards you. The firm grip of tattooed fingers on your shoulder makes you look up. Even under the rim of his bucket hat, you can see the angry stars dancing in his black eyes. They’re hot and scalding with irritation. “Can we talk?”
“About?” You peep in feigned naivety.
“Oh, please,” he scoffs loudly, laughing in disbelief. The seat beside you is yanked out with a startling screech. Jungkook plops down on it and turns to face you, knees digging into your outer thigh. Always so incredibly close. “Don’t give me that shit-,”
“Jungkook.” Taehyung calls, trying to stifle the bubbling lava in Jungkook’s stomach before he erupts. It was rare to see his happy-go-lucky friend so agitated. “Chill.”
His eyes soften at the warning. It’s like Jungkook hadn’t even registered how angry he had actually become. The entirety of his college experience has been spent distancing anger—and any other negative emotion—so far from his being that he couldn’t even detect the cues anymore. He inhales deeply through his nose, white t-shirt pulling tight at his chest, before exhaling.
“You good?” Taehyung asks.
“Yeah, I’m good.” Jungkook nods, bringing a hand up to massage slow circles into his temple. Despite how upset you are with him, the self-soothing mechanism makes your heart ache. “I promise, I’m calm. I just want to talk.”
His pupils dart between the two unmoving figures across from you.
“Alone, please.”
Jungkook and Taehyung lock eyes for a moment, communicating silently through some bro-telepathy that has you and Mina exchanging confused glances. Suddenly, the curly-haired boy nods, collecting his textbook and intertwining his fingers with Mina’s. “Let’s go, babe.”
“Tae, wait!” Mina protests, trying to wriggle out of Taehyung’s grasp. She looks at you apologetically as her boyfriend urges her towards the exit, unable to break free. “Call me after, okay?” She shoots Jungkook a threatening glare before turning away.
And just like that, you were left alone with the man you’d been avidly avoiding for the past week and a half.
“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook questions, silver piercing glimmering in the light as he gnaws on his bottom lip. The pink skin under his bunny teeth was already turning red. “Like… did I do something wrong?”
You look everywhere but him, mindlessly scrolling up and down the empty page on your laptop screen. It was a poor attempt to act unbothered, despite the heavy thumping in your chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The showcase?”
“What about it?”
Jungkook always took your attitude in stride, leveling your petty comments with kisses and playful eyerolls. This eye roll, however, paired with a painfully clenched jaw, is anything but playful. “Quit playing games, __. I’ve had enough,” he grits.
He never calls you by your name.
“Playing games,” you echo with a sarcastic laugh. In the pit of your stomach, you can feel the sadness morphing into a fit of heady anger. The words taste vile and sour on your tongue before they’re spewed at him. “That’s rich coming from you.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the puzzled expression on his face. Eyebrow piercing twitching in confusion as the cogs in his brain spin, trying to make sense of your words. “I don’t understand…”
How does he not understand?
“Why didn’t you come to the showcase?”
You huff out a sigh, gaze fluttering to the ceiling.
“Answer me,” he urges, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, clearly trying to shift your attention back onto him. As if that wasn’t what landed you in this position in the first place.
“Jungkook-,”
Your voice gets caught in your throat when you feel his sharp exhales fan across your cheek. Fast and restless. It makes you miss the deep, peaceful ones he would make when buried under your heavy duvet; hair disheveled from tossing and turning and the brush of your fingers as you lulled him to sleep. His breath smells like toothpaste and vanilla gum. You glance at your taskbar. It’s 12:23 p.m. and he hasn’t eaten yet.
“I didn’t go because this is unproductive,” you sigh, closing your laptop and finally gaining the courage to face the man beside you. “You being in my life is unproductive.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Unproductive.” When your eyes meet his big dark ones, you can’t stand them. You can’t stand him for what he’s done, for how he’s turned something so special to you, so ugly. It coaxes that equally ugly, scaly, green defensiveness out of you. You want to retreat, and rebuild the walls higher, so that your emotional security would never be destroyed again. Anyone who threatened it would be burned, including Jungkook, sitting before you with doe eyes as you prepared to breathe fire in his direction. “I know it’s a difficult word, but you’re a big boy. Sound it out.”
The look on his face makes you regret the low blow instantly.
“Jesus,” he huffs, taking his hat off and scrubbing his hands over his face like he’s trying to wake up from a nightmare. “Why are you being-”
You cringe, expecting a nasty insult.
“-so mean?”
Oh.
Ow.
For some reason, that hurt more than any curse word would.
“I’m not mean.”
“I know you’re not,” he lifts his head, searching your face for any remnant of the girl he’s spent the last two months with. “So why are you acting like this?”
Your silence eggs him further.
“You know what, I’m so fucking sick of you treating me like I’m stupid,” his eyes squeeze closed when he swears, nails digging into his tattooed knuckles as he crosses his big hands. The confession rips through him and hits you like a physical blow. You suddenly remember all of the times you’ve teased Jungkook about his major or insulted his intelligence.
‘What tests? You’re a photography major.’
‘You’re an idiot, Jungkook.’
‘Your major is showing.’
You didn’t mean any of it. Not one bit. They were just shitty efforts to conceal your feelings for him. You never realized that Jungkook was taking your comments to heart. But it was too little too late. You can’t turn back time and the floodgates have already opened.
“Just because I’m not some big-shot science major, doesn’t mean that I’m fucking brainless. And it certainly doesn’t mean that you’re better than me.” With his hat sitting on the glossy wooden table, you can fully see the angry arch in his brows. The scrunch in his nose intensifies as he seethes. “What? You think you’re too good to go to the showcase? If you didn’t want to come you should’ve grown a pair and said something.”
“It’s not that,” you protest, chin quivering with ugly dents as you try to hold back tears. “I just… figured you’d bring someone else.”
Jungkook pauses for a moment, cogs coming to a halt when he finally comprehends your vague statements. “Stop acting like you can read my mind- or that you know me better than I know myself.” He snatches his hat and drops it back on his head, fingers gripping the rim to adjust the position. “Because you clearly don’t know shit about me.”
You watch silently as he scoots his chair back, standing up with urgency. How did things come to this? Two months ago you were casual friends, now you’re fighting in the middle of the school library. You would’ve never let him into your dorm room that night if you knew it would hurt this bad.
“And I actually thought-,” Jungkook says, turning to face you. His lips open and then close promptly before he waves a hand at you. “Fuck it, nevermind. I’m done.”
You look extremely suspect.
Speeding through campus with your hood up, sweater strings almost dangling to the floor with how tight you’ve pulled them. You can barely see where you’re going. The small fluffy peephole you’ve provided yourself is no good for navigating the winding halls of the dreaded liberal arts building.
You’ve been sleeping in later and later; a recent habit. Most days you felt drained, barely able to muster the energy to crawl out of bed. That’s exactly what happened this morning, hence why you’re marching down this evil, forbidden shortcut, in hopes of making it to class on time.
It’s a Tuesday. Jungkook doesn’t have classes on Tuesdays. But you’ve done everything in your power to avoid him and the places he frequents. You haven’t heard from him since the.. incident. Not a single text or call. It hurt like hell, but what did you expect? You weren’t exactly nice to him the last time you two spoke. And it wasn’t like he cared to begin with. He was probably already buried in someone else; moaning blissfully. Meanwhile, you can’t even leave your damn room without thinking about him.
Shut up, evil brain. Back to the matter at hand—getting to class.
You decide that music is the best method of distraction. An exaggerated sigh slips out as you yank your phone out of your pocket. You’re just about to crank your airpods up when a couple of distant voices catch your attention.
“These are from this weekend's showcase, we’re taking them down next week…” A muffled response that you can’t comprehend. “Yep, all are my students.”
You stop dead in your tracks.
The professor’s prideful tone rings in your ears, drowning out whatever breakup playlist you were previously listening to. The mention of a showcase, the showcase, makes your heart drop with a painful thud.
Fuck.
Your skull feels exponentially heavier than normal when you lift it, finally breaking eye contact with the dingy concrete floor underneath you. There are pictures hung all along the white walls of the campus center. No doubt leftover from an event you deliberately skipped.
You roll your head back, attempting to loosen the uncomfortable tension in your muscles. Anxiously gnawing on your bottom lip, you take in your surroundings. Jittery hands pluck out your headphones and plop them back into your Luna-shaped airpod case. Underneath all the sadness and guilt, your body was teaming with curiosity.
You never found out what Jungkook’s topic of choice was. And now that you think about it, you haven’t seen any of his photography. Ever.
A quick look wouldn’t hurt, right?
Besides, maybe this was what you needed to move on. A final goodbye to the man who has held your mind captive for far too long.
With a deep exhale and a heavy heart, you take the plunge and step forward. You lull along the walls, staring wide-eyed at each photo. Most of them take on a dark modern vibe, displaying people and objects in dreary settings. A sea of gray and black. Devoid of color. You glance at the labels above. The topics chosen were gloomy, too.
Hm. Life imitates art.
You wonder if those students have had their hearts broken as well.
A vibrant splash of color makes you halt. Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at the canvas. There’s a blood-red rose. The lens is so zoomed in that the flower eats up the entire portrait. You place a manicured digit against it, tracing your fingertip along the jagged veins in the delicate petals. The imagery is surreal, almost comparable to a heart. Not a cutesy cartoon heart—the literal human organ. You think it’s stunning, standing out amongst the rest like a beautiful sore thumb.
The printed black font along the border makes your breath hitch.
Love - Jeon Jungkook.
The subject confuses you, but the photography makes sense. Of course, this was Jungkook’s work. It’s obnoxious, lively, and so incredibly different from the rest. Stunning and enchanting, nonetheless. The next photo in his set is of two shadows, a bit distorted as they're splayed against the concrete. A couple holding hands. You recognize the silhouettes immediately; Mina and Taehyung. You can’t fight the smile spreading across your face.
Next in the portfolio is a room, white walls decorated with faux ivy vines. The little, golden lights laced throughout them gives the picture a warm saturated glow. At the center of the photo is a woman laying underneath a cream duvet. Her bare back is facing the camera, messy hair sprawled on the pillow. It’s a bit risqué, but you get how it connects to his chosen subject. It’s the aftermath of the physical act of love.
To any other student or teacher strolling by, the woman in the picture was a stranger. But to you, she’s the farthest thing from a stranger.
She’s you.
Jungkook must have taken it while you were sleeping.
A wave of the most perplexing, juxtaposing emotions washes over you. Your palms turn clammy as you try to process what you’re witnessing. Why would he do this? Include a picture of you in a project, literally titled ‘love’, only to fucking lie to you? To take advantage of your affection and string you along while he entertained another person?
You find the answers to your aimless questions in the next photo.
Fireworks.
The only time you remember seeing or hearing fireworks was…
The night of the party.
“Jungkook,” you sigh, pressing your damp forehead against the grainy wood of his door. You never thought you’d be in this position. Chasing after a man. It’s humiliating and out of character, but you need to make things right. “I know you’re in there…”
You’ve been standing outside of his dorm room for the past ten minutes. Knocking, pleading, begging. All to no avail. The sound of rustling blankets and footsteps on the other side makes you lift your head, eyes widening with hope. The optimism is lost once the soft noises stop completely. They only served to confirm your suspicions. Jungkook is home and he’s purposely ignoring you.
Oh, the irony.
Earlier in the week, the roles were reversed. Jungkook was the one pining for your attention. Now, you know exactly how he must have felt that day in the library. And you don’t like it one bit.
“Look,” you huff, shaking a few clumpy strands out of your face. “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me right now… but I’m really sorry.”
The only response you receive is the whoosh of running water.
Your shoulders slump in defeat. Obviously, he’s not going to answer the door. Why would he? He had every right to be mad. You hadn’t hesitated to dismiss him, and his passions, when you were the one upset.
You come to the grim realization that maybe things are better this way.
Jungkook is completely, entirely, wholeheartedly different from you, and you from him. So much so that you were incompatible. You’ve barely dipped your toes into anything serious, yet the two of you were already fighting and miscommunicating. It would never work, whatever it is. It couldn’t.
Deep down in your heart, you know none of that is true.
As much as you try to rationalize the distance, you can’t convince yourself that your life is better like this—because whenever you picture a future with Jungkook or reflect on the past, you see and feel nothing but sunshine. The walls begin to crumble and you feel free. Maybe, the characteristics of Jungkook you deemed annoying and different, were what made being with him so euphoric.
But none of that matters anymore. Whatever chance you had at that, at something more with him, you've completely destroyed. With a grimace and an awful pit in your stomach, you decide the best thing you can do for him is leave him alone. You adjust the takeout bags in your hand and begin to head out.
Just as you reach the end of the dingy hallway, you hear a click and a loud creak. You spin so fast you almost get whiplash.
Jungkook is standing in his doorway, looking at you blankly with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. He’s shirtless, full muscles rippling under his milky skin. Normally you would ogle at the sight of his toned chest and defined abs, but your focus is elsewhere. Like on the red flannel sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips, sharp v-line peeking over the hem. You recognize them from the night you helped him study for an upcoming quiz.
‘This is a conspiracy,’ he grumbled, convinced the test was an elaborate scheme by the school committee to punish him for his frequent drunken mishaps and countless guideline violations. You laughed, resting your head on his shoulder as you helped him memorize terms and ideas. You guys didn’t leave the library until 2 a.m.
He looks warm and cozy. Dark tresses swooping in messy waves across his forehead as he peers at you with doe eyes. After not seeing him or checking in on him for a while, you let out a sigh of relief.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” he mumbles softly, voice coming out muffled over the bristles of his toothbrush. He pulls it out, letting out a tiny ‘oops’ as a glob of toothpaste hits the floor. He wipes it away with his foot before continuing. “What are you doing here?”
“I…” Everything you wanted to say had trickled out of your mind like the little droplets of water running down your skin.
He meets your silence with an unamused squint and starts to close the door.
“Jungkook, wait!” You shout, taking a few frantic steps closer. “I saw the showcase!”
He pauses. “You did?” His thick brows slant in confusion. “How?”
“It’s still up in the liberal arts building.”
He nods his head slowly as an awkward quietness falls over the corridor. You can tell he’s still upset with you and the tension makes you queasy.
“I have pancakes,” you offer nervously, lifting up the crinkled plastic bags in your hand. It’s so damn cheesy. But you're trying your best. You prayed that he understood the reference, and remembered how he showed up to your dorm in the same exact way. The fateful night that started it all.
“Interesting.” His nose twitches as he tongues the little hoop on his bottom lip. Obviously fighting a smile. Thank God. “What kind?”
“Chocolate chip… your favorite.”
He hums a contemplative noise, scanning you up and down. Your hair is dripping. The pink velvet hoodie you’re wearing is clinging to your figure in ways he knows it isn’t supposed to. “Why are you wet?”
“It’s raining,” you point out.
Jungkook glances over his shoulder, glancing into his room and out the window at the cloudy, gray sky. There’s a change in his expression when he faces you again. “You walked here in the rain?”
You nod meekly.
The harsh glint in his eyes softens. He sighs deeply, head dropping in defeat as he holds out a colorful arm, inked digits gesturing for you to come closer. “C’mere, Bambi. I’ll get you some clothes.”
Bambi.
You’ve never been so elated to hear that nickname.
“Thank you,” you peep, scurrying towards his open door before he changes his mind and sends you packing. Goosebumps form on your skin when your bicep brushes against his bare chest as you hastily enter the room. The light touch leaves your cheeks hot.
“Hold on,” he says, disappearing into his tiny bathroom. You set the pancakes on top of his nightstand, awkwardly standing in the middle of his dorm. This isn’t exactly how you envisioned your first time at Jungkook’s place would go.
While idly taking in your surroundings, you spot a little whiteboard above his bed. On it, scribbled in blue marker, is the biggest boobs you’ve ever seen in your life. There’s a heart eyes emoji tacked on in the corner. A good artistic detail, you think. You should be rolling your eyes at his boyishness. That’s what you always do. But an endeared laugh comes out instead.
Why was a poorly drawn pair of tits making you soft?
Right underneath the whiteboard is a collage of taped pictures. You bend at the waist for a better look. There’s a polaroid of him and Taehyung, arms intertwining at the elbows, both downing a dark, probably alcoholic, beverage. How cute of them. The next photo is of Jungkook on a rollercoaster, tongue out and eyes crinkled as he middle fingers the camera. So wild and free. Your heart swells in familiarity.
But the more you stumble upon, the more unfamiliar Jungkook becomes. There’s a few blurry pictures of a big black dog he’s never spoken about before. The next one has you gushing. It’s a candid image of baby-faced Jungkook, holding up his high school diploma with a proud, big, bunny smile. There’s an older woman in the frame kissing his cheek. You tilt your head in confusion. You wonder if it’s his mother. You had just assumed he couldn’t stand his parents and didn’t keep in contact with them.
Maybe… you don’t have Jungkook figured out like you thought you did. There’s still so much you have to learn. You make a mental note of all the questions you want to ask him later.
That is if there even is a later.
The bathroom door opens and Jungkook walks out. “Here,” he says, handing you a pile of neatly folded clothes. There’s an oversized black hoodie on top. Your favorite sweater, the one you always steal from him. You watch sullenly as he sits down on the edge of his bed.
“I’m sorry,” you reiterate, absolutely loathing how weak and frail you sound. Jungkook doesn’t respond. He just stares into your soul with those scrutinizing eyes. “Can you talk to me, please?”
“I wanted to talk at the library,” he groans, arms jolting forward in frustration, fingers painfully flexed and hooked like claws. His bare chest flushed an angry red. “I’ve been trying to talk to you. All fucking week!”
Startled, you jump at his voice, dropping the stack of clothes you were holding. Jungkook’s eyes widen.
“Ah, I-'' he interrupts himself with a shameful hiss. You pick up the fallen fabrics with shaky hands, placing them on his nightstand with the forgotten pancakes. Jungkook digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, too apologetic and embarrassed for losing his cool to look at you. “I’m sorry.”
To be fair, he hadn’t been that loud. It was more abrupt than anything else. But your Jungkook was as happy and carefree as the wind. This side of him was new, and you were still figuring out how to navigate the uncharted waters. “It’s okay.” You can’t blame him. Not after everything you’ve done. “You’re allowed to be mad.”
“I’m not mad,” he sighs. The tattooed fingers splayed over his eyes slide in to clamp the bridge of his nose. The other hand pats the spot next to him on the black comforter. “Come here.”
“But,” you look down at the damp clothes, “I’m wet.”
“It’s fine. Sit down.”
You listen, cautiously sinking down into the bed. Despite the copious amounts of nude escapades, you’ve never felt more vulnerable with him. Usually, when you’re in bed with Jungkook, he’s panting above you, sleeping below you, or lying beside you. Head snuggled into your neck like an annoying, albeit affectionate, cat. Now, you make sure to keep your distance, anxiously picking at your chipped nail polish.
“What happened?” He questions breathlessly, relieved to finally verbalize the words that were weighing heavy on his chest. “Everything was going great and then you switched up on me. Like the showcase? Really, Bambi? I was the only person there without a guest.”
The disappointment in his voice cuts you deep, but the vision of him at the event he had been so excited for, completely alone, hurts even worse. You were his muse, and you rejected him. Looking at him was an awful decision, because you get lost in his eyes immediately. Those beautiful, captivating, endless eyes. Filled with pain and uncertainty. You realize the only way to make that awful look disappear, is to confess…
“I really like you, Jungkook… a lot. Like- more than just friends…”
Once again, you’re met with silence. Jungkook’s face is unreadable yet so familiar. You've seen that expression before. You can’t pinpoint when or where exactly, but it makes your heart pound so loudly that your ears ring.
“So,” you continue shakily, “the last time we hung out—when you canceled our plans—I got really upset.”
“I was finishing my project.”
“But then I saw a picture of you at a party-,”
“Yeah,” he defends, looking at you exasperatedly, unable to follow your train of thought. “I wanted to take pictures of the fireworks.”
“I know that now,” you admit, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, “but the picture was from Nayeon’s Instagram.”
“Nayeon?” He frowns. “I haven’t talked to Nayeon in months.”
“But you guys were-” your eyes dart around in search of the right phrasing. You settle on ‘a thing’, putting little air quotes around the ambiguous title.
“Why does that matter?” He asks incredulously. “Her and I ended things before we even started hooking up. I haven’t had sex with anybody else since we’ve been a thing.” The last part is teasing, he mimics your air quotes as his pierced pout curls into a smirk. Ah, Jungkook gets it now. Your unbecoming actions over the course of the week were a product of jealousy and possessiveness. Any lingering trace of anger is washed away with the revelation. “I told you that.”
“Yeah, but…” After mulling over your thoughts, you hesitate to speak. You hadn’t realized how ridiculous and childish you were being until now. Taehyung was right after all. “I don’t know, the way you said it seemed… fishy.”
Jungkook deadpans you before shaking his head, chuckling under his breath. You watch it all unfold awkwardly. How embarrassing.
“It’s not funny, Jungkook!”
“Ah!” He echos your shouts through a laugh, cupping your head with his large hands and jittering it gently. “Stop thinking! Your brain is evil!”
Hm. Valid point.
“In my defense,” you retort, cuffing his wrists with your tiny hands. His skin is warm and soft. You’ve missed touching him so much. “You literally mentioned Nayeon while we were having sex.”
The playful stars in his eyes combust. “Huh?”
“Oral fixation.”
His eyes widen in remembrance. “Oh shit,” he groans, slumping down, hands dropping into his lap. “Looking back, that was so fucked, but I- I just thought it was funny. I swear I didn’t mean anything, like- bad by it. I-.” Frustrated by his own stuttering and lack of judgment, Jungkook mushes his fingers into his sockets before laying down in defeat. “That was so fucking stupid of me. I’m stupid. I’m sorry, Bambi.”
Stupid.
That word coaxes a visceral reaction out of you.
“Don’t say that,” you whisper. His tattooed fingers part in the middle as he hesitantly peeks at you. You giggle for a moment, and so does he, but then you feel the gravity of the situation. Sniffling, you look down at the beautiful boy. How could you have ever been so nasty to him? You push his bangs back gently. They’ve gotten longer. Cupping his cheek, you slowly brush your thumb across his soft skin. You’re afraid that if you’re too rough, he’ll slip right through your fingers. “You’re not stupid, Jungkook... I’ve never met anyone who sees the world how you do. You’re so creative and clever in your own right… I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t, because I don’t think that at all.” Voice crack. “I never did.”
“Hey,” Jungkook coos in concern. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay,” you argue, blinking furiously to fight back the waterworks. “And I’m really sorry about the showcase. I know how important it was to you.”
“Shh,” he shushes, “please don’t cry.” He catches your hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing the sweetest, gentlest kiss to your fingertips. “You apologized, so we’re good, yeah?”
“Mhm,” you sniffle. It feels like a ton of bricks have been lifted off of your shoulders. “For what it’s worth, your portfolio was gorgeous.”
“Nah,” he teases, wrapping an arm around your waist and encouraging you to lay down with him. “You’re only saying that because you were in it.” You smile softly, thankful for his light-hearted banter. You stay like that for a while. Face to face. Just looking at one another. You think you could stay like this forever, basking in his beauty. His warmth. Jungkook speaks first. “Why didn’t you just talk to me about the picture?”
“I guess, I was just scared of losing you… but then I just started ignoring you, which doesn’t make sense… so probably should’ve just talked to you about it.” The stream of consciousness makes him laugh. “I really like you, Jungkook.”
“I don’t do relationships.”
You feel your heart shatter into a million, irreparable pieces.
How cruel.
“Wait, those aren’t the right words,” Jungkook shakes his head. “What I meant to say is that I’ve never actually been in a relationship.” The stammered admission has you stunned. Campus fuckboy Jungkook has never been in a relationship? “And I have no fucking clue what I’m doing but… I really like you, too. I want you, I do… I don’t know how good of a boyfriend I’ll be but,” he looks at you for the first time throughout his nervous ramble. His eyes are just as terrified as yours. “I’m willing to try if you are.”
You blink at him. Did he just say… boyfriend?
“__,” Jungkook calls, anxiously toying with his lip ring. “Do you want this?”
You’ve never wanted anything more.
Without warning, you smash your lips into his. This kiss is sloppy and brash, but he’s yours. Jungkook is yours. “I think you chipped my tooth,” he winces, chuckling breathlessly. “Is that a yes?”
You nod vehemently.
“Okay,” he smiles, tilting your chin, “now give me a real kiss. None of that amateur shit you just pulled.”
You kiss him again, head full of clouds and tummy full of butterflies. Jungkook grabs under your thighs, maneuvering you on top of him, knees on either side of his cinched waist. Your lips are more controlled this time. There’s a little tongue action. Nothing too dirty, just soft brushes and prods like you’re two virgins testing the waters. Everything is slow and unhurried. You feel like you’re floating, levitating, fucking astral projecting.
“There we go,” Jungkook grins, the rounded tip of his nose tickling yours. It’s so sappy, and you can only imagine how dumb you two look, staring at each other with sparkly eyes and goofy smiles.
Jungkook is still Jungkook, though.
A sneaky hand and the grinding of a zipper interrupts the cute moment.
“You perv!” You shriek, giggling wildly as you swat his naughty fingers away. The damage is done, and the sleeve of your open sweater slips down your bare shoulder. “Is sex all you think about?”
“Mm,” he hums in confirmation, placing a peck on the newly exposed skin. “Sex with you,” he specifies before peeling the damp material from your arms and tossing it onto the floor. You cringe at the clanging of your expensive, deadstock, Juicy Couture hoodie. “Why are you so covered up?” Jungkook sits up to suck on your erect nipple, right through your translucent, white tank top. Whimpering, you grind against him. “You gotta take this off…” he sighs dreamily, yanking the pesky shirt over your head.
Wow. He’s extra needy today. Not that you’re complaining.
“Jungkook,” you complain, arms crossed over your chest. “Stop staring!”
“Why are you being so shy?” He does this often. Gawks at your naked body until your skin burns and your cheeks sting. It's a strange feeling. So uncomfortable yet so reassuring. You’ve never had a man look at you the way Jungkook does, like he’s trying to remember every birthmark, curve, and detail. That level of intimacy was scary. You can’t help but squirm under his intense gaze. “You’re my girl now, aren’t you, baby?
His girl. You swoon.
“I am, it’s just kinda awkward.”
“How so?” He patronizes, bottom lip jutting out in a deep pout. “Can’t I look?”
“You can just… don’t stare.”
“I do what I want.” The sudden switch in his voice makes your breath hitch. “Move your arms. Let me see you.”
Oh. He’s in one of those moods.
You and Jungkook rarely dabbled in sub and dom dynamics. Maybe, he was too afraid of intimidating you. Maybe, you were too afraid to initiate. But boy was his aggressiveness a treat. The duality between the relaxed attitude he carried in his everyday life, and the occasional primal beast that came out during sex, made your mouth water.
“Really?” He tuts his tongue when you counter him with a scowl, raising a threatening brow at you, code for ‘go ahead, test me’. You do, not moving a muscle.
Jungkook physically pries your arms apart and twists them behind your back, holding your wrists together in one hand. The swift movement makes you gasp.
“This okay, Bambi?”
All you can see over the bubbles of your cheeks is his tangled, black hair. His forehead rests against your collarbones, sharp exhales fanning across your chest. The hot gusts make your nipples pebble and the light stimulation sends a jolt of electricity coursing through your spine.
“Yes,” you whimper.
Using his free hand, Jungkook grips your jaw, indulging you in a sweet kiss. “Good girl.” The whispered praise has your clit throbbing. He turns your face towards the sleek mirror mounted on the wall. “Look at you, baby.”
Insecurity looms over you like a black raincloud as you’re forced to look at the reflection. The sight of your nude body makes you feel icky. Instinctively, you try to jerk away.
“Hey, stop-” he gruffs, tightening his grip to cement you in place. “Chill. Take a deep breath.”
You obey, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply.
“Why are you so combative today?” The rough edge falters for a moment when Jungkook confirms that he ‘just learned that word yesterday from a synonym website’. You giggle. Why must he be so adorable? “Don’t I always take care of you?”
“You do.”
“Do you trust me?” You nod. “Use your words, baby.”
“I trust you, Jungkook.”
“Good girl,” he smiles, making you face the glass again. His touch is much more gentle this time, guiding you with a delicate finger on your chin. “Don’t look at me,” Jungkook chuckles when he catches you staring at him and then points at your bewildered expression, “eyes on you.”
Despite the initial resistance, looking own reflection isn't as difficult as it was the first time. There’s little things you pick up on, like the way your thick, fluffy hair lays. The way your chest looks so supple pressed against his. How your hips curve out at the right angle. Your skin is smooth and poreless. That Laneige toner is really out here doing the lord's work.
“Look at how beautiful you are.”
Although Jungkook’s words are sweet, you wouldn’t go that far. But you guess, one could say you’re cute—which is more credit than you’ve given yourself in a while.
“Aren’t you so beautiful, baby?”
You hum to appease him, but this experience was definitely a start. You’re gaining self-confidence, one baby step at a time. “You’re beautiful, too.”
“You think so?” He asks airily, flashing one of those teeny tiny smiles he does, where only his two front chompers poke out. You swear this man is an angel, or some mythical being that was too ethereal to exist on planet Earth. Mumbling a small ‘uh huh’, you peck at the corner of his mouth. His silver hoop feels icy against your lips, but his hands, rubbing soothing lines up your back, are so warm. “I wish you saw yourself the way I do,” he says with sparkly eyes. “How could I want anyone else, Bambi?”
Your heart swells two sizes too big and you don’t even know how to respond.
“Alright, space girl,” Jungkook chuckles at your ditzy state, delivering a quick swat to your ass to bring you back to reality. An impatient, tattooed arm is hooked under your thigh, tossing you to the side before he gets to his feet. “Lay down. ‘S been a while since I ate that pussy.”
“Wait,” you say, unphased by his lewd comment. “Can I…” you look down at his crotch, “you know?”
“What?” He smirks at your vagueness. “Suck my dick?”
Foreplay normally consisted of Jungkook’s head between your thighs, his fingers milking your g-spot, or a shy handjob here and there. Now that he’s your boyfriend, you suppose it’s finally time to return the favor. Especially since he looks so delicious with his messy hair and his pretty tits out.
“Please,” you choke, cheeks burning with embarrassment at how quickly the plead slipped out.
“You don’t have to beg,” he purrs, stepping between your parted thighs sat at the edge of his bed. You gulp, nose aligned with his growing bulge. “Actually, yes, you do,” he retracts, swiping his big thumb across your bottom lip tauntingly. You’re dripping, already knowing where things are headed. “Been a bad girl lately, haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” you pout, shrinking under his beady eyes, peering right at you over his big nose. “But you said we’re passed that.”
“We are,” he agrees, “but I could use some reassurance. Wanna give me a little bit, baby?”
“How?”
“Suck it,” he requests, tapping his thick digit against your deep frown, “show me how good you’re gonna blow me… just so I know…”
God, you can’t deny him. Not when his voice is drenched in lust and he looks that yummy. Flicking your hair over your shoulder, you grab his wrist, taking his thumb into your mouth, all the way down to his palm. Moaning, you swirl your tongue around the pad. He plays along, plunging and pulling his finger into your wet suction. Your lips are going to look so fucking pretty around his cock, Jungkook thinks.
“‘Kay, no more,” he says, voice strained as he yanks his hand away. The movement makes you accidentally bite your tongue. Asshole. He proceeds to tangle his spit-covered hand into your hair. Major asshole. With a thick fistful, Jungkook shoves you into his clean-shaven pelvis. “Am I hard yet? Check for me?”
He knows he’s hard. You know he’s hard. But you indulge him anyway, mushing a sloppy kiss into his v-line. The view of his eyes is disrupted by the heavy heaving of his chest, and his cute little nipples; spiked and erect. Dipping down, you place a loving peck on the tip through his pants. The red material is damp from his arousal. “Yep, hard.”
“Cute,” he laughs in reaction to how sweet and innocent you look down there. “Take it out, then.”
You tug his pants down, letting them pool at his ankles. His boner springs up with vigor, whacking you in the nose on its path up to his navel. “Oh fuck,” he gasps, smacking a hand over his mouth in guilt. You glare at him, suspicious of how genuine that ‘guilt’ really is. Something you’ve noticed about Jungkook is that his smiles reach his eyes first. You don’t need to see his lips to know he’s holding in a laugh. The little stars in his irises and the crinkles in the outer corners blow his facade. “You okay, Bambi?”
“Control your dick, Jeon,” you sneer.
“Can’t,” he pouts, wrapping his palm around his tree-trunk-sized base while kicking his pants aside, “he wants you.” You’re impressed at how quickly he steers the conversation back to sex. Also, personifying his dick? That’s new. Clicking his tongue, Jungkook measures his hard cock across the length of your face. If it wasn’t for the curve, his pretty pink tip would be touching your hairline. “How’s he gonna fit, baby? You sure you can take it?”
The questions were rhetorical, purely dirty talk, but they held a piece of the intimidating truth. “I don’t know,” you respond honestly.
“Have you ever done this before?” Sensing your nerves, he pulls back a bit.
“Only once,” you shiver, recalling the questionable memory. “So I don’t know how good I’ll be at this…”
“Pfft,” he dismisses your concerns, “don’t worry about that.” He pets your cheek and you nuzzle into his touch, thankful for the comforting gesture. Then, Jungkook plops down, shimmying up the bed clumsily until he’s hunkered down in his pillows. Following suit, you turn to face him and begin tying your hair up.
“Wait!” He hollers, stopping you at the elbow. His eyes widen at his own unexpected outburst. “Leave it, please. I like it down…” he coughs, “so pretty.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your frizzy baby hairs shooting wildly in all different directions. Pretty? Regardless, you let go, messy strands falling in loops against your chest and back.
“I have flavored lube if that helps. In my nightstand.”
Of course, Jungkook owns flavored lubricant. It's pretty on-brand for him. But your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you open his top drawer, unveiling almost an entire Adam & Eve store.
That’s a stretch and you’re dramatic.
Still, you stare in wonderment. There’s an unopened pack of condoms, ‘ribbed for her pleasure!’ printed on the front in purple letters. The blue and white wand next to it makes you choke. The Hitachi. It’s much bigger than you expected, but it makes sense. If it’s as powerful as Jungkook boasted, it must need a fucking car battery. You gulp.
“Snooping through my things, Bambi?”
“No,” you squeak, shaking your head. “You have quite the collection here, Mr. Jeon.”
“Mr. Jeon, that’s sexy,” he laughs, making you jump with an unexpected smack to your ass. “See anything you like?”
Cheeks ablaze, you stay focused, finally spotting the little aqua bottle of… blue raspberry flavored lubricant? You pick it up, causing a shiny piece of metal with a little glint of pink to roll out.
“Really, dude?”
Jungkook’s brows furrow in confusion until he sees the silver butt plug, decorated with a pretty pink gem on the end. Absolutely perfect for you. “Oh, yeah,” he snatches the toy from your clammy hand and eyes it with pride. “Isn’t it pretty?”
“I can’t believe you actually bought one.”
“Why not? I said I was going to.”
“I know,” you huff with a nervous snicker, “but I didn’t think you were actually going to do it.”
“I mean,” he looks at you like you’re brainless, “you like anal, no?”
“No!” You shriek defensively. Anal play wasn’t even on your sexual radar...
Well, that’s not entirely truthful.
You enjoyed it the last time you had sex with Jungkook, in the shower, getting stretched out by his thick thumb in your butt. You remember how mindblowing and pleasurable it felt to be full. “Well, maybe. I don’t know.”
“That’s okay,” he smiles reassuringly. “We don’t have to use it. I just figured it’d be nice to have, in case you wanted to experiment, you know?”
He’s so sweet and thoughtful it makes you ill.
Now that you think about it, your sexuality is basically untapped. You’ve barely scratched the surface of self-discovery. Before Jungkook, you’ve never had a man care about your pleasure, or encourage you to take risks for your own sake. No ulterior motives. Being with Jungkook was like skydiving. Horrifying at first, life-changing once you took the plunge. With him, the parachute was there whether you decided to jump or not. You know that you’re safe, so why not take the plunge?
“Actually, Jungkook,” you stammer, “I kinda wanna try it… the butt plug.”
“You sure?”
“I’m positive.”
The conviction in your voice is like a beautiful ballad in his ears. Brick by brick, you’re opening up. Every day spent together, the walls erode a bit more.
“I got the smallest size I could find, see?” He holds the toy up to his thumb to demonstrate. It’s only a little longer, a little thicker. “So it’s not that far off from what you’re used to.”
“Thank you, baby,” you gush, planting a fat kiss on the dough of his cheek. The contrast between his bready, baby face and his razor-sharp jawline makes you dizzy. You need him in your mouth asap. “Can I suck your dick now?”
“Absolutely, but first can you-,” his index finger twirls in a circle. You blink at him blankly. “Ah, fuck it.” Deciding it’d be much easier to move you himself, Jungkook sits up at the waist to spin you until you're face to face with his third leg, resting patiently against his stomach. The modified 69 has you creaming. “Like that…” he mumbles dreamily, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your track pants, tugging them down your thighs to expose your perky behind and glowy cunt.
“I don’t know where to start.”
“Innocent little thing…” he whispers, smoothing a palm over your lower back. He leans up to chomp on the fat of your ass cheek, leaving bunny-toothed dents in your skin. A predator eating its prey. “Want help?”
“Please,” you mewl, melting under his touch.
“Spit,” he orders, cupping an inked hand under your mouth. Reluctantly, you spit into his palm. He uses your saliva to wet himself, coating his unbearably hard cock with a few languid pumps. Opening the cap, Jungkook squirts a little drop of lubricant onto his finger. “Taste.”
You softly suck on his fingertip. The liquid is sweet like a blue raspberry jolly rancher, but it’s not nearly as sweet as Jungkook’s deep guttural moan and hooded gaze. So worked up just for you. Only you. Yours.
“This, too,” he coos, bringing the butt plug up to your lips, “suck it.”
Seeing him this needy and touch-starved was doing things to you. Maybe you should ignore him more often, if it meant that he would be this feral. You comply, wrapping your lips around the icy metal.
“Being so good, baby,” he affirms, resting the drenched plug against his solid stomach before squirting a generous amount of lubricant onto his length, tugging until he’s glistening with a sticky blue sheen. Big and pretty. “Just start with the tip, alright? Go slow.”
You nod, mesmerized by the little bead of dew resting on the slit of his pretty pink head. Well, it’s a bit blue now. Cotton candy. Yummy.
“Stick your tongue out.” You do, hovering closer. Jungkook taps his length against your tongue with nasty, wet smacking noises. “You want me so bad, don’t you?”
You nod impatiently, making your flat tongue brush against the crown of his leaking cock
“Fuck,” he groans, “put it in your mouth.”
There are a few reasons why you find blowjobs problematic. Unfortunately, you were cursed with an annoyingly overactive gag reflex. Very unideal for dick sucking. However, your primary concerns were taste and texture. But Jungkook’s cock feels like butter when you take it into your mouth. Smooth and silky. And the lubricant made him candy-flavored.
“You like that taste, Bambi?” Jungkook chuckles at how eager and dutiful you look, licking and sucking on his swollen tip like a lollipop. You hum in response, slowly swirling your tongue around his tip with purpose. Giving you a hand, literally and figuratively, Jungkook starts stroking the shaft, stimulating the parts of him you have yet to gobble up. “Want more?” You’re not sure what he’s referring to, but you agree anyway, completely entranced by him. With that, Jungkook squeezes under the tip, and you feel a tiny burst of precum hit your tastebuds.
He’s so sexy you could die.
Moaning, you clench your thighs together for some much needed friction, causing a single drop of wetness to trickle down your leg. Right before his very eyes. He’s never been so hungry, and it would be so easy to just…
“Jungkook!” You moan so loudly you’re sure everyone on campus can hear it. He had laid his tongue flat, trailing your arousal back up to your pussy and then sensually dipping between your folds in one hot lick. He even traces higher, prodding against your other hole until you’re seeing stars.
“Watch your teeth,” he winces when you get carried away, “be gentle, baby.” Peeping a shy apology, you curl your lips over your teeth and slide down past the tip until you’re halfway down his length. You focus on your breathing, nostrils expanding as you inhale deeply. “That’s it, take more.”
So captivated by his ‘yeahs’ and ‘uh huhs’, you miss the sound of a cap clicking open. Suddenly, you feel a cold drizzle slide between your cheeks, before a pair of warm hands spread the slippery substance all over. He uses the residual to thoroughly coat the butt plug.
“Gonna put it in now.” He spreads you open with one hand, pressing the silver against your clenched muscle. “Let me know if anything feels off.”
The initial push is a bit much. You pull off of him with a wet pop, whimpering as he sluggishly inserts the foreign object. He stops at the sound of your whines.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah- fuck,” you grunt, “big, thas all. Please, keep going.”
“I mean, it’s not that big,” Jungkook chuckles, running some saliva over the toy for more moisture, “you’re taking it well, though.” Slowly but surely, he works you open. The noises you moan around his cock are obscene. Not because it hurts, but because it’s so satisfying.
“Feels good, Koo…”
“Sheesh,” he breathes, staring in astonishment at the pink gem in your ass, “it’s so fucking pretty. So sexy.” In his fucked out, head empty state, Jungkook bucks up, shoving all eight of his curved inches down your throat. He doesn’t realize what happened until you pull off with a gag and teary eyes.
“Bambi,” he coos wearily and fear ridden. “I didn’t mean to do that, I swear.”
You send him the meanest, fiercest glare you can conjure up, hoping his conscience burns just as much as your throat does.
“No, come on,” he pleads in despair, reaching for you as you crawl away, “I’m sorry. It was an accident. I wo-,”
You shut him up by hoisting a shaky leg over his hip, straddling him. “You really can’t control yourself, can you?” You hover over him with a teasing smile. How could you possibly stay mad at him when he looked like Tuxedo Mask? The dreamy love interest of your favorite cartoon.
He sighs in relief, panic leaving his body as fast as it came. “No, I can’t,” he smiles softly, shaking his head and snaking both arms around your waist, “not with you.”
And at that moment, you swear you’ve never been happier.
The closeness you felt was indescribable. Not physically, although his python grip was warm and comfortable. It was all emotional. You’re spiraling out of control, heading flipping and stomach somersaulting, but it’s okay—a contained type of chaos. Jungkook feels it too. The shift in the air. The subtle, yet painfully obvious, change in your dynamic. You’re different this time around. A little more outgoing. A little more fearless, as you sit on top of him. He loves it. He thinks he might even love…
“You gonna ride me, Bambi?”
“Mhm.” You feel like a schoolgirl again when you kiss him. That nervousness, wrapped in unbearable excitement, whenever you passed your first crush in the halls. Yeah, that's how you feel right now, looking down at the most stunning person you’ve ever experienced.
Sparks. Fireworks. Butterflies.
You and Jungkook exchange shy smiles when your hands touch, reaching for his erection, desperate to close the gap and become one. So ready to connect your bodies, minds, and hearts in the most intimate way. Clumsily, you fail at first. You’re both so wet that his flushed tip slips, completely missing your entrance and sliding past your clit.
“Sorry,” you chirp abashedly.
“That’s okay,” he pipes, holding himself up for you, “try again.” Just the thick head of his cock resting against your folds is enough to know that there’s going to be an adjustment period. A stretch. There always was, Jungkook is fucking huge. But you have a feeling that this new position would hit differently, making him feel bigger, harder, longer. With a firm grip on your hip, he guides you down onto his piercing length. A symphony of moans and sighs fills the room.
“How’s that?”
You’ve never felt so full.
The butt plug makes the squeeze even tighter, pushing his cock right into your g-spot. The burn ignited a mind-numbing fire inside of you. That, or he was just so deep that you felt him in your stomach. “‘S okay,” you whimper, gnawing on your lip and clinging onto him for stability, “really deep like this, Koo.”
“Take your time,” he gruffs, wincing under the dig of your petite fingers, making little crescent indents in his biceps. Amid sex, the tension in your body served as a reminder that you’re still learning. He was doing his best to be good, but the way your pussy just swallowed him up like that, triggered something primal. Tightest, wettest pussy he’s ever had the blessing of penetrating. Biting his tongue until his mouth tastes metallic, Jungkook battles the urge to thrust up into you until you’re dumb and drooling. He’s trying so hard to be good. The internal struggle is heard in his voice when he speaks, strained and gravely. “Start slow.”
Eventually, the tiny licks of pain transform into a milky, insatiable hunger. When you look down at him, all you see is the base of his thick neck, head thrown back as he succumbs to the gratification of your walls. ‘Wow, what a man,’ you think to yourself. Your man. Encouraged by your eagerness to please, you begin sloppily jerking your hips at a fast pace. No flow or rhythm.
“Easy, easy,” Jungkook shushes with a grin, stopping you at the waist. “Why are you in such a hurry, hm? We have all night.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” he laughs, grabbing the shaky hands that are resting awkwardly on your thighs. “Let’s get your form right first. Lean on me.” With the command, your palms are placed flat on his broad, solid pecs. Already, the angle and leverage work with his curve deliciously. “And it’ll probably feel better for you, if you moved like this instead,” Jungkook grips your ass, rocking you into a grinding motion. Instead of up and down, your cunt drags back and forth on his throbbing shaft.
He’s right. It feels so much better like this. The dreamy sensation has you moaning and moving like a pornstar.
To be honest, this wasn’t even the type of video Jungkook clicked on when looking through his PornHub feed in the mornings. Absently scrolling past orgies and blowjobs like the daily newspaper. He preferred things fast. Pummeling every inch into you before pulling out swiftly, leaving only the very tip inside to keep you needy and begging. But fuck, the slow, sensual rolls of your hips were turning his brain to mush. And the way you’re dripping down his balls might make him demote missionary to his second favorite position. He’s hypnotized, staring up at your perky tits, rippling and bouncing freely above him.
“Yeah, baby…” you cheer, carding your fingers through his thick, healthy hair as he sits up at the waist, latching onto your nipple. The gentle runs turn into harsh tugs when he takes the sensitive teat between his teeth. The overstimulation makes you hiss.
“Taste so good,” he huffs, “I can’t keep my mouth off of you.” Slicking his wispy bangs away, Jungkook leans back, stealing a naughty peek at you fucking yourself on him. Using him just how he likes. He spreads his legs apart, praying it’ll help you sink down even further, if possible. “Yeah, take it all…”
“Love taking it all…”
That hot, gooey ballooning is already forming in his balls. The pooling in his shaft is a warning; he’s going to bust soon. Jungkook maintains a strict ladies first policy, so he needs to think of something. Fast. A lightbulb switches on in his head when your neglected clit glides across his smooth pelvis.
“Hold on.” With a hand on your lower back, Jungkook squeezes you against him, preventing you from toppling over as he leans to the side and fiddles around in his special drawer. You gulp when he takes out the infamous vibrator.
“You look terrified,” he jokes, pointing out your fearful gaze and plump lips, currently forming a cute little ‘o’ as you observe the wand.
“Hm, I wonder why?” You scoff at him in fiend ignorance. “Oh, it’s superrr strong, most girls don’t even last five minutes,” you mimic in your best Jeon Jungkook impression. Voice dropping an octave to match his deep, even tone. You think it’s pretty accurate, but his melodic giggles say otherwise.
“I mean, it is,” he confirms, powering on the vibrator, “but there’s different settings, like, here’s the lowest.” The white crown is placed on your inner thigh, letting you get accustomed to the movement before he uses it to destroy you, and your most private areas. The low rumble travels up the muscle in your leg until it reaches your clit with a faint hum. “See? Not bad, right?”
Wrong.
The lack of foreplay on your end, had you teetering on the edge. So when Jungkook presses the strong, creamy buzz to your swollen bud, you’re a goner.
“Fuck!” You wail. “This is the lowest speed?”
“Tell me how it feels.”
“I- oh!” Evilly, Jungkook moves the toy down, nudging the rounded corner underneath your hood, directly stimulating your little bundle of nerves. “I… don’t know… can’t… think right now…”
“Have nothing to say now, huh smart girl?”
Oh, so this was your punishment.
If you could even call it that. You’ve never felt so fucking good.
The rapture coursing through your vein forces you to stop, clawing at Jungkook’s shoulders. He picks up where you left off, rutting into you with vigor, hitting all of your sweet spots perfectly. That, combined with the smooth plug in your ass and the vibrator on your clit, has you overwhelmed and out of control.
“Fuck! Jungkook, I can’t- too much.”
You’re cumming before he even has the chance to object. Thighs quivering. Arms shaking. Eyes rolling back into oblivion. The darkness is disrupted by lightning bolts of white, hot pleasure. Your entire body tingles like you’ve just stuck your acrylic into an outlet. Jungkook guides you to the light as you brace the crashing tsunami of your orgasm.
A literal tsunami.
“You squirted.”
“I did?”
“A little.” Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to witness it. Just relished in the warm splashes on his pelvis, his upper thighs, and his cock. You nuzzle into his shoulder, groaning disgruntledly in shame. Jungkook humors you by resting his cheek on top of your head, swaying subtly as he holds you. “Guess you’re not my Bambi anymore. Deer can’t swim.”
“They can swim,” you murmur. “You don’t shit about deer, Jungkook.”
“You’re more like a fish or something,” he coos happily, ignoring your correction. “...Ponyo.”
“You like Studio Ghibli movies?” You ask, picking up your heavy head and looking at him with big, animated eyes. “Since when?”
“Since before my balls dropped,” he responds curtly.
“I didn’t know that…”
“I think there’s a lot about me you don’t know yet, baby.”
There’s no malice in his words. They’re not a sneaky jab, or an attempt to make you feel guilty. They’re just the truth.
“Can I ask you something, Kook?”
“Of course, you can,” he hums, friskily nipping at the apple of your cheek.
‘Do you like anime in general? Or just Studio Ghibli?’
‘If so, what’s your favorite? Oh my God, this is so exciting!’
‘Is that your dog in those pictures?’
“You’re crazy, and yes, that’s my dog,” he chuckles at your endless string of curiosity. “But how about I nut first?” As if on cue, his member twitches inside of you, reminding you that he’s still hard and waiting patiently for his release. “And then you can interview me. Sounds good?”
“Yes,” you say, cheeks scalding. “Sorry.”
“Stop saying sorry,” Jungkook repeats, pecking you lovingly. "I'm gonna lay you down now..." Strategically, he maneuvers you onto your side, plopping down behind you. You curl into his frame, back arching with the rise and fall of his panting chest, his beautifully sketched arm wrapped around your waist. The other rests on the bed, sticking straight out for you to use as a pillow. Your top leg is thrown over his hip, spreading you enough to run his length over your puffy cunt. Grabbing the Hitachi, he brings it back to your engorged clit. The touch makes you yelp.
“Mm, I love how sensitive you get,” he whispers, licking a hot, needy stripe against your cheek. You peep out a confused noise, cowering under his tongue. Yuck. He’s so gross… but so sexy. “It’s not even turned on yet, baby. What would happen if I put it all the way up?”
“I think I’d fall in love with you…”
His heavy breaths stop as locks eyes with you. You can't distinguish the iris from the pupil. It all blends together like the night sky, filled with little stars of raw emotion. He’s pondering something, dewy lips parting and closing as the thought fades.
Nothing is said, but you don't mind. Because when he enters you, rocking into you with languid, passionate thrusts, you feel it. The unspoken words surround you like the weather. They’re warm like a summer breeze.
“Mine, isn’t it?” He speaks against your lips, Hitachi set to the max, going full throttle on your nub. “Say it.”
“This pussy is yours,” you cry, crystal streams clouding your vision and streaming down towards his arm.
“Not that,” he chokes through gritted teeth, trying to postpone his orgasm. Waiting for you to say the magic words and open Pandora’s box. “You, baby. Tell me that you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
“Yeah,” he nods, lips curling in as he bathes in your dripping cunt. His strokes become short and uneven as he reaches the point of no return. “I’m yours, too.”
The declaration of reciprocal affection and want fills your chest before shooting to your core. You cum together, sighing into each other's mouths as pure, intense bliss takes over every square inch of your body. Every cell tingles. You try to kiss, but the seal of your lips is broken by your needy cries. During the mutual orgasm, Jungkook trembles. Chest, legs, and arms all quivering in unison as he milks both of you dry. Painting your walls with warm, white spurts until he has nothing left to give. The Hitachi isn’t turned off until you beg.
Euphoria.
When you’re done, neither of you can bring yourself to disconnect. Sex left your sweaty bodies idle and fucked out, but the intimacy of it all kept you rooted in place. Airy kisses are planted on your shoulder. Light scratches outline his tattoos. His seed is hot inside you in the most disgustingly comfortable way. You don’t move for a while, laying in each other's aura until the rain clouds fade and the milky way can be seen by the naked eye. Twinkling lights of stars and headlights flicker against his skin as you count his breaths. They grow more steady as the minutes pass.
“I have a plan.”
Intrigued, you crane your neck, quirking a brow at the man behind you. “A plan?
Without warning, Jungkook expertly gets to his knees. Your ankles are hauled up by your head, manicured toes tickling his cotton pillowcase. Folded in half at the waist.
“Jungkook!”
“Bambi,” he huffs above you, softening cock still tucked inside of you. “Hold your legs for me.”
Oh. You know what he wants.
“Baby,” you giggle flirtatiously, hands curling under your thighs to keep them in place, “what are you doing?” He must want another round. Excitement bubbles in your squished chest and cramped stomach at the thought of having him twice in one night.
“If you stay like this, I should be able to run to the bathroom without getting cum on my bed.”
“Are you kidding me?” You spew in disbelief and disappointment.
“Baby, please,” he groans with pleading eyes. “It’ll take two seconds, I promise.”
“Fine,” you oblige with an overexaggerated pout, “but hurry. This hurts!”
With your permission, he scurries off into the bathroom. A light turns on and the faucet runs. He must be getting something to clean up with. Despite your best efforts, and the ache in your bent neck, his baby juice leaks out of you, cascading down your butt with impeccable speed.
“Jungkook, It’s dripping!”
The door slams against the wall with a loud thud as he bursts through, wet cloth in hand. A second too late. “No!” He sighs in annoyance, dropping to his knees on the mattress, angrily watching a fat white droplet splash onto his black comforter. “Really?”
“What was I supposed to do?” You shout back playfully. The whole situation was dumb and immature, but you can’t stop laughing. You cackle like a madwoman when he runs the damp towel through your folds. “‘M ticklish,” you respond dazily when he raises a brow at you. The giggles turn into a sharp hiss when he slowly removes the plug from your swollen hole.
“Does it hurt?” Jungkook coos, spreading your cheeks to get a better view of the slightly red, inflamed area.
“A little, but I’m okay. I promise.”
“Good,” he hums, smacking your ass, hinting that he wants you off the bed. “Go pee while I change the sheets.”
There’s a change in your appearance when you look in his bathroom mirror. The girl reflected, wearing her boyfriend’s black, pine-scented, oversized hoodie, seems… happy. She is happy. The resting bitch face that Mina often teased you for is completely gone. All you see is glowy skin, bright eyes, and puffy cheeks. A tiny hand comes up to massage them. Ow. They hurt from smiling so much. From laughing like a maniac. You’ve never seen yourself so lively. You’ve never felt so alive.
With a content sigh, you skip back into the bedroom.
Jungkook is already settled, snuggled under the clean bedding like a big baby. The sound of the door opening makes him jump, waking up from the two minute nap he accidentally fell into. Turning to you, he smiles lazily.
You’ll never get used to that face of his. That beautiful face.
“I’m knocked, Bambi,” he yawns, opening his big arms. “C’mere.”
Heart heavy with warmth, you climb between the sheets. You lay on your back, preparing for him to sink his head into your full breasts like feathered pillows. His favorite cuddle position.
“We never ate the pancakes,” you frown, noticing the plastic bags on his nightstand when you reach over, shutting his lamp off.
“‘S okay. We’ll eat ‘em in the morning.”
“Ew, Jungkook,” you scoff revoltingly. “They’ll be rotten by then.”
“You’re rotten but I still eat you.”
Hm. Touche.
“You know,” he lulls, lips smacking together. It’s a habit that only comes about when sleep clouds his mind. “I’ve had a crush on you since the day we met.”
“Liar,” you whisper with a smile, twirling the loose strands at the nape of his neck. Just the way he likes. “You called me a bitch, the day we met.”
“You’re so dramatic. I did not call you a bitch.” The way his tired, hooded eyes blare open at your false statement makes you laugh. “I said you were bitchy. There’s a difference.”
You recount the memory.
“You know what, I like you. You’re a little bitchy but-,” he slurred at the end of the night, helping you gather the discarded solo cups, "Also innocent. Kinda like a baby deer. What the fuck was that movie?”
“But underneath that attitude… I don’t know- There was just… something about you. Something special. And I knew that I could bring that side out of you, eventually."
“Bambi! Right… I can’t wait to ruin you.”
God, why are you so emotional today?
Tears pile into your waterline. They’re not from sadness or anger.
Laying in bed with Jungkook, who’s sighing peacefully as he drifts off to sleep, you can’t believe that this is your life.
After a few minutes of silence, you realize that there’s no way you’re following him into dreamland. You’re way too wired and ecstatic. Who could blame you?
“Jungkook,” you whisper.
No answer.
“Jungkook.”
A grunt of acknowledgment.
“Are you awake?”
“No…”
“But you just responded, though...”
Silence.
“Can we watch Sailor Moon?”
Crickets.
"Jungkook?"
“Baby!” He whines, high-pitched and huffy as he turns his head in frustration. “‘M sleepin’!’”
“Jeez,” you roll your eyes, still sluggishly playing with his dark ropes. “Someone’s grumpy…”
There’s another beat of silence before he speaks.
“Fine,” he groans dramatically, twisting back to his original position with a smushed frown against your boob. “I’ll watch one episode. One.”
You squeak excitedly, pecking the top of his head in appreciation, pulling out your phone and turning on your favorite series with glee. He puts up a good fight; loopily murmuring ‘wow’ and ‘no way’ whenever you share a little fun fact about the character lore. Halfway through, the sound of Usagi and Rei arguing is overtaken by Jungkook’s soft snores.
Soft for now. You know once he hits the REM phase, he’ll turn into a lawnmower.
With a defeated sigh, you close the streaming app and put your phone away, cuddling closer to your boyfriend.
Your boyfriend.
You're dying to finish the season. At this rate, it's going to take you guys forever to watch Sailor Moon in its entirety. But that’s okay, you suppose, because forever with Jungkook doesn’t sound that bad at all.
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