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lo1k-diamonds · 1 month ago

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Make It Right 💜 Part 1

Would you do anything different if you could?

PAIRING: Idol!Jungkook x (f) Reader

SUMMARY: After the last concert in Busan, Jungkook decides to stay at his parents' and make the best of that pause. He never dreamed he would have the chance to meet you again, but now that he has, he won't give up. This is his chance to make things right.

WORD COUNT: 13.6k

GENRE: Idol AU, childhood friends to lovers, reunions, angst

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: arguing, resentment, JK said stupid things as a teenager, heartache, angst, semi-public mutual masturbation, nipple play, dry humping, fingering, handjob, cum eating, reader calls Jungkook by his actual name (Jeongguk), reader has a nickname

A.N. I have so much to say!!! First, thank you so much for 1k followers 🙏💜 To think that there are one thousand people in this world who like my stories makes me very emotional, it's crazy, and I'm incredibly touched and grateful for all the positive interactions and love for my stories! A fun fact about this story is that I had the idea for it the day of the Yet To Come concert 🥲😅 Oh yes, am I late or what 🤣 It's been years and I miss them so... I think I needed to write this even more. I really like the dynamic in this fic... Try not to fall in love with JK ;) This is my entry for Bangtan Writers HQ's Second Quarter 2025 event: ‘Home Is Where The Heart Is’, and a huge thank you to @downbad4yoongi Jasz for helping me fine-tune this one 💜 Now before you reach the end, remember there will be a part 2 😇 Enjoy 💜

(Thank you @eerieedits for the cool banner 💜)

Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Part 2 >

Jungkook woke up with a groan, hugging the pillow under him. Its perfume made him smile instantly, but his toes touching the footboard made him grin.

He rolled over, instantly sensing he was just on the edge of his childhood bed. Opening his eyes, he stayed still as the daylight scarcely lit up the room and just looked around. There were toys and medals on the shelves alongside children’s books and photos of him as a baby and a kid. The small desk in the corner was just as he remembered, prepared for him to do his homework. The fact that his legs wouldn’t fit under it anymore made him chuckle and sit up.

His parents were rarely loud in the morning, even when he was a child. Still, it wasn’t every day that he crashed here with no plans to leave immediately after. Actually, he realized that this hadn’t happened in twelve years, give or take. He sighed, listening to his mother’s muffled voice as she spoke with someone outside.

His curiosity got him out of bed, taking a peek out of the window through a narrow gap between the heavy light-blue curtains. Instantly, pure delight curved his lips as he saw the neighbour in the garden. Twelve years may have passed, but nothing changed.

He found the closest pair of sweats and a t-shirt and got dressed in a flash, making his way downstairs. He could still hear his mother talking to the neighbor as he pushed the front door open quietly, hoping he’d get outside before the conversation ended.

He knew he succeeded when the neighbor gasped, “Aigoo, Jungkook! You’re so grown up!”

“Imo-nim!” He exclaimed brazenly, making his mother sigh and try to snipe him once he was out the door with slippers. “You’re visiting today?”

The woman, his mother’s age, laughed happily, bowing her head to his deep, full body bows while his mother whispered, “You’re no longer a child!”

“Nobody else calls me that!” She laughed, quickly telling his mother, “It’s fine! If not him, then who? It’s so good to see you, your mother is so happy to have her baby boy home.”

Jungkook grinned at his mother, who easily pouted, then turned to the neighbor again. “As soon as I heard you two talking, I knew I was home.”

His mother smacked his arm playfully while the neighbor, who was his mother’s lifelong best friend, laughed again.

“He is as charming as he is on TV!”

He bowed again, his smile lingering, and promptly let his mother continue their conversation about his visit.

“Oh, and I saw the concert on TV! Soooo cool,” she gave him a thumbs up as she went on about all of BTS looking so great in concert. “Putting Busan on the map for the whole country! I told your mother we’re all so proud of you! Now, on to the military, right? Tough, but an important duty.”

Jungkook’s smile held as he nodded, letting his mind wander. Not that he felt ready to go on to the military right away, especially after just announcing BTS’s hiatus.

Before he could gently tell her that, her phone rang. As her friend was distracted, his mother made sure to brush his hair out of his eyes properly.

“You just woke up? You haven’t even showered? Or ate?” Her tone and demeanor were just as sweet and caring as always. “Just so you know your father went to get more meat; can’t have you starving while you’re home. Maybe you should go back inside? We don’t want people to find out where you are.”

He quickly hugged his mom and squeezed her gently, lifting her so her feet wouldn’t touch the ground for a second. “It’s fine. I want to be here without worries for just a little bit.”

“Ahhh,” the neighbor interrupted them, putting the phone back inside her handbag. “Mimi is here to pick me up.”

“Mimi?” he asked out loud before he could help himself. He hadn’t heard that name in a long time.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she smiled. “Do you remember her?”

“Of course, I do,” he confirmed quietly.

“Come say hi, then!”

She left his mother’s garden and made her way to the main road at the end of the driveway. Jungkook was frozen for a moment, but his mother beckoned him to follow along, and finally, his feet began to move. She probably didn’t mean you, even though that was your nickname and—

It was like a dream when he saw you getting out of the car. Your face had all the telltale signs that you were forced to personally get your mother if you wanted to have any chances of leaving with her today, and the way his mother greeted you made it even more apparent.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting, Mimi!”

Jungkook’s stomach somersaulted. Mimi. The name he gave you because he couldn’t pronounce your name right when you were kids. And now, you were right there with long, luscious hair falling over your shoulders, and dressed in dark blue professional attire that made him wonder where you were going.

“It’s alright, Mrs Jeon. I already know the drill,” you said after you gave your cheerful mother a look. Then you bowed deeply, respectfully, and he kept waiting, anticipating the moment your eyes would meet. “We’re going to be late,” you said as you raised an eyebrow at your mother.

“Oh, come on,” your mother insisted playfully. “Don’t you want to say hi?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs Jeon,” you bowed deeply by the waist again. “But we’ll be late.”

You didn’t look at him, not once. You got back inside your car, and your mother quickly followed you after apologizing for the rush, and then you were gone. Like a mirage, like a product of his wildest imagination. And he stood there in silence, watching you disappear.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” his mother commented, next to him. He nodded.

“Jungkook, stay with Mimi, okay?”

Jungkook looked up at his mom and nodded, staying next to you while she figured things out at the counter. He was so excited, he couldn’t stop grinning. The sounds of the pins being knocked down, the bowling balls rolling along, and the music made it the best birthday party ever!

He could already see most of his classmates arriving, and so could you. Yet unlike him, you pursed your lips in an angry pout.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, confused about why you’d be angry. You had given him the idea and even helped him convince his mom.

You looked at him with watery eyes, your short hair cut just above them, much like his own hair. “The whole class is here.”

“Isn’t it cool?!” He wanted to jump around and go crazy, but when he looked at you, you looked sad. “What?”

“Well… Youngsook and Seohyeon said the prettiest girl and the most handsome boy in class should date.”

His face twisted in all sorts of ways. “What?”

“They mean you,” you pointed out, teary-eyed, and he laughed.

“What are you talking about?”

“Jungkook, Mimi, come,” his mother called, reaching to grab his hand, and he impulsively started pulling her, eager to get his birthday party started as soon as possible.

Yet suddenly, his heart felt heavy. He forced himself to stay still and look beyond his mother, trying to see you, but you were looking away, out of reach.

Jungkook woke up with a start, pushing the covers away and spreading his legs to cool off as much as possible. His feet dangled from his childhood bed as he took deep breaths, annoyed that he was sweating.

His chest was suddenly filled with feelings he had long thought forgotten alongside memories he didn’t even know he was still holding on to.

He closed his eyes; he remembered that birthday party. It was an amazing celebration; he seldom had as much fun as when he turned thirteen. That was his last party in Busan before leaving for Seoul, when everything changed.

He rubbed his eyes and got up, finding a set of clothes and a bucket hat so he could go out. His phone showed him it was 00:47, but he didn’t care. He needed a bit of air, and walking around in the neighbourhood he grew up in had to be safe. He needed to believe he still had that piece of normalcy in his life.

He walked down the illuminated suburban street calmly. For the first time in over a decade, he had time. He could slow down, go down memory lane, and recall the streets he used to bike or walk almost every day. He could finally think about seeing you for the first time in over a decade.

It had to be why he was dreaming of you. Though perhaps it wasn’t the only reason. He sometimes dreamed of you when he was really stressed, and paradoxically, this time, you were the cause of his stress. Why wouldn’t you even look at him? He could understand you had lost touch, many years had gone by, and you didn’t have to be best of friends again. But still. Your moms were still the closest friends, and your families were neighbours. The least you could have done was say hi. Or let him see the recognition in your eyes after so many years.

He chuckled when he saw a familiar playground on the street corner. He strolled idly in its direction and instantly made his way to the swings. Both your moms knew a lot about their children, but he doubted that even they knew you two sneaked out after bedtime to meet there, especially during school breaks. He sat on the swing, letting the quiet night soothe him. It was the only time you had, between school and cram schools, to play a bit and talk. Jungkook didn’t remember most of it, but at least it gave his heart a fuzzy feeling.

Before he could reminisce further, he heard a quiet noise and turned on the swing to check. Everything looked empty until suddenly he heard rustling and saw someone crawling out of the nearby tunnel.

“You’re kidding,” you grumbled, getting up, and he paused.

Not only were you hiding in the place that both of you used to hide in, but you looked… different. Your hair was still over your shoulders, but now you were wearing a sweater and sweatpants, much like his, in the same black color, but a different brand. For a split second, he thought he caught your eyes, but they instantly dodged to the side. It made him miss the first beat, but not a second one.

He got up, eager to take this opportunity, and bowed as respectfully as he could at the waist. Instead of bowing back, you huffed, and the first thing he noticed when he straightened up was that you weren’t just avoiding looking at him. You didn’t want to acknowledge him.

“I’m leaving first.”

“No, wait.” He was firm, unlike when he had seen you earlier. The more this distance was confirmed between you, the more he needed to get to the bottom of it. “How are you?”

He could see the way your jawline sharpened as you said, “Are you going to take off that stupid hat?”

His fingers moved automatically, taking off the bucket hat and running through his hair. And finally, he was able to lock eyes with yours. You didn’t just look incredible, you looked breath-taking, like nothing his imagination could have made up. Your cheekbones were more defined, your lips fuller, your eyes…

He got lost for a moment until you looked away.

“How are you?” he asked again, unable to give up.

You licked your lips. “Good, and you?”

He smiled. “Good. I missed this.”

He raised his hand, meaning to include everything, the streets, the park, the quiet, the night, you… And you bristled.

“Well, then.” Your curt head nod was enough for him to know you wanted to leave, but he had to push for more.

“Wait. It’s been so long, I—I can’t help being curious. How have you been? What have you been up to?”

You shrugged slightly. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Your eyes weren’t letting him see anything, and everything about you exuded stoicism. He couldn’t help but chuckle “You’re not going to tell me? Is it a secret?”

“I can’t imagine why you’d need my credentials.”

“Credentials? I’m just curious about an old friend.”

“If you’re curious, you can ask your mom.” Your shoulders squared as you crossed your arms over your chest. “She knows about as much as mine does.”

His brow furrowed. “Well… I have asked, of course. But I want to hear from you.”

“I have nothing to tell you,” you stated, bowing curtly and spinning around to leave.

“This isn’t right,” he voiced his thoughts out loud, and didn’t even expect you to turn back to look at him, but you did. “You’re treating me worse than you would a stranger.”

You didn’t have to answer; rolling your eyes was enough.

“Why?” he asked more sternly.

“I just don’t want anything to do with you.”

“What?” He couldn’t believe his ears. “Why?”

“Because.”

His expression sombered. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Why do you think you did something?” Your arms crossed over your chest again.

“Call it a hunch.”

Jungkook didn’t imagine something like this would ever happen. He wasn’t just back home, retracing the steps of his childhood; he was reuniting with you. Facing you, confronting you, more like. His heart thumped, like it did when he was waiting to get on stage, eager but no longer restless. Like he wanted to do his best, and he was ready. And facing your harsh stare, he realized that was precisely what this was. Because one thing was to have lost you to time, another was to find out you hated him, and he didn’t even know why.

You scoffed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t see why you’d care.”

“I’m here, asking you.”

“Right, missing this. Well, then, do what you have to do and leave.”

“Is it hard seeing me or something?” He stepped forward, and you didn’t flinch.

“Pretending you care? Yeah, it’s hard!”

“Pretending? I’m not—”

You rolled your eyes again, cutting him off, “You show up here after how many years, saying you miss this?”

“It’s been twelve years since—”

“Twelve! Well, forgive me for calling you out on your bullshit. If you want to be pampered, ask literally anyone else.”

“I’m not asking to be pampered, and there's no one else here,” he pointed out, now so close to you that he could finally see the freckles on your nose. It made his stomach flutter. “Why would you doubt I miss this? You, of all people?”

Your eyes widened suddenly as though you were about to explode, but then you subsided. “Yeah, me. Of all people, I would know that it's bullshit.”

A spark of anger took over the flutters in his stomach. “How can you say that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, give me a break. Do you hear yourself? Perhaps you're so used to the sound of your voice that you forgot to think about what you're saying.” His eyes were sharp now as the anger you stirred up spread through his chest. “Maybe everyone else is so charmed by your face that you can never be wrong. Well, I'm here to tell you to your face that coming back here, pretending you give a fuck is comical at best, and hypocrisy at worst. So do what you have to do and leave.”

He could see the anger in your eyes, and he was starting to share the same feeling. And yet, it was just that. After seeing the spark in your gaze, the firmness of your belief, and finding you in your special hiding place, the way you thought he was self-centered and narcissistic didn't even bother him. Of course, he didn't want you to feel that way about him. He was eager to change your mind, but he was so happy you two were talking that he kinda just wanted to smile and hug you and ask so many questions.

He couldn’t, though. “Good,” he muttered. “Good that you're here to tell me to my face why you'd think this way.”

Your cheeks gained the lightest hue, and he licked his lip ring.

“Usually, people's words match their actions,” you said. “That's how you get them to believe you.”

“And mine don't?”

“No, they don't.”

You lowered your eyes, and he couldn’t let it end there. “How do you know?” You scoffed, and he insisted, “How would you know how I feel? Or how much I missed this place? Or how many times I came here in the middle of the night instead of sleeping, despite how packed my schedule was, just because I missed all of this.”

His heart shook with the words out of his mouth, only to be met with your angry expression. “I would have known.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you stated, sure of yourself.

“You live in this park, do you?”

You sneered, “I would have seen you. Crossed paths with you. Heard that you were in town or—”

“My mom doesn't know half the time when I'm going to visit, since I don't know it myself,” he explained. “So, unless you live here, how would you know—”

“Oh, shut up!” you snapped angrily. “You were never here and you never cared!”

“Why would you say that?!”

“Because you never once reached out!”

“Neither did you!”

“You left!” Your shout echoed in the night. “You left, so why would I?”

He didn't let himself overthink. “Because you wanted to talk to me again.”

His heart thumped at the possibility and skipped when you admitted, “Sure, I did. Did you? Did you ever want to talk to me again?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

“I don't believe you.” You shook your head. “Even when I think all the way back, you were already acting distant before you left. Too busy with your own things to notice anything or anyone else. You already didn't care back then.”

He frowned. “I always cared. But it's true I had a lot going on back then. I was stressing about getting into a good school, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Your expression closed off as you nodded. Your voice was quiet, as though his admission settled it. “I'm happy you did, and that everything worked out for you.”

“Then why would you be so mad about this? I mean, I’m not thrilled about it, but it happened like it happened.”

“Oh for fucks sake, Jeongguk!” you blew up again, and he had to fist his hands at his sides not to impulsively grab you somehow. “You left! And left everything and everyone behind!”

You were finally talking, and he was so eager to hear you that he was almost leaning toward you. “Everything? What are you talking about?”

“You got into a good school in Seoul and moved, and everything was gone,” you insisted, with the strength behind your words waning. “We were the closest friends, and then suddenly you left and…” You visibly swallowed, then faced him again. “I was…” It must have been harder than you thought because you needed a second try to reveal, “I had a silly crush on you. You were my best friend. There were a lot of things I wanted us to do together. For a thirteen-year-old girl, it was all very new and at the center of everything. You didn’t care about any of it until you did, and I didn’t know how to deal with any of it, obviously. I honestly didn't even know what was happening. I thought I’d have time to bring up those things, to—” You cut yourself short. “I never had the time.”

“What things?” He got even closer, searching in your eyes. “Tell me what things.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, deflating a little bit as you stepped back. “I’m over it now.”

“You don’t sound over it.” He followed you with his eyes. “You sound angry.”

“I’m not.”

Your eyes stayed low, and he pursed his lips, unable to believe you but wary to insist.

“Well, I obviously had no idea you had a crush on me.” Saying it out loud had a smile blossoming on his face that he immediately tried to tone down. Your eyes showed vulnerability again, and he licked his lip ring before continuing, “Honestly, those sorts of feelings took a while to appear. I only realized I had a crush on you so much later.”

Your eyes hardened as you scoffed. “Why are you lying?”

“What? I’m not.” He instantly frowned.

“You are.”

“Mimi,” he called, not knowing exactly why his heart felt so heavy. “I’m not lying.”

“Wait, let me try to remember your exact words…” You mused, tapping your chin. “She’s just like a boy, with short hair and everything,” you said, looking so firmly into his eyes, he needed a moment to catch up. “I could have called her hyung and nobody would have noticed.”

His stomach instantly churned. “You— You heard me say that?”

“Yes.”

“At my mom’s BTS debut party?”

“Yes.”

“You… heard us talk?”

“Yes.”

He groaned, nervously raking his fingers through his hair to get it out of his eyes. “Is that why you left that day? And I never got to see you?” You stayed quiet, but now he knew the answer. “My mom said you were so sick you were crying, I was so worried, and it was because—”

“Worried?” you interrupted with a sneer. “You’re funny.”

“I was worried!”

“If you really were, you would have come next door to say something!”

“I had to leave the next day and thought you didn’t want to see me!”

“I went to your house, you were the one who couldn't bother to send a stupid message when you were worried that I was sick!”

“Because my mom said you never once asked about me. When your mom said you were really sick, I thought—” He groaned. “I thought you had faked it just so that you wouldn’t bother putting up with me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, and he scoffed. You insisted, “It is.”

“And you never asking about me is normal?”

“You left,” you deadpanned. “With no goodbyes and no messages, I had to hear it from my mom.”

His stomach turned. “Wait a minute.”

“Then three years later, that was what you had to say about me!”

“I was sixteen! And so stupid! My hyungs knew I had a crush before I did, and by then… I had nothing on my mind but work.”

You pursed your lips, and the way you moved away stung him. He could see that he was losing you, that everything had eroded and disintegrated much more than he thought. But he had a chance to tell you everything now and right his wrongs, and he would. No matter how much it hurt to reopen old wounds.

“When I said that, I had spent the last three years forgetting about you. I wasn't about to admit to Jimin that I still thought about you and missed you, not after working so hard to let go, and not when we were just debuting and everything was so hard.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“When I moved to Seoul, everything changed. I never had the chance to say goodbye, and it weighed on me a lot. Just a phone call all of a sudden about a school opening, and hours later, I was already there. I still remember crying in the car and my mom promising she'd talk to you.” His smile was painful as he shook his head. “But she stayed with me for a while in Seoul, so I guess she just called your mom instead. A lot was going on; it just happened too fast.”

You stood quiet, just listening as you probably matched his words with what you knew, and he kept going.

“Everything was harder than I thought it would be. I knew nobody in Seoul, but it wasn't just that. You weren't there anymore, and I never knew how overwhelming it would all be. I'd ask about you, and you were doing well, with good grades and plenty of friends. You forgot all about me when I missed you every single day.”

“That's not true.”

He couldn’t help but scoff as he teared up with the memories. “See how everything is a matter of perspective? It took me three years of working day and night to feel remotely confident. Without you, I— I had to learn to be confident and make friends without you.”

“You were always the popular one,” you said cautiously.

“Because I had you backing me up!” he affirmed, stepping closer to you. “Every time I looked to the side, you'd give me that grin, and I knew that you had me, no matter what. That nothing could go wrong.”

He could see the pain in your eyes; maybe you were starting to get it.

“You mean you were lonely?”

“For a very long time,” he confirmed.

You shook your head, unsettled. “That's crazy. If you needed me… why didn't you say something?”

“I did,” he confessed with a smile that surely revealed the ache he felt at the time. “I was under a lot of pressure not to waste that opportunity. I had no social media and trained day and night. Whenever I'd speak with my mom, she'd just tell me to work hard, that everyone was proud, and that she'd pass it on to you. Until the day I asked if you asked about me, and she said not really.”

“I didn't ask about anything!” You crossed your arms over your chest. “My best friend left without a word. How do you think I felt?”

“Lonely,” he replied, looking into your eyes. “Though probably not as much as me.”

Your lips trembled. “I… Shit, I… I was so angry that I just refused to talk about you, even when my mom or yours wanted to tell me things.” Your confession brought tears to your eyes, and it stung Jungkook’s chest. “I don’t remember how things happened at school or anything, I just remember going to school and home alone every day and… coming here to be alone until I just… I was angry. I heard your mom telling mine you had changed, but I… I refused to ask when you clearly didn’t care, so I just—”

You were holding back tears, and he just nodded, assuring you gently, “It’s okay. We were kids.”

“Then you debuted.” You managed to look at him, and he realized he couldn’t stop breathing in your presence. Your every word. “And I thought, well, at least it was for something. I wanted to support you, even though I cried a lot.”

You chuckled to hide a snifle, and he was worried. “Why did you cry?” he asked.

“I don’t know…” Your gaze wandered, thinking back. “I don’t know if I was proud or grieving. Because I felt left behind, but perhaps that was worth it, because you made it. You were on TV, being amazing, looking so cool,” your voice wavered as you wiped the tears from your cheeks. “Of course, you had to leave and go to Seoul and be amazing. A true friend wouldn’t hold you back.”

Your shoulders trembled, and you turned around to hide the tears that kept falling despite your best attempts to keep them in. You didn’t see him stepping forward or his fingers twitching. You couldn’t know how much his heart ached at learning all this.

“I missed you every day,” was all he could say.

You chuckled, but he could hear the fragility in your voice. “It’s fine. It’s good that everything turned out well.” After several sniffles, you took a deep breath and turned back to look at him. “I may have been angry, but I never wished for you to be unhappy. I’m happy your dreams came true.”

He scanned your face in silence as you handled your tears. He had so much he wanted to say about how much he missed you, but it didn’t feel right to insist. He could feel the distance between the two of you grow whenever he voiced his feelings, whether because you didn’t believe him or it hurt too much.

So he didn’t insist. “So… you are our fan, then?”

He tried a light tone and was mesmerized when you laughed. “Absolutely not!”

He smiled. “Why not?”

“I mean, at first I was,” you explained with a faint smile. “I wanted to support my friend, or, well, you know.” You were embarrassed enough that you weren’t looking at him. “Until that time when your mom wanted to celebrate your debut, and I heard you saying those things about me. I was so upset, I threw away everything BTS-related and swore I’d never look at anything related to you again.”

He groaned and rubbed his face. “All because I said something so stupid…”

You shrugged and looked away, and when he revealed his face, he licked his lip ring nervously.

“I said all manner of stupid things back then, especially about… I didn’t know how to handle my feelings,” he hurriedly explained. “I wanted to come off strong and cool. To think you had a crush on me back then… Honestly, I was so blind to it all.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow. “To it all? No, you weren’t.”

“What do you mean?”

You shrugged casually. “You dated Seo Soyeon before you left.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in bewilderment, as though he had no idea what you were talking about. Then, his eyebrows jumped. “Seo Soyeon? Oh my— I had forgotten all about that. They pushed for it, the class couple or whatever. I didn't care.”

“She was your first kiss.”

Your voice was small, and he shrugged with a small smile. “I didn't realize then what that meant. Now, it doesn't matter anymore, but for a while, I wished it had been different. More special.”

As he spoke, he remembered how he had revolted once he was mature enough to realize what had happened. He still remembered complaining about it to Jimin, frustrated that he had let it happen like that instead of realizing that whoever his lips touched should be memorable. Especially after Jimin asked if he had ever kissed you, since he assumed Jungkook’s best friend would have surely been his first.

“Right. You're right,” you agreed, still lost in your thoughts. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

“Who was your first?” Jungkook could have kicked himself for asking you so directly, but your answer was automatic.

“Yoon Jiryun.”

“Ahh…” Jungkook pressed his lips. He remembered the boy with the glasses who ran super fast. But he didn’t know what to do with this information now that he had it, especially since it made his stomach feel funny. “I… hope it was nice.”

You nodded. “It was nice.”

Your certainty made him smile. “You mean it wasn't in front of the whole class by sheer peer pressure?”

He saw the second it dawned on you. “That's… I'm so sorry, that must have been horrible!”

He shrugged. “It wasn't great, but hey. It was a long time ago.”

You looked at him, still with worry on your light frown, then your eyes shifted behind him. Jungkook was so focused on looking at you and appreciating that newfound connection that he didn’t expect you to step forward. His stomach instantly fluttered as he held his breath, but then you moved to the side. He saw you as you put your handbag down and sat on the swing next to the one he was on before.

“I dated him for a couple of years in high school,” you started, and Jungkook didn’t hesitate to sit on the swing next to yours. “He was very supportive of me when I was going through the worst of it.”

“You had issues in high school?”

“Who doesn't?”

“Fair.”

“He was very patient and supportive, even when he knew I was pissed about… you know.”

“What?”

“My former best friend saying stupid shit.”

“You were dating him then?” he asked instantly, surprised.

“No, a few months after that. I'm thankful for him. He made me feel pretty and special after my crush said I looked like a boy.”

He sighed. “Your crush was an idiot. A foolish idiot.”

“You can stop that now.”

“It's true,” he insisted, taking a look at you, even though you were staring ahead. It wasn’t lost on him that you just implied you still had a crush on him at sixteen. If only he had seen you that day. He sighed again. “You know, I don't remember when, but around when we graduated, my mother showed me a photo of our class, and I saw you. I was so shocked,” he breathed, remembering that moment. “You had long hair,” he chuckled, glancing at you to find your eyes this time. “In my mind, you looked and dressed the same, but at that moment, I realized we both had changed. I had my ears pierced, and you had long hair. I was happy. And sad.”

“Sad? Why?”

“Just… because. I didn't see it happen. That made me think back, which at that time I couldn't handle.” He laced his arms around the swing chains and, looking into your eyes, he knew he didn’t want to hide anything. “Everything related to before training is… clouded. I don't remember everything anymore. What I remember most are moments of us together. Like coming here to play at this hour after sneaking out.”

You smirked and looked around the park as though suddenly reminded it was probably almost two in the morning. “We were crazy.”

“Maybe. But I liked it when it was just the two of us talking about… whatever we talked about at the time.”

“I can't remember either,” you confessed, and when you looked at him, he had the most amazing desire to laugh, and you both did quietly. “I thought you would have forgotten about all of that.”

He shook his head. “Not that. It makes me who I am.”

You nodded. “I get that. What you said that one time marked me so much, I’ve never cut my hair above my chest since.”

His heart dropped as he forced his swing to stand still, unlike you, who kept a gentle sway. “I’m so sorry!” You nodded but kept your back and forth, your eyes on the floor, and he didn’t know why, but it felt like he was desperately trying to hold onto grains of sand slipping between his fingers. “I should never have said that, and your hair was beautiful back then, as it is now. I was just stupid!”

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “Like you said, we were kids, and it makes us who we are.”

His expression hardened. “I meant that in a positive way. To think that what you remember most about me is something stupid and harmful I said makes me sick to my stomach.”

“It’s fine,” you repeated, still looking at the floor absentmindedly. “It was painful, but it’s in the past.”

Jungkook didn’t feel like it was okay, much less in the past. Not when he could still see the traces of pain in your eyes or feel in his gut that his fate was sealed. All you’d ever see was the sixteen-year-old boy who needed to deny his feelings because he feared the alternative would block him even more. Who, by saying whatever stupid thing that came to mind, had inflicted a wound instead of being the one who looked after you. No wonder you hated him. He hadn’t just left; he had actively made you feel less even when you meant the world to him.

“Would you do anything different if you could?”

Your voice was gentle and reflective, and he pushed away the tears. “Definitely. Miscommunications can happen at all ages, but it wouldn’t have happened like this if I had asked to talk to you directly. If we had talked, everything would have been easier for both of us. But I think it could have also been harder for you. Because the distance would always be there, and it took me way too long to figure out how much you meant to me.”

“Maybe… Well… It wasn’t meant to be. You’re right, you’re always in Seoul. We would have drifted apart anyway.”

“Maybe not… that wouldn’t happen with the right person, right?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not sure. It was different then. Our lives were different and our worlds were small. It’s all different now.”

Somehow, your words didn’t make him feel any better, even while implying that you might have been the right person for him once. Because it also implied that he had missed that window. He had missed the opportunity to have you in his life, to be with you, to be the one who made you feel pretty and special.

He sighed. “You still haven't told me what you've been up to,” he hinted, deciding a lighter topic would be best for his heart. “It's unfair, you know about me.”

He said it payfully, and you chuckled. “Who doesn't? I tried to stay away, but you're everywhere.”

“Yeah, I… get it.”

You glanced at him, and fortunately, your expression was light. “I've become an interpreter and a translator. I’m mostly connected with the tourism department of Busan, but I also consult for other institutions.”

His eyes widened. He would have never guessed.

“Your concert really gave me a lot of work,” you teased, giving him a look, and he instantly bowed.

“Thank you for your hard work.”

You bowed back. “Thank you for doing this event in Busan.”

He had to grin after a few more head bows back and forth as though they were competing for who would bow last. “You've become great at something I struggle with.”

You raised your eyebrows. “English?” He nodded and saw the surprise on your face. Yet you quickly smirked. “And you? I sing horribly.”

He grinned. “You were never easy on the ears…”

You kicked his foot, and he chuckled, his grin bigger than ever.

“But that's okay,” he assured. “I sing enough for us both.”

Your smile faltered ever so slightly, and so did his.

“What about Yoon Jiryun?” he asked, changing the subject. “Did you guys see each other after high school?”

“No, he studied computer science in Seoul and got married last year.”

“Woah!”

“Yeah, I don't know how he did it,” you voiced incredulously, and he raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I mean, getting married is expensive. The families turn the women into slaves, then they expect kids, but it's so competitive and—” You realized you were rambling. “Ah, whatever. Even dating… It's hard enough as it is.”

Jungkook was listening carefully, trying not to give away how interested he was in hearing your thoughts. “Maybe he just found the right person.”

“Yeah, I think he did,” you mused. “Did you?”

“Me? Nah. With what time?” He shook his head with a smile. “I'm taking time off now, but I want to focus on myself and my family for a bit. On my friends, too.”

You stopped your gentle swinging and eyed him. “Doesn't it get lonely?”

“It does,” he admitted, stopping his back and forth to talk while looking directly at you. “I'll tell you a secret: it's like a vice. The highs are amazing, nothing feels close. But the lows are… soul-crushing. The lowest low. The silence and the absence are deadly.”

Your brow furrowed. “But you can connect with your fans all the time.”

He shook his head firmly. “It's not healthy. Life can't be lived through a camera or a screen. Disconnecting is important. I struggled with that in the beginning, but now… I'm living every day doing my best.”

“That's good, I'm happy for you.”

Your tone was soft and your eyes sincere, and his stomach felt fuzzy again. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that break would start or even imply a chance to reconnect with you, but he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Yet as you looked away again, he licked his lip ring absentmindedly as he realized there was still one thing he didn’t know.

“Have you? Found the right person?”

You chortled openly. “Nope! I'm starting to think they don't exist, but it's fine.”

“What?! Why?”

You shrugged, too focused on scrunching up your nose while you thought of a reply to notice how agitated he had become, tapping his foot and nibbling his lip.

“I tried too long and now I think I'm just fatigued.”

His foot stopped as his voice became gentle. “What was the problem?”

“The entitlement, or the need to be controlling, or the ‘man’,” you air quoted. It was as though you had a list on the tip of your tongue. “Dating doesn't mean you can boss me around. Oh and the god-awful sex.”

He didn’t realize the way his eyes widened, but you noticed the silence and looked at him. Your features contorted to hold back laughter, but in a second, you were both laughing quietly.

“What was worse,” you laughed. “Was the men trying to convince me it's good when it's just— ah shit, just— yeah, you get it.”

The way you both laughed and were at ease talking about it made him feel like you were back to the old days when you could talk about anything. When nothing could go wrong, and he could just be himself.

He hummed thoughtfully. “Well, some of it must have been good.”

You sighed. “Sure. It can't all be bad.” You looked up at the night sky. “I guess I just remember the bad now.”

His eyes betrayed him and quickly took you in from head to toe while you weren’t looking. Then, he looked ahead as he tried to sound nonchalant and pretend he wasn’t curious or attracted to you. “I'm sure it will get better.”

You scoffed and glanced at him. “Yeah, sure.”

He could only nibble his lip ring while stifling the promises he would have made in a heartbeat if he didn’t believe that would make you slap him across the face and never speak to him again.

“Can I ask about what you meant earlier?” he asked casually. “You said there were things you wanted us to do together, but you didn’t have the time to talk to me about them.”

You glanced at him as though you could see right through his fake halo. “Stop joking.”

And he was surprised. “I'm not.”

“You're not?”

“No. I have no idea what went through your mind at the time.”

He was being sincere, yet you still gave him a look and a skeptical huff, and he fiddled with his lip ring.

“But you’re bringing it up right now,” you underlined, eying him so fearlessly his knees were weak. Thankfully, he was sitting.

“I don’t think you meant sex, but—”

“No!! Of course not!” You flustered visibly, blushing and closing your eyes with embarrassment, and he had to bite his lip not to smile widely. “Why would you say that?!”

He shrugged, although by the way you blushed and stirred, he instantly knew the answer. Teasing you was so much more fun than he remembered.

“I guess you have no way of remembering or imagining what a thirteen-year-old girl wonders about,” you acknowledged, then heaved a deep breath. “Well, I thought you were the cutest and coolest boy ever, and that it would have been perfect for our first kiss to be together. It sounds ridiculous now, but yeah.” Your eyes stayed glued to the floor. “Just dating, whatever that meant at the time. Holding hands, kissing, hugging, talking, I don't know.”

He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, yet all he could do was swallow the torrent of heat climbing up his chest. “It doesn't sound ridiculous,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “So that's what you thought at the time…”

“Yeah, it's that phase,” you commented, and for the first time, he wondered if you really felt so casually about seeing him again. “Of entering our teens and becoming adults. For some reason, I was very confident we'd do all those firsts together. Meanwhile, you thought I was a boy.”

“I never thought that!!” he countered instinctively. “I hate that I ever said that. I said whatever came to mind, but I never thought that. Short or long hair, you were always cute and feminine. When I saw that photo of you when you graduated, it hit me hard. How dainty you had become. The same face I’d recognize anywhere, but so much prettier and mature. Seeing you now, it’s one hundred times better. In-person and now as a woman, you're…”

He was finally able to breathe and realize the heat he had swallowed down had just gushed out uncontrollably.

“Not a boy?”

You had an amused spark in your eyes, and he couldn’t think. “Fuck no.”

You chuckled. “Go figure.”

Finally, he rubbed his face to hide the things that were all too clearly shown there. “I wish it had been different. It's not possible, but I wish I were able to tell you all this at the time.”

“Go back in time and call me through our moms,” you joked, kicking his foot.

“Mom,” he pretended to talk on the phone. “Can you tell Mimi's mom that Mimi looks so pretty now? Someone needs to stay by her side to make sure she's not bothered.”

“Bothered?” you laughed in disbelief, and he smirked.

“Yeah, guys probably won't leave her alone,” he continued, then got up and put his fingers to his ear, pressing a non-existent earpiece. Then, he grabbed your hand and raised his other hand protectively, shielding you from invisible enemies coming from all angles. “No, I need to protect her!” He pretended to struggle, then groaned with his palm to his stomach, raising it while trembling as if it were covered in blood. “No!” He succumbed to his knees while you laughed and shook your head, still holding his hand. “Oh no, they'll kidnap you. Nooo!”

He fell dramatically to the floor, keeping his hand tethered to yours while you laughed quietly. Although his eyes were closed, he gave your hand a slight squeeze to help him up, but you just kept laughing. So instead, he stayed put, listening to you laugh giddily. When he looked up at you from the floor, splayed like a star, he saw you smiling upside down, filling his heart. He couldn’t even describe how complete he felt at that moment.

You stood up from the swing and faced him, raising your free hand to offer help, but he gave you a small shake of his head. Instead, he moved his free arm as though welcoming you to join him. In that split second, he braced for the coldness to return to your features and wash the happiness away. But it didn’t.

You lay down next to him, resting your head on his bicep. He adjusted his arm around you, trying to increase your comfort, only to realize you snuggled up to him seamlessly. You fit in his arms so perfectly that he couldn’t help but embrace you fully.

You hid in his chest, and he let his nose draw closer to the top of your head, letting every little detail relax him. He didn’t remember ever holding you in his arms like this, and he knew he would have never forgotten if he had. To be there with you, alone, breathing you in while your legs tangled with his made him so fuzzy and happy, there was no holding back. There was nothing he wished to keep secret anymore.

“I wish we had our firsts together,” he whispered to the top of your head, and you raised your head to look up at him. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, but you’ll always be that one person.”

His heart felt heavy in his chest as you both observed each other so closely. He knew by the trajectory of your eyes that you were rediscovering his features, from the mole on his nose to the small scar on his cheek. His cheeks warmed under your attentive eyes, even as he tried to take advantage to memorize your face, from the freckles on your nose to your full lips.

But then you looked up at him as his breath caught with the sparkly stars in your eyes.

“Even now?” you whispered, and he had to try hard to remember what you were talking about.

Before he could think, his inked fingers traced your cheek. Your lashes fluttered as you looked at him, with warm cheeks and the sweetest expression that told him everything he needed to know. His eyes fell to your lips.

“Now,” he muttered, leaning in, and your eyelashes fluttered again. “Always… Just right…”

He stopped mumbling in time before his lips pressed to yours, and time stopped. His breath caught as his sole focus became that moment, with you, on the cold rubber mat of the playground, having the only first that mattered.

You took a shaky breath, pressing your palm to his chest as you moved your lips, and he waited. He preferred to follow you, graze and taste your kiss with the same cadence and pressure you used, taking only what you gave him. And it quickly became everything he thought it would be.

Your lips touched tentatively at first, carefully making sure the other wanted this, but quickly things changed. He knew it wasn’t just him free-falling and letting that incoming fever take over because he was following your lead. And you were not shy about following your instincts either.

The first kiss was a touch, the second a delicate brush, the third a firm press, the fourth the first taste, the fifth wet, and finally, it became impossible to count. He was already dizzy with what was happening, but the way you invaded his senses overcame him. He was eager to drink down every drop of your presence and attention, but he didn’t realize it would come with such force. Your kiss became searing and brazen, unapologetically punishing him for the wait, and his body reacted in a flash.

It took him seconds to ignite for you, burning with a passion that he only ever dreamed possible. And then you pulled away, and everything dawned on him—your kisses weren’t innocent. He wanted you in every way possible, and he’d likely follow you to the end of the world now that he found you again and knew exactly what you tasted like.

But you sat up and faced away from him. “I’m sorry, that was…”

“Don’t say sorry,” he croaked, sitting up behind you. He could tell you were panting; his heart was also racing. “You don’t… You didn’t like it?”

In the silence, he raised his hand to touch you but gave up, fearing invading your space. He thought all he had to do was wait, but in a second, you were getting on your knees to reach your handbag ahead, on the ground, next to the swings.

“Mimi…”

You grabbed your handbag. “Don’t call me that.”

“I’ve always called you that. I gave you that name.”

You froze, still facing away from him. “We’re not kids anymore.”

“No, we’re adults.”

You stayed quiet, but at least you weren’t moving further away. He didn’t even know how he was so calm, but he embraced it.

“So tell me,” he said quietly, hoping you’d turn around to look at him. “Was our kiss just now… weird to you?”

“No.”

His lips curved in the most endearing smile. “That’s a relief.”

You finally faced him. “But we can’t do this.”

Your eyes were big and glazed, and he focused. “Why not?”

“Because… It’s not the same.”

Your voice shook, and he frowned ever so slightly. “The same?”

“It’s not our first…”

“Who cares?!” he blurted out, but he couldn’t help himself. He saw hesitation but also so much more in your eyes that he couldn’t hold back. “Mimi, who cares who our firsts were? Do you care that much about who we’ve kissed before?”

“No!”

“No? You sure?”

“I’m sure!” you confirmed firmly. “It’s not that!”

“Then what is it?”

Your eyes met his, and he saw the moment you realized what you had just said. You admitted — insisted — that the past was not what was bothering you. He could only hope you’d be willing to tell him what the real problem was so he could help you. So he could fix it and never have to let you go.

“I thought—” Your voice wavered, so you whispered, “I thought I was over you.”

He couldn’t help a knowing smile. “Ditto.”

Did you notice you were leaning in again? Did you notice you were looking at him like nothing else existed? Or how you raised a curious yet shy hand to touch him, and he leaned forward, savoring the way you brushed his hair out of his face. When he opened his eyes again, you were much closer, and he had no qualms brushing his hand down your forearm and raising his other hand in an invitation for you to come closer.

Your handbag fell to the ground again as you took his hand, and he pulled you in. The objective was never for you to straddle him, but as soon as you did, his arm wrapped around you possessively. Anyone would have a hard time convincing him to let you go now, not when you were sitting so perfectly on his lap, looking at him like the world was that moment.

“Are we crazy?” you whispered, and his blood ran hot again.

“Maybe.”

His hands held you firmly, almost afraid of losing that moment somehow, yet there was no need to. You pushed forward, crashing your mouth to his, unabashedly picking up where you had left off. He was already not in his right mind, but the moment your tongue pushed through the seam of his lips, he felt his brakes disintegrate. There could be no inhibitions when you were pressing yourself like that to him, breathing heavy, sharing your air, taste, and visceral curiosity. It was too easy to become inebriated, relaxing while burning so intensely, it was hard to explain. It was as though he knew he’d be consumed by the desire, the lust, and the affection in his heart, all with your name so deeply rooted in him, it was more than inked, it was branded. Part of his DNA, his psyche, his soul. And to elevate it all, the way you showed him there was something inside you, too. Something that pushed you to kiss him harder, cup his cheek, and mold your bodies so closely that you ended up pushing him back until he was lying on the ground again.

As you dove into the kiss, the air dissipated from his lungs, and he surrendered completely. Kissing you and absorbing every little detail from the way you breathed or caressed his face was already enough to erase every thought that could try to interrupt that moment. But now, he felt everything. Your weight over him, the warmth, the way your chest expanded against him, letting him catch hints of your form above him. He couldn’t help the hard-on in his pants more than he could help breathing in your perfume between fevered kisses, and it was divine.

He never pushed you or pressed for anything in any way. You'd undoubtedly realize his excitement, but he trusted you not to go further than you were comfortable with. No matter how curious he was to learn and explore every detail about you, he'd gladly kiss you all night long if that was what you wanted.

But he wouldn’t push you away if you wanted more. He sighed when your hands felt the expanse of his shoulders and chest, feeling every inch of his body tingle and react under your touch. His fingers twitched on your waist, eager to feel more, but he reeled it in. One deep breath while your tongue licked against his could have easily flipped his mindset, but he was disciplined enough to stay put.

Until your fingers explored down at his sides, framing his waist until they reached your legs. Realizing your knees were pressing into his sides, you opened your legs further, and his brain turned to goo. Your weight shifted enough for you to sit straight on his hard-on while your fingers eagerly pulled his sweater so you could touch him, and he groaned into your kiss.

It was a visceral, unadulterated sound dripping with desire, and you paused. You pulled away to eye him, looking like sin incarnate with your swollen lips and blown pupils, and he licked his lips.

“Keep going,” he rasped, looking at you hungrily. “Whatever you want.”

You looked down at the hem of his sweater, crumpled in your hands, as he pulled on the fabric to reveal his lower abdomen. Dragging your hands along wasn't enough for you to break away from your hesitation, so he took them. Your eyes were locked with his as your fingers interlaced, making his heart flutter. You dropped your mouth back to his, pressing a chaste kiss, and he closed his eyes. Yes, his heart was singing, but he wanted you to keep going.

So he placed your hands on his lower stomach, instantly shuddering, and not from the night's October cold. Your fingers untangled from his, touching and feeling his warm skin, and he groaned again. This time, he didn't hold back from opening his mouth and searching to deepen your kiss, and his hands returned to your waist, squeezing it firmly.

You took everything he offered, no longer surprised when he groaned as you pressed and scratched lightly over his abs and sides. You reached his chest once, and his breath caught. He couldn’t control his reaction; his dick throbbed under you and he nibbled your lip, so eager to eat you whole he didn't even know how he was holding back. But he knew then you had to know it. You had to feel how hard he was underneath you, and yet you didn't move to the side or pull away. As if you wanted to feel his excitement pressed to you, and it was maddening.

He felt his sanity pushed further when you grabbed his hands and guided him. He held his breath as you dragged his hands to your hips before making way underneath your sweater until you placed them back on your waist, directly on your soft skin.

He could barely breathe, and you knew it. You ghosted his lips the whole time as your eyes stayed locked with his, observing his reaction. He couldn’t think, suddenly absolutely stiff and tense. If he moved and touched you, it would be like jumping off a cliff — wishing the untamed ocean would catch him while he would be completely at a loss.

“Touch me,” you whispered against his lips, and he heard it as both a command and a wish, so he did.

Your skin was so soft and warm, he wondered how it could be so perfect. Your curves instantly turned his legs to goo underneath you, so maddening they were, but something else almost made him choke.

Several times, he palmed your sides from your armpits to the hem of your sweatpants, and there was nothing but soft skin. No elastic, no other fabric, nothing but supple skin.

His eyes met yours again as you kept brushing his lips and skin without properly kissing him, as though you were waiting for something.

“Don't stop,” you whispered, nuzzling him, and he leaped.

His palms moved in, thumbs brushing the side of your chest, and your breath shook. He caressed the sensitive skin, feeling how warm and inviting it was, and as he did, you melted over him. You kissed him, then turned to the side to breathe, then pressed his lips again, then had to part them to moan softly, and by the time he realized what was happening, you were both too far gone.

You were moving over him at the cadence of his hands, and it felt too good for both of you. You rocked your hips as slowly as his hands, savoring every millimeter his fingers explored of your breasts little by little while you pressed your core to his hard cock. It was incredibly worth it to do it slowly and feel you falling apart over him, cracking his control as yours dissipated as well. The tension was so sweet and sublime, he let it develop to the last second. Brushing his fingers ever so slightly over your breasts without ever forming a hold. At least until you whimpered.

Then, he cupped your breasts in his hands and squeezed, and you moaned, grinding on his erection so perfectly, he throbbed. He did it again and again, reveling in the way you reacted and gave back to him. Until you hid in his neck to moan your pleasure, and he bit down on your exposed neck, rutting into you unapologetically.

You were just perfect. The sounds you breathed drove his sanity away, but the way you felt over him made him want to get lost in you. He was crazy, both about feeling you and driving you just as crazy, and for a moment, he thought it would work. He was teasing your nipples while groping your tits harshly, arriving at that point by the way you moaned and humped him harder with every touch in the right direction. He was listening to you attentively, so turned on by your excitement, he wondered if he could cum like this if you did.

But then you relented, stopping your hips despite the way you were moaning and breathing into his ear, messing him up.

His instincts roared, and he rolled over you, letting you stay hidden in his neck. Then he humped sharply into you to elicit that strong reaction out of you again and there it was, that sweet breathless moan in his ear. Your hands found their way to his lower back under his sweater, and the slightest push was enough to unleash him. He hid in your neck to suckle your skin while humping your core and squeezing your tits in his hands. Everything heated him unbearably, melting away any thoughts before they could form. Yet as you moaned into his ear and sank your nails into his lower back, moving with him, he pulled away to look at you. He was suddenly overwhelmed by curiosity — what did you look like at his exact moment?

His cock throbbed so painfully he had to slow down, making you whimper and open your eyes. It made it even worse, and he bit his lip to simmer down. Just seconds before, you were breathing heavily with your lips parted, shuddering underneath him. He could still feel your heart racing under his hands as your tongue peeked out to lick your lips, and he dove in.

He was fully inebriated, wholly converted, and ready to learn everything about you from A to Z. What he had learned so far was not enough; he couldn't stop now.

You tapped his back, and he let you breathe, pecking your cheek instead.

You rasped, “Everyone can see us.”

He raised his head to look at you, his heart pumping loudly. You didn't say stop, no, or that you should end it there. Your eyes showed as much desire as he felt drumming in his veins, and he kissed you hard. You wanted to be with him, and if he had somewhere to take you, he wouldn't have hesitated for a second.

He couldn’t take you to his parents' place as it stood. So he guided your legs to lock behind him. “Hang on.”

Once he was sure you could hold, he rose to his knees and crawled into the tunnel you had been hiding in earlier. When he laid you down gently, you giggled and instantly covered your mouth. He had to chuckle at the way you blushed, surprised by the echo.

“Don't you remember when we'd shout from one end to the other, pretending to be pirates and thieves?”

Your eyes crinkled. “It's a miracle we were never caught and grounded.”

He let his body fall to yours gently. “It's because there's nobody around at this hour.”

He pecked the tip of your nose, and you smiled, happily still holding onto him. It made him pause. He just looked at you, relishing that closeness and singular moment with none other than you. He couldn't see you as well, now hidden from the streetlights, but he could still distinguish the lines of your smile. You looked happy. He had to wonder if it was all a dream.

Your legs stayed laced around him, and as he felt the outlines of your body underneath him, he was reminded of just how turned on he was. His cock was so hard and swollen, and after humping you so crazily, his clothes were pressing on it uncomfortably.

He supported himself on one hand, feeling the tight tunnel frame his shoulders as he used his free hand to adjust his dick. His head was completely elsewhere, locked on how he’d touch you again under your sweater as soon as humanly possible, when he felt your hand over his.

His thoughts collapsed in on themselves as you looked up at him and followed his hand to his hard-on. His breath caught when you didn’t just feel around, but purposefully found his length.

“May I?”

His brain had to do backflips to articulate a simple, Yeah.

Worse than feeling like he was drooling all over you and unable to attach two words together was the way you looked at him. The more his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the more he saw the look on your face — of someone who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to get it. It made him weak in the knees before your hand had the chance to grab his hard length.

You squeezed him over his sweatpants, learning the outline of his dick before moving beyond his hand and burrowing inside. He had no time to process, only to catch himself before he collapsed on top of you. He couldn’t stop a deep groan, nor the precum from spilling over your hand, but there was no hiding it, not at this stage. Not when your fingers wrapped around him and felt him from base to tip, and not just once or twice.

He opened his eyes to look at you, and you almost blew him away. You weren’t just sure you wanted to touch him; you had the most confident and sexy look on your face. Like you knew what you were doing to him and wanted exactly that to happen. Like you intended for his toes to curl as he stopped himself from rutting into your hand and kissing you desperately as he spilled all over you.

He had given up on stifling his groans or heavy breathing; the way you seemed to delightedly observe every reaction only made him more beside himself. He wanted you to look at him and want him as crazily as he wanted you, but he also didn’t want to cum in two minutes.

His eyes flickered down to your stomach, and you whispered, “You can pull it up.”

He met your eyes and supported himself on both his hands, pressing his thumbs to distract himself from your hand jerking him off steadily and perfectly. “No,” he muttered, then tried again. “I don’t want you to be cold.”

You definitely knew what you were doing when you used your free hand to pull your sweater so far up on one side that your breast showed. It was enough for him to groan and almost try to escape your hand, because it was too good. You felt too good and looked too perfect, and his instinct won again. In a split second, he wasn’t just looking at the outline of your chest, trying to learn all the details in the dark, but diving in with his mouth latching onto a nipple he had teased relentlessly before.

You threw your head back and moaned, and his hand darted to stop yours. You couldn’t have known how close he was to blowing, especially as he didn’t relent from licking and nibbling on your perked nipple. He couldn’t help himself, especially when you grabbed his hair and moaned softly like that.

The moment you moaned his name, his eyes closed as he felt it in his entire body. He’d never forget that sound.

“Can you multitask?”

He opened his eyes, so utterly dazed he couldn’t have heard you. “What?”

“Can you touch me, too?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him, and he realized what you meant.

Your legs had loosened their hold around him, but were still open under him, molding to him in the perfect position for him to sink deeply into you.

He shook those thoughts away. “If you let me, I’d love to.”

You were quick to make space for him beside you while he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. He used to think it was unlikely that he’d ever meet you again. But now, not only were you kissing, but you were touching each other in ways that crossed lines like they were meant to be erased. Asserting what he instinctively knew but was never able to act upon.

He lay next to you, noticing how you adjusted to still be comfortable while you held onto his dick. Not that you had let it go, but at least you seemed okay with waiting for him to be comfortable before you restarted your strokes.

But first, he needed to touch you and brace himself for it. This was such an important moment that his heart started racing inside his chest. Not just because you were letting him touch you, but because of everything it meant. You trusted him, you wanted him, you had expectations that he could make you feel good, and suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to do exactly that while stressing like hell that he’d do everything wrong.

His hand moved in the dark, trembling, to find you, and it did. Your legs opened further as his palm settled on your inner thigh, firm and warm, and he opened his eyes. Instantly, he knew he was fucked and blessed. The streetlights somehow managed to shine on you, giving him a view he had only ever dared to dream of — you, lying next to him, with your sweater raised, exposing one side of you, stomach to breast, while one of your legs was open with his inked hand resting on it.

He was probably drooling, and once his eyes met yours, he guessed you knew.

“Please,” you breathed, and the back of his neck burned. Your eyes were hungry as you moved your hips ever so slightly, and he didn’t want to keep you waiting.

Still, his hand darted to your nipple first, pinching it softly. His dick throbbed in your hand as you moaned, and one glance was enough to know his next step. He brushed his fingers gently down your chest to your stomach on a sure path to where you wanted him, and in a second, his hand slipped inside your pants.

His eyes focused on you as your wetness guided him, and although he tried not to be rough, his fingers slipped. You instantly gasped and let your head fall back, and his curiosity became untamable. His fingers brushed up and down along your folds, a feather touch opposed to the first contact with your sensitive clit, but you enjoyed it. You squirmed ever so slightly, giving him even more space to touch you however he pleased, and he did.

He took in the way his hand disappeared inside your pants in the same way yours disappeared inside his, both stroking at a slow, exploratory rhythm. While you kept a firm, steady hand from head to base, almost as if not to distract him, he kept focused on your little eyelash flutters and gasps as he discovered every inch of you.

Despite your quiet whimpers, he retreated to your thighs, determined not to leave a single stone unturned. Only when your hand around his dick became impatient did he move back up and touched your slit again, having to close his eyes with how much wetter you were, if that was even possible.

Your whimpering moans caught him by surprise, and as you breathed heavily, he focused. You weren’t a dream or a fantasy; you were so very real, and he wanted you to enjoy every second with him.

“Tell me how,” he asked gently, grazing over your clit without staying there.

“You don’t know?” You were breathlessly surprised, and he chuckled.

“I don't know how you like it.”

You matched his smile as your hand slowed down around his length. He took that as a positive reaction — you wanted this to last, and so did he.

You bit your lip and turned your face closer to his, whispering, “Can you do it slowly in big circles?”

He instantly changed his touch to match your request, and your reaction was almost instantaneous. Your hips moved against his fingers, and in seconds, you were biting your lip, stifling your moans. He found it curious that you reacted so strongly to such a simple touch, but he knew it was more than that. Your hips were adding to the feeling, not to mention you had to be turned on by his hard dick in your hand. Being half-naked in a public playground might have also contributed, though he wasn’t thinking about any of those details right now. For him, what mattered was how much wetter you were, trying not to squirm under his touch.

“A bit harder,” you breathed, looking at him, and he nibbled his lip ring.

He did as you asked, pressing more firmly, noticing how he wouldn’t touch your clit directly unless when you wanted him to, and you controlled this by moving your hips. He was getting you off under your rules and by the way you were breathing and pumping his cock, he knew you were almost there. He himself would have been cumming soon if not for the fact that he wanted to learn every single detail about you while you felt like this.

Your chest heaved harder as your hand slid alongside his length perfectly, yet your eyes closed as you tried to hide. You turned your face down, bringing it closer to him. He pecked your forehead as you squirmed under his hand, stifling your moans, until you seemed to change your mind. You pressed your lips feverishly to his and he had to redouble his effort to not change the rhythm for you, sliding perfectly around your wet entrance and brushing your clit just like you liked it, again and again, until you gasped.

Your back arched violently, breaking apart your kiss, and letting him see everything as you climaxed. How you moaned softly, letting it echo around you two, as you trembled. Your hips slowed down, and so did his fingers, able to feel your clenching hole enticing the hard dick still in your hand that you were squeezing hard. Fortunately, not hard enough to hurt, but surely enough for you to know how ready he was to feel you closely. Not that he would, but not that he could help thinking about it now that he could imagine how you’d feel cumming around him.

Your whole body relaxed next to him as your hand lost its strength, and he understood. All the sexual tension was gone for you. He brought his lips to your forehead, pecking you as his hand slipped from your pants, hoping you wouldn��t feel pressured to continue. Because if it were up to him, he’d be begging for more, but he hoped you were comfortable enough to do as you pleased.

You raised your head to meet his lips in a languid kiss, and that intimacy swayed him. He was ready to kiss you until the sun dawned, but you were quick to wrap your fingers firmly around him again, and with a renewed intent this time.

He opened his eyes, meaning to pull away and ask you if you really wanted to continue, but your gaze made his breath catch. You didn’t want to just get him off; you were in charge of the way his pleasure developed, and it brought him straight back to the thick of it.

You were very close to each other, but no longer kissing, so he did something out of instinct — he brought his fingers, still covered in your slick, to his mouth. A small part of him feared he’d weird you out, but somehow he knew you were on the same wavelength.

He groaned with your taste, throbbing in your hand, turned on beyond belief, and your reaction was to pull his hand away and dive in tongue first into his mouth. You both moaned into the kiss, and Jungkook was so beside himself, he didn’t last a minute with you assaulting his mouth like that. It was too much on top of your hand squeezing around the tip of his cock, edging him for all the precum he possibly he had.

He had to break your kiss apart. You were perfect for him, but— “I’ll cum.”

You smirked. “I hope so, I want to taste you, too.”

Every word sparked him, and looking into your eyes, he was certain you had thought of him before. At least once. In all those years, you had thought of doing this with him before, and it was the straw that broke the camel's back. He wrapped his hand around yours, squeezing your fingers into a fist, and spilled.

Instantly, warm spurts of cum had nowhere to go but to drip in between your fingers, but you didn’t shy away. You pumped him for all he was worth, making him groan and squirm as he held you while you emptied him.

As soon as he was spent, his first instinct was to search for your kiss. Not consuming, not searing, just calming and soothing like the sigh that escaped his lips. Then, he let go of your hand and fell back, ready to bask in that peace when he noticed out the corner of his eye that you took your hand still dripping with his cum to your mouth and licked it.

You closed your eyes, savoring it, and he groaned, so euphoric at that moment, he couldn’t describe it. He rose from the ground to kiss you again, temporarily overriding that newfound peace with his inextinguishable desire for you, until you squirmed and chuckled.

His cum was dripping down your wrist into your sweater and you quickly pulled on your sleeve. “Wait.”

You crawled back out of the tunnel to reach your handbag, and he lay back, relaxedly, letting what just happened wash over him. You two together felt amazing, and it was no longer a fantasy or a dream of his teenage years. He didn’t have to imagine that the two of you would work out together; you just did.

You sat down at the entrance of the tunnel next to his knees and passed him a tissue so he could clean his hand, which he did absentmindedly as he waited for you to join him again. He didn’t know what the future held, but he’d start by holding you and go from there.

Except you weren’t back yet, so he looked at his feet again. He could see your calves, immediately noticing that you were standing at the tunnel entrance with your handbag nowhere in sight.

“Mimi?”

“I need to go.”

You instantly rushed away out of sight, and he sat up instinctively, hitting his head so hard that the whole plastic tunnel resonated. He rubbed his head as he tried to crawl outside, and when he finally managed to stand up, you were nowhere in sight.

He quickly shook off the dizziness and ran back to where both your parents lived. He didn’t understand why you would just leave like that, but above all things, he didn’t want any misunderstandings.

When he got on the right street, he ran through your mother’s garden all the way to the front door and raised his hand, but stopped before he knocked. If he did, he’d wake up your parents, and that would create more problems.

So he nibbled on his lip ring and walked away, throwing your parents’ place a couple of glances before making his way to his parents’. You were safe there, and he knew just where to find you in the morning.

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