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clubdionysus · 9 months ago

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[BAD DECISION #61] Jinxing It

warnings: (1) mention of toe socks, chess talk, showers, a lil bit of titty luvin, lots of kisses, oral (f&m), fingering, ass play (m), whimpery koo <3, a lil cum swapping, the starluvrs are v cute!!! lots of lil clues and hints about upcoming chapters!!

a/n: there's an authors note over on a03 so I'll you spare you my nonsense! but hi, welcome back!! sorry for the wait on this one <33 if you're only just discovering bd, hello---this is part of an on-going story and includes an established relationship, to be read in context with the rest of the story, it's not a oneshot ^^. for kofi subs, there'll be a BD 62 teaser in a few hours!

wc: 13.7K

bd total wc: 560k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Life dissolves with Jeongguk. Days merge into one.

Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time melts.

So does Jeongguk, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. You’d go as far to say he turns into a supernova, like stars often do when they collapse.

He lets himself merge into a shared identity that he’s certain isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship.

Two weeks from the auction, and days have rolled on by without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jeongguk’s had meetings with realtors, Yoongi by his side every step of the way. Everything has happened without much thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jeongguk’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way.

You spent so long fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jeongguk’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost .

“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him.

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter.

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jeongguk. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jeongguk is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can have him.

“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds you of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can .”

“But should I?”

“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jeongguk nods.

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend . You’re supposed to help .”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. He also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look.

This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat.

Jeongguk is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jeongguk. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you never to play against him again.

He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.

It’s only apt that you’d get an all-access pass.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him.

He nods.

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him—just trusting that he’s a bullshitter.

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your King, and preventing Jeongguk from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made.

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but— fuck —he’ll never understand your brain.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check.

Mate .

Groaning, you realise what's happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There's no way Jeongguk actually enjoys this.

"Not again," you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jeongguk's ceiling. It's without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

"B," Jeongguk laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You'll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, "What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king."

"I tried!" You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

"You left him wide open for me to take!"

"You could have gone easy on me!"

"I was!" He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. "I swear you didn't listen to a single thing I told you—"

"I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place," you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn't deserve niceties in times like this.

He'd argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against his throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. "I'll make you a deal."

"Go on."

"Strip chess."

"Pervert."

"For every move you make, I'll take an item of clothing off," he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a (toe)sock on either foot, and underwear — that's only five moves, but then again, Jeongguk normally has your king trapped by that point.

"I think you're just trying to get me naked."

"I'm always trying to get you naked, B," he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. "So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?"

"What happens if I take out one of your pieces?"

"If you do that," he hums, as if he's contemplating it. "I'll let you do that goddamn paper plane you wanna try out so bad."

Instantly, you sit up, like a puppy with a treat being teased in front of its snout. Your eyes are wide, smile incredulous.

It's been a while since Jeongguk made those paper planes in your bedroom. Only one has ever been done, and quite frankly, you think it might have been the catalyst to your friendship's demise, because how you could ever go back to 'just friends' afterwards was beyond you.

It's not like you didn't try to remain totally neutral about cock warming with him, but the way your heart swells whenever you do it now just goes to show how your bodies were made for one another. Like a turning of tides, or the cyclical rising and falling of the sun to make way for the moon, it's just as nature intended. He was made for you, and you him.

With a glint in your eye, you lean over to the chess board and swipe up one of his pawns at random. With a gasp, and a smile twitching at your lips, you exclaim, "Oh look! I won!"

"B," he laughs, but your expression remains entirely serious despite the light nature of it all.

"Lemme fuck your ass," You grin now, pleading ever so softly. "A deal is a deal."

"You didn't win."

"Says who?"

"Anyone who has ever played chess?"

"I've played, and I think I won. C'mon," you grin, positioning yourself on his lap. The chess piece is still in your hands as you lean down to nudge your nose up against his. "Face down, ass up for me, baby."

"You're in my way," he says.

"You could throw me across the room if you wanted to. I'm not stopping you."

"And I'm not throwing you across the room."

"Please," you pathetically beg.

"You really it want it, don't you?" He grins against your lips. "Huh?"

"Just wanna make you feel good."

"You always make me feel good," Jeongguk whispers, quietly deflecting the real reason why he hasn't let you do it yet.

Truth be told, Jeongguk is a little scared.

While yes, he's always been curious about pegging, he's never taken it that far before. Has never had the tools, shall we say, to explore by himself, and none of his exes or flings ever seemed too interested in it.

He wants it. Wants it with you. Just doesn't know how he'll react. Doesn't know what his body will do. Worries that things will take a turn for the worse and that you'll be so repulsed by him that you'll never want to have sex with him again, or that maybe he'll like it too much and that it'll be all he ever wants and it'd ruin just how good things are at the moment.

His thoughts distract him as your lips press feathery kisses against the thick column of his neck. Something about you, and how delicate you can be, just makes him melt into your touch. His hands come to clutch your hair, a pretty little smile forming on his lips.

"You don't have to do this," he quietly says, nails lightly scratching at your scalp. Your lips graze against his skin, before he gently pulls you back by the root of your hair. The sensation makes you want him even more than you already do. There's a love-drunk look of lust to your darling eyes, all glittery like they so often are as you look at him.

Reaching to cup his jaw, you marvel at how a man who looks like him can be as tender as he is. The world would give him permission to break hearts, if he wanted it, but he doesn't. All he seems to want is to adore, and be adored in return—and how lucky you are to be on the receiving end of it.

A slight guilt settles in your stomach. You know he'd give you the world if you asked for it, but he isn't giving you this.

"I'm only teasing," you tell him, which isn't strictly true. You do wanna do it, but your incessant begging is what you're joking about. It's not like you'll die if you can't fuck his ass (maybe). "I'll respectfully stay out of your ass unless requested otherwise."

He shakes his head. Laughs. Kisses you, 'cause he just can't help himself, then pulls you down into the sheets with him. "I give it a day until you're asking again."

Secretly, he wants you to ask again. It doesn't feel like pressure. Feels like validation; as if you want this even more than he does.

The thing is, you can't say no to a challenge. "Wanna bet?"

No.

But he can't resist either. "You're on."

Yoongi stands with his shoulders pressed to glass front door, keys looped on his fingers. The streets in this area are always quiet until the evening, minor hustle and bustle from delivery drivers dropping off stock to businesses down the alley disturbing the peace.

A small hotteok stall sits lopsided, supported by the building's exterior wall, red tarpaulin covering it from the weather and any inquisitive eyes. An elderly man runs it during the weekends, but for the rest of the week, it sits derelict. It's an eyesore, to say the least. Not the kind of thing that screams 'hot new restaurant' to anyone walking by.

It's as Yoongi's contemplating how to solve this problem, figuring the stallhand probably had an agreement with the previous owners, when Jeongguk comes into his line of vision. He tweaks a brow in Jeongguk's direction, almost as if to ask: what time do you call this?

Jeongguk's right on time. It's not a minute past twelve, which is exactly the time Yoongi told him to arrive.

Sale finalised, paperwork complete, Yoongi got given the keys this morning. It's a done deal. The building is his, and in turn, the restaurant is Jeongguk’s.

Despite his nonchalance, when Yoongi sees Jeongguk grin, he can't help but smile too.

"Shut up," Yoongi tells him. "We're serious businessmen. Don't get giggly with me."

"I'm not!" Jeongguk laughs, hands up in defence, until Yoongi puts his own hand out for Jeongguk to shake. Naturally, Jeongguk uses Yoongi's hand to pull him in for a hug instead. Patting his back, Jeongguk is almost fighting the urge to cry. He's waited so long for this. Worked so hard. Doesn't think any of it would be possible without Yoongi, but Yoongi would disagree.

"You better make the best fuckin' samgyeopsal this city has ever seen," Yoongi threatens with all the love in the world, breaking from the hug. Passing over the keys, he nods towards the doors. "Do us the honours."

Yoongi is fatherly in the way he never takes the glory for himself. Will be the kind of dad to build a lego castle and let his kid put the flag in place at the end of his labour.

Jeongguk doesn't mention it, but he's noticed the way Seoyeon has been the designated driver for the past few weeks; how she didn't drink at auction, and how Yoongi's been even more attentive than he usually is.

Could be nothing at all. Could just be a change in the weather.

But it could mean everything, and Jeongguk knows better than to intrude before being welcomed in on the news.

Pushing the key into the lock, Jeongguk is quietly enamoured with the fact the premises has a lock and key instead of the typical keypad locks that are usually in place. The metal grates against itself as he twists the lock open, and pushes the door open.

There's a separate side entrance for access to the upper floors.

The floors Jeongguk intends to be the restaurant already have a connecting staircase towards the back of the room, which will make it infinitely easier for staying out of Yoongi's hair whenever he's in the workshop.

In the light of day, the furniture from the previous owners now removed, it's so much easier for Jeongguk to envisage how everything will look; where the signage will hang, where the bar will go, and, most importantly, where the disco balls will hang.

"It's really happening," he exhales, as if he hadn't realised it at any earlier stage in the process.

Yoongi doesn't berate him. Instead, he takes a deep breath, too. Nods. "It's really happening."

Though he smiles, Jeongguk wishes he had a hand to hold as tightly as his lips press together. Wishes you were here. Knows you're busy with work, making up hours to account for the fact you'll have some time off at the end of the week for your interview at the Ryu.

Why you need an interview is beyond him. He thinks they're being ridiculous. Thinks that even entertaining the idea of hiring someone else is an insult. Got so wound up about it, ranting to Jimin while he was making dinner, that he burned his sauce a couple of nights ago. Is now on a talking while cooking ban. Jimin says Jeongguk can't be trusted to multitask. Jeongguk says Jimin is a little prick.

The day is lost to making plans; sketches drawn up on Jeongguk's ipad, discussions with Yoongi about how to go about getting liscences for the premises, and back and forth over what should be done with the top two floors.

The idea of Taehyung using the fourth floor as a studio is considered, but both of them know how much he adores his current place.

"Think he'd live there, if he could," Yoongi muses picking up a slice of napjak mandu with his chopsticks, dipping it into the tteokbokki sauce. They'd ordered from the place near his current workshop, and it makes him lament the idea of leaving it behind.

Perhaps he can keep them both. Use the smaller space as his own little sanctuary, and the third floor here as his public-facing premises. Might be a bit of a waste, but if he can afford the rent, then why not?

"Tell you what," Yoongi hums as he swallows down his food. "If you don't add something like this to the menu, I'm kicking you out."

"I'll put it on the secret menu," Jeongguk offers, knowing that it definitely won't be what he offers to punters. He makes a mean tteokbokki, but it doesn't fit the vision of what he wants for this place. "Well, what about Jimin? He could start up his own interior place, if he wants. He's got the money for it, and I know the office he's in at the moment has been stifling him. Lost out on, like, three big commissions in the last quarter because the boss went with some other prick's ideas. Jimin's wasted there."

Yoongi hums in agreement as he swallows down his food. "We could always get him to help out with the design of this place. I reckon he knows all the tricks for good energy."

Nodding, Jeongguk laughs. Picks up another rice cake and chows down on it as he adds, "Should have seen him when we moved into our current place. Man had a compass out to align a sofa with the right energy."

"Sounds about right," Yoongi grins, resting his chopsticks back down against the edge of the bowl. "Well, what about your missus, then? Would she want gallery space? Somewhere for curation?"

Jeongguk chokes on his rice cake, and it's not because of the spice.

"She's not my missus—" he corrects, but then decides he doesn't want to "—at least, not yet. And she's got a big interview with The Ryu this week. I'm not sure opening her own gallery is on her agenda, but I can put the feelers out—and like… I don't know. Wouldn't it be a bit much? We spend so much time together, already. She'd get sick of me if I was working two floors below."

"Would you get sick of her?"

"Don't be stupid. No."

"Exactly," Yoongi says as if it's obvious—which, in all fairness, he thinks it is. "The pair of you are in a perpetual honeymoon phase."

Jeongguk shakes his head, as if he isn't beaming. "Shut up. Just got a good thing going—and hey, you're hardly one to talk. How's Seoyeon?"

"Good, yeah," Yoongi nods, but doesn't divulge any further. As much as Jeongguk is dying to ask, he holds back. "She wants you all round for dinner soon, so expect an invite in the group chat."

"For any reason?" Jeongguk baits Yoongi, cause he just can't help himself.

Unlucky for him, Yoongi is as stoic as can be. "You know Seo. She loves any excuse for a dinner party. Has started making her own pasta and I think she wants tasters."

"B makes a mean pasta," Jeongguk says, because his thoughts so often wind back to you, and he just can't help himself. "I'm sure she'll be buzzing to try Seoyeons."

A sense of pride washes over Yoongi's features. "Gah, when did you grow up, Jeongguk? Practically married, aren't you?"

Dismissive in how he shakes his head, Jeongguk can't help but let a bashful smile grow on his face. The soft lights overhead glimmer down him, putting those stars Jeongguk adores so much right back in his eyes. He'll never get rid of you. Will eternally carry the evidence of how utterly smitten he is.

Should you ever leave him, Jeongguk thinks he'd simply die of a broken heart. Wouldn't know how to walk if it weren't in the direction of you. Would stumble and fall until he inevitably wound up back at your door like a wounded puppy.

So perahps Yoongi is right. Maybe it would make sense to offer you the space—but you've got your own agenda. Your own dreams. Jeongguk can't just entrap you in his.

The thing is, once your shift is up, and you're heading to the restaurant premises to see Jeongguk, you can't help but feel like this is a dream come true for you.

His ambition and drive have rubbed off on you; encouraged you up a career path you once thought was overgrown with thorns and rubble. Has shown you that all you need is a little bit of elbow grease and a pair of secateurs to go after what you want.

It's dark by the time you arrive. Lights from the other establishments flood the streets, but the blinds are closed on the restaurant for a little privacy. A handwritten 'under new management' sign is taped to the front door in Jeongguk's signature penstroke. A little smiley face accents it; a show of how he feels, you presume.

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you dial through to him, 'cause you've no idea how to get in, nor if he's even actually there. The building is just on the way home from the art cafe, and you'd left Jeongguk's place that morning to a very smiley boyfriend instead of his usual 'don't go' pout, so you figure he's spent all day busy with exciting plans.

"Sorry, not interested," Jeongguk's voice purrs through the speaker, as if you're some kind of cold-calling saleswoman with nothing half-decent to offer him.

"What if I told you I'm outside the restaurant and that I'm naked under my clothes?"

"Aren't we all naked under our clothes?"

"Just open the door," you grin down the phone as he comes into view through the glass doors.

He's got the kind of look on his face that you'd expect: pouty lips with heavy-lidded eyes. Softening ever so slightly when he notices the bunch of wildflowers poking out from the tote bag you've got hooked over your shoulder, his eyes are incapable of ever hiding his true feelings.

Mild confusion ( did someone get you flowers?) dismissed with easy understanding—they're from the stall he always buys you flowers from, so he knows you got them yourself.

It's very conflicting to adore you and to also want to fuck you into next Tuesday, but it garners you a gaze nobody else is ever lucky enough to receive from him. You cherish it. Think about it near-constantly whenever he's not by your side.

"You're a terrible saleswoman," he scolds so softly it feels like praise.

"And yet here you are, answering the door for me," you shrug with a knowing smile, sure that'd he take whatever you sold him. Would buy sand, water, air from you. Would let you swindle him.

"And yet here I am."

Hanging up, you mouth 'open it' through the door, and he does as he's told—kind of.

Blocking the now half-open door, he childishly asks, "What's the password?"

"I love you?"

"Ew. Gross. Get a room. No."

"Fuck you.”

"Not the password either, but I'm more than willing."

"Ew. Gross," you imitate him, gagging a little for an extra immaturity. "Hmm… Byeol is the best?"

"Ddaeng."

"Jimin sucks?"

"Ddaeng… but I approve. Good guess."

"Gimme a hint."

"It's the name of the restaurant."

The confidence that comes with the restaurant being his now is nothing short of a miracle. He's so certain of everything these days, in a way he never was before—but why shouldn't he? He got the girl. Got the dream. There's nothing he can't do. Statistically, he's two for two. A winner by all counts. A gold medalist in his very own Olympics.

"You've never told me what you want to name it!" You protest with a whine, thinking he's being entirely unfair.

It's not like you haven't asked a million times over. He's just been keeping it underwraps. Was scared that speaking it into existence would jinx it. Would refuse with a coy grin, and assurance that he'd reveal it soon enough.

Truth be told, Jeongguk's gone back and forth over names. It's probably changed ten times since he's known you, but then you said something at the fundraising auction, and everything sort of clicked into place.

A name was coined and it wouldn't stop embossing itself into Jeongguk's dreams; the branding, the signage, everything. A new vision of what he wanted spawned like lava onto a mountainside. You sparked a volcano he didn't even realise existed, and it's solidified into molten rock.

"I'll cut you a deal," you offer, knowing that you'll never get it and he'll never ease. Shrugging your shoulder to gesture towards the bag, you begin your enticement. "I've got cold beer and hot burgers from that place you like down the road. They're all yours in you let me in—if not, I'm going home and Danbi will—"

"Say no more," Jeongguk pushes the door open and grabs your hand, pulling you into the vacant restaurant with him. The door clicks close behind you, and Jeongguk spins you around so that you're stood infront of him, facing the large room. Arms wrapping around your waist, Jeongguk rests his chin on your shoulder, gently pressing a kiss to your neck. "Welcome in."

It's a lot to take in all at once. The room stands empty, save for the camping chairs and table Yoongi and Jeongguk had coversed around earlier, Jeongguk's ipad resting on the table with a low battery warning on the dimly lit screen. There's paperwork scattered on the surface—old utilities letters that they were using to sort out the new bills—and a bag of trash tied up on the floor from their lunch.

"I don't smell burgers," Jeongguk mumbles against your neck.

"I was lying."

"You've no shame."

Turning your head, you let him raise his nose to yours, a feathery kiss greeting your lips.

Whenever your doe-eyed boy greets you like this, you always feel a bit like snow white; as if a dozen tiny creatures will flock to you and bestow their love upon you.

It'd be fruitless, mind you, for none of them could even come close to how deeply Jeongguk adores you. He'd sit in the corner, jealous and bratty as they fawned over you. Would hate not being the object of your affection. Would strop until your focus was back on him.

"I'll order some," you promise, but Jeongguk shakes his head.

"Won't be here much longer. We can pick some up on the way home."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, baby," he tenderly whispers, punctuating himself with a slightly firmer kiss, before pulling away from you. Walking into the middle of the room, he holds out his arms. Grins. "Welcome."

"It's a pleasure," you grin, freely stepping into the space now, looking around with awestruck eyes knowing that this is his . "Holy shit, Gguk."

"Yeah," he agrees with your sentiment. "Mad, innit?"

"Just a little."

When you think back to the Jeongguk you first met—the one who spent hours upon hours studying for his exams, all the while working at the bar of an admittedly shitty club—you can't help but feel overwhelmed with pride. He worked himself to the bone for his dreams.

The space is large enough for Jeongguk to go wild with it. There's no end to his possibilities. He's got an arsenal of weapons in his back pocket in the form of his friends—Yoongi can fit the place out, Jimin can help with the design work, Taehyung can make a central art piece, and Namjoon can get it featured in the paper. Of course, he won't take advantage of his access to them, but knowing how willing his friends always are to help out, it's kind of like a no-brainer. He's got all the tools needed for success.

"And right here," he points up, standing in the middle of a square marked out with tape on the floor. It's large and in the centre of the room—the intended space for a central bar and banchan preparation spot, flipping the conventions of traditional barbecue places on their heads. Wants the food to quite literally be at the heart of the restaurant. "Is where the disco balls will be."

For a second, you think you miss-hear him, but the way his smiles grows when confronted with your confusion only proves you heard perfectly fine.

Sitting on one of the camping chairs Yoongi and Jeongguk had set up earlier, you've been watching him talk you through his vision for the place. It sounds incredible—just like him, but in restaurant version.

"Is that not a health and safety hazard?" You giggle, desperate to get up and stand with him, but feeling the need to maintain distance. He's having his moment. He doesn't need a shared stage—and yet here he is, announcing that the very embodiment of you will be centre stage for the foreseeable.

Jeongguk shrugs. "Haven't thought that far ahead. There's gonna be disco balls here whether they like it or not, though."

Realistically, if the health and safety inspectors tell him no disco balls, there'll be no disco balls—but he won't be happy about it. Will be pouty. You both know he's just being facetious, and that he'll comply with whatever is asked of him.

"It's my restaurant, baby," he reminds you, holding out his hands, cause he wants you closer. Naturally, you do ass requested, and join him in his square. His arm slips around your waist, a kiss firmly being pressed to your forehead before your chin leans on his chest. Looking up at him, it's a wonder that you're able to have conversations that last more than a single back and forth. A miracle, even. "I can do what I want."

There's something so incredibly sexy about this cocksure arrogance. He's not the same guy you met back in the confines of Dionysus, and while you adored him back then, you adore him even more now.

"You're sexy when you talk business," you hum, as his hand dip a little further south to squeeze your ass. "Home?"

He nods, a pretty smile hanging off his lips. "Mine or yours?"

"Yours is closer," you tell him, pulling away, linking your fingers with his as you do so, dragging him with you. Hooking your bag up over your shoulder, you're reminded of the flowers. "Oh—these are for you, by the way."

Passing them over, you're not surprised by his confusion.

"For me?"

The bunch of wildflowers looked pretty big in your hands, but remarkably small in his. You have to make a considered effort to not groan.

"Mhmm," you nod with a sweet smile. "A congratulations."

Jeongguk's head pushes back a little into his neck, shoulders broadening as his smile forms. He quickly tilts his head to the side and then back again in the way he often does whenever his brain is processing something new.

"Never had flowers before."

"Nice, isn't it?" You grin, knowing that nothing beats fresh flowers when it comes to small pockets of expressed admiration.

With a bashful nod, Jeongguk feels like he should feel emasculated, but can't quite work out the way he actually does feel. All he knows is that he likes it. And that he wants to get home. And that he wants you in his bed. Naked, preferably.

His thoughts dart back and forth to the last time you were in his room. Gets him hot. Blushing.

Thankfully, you don't seem to notice—or if you do, you don't mention it. Why would you? It's cute.

"What time is your interview tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks as he makes sure the door is locked behind you both.

"One in the afternoon," you reply with a certain nonchalance, as if you're unphased, which Jeongguk knows is absolute bullshit. "Hobes said he'll work my shift if I buy him a month's supply of Sprite, so I've got, like, 48 cans arriving tomorrow."

He would have done it for free, but he's a tough bargainer and you're just an easy sell when it comes to making the people you care about happy.

"His blood will turn into sprite," Jeongguk laughs, linking his hand with yours once more as you head down the road to the nearest subway entrance. "How are you feeling about it? We can practise interview questions later, if you like."

Shaking your head, you smile. "It'll just make me nervous, and at the moment, I'm pretty calm about things. Thank you, though."

"Well, if you change your mind," Jeongguk reinforces the offer, before you redirect the conversation and get him babbling about the restaurant—projected timelines, contractors, suppliers. There's so much to do, and yet it doesn't feel overwhelming in the slightest. Not yet, at least.

With a pit stop at the burger place as promised, the journey home is effortless. Intrinsic by this point.

Shoes off by the door, Jimin is out for a company dinner, so it's just the pair of you.

"Has he spoken with you about Nabi, yet?" You ask as you grab some condiments from the kitchen, while Jeongguk fills a vase with water.

"God, no," Jeongguk laughs. "He used to tease me all the time about you, but now he can't even look me in the eyes 'cause he's worried I'll ask about it. Idiot."

"He used to tease you? About me?" You hum, a little smug at this little snippet of information.

"You know what he's like," Jeongguk reminds you, 'cause it's not like you've ever been spared from Jimin's teasing. "Doesn't know how to not be irritating. Character flaw. Think he was born that way."

Despite his annoying tendencies, Jimin is adored by pretty much everyone he meets. Jeongguk doesn't say such things to be mean, but rather because he views him like a sibling.

"If anyone knows how to handle him, it's Nabi," you muse, thinking back to Pohang. "He'd have driven me insane organising the Jilympics."

"Don't call it that," Jeongguk smiles at how ridiculous his best friend is. Delicately arranging the flowers, Jeongguk's sense of perfectionism comes out once more. "He's a little narcissist. He'll sense his ego being inflated from miles away, and then his head won't be able to fit through doors." Tweaking a yellow flower to move it more centrally, Jeongguk shakes his head. "And to think the first time you were in this apartment—"

"Shut up," you groan, not wanting to be reminded of it. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Alright, Hannah Montana," Jeongguk teases you. "It's just kinda wild, isn't it? How everything has just worked itself out?"

"Don't," you say with a glint in your eye. "You'll jinx it."

Perhaps it's foolish—naive, even—but he doesn't think it's possible. Thinks that this is all set in stone. That your names have been etched on a cliffside somewhere, and that's where you'll remain forever more.

He forgets that cliffs erode. That the weather is unpredictable, and life even more so.

He's always been cautious. Reluctant of counting eggs.

But he’s hungry. Ravenous. The first at the dinner table, and the last to leave. Bites off more than he can chew. Chokes and splutters in the wake of it all, every single damn time.

It’s a flaw he’ll admit to having, but why can’t vices be virtues? Why can’t he be optimistic? Why shouldn’t he hope for the best? He spent so long living in a perpetual state of fear, and it never did him any good. Wasn’t until he started opening himself to the idea of things working out okay that they actually started heading in that direction.

“I’ll do no such thing,” he assures you, reaching for a pan to start with his second course. Again, he’s hungry in all aspects of the word. Hasn’t even had his burgers yet, but he’s a growing boy, or so he’d have you believe. Better to just get it cooked first, and save him the hassle of getting up again later. “You want some?”

He nods towards the empty saucepan, but doesn’t need to explain what he’s making. You know it’ll be instant bibimyeon.

“A little,” you nod, knowing that this relationship is gonna be terrible for your waistline. Opening up his fridge, you pull a can of soda from the fridge. Jeongguk doesn’t really ever buy soda, unlike you and your minor peach soda addiction, but take-out places always chuck a complimentary can of something in with your orders, so he’s got quite a stockpile now.

“You want a beer or something instead?” He asks, as he begins to prepare the instant noodles in the most embellished way he possibly can. Spices, sauces, you name it, he’s always adding something—and it’s always delicious.

Cracking the can open, you set it down and swipe the camera of your phone up to snap a picture of him; to document him in his element. “Nah, it’s okay. Want a clear head for tomorrow.”

Jeongguk smiles, hearing the synthetic shutter of your phone clicking. “Obsessed.”

“So?” You grin, immediately swiping across to open up Instagram and preserve the moment on your story. “You love it.”

Though he doesn’t reply, he does look in your direction with a smile that would only confirm your words.

Together, you fall into a casual rhythm, you perched up on a barstool while he cooks. Conversation darts from A to B, Y to Z. There’s no topic of conversation too obscure nor taboo for you to realm into the depths of, but there’s also something comforting about how you can just natter about the weather, how he should get his hair cut, what’s on at the cinema.

By the time he’s eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, you’re already in the shower. It’ll be an early night. You’ve both been working today, and both have important things to get done the next day.

There’s no objection from you as he taps on the door and asks to come in. You hadn’t locked it deliberately. Jimin’s out, and even if he’d have come home, he’d have heard the shower going—or Jeongguk would have told him. There’s no real worry there.

“Been looking forward to this all day,” Jeongguk admits as he grabs his shirt by the nape of his neck, pulling it over his head in that boyish way he so often does. Neither of you really care about being naked—it’s a daily occurrence at this point—but seeing him get undressed makes your heart feel all jelly-like and void of structure. The chambers melt, and so do you.

It’s not just attraction, but affection. Acknowledgement that he doesn’t mind being vulnerable with you. That the things humans do to renew themselves — eat, shower, sleep — are things he wants to do with you. He doesn’t want to be full if you’re hungry, sleep while you’re starved of rest, nor wash away the traces of you. Renewal without you just doesn’t make sense to him.

“Me too,” you quietly say as he joins you. The water pitter-patters down on you both, his hair wetting before laying flat against his forehead. When his deft hands push it away, it always falls back.

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his waist, his around your shoulders, the embrace akin to coming home.

“We should both just quit our jobs and do this forever,” Jeongguk muses, almost sleepy in how he mumbles his words against the top of your head.

“Someone’s gotta pay the water bill,” you smile against his bare chest.

“That’s why I live with Jimin,” Jeongguk replies, tone cheeky and warm.

The smile on your face sweetly settles into something a little more neutral as you outwardly consider your own living situation. “Lease is up soon, yanno. Mine and Dans.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, wet hair tangling over itself against his skin. He holds you just as tightly. “Haven’t started looking for new places, yet.”

“I’ve still got a few months left on mine,” Jeongguk says, pulling back to reposition the shower head. Just wants to hear you a little more clearly. “My bed is basically yours anyways.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out what he’s insinuating—but it also doesn’t take a genius to know that it wouldn’t be the right thing for you both, yet.

Your eyes are soft as you shake your head. “I’ve a whole apartment's worth of stuff, Gguk. I can’t just move into your room. Need my own space.”

He frowns, reaching for the shampoo. “You can. And I’ll even move my statues.”

“You mean your action figures?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, and then you’re giggling, and any negative thoughts Jeongguk could have about you saying ‘no’ dissolve into nothingness, like water running down the drain. He passes you over the shampoo once he’s gotten himself some, and adds, “People pay good money for a collection like mine.”

“You mean you spent a fuck ton of money on them?”

“We’ve all got our weaknesses,” he protests. “You’ve got so many clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever been into your room when there hasn’t been an avalanche of clothes on the chair, wardrobe and dressers bursting at seams—”

“Exactly,” You laugh. “Now imagine all of that in your room.”

He takes a second. Visualises it as he lathers up the foamy shampoo in his hair and almost hisses. “Yeah. You’re right. I take it back. Get your own place.”

Rolling your eyes, you flick a little water in his direction, as if it makes a difference.

He grins, teeth on show, lip ring doing the thing that just makes you melt.

“See,” you grin right back. “I’m always right.”

The rest of your shower is littered with dumb conversations and stolen kisses between shampoo rinses. In fact, it’s how the rest of the evening continues. Some dumb action film plays on the tv, and then Jeongguk finds a dumb youtube quiz, and you giggle into the early hours over some other dumb shit. Dumb, dumb, dumb and oh so totally in love.

The apartment issue lingers in the back of Jeongguk’s mind, though, and questions dance on the tip of his tongue. He tries to brush them away, but the mint of his toothpaste isn’t enough to erase them. They taste sour, and he knows the only way to rid the sensation is to speak them into existence.

Gone midnight, the city is still alive. His curtains are open, because you’ve started to get used to the way he likes to sleep, and find it far easier to wake up early when the sun is giving you a warm welcome to the day. Funny, how things change. How willing he was to change his habits for you, and how seamlessly yours have changed to fit him. You’re better for knowing one another, or so it feels.

The light pollution gives his bedroom a soft glow, and with every change of advertisement on the billboards across the street, the hue changes. Like his own personal mood lamp, it’s become a staple of his home. It’s blue, now, and so is he when he considers the fact that you haven’t yet reached the stage of sharing a home.

Your arm is looped over his waist, ‘cause he’d decided that the role of the little spoon would be going to him. Fingers interlocked with yours, he has no interest in ever letting go.

“B?”

“Mhmm?”

“Is Dan definitely moving in with Tae?”

“Think so.”

Jeongguk doesn’t immediately reply, but you leave space open for him. A question like that didn’t come out of the blue. It’s something he’s been ruminating on, no doubt.

When he finally does speak, the weight of his soft, if not somewhat pouty, words crush down on your chest in a way that you can’t quite explain. Hell, in a way you don’t want to explain, because it would mean admitting that a man has such power over you (even if said man is Jeon Jeongguk).

“They’ve always been one step ahead of us,” he laments.

And then he leaves silence for you. Knows that you always have a response of some kind that will settle his woes. Feels guilty that you’re always cleaning up the messes of his loose lips, but would be a liar if he said he didn’t crave the sweet nothings you soothe him with.

“They’re on an entirely different path, baby,” you gently press a kiss into his shoulder. He’s so warm and powder-fresh from his shower that you can’t help but want to cling to him like a koala bear. Most importantly, though, you don’t want him to move away. Space to talk is fine, but physical space? God, no. “There's no use comparing.”

But Jeongguk is a glutton for punishment. Will continue making himself feel small for the sake of his perceived flaws.

“Loved you before Taehyung even knew who Danbi was,” Jeongguk pouts, ‘cause he’s in his head again, going round in circles when he really needn’t be. You know he does this, though. It doesn’t surprise nor concern you. If anything, it reassures you, because his willingness to share these thoughts just signposts how far you’ve both come. He used to stew and sour over things like this. Now, he shares his burdens “But they’re doing all these big milestones first. They were a couple, went on vacation, and now moving in together. All before us.”

“It’s not a competition,” you sweetly laugh. “Their relationship couldn’t be more different to ours. Plus I hardly consider a weekend in Jeju a big vacation—we can literally do that this weekend, if you want.”

You’re not sure why you’ve never been away together. Busan is always lovely, but it’s a short drive, and is somewhere Jeongguk still considers to be home. It’s not a holiday. Perhaps you should rectify that. It's better spoken about during the daylight hours, but always a little nicer to dream at night. Make silly, fantastical plans that you could always turn into reality, if you really wanted.

“Gguk,” you softly continue. “As much as I love them both, we’re literally so different from them. Our relationship was never gonna be like theirs.”

“You think?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, lips brushing against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Well, I mean, he lets her peg him for starters—”

Jeongguk turns so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t fall out of bed. Even in the darkness of his room at night, the open curtains mean his shock is easy to make out. “Does he actually?!”

Giggling, you roll onto your back, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. Truth is, you’ve no idea. Just said it to be a dick.

“Probably,” you say, admitting that you don’t know. You just knew it would cause a reaction. Ease the tension, somewhat. “He’s like, obsessed with her. Would let her do anything she wants.”

Sinking back down into the sheets with you, Jeongguk wraps his arm over your body now. Pulls you close. Presses a kiss to your neck, and says, “You lost the bet, y’know? Can’t even go 24 hours without thinking about fucking my ass, can you?”

It sounds like a complaint, but the way his lips seem unable to stop pressing wet kisses against your throat would prove otherwise. Your hand tangles in his hair, scratching his scalp in approval.

“Cute that you think I haven’t been thinking about it all day,” you tease, biting back the small murmur of a moan that’s just begging to escape from his touch.

You often have thoughts about him throughout the day, both pure and impure. It’s not like you mean to—it’s just that there’s something about Jeongguk that is impossible to forget. Like a class-A drug, you linger from high to high, using thoughts about him to sustain your comedown until you can see him again.

He is your boyfriend, though. Would be weirder if you weren’t a little obsessed.

“Liar,” he scolds. “I picked your clothes up after our shower. Your underwear were dry.”

“You were inspecting my underwear? Freak,” you tease, because quite honestly the idea of him studying your underwear in the hopes of finding arousal is kinda hot, even if a little perverted. “And maybe it’s because you don’t get me excited.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk ignores your insult. Instead, his hand creeps down the mound of your pussy, pausing before he sinks his fingers between your thighs. “So you’ll be dry right now, then?”

“I’ll be just like the Gobi,” you assure him with that tone of defiance he's grown to adore. “Try me.”

You don’t know why you’re offering yourself up like this, ‘cause you know it’s only gonna end up one way.

“You’re such a fuckin’ liar,” he smirks—and then is proven correct as his fingers slide between your slick folds with ease. A gasp escapes from your lips as he casually brushes past your clit, paying it no attention whatsoever. “And even if you weren’t, there’s like, five bigger deserts than the Gobi. Sounds like it’s a pretty easy drought to rectify—but fuckin’ hell, B. My pretty girl and her filthy mouth. Full of lies, isn’t it? You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“No,” you purr, hips languidly rolling to intensify the sensation he’s facilitating. After all, he’s right. There’s nothing dry about the situation between your legs. “Never told a lie in my life.”

His teeth nip at your neck as his body presses up against your side, the thick ridge of his cock letting you know that you most certainly get him excited.

“You’re so full of shit, B,” he quietly says, lips from a pretty little kiss against the edge of your jaw. “Told so many lies, haven’t you, hm? Like when you used to tell people we were just friends?”

The desperate sigh that escapes your mouth only fuels him on even more.

“You remember the first time I touched you like this, huh?” He husks against your ear. “Those pretty eyes of yours watching us in the mirror. You can see us now, can’t you?”

Nudging his head against yours, he encourages you to look in the direction of his mirror. You always sleep on the side of the bed closest to it, but you rarely pay it any attention these days. The pair of you are obscured—bed sheets and shadows hiding what he’s doing to you—but the eroticism is just as potent as it always was.

“Gguk,” you rasp, back arching when he strokes against your clit just right.

Restraint is something that you wish you had been gifted with, but alas—you are just a girl, and he is just the sexiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. Of course you melt with every little thing he does.

“What is it, baby?” His index finger pushes into the seeping entrance of your cunt, just once, twice, to really get you moaning. “You like it when your boyfriend touches you?”

Something about Jeongguk referring to himself like that always gets you hot, but it’s partially because of the way he almost growls when he does it. You know it’s a turn-on for him. Know that his cock is throbbing. Know he loves calling himself yours.

Tugging on his arm, you encourage him to move on top of you. It’s late, and you should both be getting a good night's rest, but whatever. In half an hour, you’ll both be away with the fairies. If anything, this will help you fall asleep quicker.

“Thought you wanted an early night?” he husks against your lips, finishing his question with a kiss that lasts far longer than any words spoken. His firm lips part yours as your legs wrap around his hips as they grind up against yours.

“And I thought you said whoever speaks about fucking your ass next loses?” You smile against his lips, knowing that he definitely must have a twisted idea of what punishment is. “How is this losing?”

“We never set out terms,” he reminds you, unable to stop himself from kissing you between sentences. “But maybe it's not about losing. Maybe it’s about winning.”

“Okay?” You entertain his flirt, giggling between those kisses he just can’t seem to stop giving you. “So what are you winning?”

He pretends to give it thoughtful consideration. Squints his eyes and looks away as if contemplating one of life's great questions. Why are we here? What is the point of life? How do I want my girlfriend to make me cum tonight?

Jeongguk presses a kiss to your neck, nose nudging against your skin. He’s feline-like. Purry. Pathetic. Just how you like him.

“You haven’t sucked me off in a while,” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe. Your hand laces in his hair, a soft moan humming from your lips. There’s a softness to the slow movements of your bodies. A comfort. A desperation. Unadulterated devotion. “So maybe that?”

You laugh at his shamelessness. Press a kiss to his temple, still scratching at his scalp. “I gave you a blowjob, like, two days ago, baby.”

“I know,” he whines like a wounded puppy, all docile and dejected. “It’s been so long I might die.”

“Hmm?” You hum in response, pushing on his waist ever so slightly until he gets the message to roll onto his back. He does as he's told, because he really is just a puppy dog beneath it all. Well-trained and desperate for a treat.

Following the movements of his body, you naturally ease into position on top of him. Legs straddled either side of his waist, you raise yourself up into a seated position, earning you a grunt of approval from Jeongguk.

The way his hands immediately reach up to play with your chest is curious, considering he still plays himself off as an ass guy. Strong with his movements, he grips the softness of your tits, his hips gently pulsing up against you.

“These might help prolong my life expectancy,” he says. “Best stress balls known to man.”

He seems quite content like this. Eyes closed, a smile hangs off his lips like he’s in a serene state of bliss. You cock your brow, unable to fight a smile, too.

“Did you just call my tits… balls?”

One of his eyes cracks open. “No?”

“You definitely did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did—”

“Byeol,” he reprimands your diversion of the topic. “C’mon. Business, baby.”

“Is that all I am to you, huh?” You say, reaching for his wrist so that you can pull your hairband from it. He lets you do so and looks on with salacious curiosity as you begin to tie your hair up in a ponytail. “Just a transaction?”

“Mhmm,” he nods, his own hair tangling against his pillow as he does so. “A bird for a bird, remember?”

“Are we not past the point of the birds?”

“Well, yeah,” he says as if it’s totally obvious. “Thought we were gonna do a plane?”

Jeongguk’s reference back to the paper planes that he crafted in your bedroom makes your heart seize. You know what he means by that. Knows that it’s permission, in a way. That he wants what you want, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“Are we?”

“Well we’re not gonna do anything if you keep up with the small talk,” he fondly teases you, pulling you back down so your chest is against his. One of his hands wraps itself in your ponytail and tugs ever so gently. A soft moan escapes your lips, much to his enjoyment. “I like your hair like this.”

In all honesty, he just likes being able to pull on it. Loves your hair no matter how it’s done.

“You’ll like it even more in a few minutes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw before you embark on your journey south.

It’s intrinsic, how you work his body. A routine so well learned it’s not even given a second thought anymore. You know how to make him tick. The way he groans when you press pretty kisses down his collarbones and the way his hips roll when you drag the pink of your tongue over his pebbled nipples.

His hand clutches in your hair, keeping you in that position, encouraging you to pay a little extra attention to his nipples for a change. It’s not often that he wants too much focus on his chest, but he’s so turned on that even the slightest touch is making him go feral.

“Shit,” he hisses when your teeth gently press down around his nipple before you suck it ever so gently. “You’re so fuckin’ good at that.”

He’s never cared for it before. In all honestly, he actively didn’t like it when previous partners did it. There’s something about you that subverts all his desires. You’ve changed him. Altered his understanding of his body. Opened him up to so much more than he’d ever considered before.

Still, you’ve got an agenda, and unfortunately for him, it doesn’t involve his chest. He lets you move down, one hand lazily hanging by your head, the other resting over his chest. His thumb strokes over his pebbled nipple, still wet from your tongue, the pleasure of your touch sending him into a state of ecstasy.

Your body shuffles down, and you both reposition yourselves. No longer are you straddling, but rather you’re between his legs. His thighs are dappled in kisses from you, before your palms rest flat to his inner thighs, spreading him just right.

Alternating between slow kisses and languid drags of your tongue, you teeter ever so close to his thick, solid cock, but never quite touch it. Every time you get close, he whines, cock twitching.

There’s a satisfaction to be found in the way his body responds to your touch. His desperation is painful. Visceral. All he wants is you.

And because you can’t bear to see him in pain (whether or not because he’s so turned on he might just die), you concede. Give him what he wants.

Hands on his thighs, you let a little spit pool on your tongue before slowly dragging the tip of your tongue up his shaft.

“Fucking hell,” he curses, writhing from the contact.

You smile, and the lightness of your breath against the wet streak of your tongue makes him shiver.

The tip of his cock is already leaky with precum, his eagerness to be inside you so pathetically obvious. You avoid it, instead opting to repeat your previous moves. Slowly, you lick up his fat length, tongue flat as can be. You want him to feel as much of you as he can. Want him whining— begging —for your pussy.

If the precum seeping from his tip is a sign of desperation, then heaven only knows what the fuckin’ mess between your legs is. Every stroke of your tongue against him only serves to make you want him just as badly as he wants you.

Your hand reaches to wrap around his shaft, gently stroking his foreskin. Your tongue flicks against the base of his tip, right where you know he’s the most sensitive.

It’s no surprise when his grip on your ponytail tightens.

But it is a surprise when he lets go.

“Hm?” You chirp, looking up, just to make sure he’s all good.

He is—he just isn’t looking at you to confirm it. Instead, his upper body twists ever so slightly as he reaches for his bedside drawer.

You know it’s got a host of indecent artifacts—his sex toys, condoms, polaroids of you that are for his eyes only—but don’t give it much thought. Figure maybe he’s after a condom to make himself last longer, until you feel him tapping at your shoulder with the side of a small plastic bottle.

He doesn’t say anything.

Not immediately, at least.

What he wants is something he can’t really bring himself to ask for. Hopes that you’ll work it out for yourself.

As you take the bottle from him, a small chirp echoes from your throat, as if you’re asking for clarification. Again, Jeongguk hopes you’ll work it out. That he won’t have to shamelessly tell you what he desperately wants, cock twitching and leaking precum on his stomach.

The way you pause as you study the bottle, trying to read the text in the dim light of Jeongguk’s room, only adds to his apprehension—until he hears a soft smile exhaling from your lips when you realise exactly what it is: lube .

Never usually required, thanks to the fact Jeongguk makes you resemble a waterfall from just a look in your direction, you know the lube isn’t for you. It’s for him.

And given the state of conversations around sex over the past week or so, you know what he’s asking for.

After all, he’s the one who wrote that damn airplane in the first place. Told you straight up that he liked ass play way back in the days of the sticky notes (some of which remain on his wall, yet to be conquered).

His drawer only really has his things in it, though. You’ve not got any of your toys at his place. This is a preliminary. A follow-up, almost, to the night spent in the Min’s garden, doing things that probably scared a few dozen nocturnal animals.

“Yeah?” You encourage, lips pressing to his upper thigh. His body adjusts ever so slightly, as if he’s shy. Your hand wraps around his shaft, slowly rolling his foreskin up and down his length in just the right way to get his hands gripping his sheets.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he rasps through the pleasure of having you touch him. “Just want you to do it.”

“Talk about what?” You tease, ‘cause there’s no way he’ll actually enjoy what he’s asking for if he keeps being this uptight about it all. Relaxation is key.

“B,” he groans, this time out of frustration—and so you know you need to be the one to take the lead.

It just doesn’t feel right to take the lead, knowing he’s a little bit tense. You’ve always been so clear and consistent with each other when it comes to consent, and while you know what he wants, you wanna hear him say it first.

So you leave the bottle of lube next to his thigh and clamber up his body. Legs straddling his waist, you’re pleased that his hands come to stroke your thighs without a second thought. Conversely, your hands softly hold his cheeks, bringing him in for half a dozen pretty little kisses.

“Words are important. I’m not gonna be crude about it,” you tell him, ‘cause it makes a change to the way you joke around with one another. “I just love you, and I want to make you feel good.”

Jeongguks nose nudges back up against yours, as if to plead for more kisses (of which you give him, willingly).

“I love you more,” he argues into your lips, earning a giggle from you that somehow melts all of his worries away.

“Chess is always an option,” you remind him, but he shakes his head.

“Just… Fucking hell,” he groans as if it’s some sort of laborious task he really can’t be bothered to see through, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s just embarrassed. It’s all rather cute. Or at least it is until he continues. “Just finger my ass.”

He bashfully half whimpers, half laughs, and then adds a pouty, “Please.”

A smile sinks into your lips, and the way he seems almost shy makes your tummy feel all funny. He’s disastrously cute like this.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” you promise, lips brushing against his ear.

He nods. Knows you will. Lets his hands stroke up and down your back, bringing them around to cup your boobs. Squeezes. Smiles. Can’t resist himself when he questions, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” You nod, pulling back to sit upright just for his viewing pleasure. His hands are still holding your tits, gently caressing. He’ll never not love the sight of this. Of you. Of the way you respond to his touch.

“C’mere,” he grunts, pulling you back down, ‘cause he can’t let you go just yet. Your hands grip onto his bedframe as his lips eagerly latch onto one of your nipples. One of your hands drops to tangle in his smooth hair, a pretty little moan escaping your lips.

He takes it as a sign he’s doing something right. Switches up his sucking motion to flick his tongue against your hardened bud. Get you moaning all over again, the position of your legs spread over his waist, letting him know just how pleased you are to have him like this.

And while Jeongguk might have been asking you for favours, all he can think about is returning them.

Tapping on your ass, he’s a little breathless as he lets go of his latch on your nipple, and husks, “Up, baby. On my face. You before me.”

“Hm?” you languidly hum—not because you don’t know what he means, but because it goes against what he was asking for just minutes earlier.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t care to explain his thought process (mainly because he doesn’t have one (he just likes having you in his mouth in any and all capacities)). Instead, he just continues tapping your ass until you get the message.

“You’re so impatient,” you lightly scold him while you do as he requests, but barely have time to position yourself before his arms are hooking over your legs, pulling your pussy to his mouth. “Oh fuck.”

He wastes no time suctioning his lips around your clit. He doesn’t care to be quiet about it. Eats you like it’s his last fuckin’ supper. Laps up against you.

It’s not just his tongue, though. It’s like he wants his whole fuckin’ face in your cunt. His nose rubs up against your clit, while his tongue greedily licks your entrance. There’s no such thing as perfect, but the way he’s proportioned is as close as it gets, you think. Your hips grind, a hand tangled in his hair, the way you both move entirely primal.

Hands squeezing at your ass, he encourages your movements. Wants you all over his face. Loves nothing more than being coated in you.

His tongue begins to focus now, though. He positions himself just right. Flicks against your clit at such a speed it’s hard to comprehend—and then he’s moaning. Vibrating against you. Delivering a sensation that could never be replicated.

“I’m close,” you rasp. Whine. Moan. “Don’t wanna cum. Not yet.”

And while he wants you to, Jeongguk knows why. Knows you wanna fuck him. Knows you wanna cum around his cock instead of on his face. Multiple orgasms have never been an issue, but it is late. You do need a somewhat early night.

He nods, easing up his tongue, slowly sucking on your clit. The movements of his head as he sucks only serve to make you feel like you might cum regardless, so you shakily (and regretfully) pull away.

When you reposition yourself, he pulls you against his lips for the messiest, most obscene kiss possible. It’s all tongue, and little else. The taste of your cunt. The sweetness of his whines. The filth of how much he loves sinning with you.

There's nobody else he could be like this with. Only you. Only ever you.

Straddled over his hips, you grind gently, his thick cock perfectly snug between your lips. Wet and swollen, they feel like silk against him. Jeongguk knows, given the chance, that he’d be able to cum like this. Easy.

That’s not what he wants, though, so you retrace your steps. Sink back down. Don’t fuck around this time. Instead, you take him in your mouth without hesitation. Return the favour he’s just bestowed upon you.

Head bobbing up and down his fat length, your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Pulling back, you spit against him, using your hand to spread it, gaining momentum. Loose with your grip, you focus on the tip of his sensitive cock, jerking him until he’s whining. Whimpering.

And then, you let your tongue stroke against his balls.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines, his hips pulsing beneath you.

It’s all the approval you need for your hand to get a little tighter, and for your lips to take one of his balls in your mouth. It’s a sensation Jeongguk fuckin’ loves, if done right—and of course, you know how to do it perfectly for him.

You take his ecstasy as a chance to move things along. Know he’s feeling good. Know he wants more.

Pulling back, you sit on your heels. Neither of you speak, but Jeongguk does slowly nod when he sees you reaching for the bottle of lube next to his body. Trepidation hangs in the air. This territory is uncharted, and it’s been a little while since you last ventured so far south—but you’ve got a roadmap. Know the way. Even if you didn’t, you like to think intuition would guide you, regardless.

Warming it a little bit in your hands, you’re slow. Cautious. Careful, knowing that he’s probably feeling a little more vulnerable than usual.

Hands slick with the gel, you wrap a palm around his shaft. Ease him into the feeling. It’s not like it’s a new sensation, but the pair of you rarely ever use lube. You’re always wet enough. He nods. Lets his eyes close as your other hand gently massages against his balls.

A little further south, you venture. He’s not a stranger to your tongue against his taint, but your fingers are less frequent. He's not as well acquainted with the sensation, but he likes it. Legs spreading a little further, Jeongguk makes himself available for you.

Smiling at just how cute he looks, you’re a curious mix of enamoured and outrageously turned on. Just like nobody could ever make him feel the way you do, nobody could ever make you feel the way he does.

“You’re so hot,” you tell him, gently wanking his cock as two of your fingers stroke up and down his taint. You apply a little more pressure. Replace his bashful smile with a wanting gasp.

Slick with lube, you let your middle finger go lower. Slowly, you press against his rim. Watch him closely as his brows furrow. There’s that look of desperation once more, and the assurance that yes, he wants this. Wants you.

You count in your head. 1, 2, 3… make sure he doesn’t stop moving his hips. If anything, he’s edging himself down. Encouraging you to apply more pressure.

And so you do. Slowly, eyes trained on his pretty, pathetic face, you push your middle finger against his tight hole, until the muscle eases.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, the penetration of a single finger overwhelmingly pleasurable for him. His eyes flicker open, landing on yours as your finger begins to curl ever so gently. Just a little. Just enough.

Chest heaving, Jeongguk looks beautiful in a way that’s hard to put into words—and when you slowly pull out, he looks ruined in a way that’s also hard to comprehend.

His lips hang slack, chest heaving as his eyes burn into you like the heat of a thousand stars. Face dewy with sweat, hair sticks to his forehead, the storminess of his gaze quickly triggers a whirlpool within your stomach. There’s a neediness to him as he swallows back a breath, lips coming together so that he can lick them, before his pout forms that pretty little o-shape once more.

Breathless as he speaks, Jeongguk rasps, “Again.”

The corner of your lips twitch into a smirk. “Yeah, babe?”

“Yeah,” he pathetically nods, fucked out but somehow still painfully desperate for more. Of course he is, though. It’s you. No one gets him like this. No one ever will. His brows furrow together, his tongue flicking against the silver hoops in the corner of his mouth, as his eyes drop to his pathetically weeping cock. He’s so hard. So keen. So needy—and what he needs right now is you. “Please, B. More.”

You tease against his entrance, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. It’s like a reward, to hear him like this. As if you’ve done something truly remarkable.

Your other hand wraps around the base of his cock, adding to the electricity surging through him. He reaches down. Wraps his hand around yours. Encourages you. Wants more. Needs more. And so you give him more.

Finger pushing into his tight entrance, you’re slow. Painfully so, though you aren’t causing any actual pain. Jeongguk just wants you to hit that spot.

“Yeah?” You check in.

Breathless, nodding his head even though his eyes are closed, he says, “Yeah.”

Your finger curls. Strokes. Searches. Finds.

And Jeongguk moans in a way you don’t think you’ve ever heard before. It’s a whimper, almost. A plea. Or rather, a confession, maybe.

Your hands work in tandem, your finger stroking right against the spot that makes him whine, while your other hand strokes him in tempo. He’s stimulated in a way he isn’t used to. In a way he never really thought was possible.

There’s a vulnerability that comes with penetration. Far easier to fuck someone than it is to get fucked.

When he looks down towards you, it's like looking through a telescope; galaxies in his big brown eyes. Wide and wanting, he'll give you all the stars in his eyes, no questions asked, no fee charged.

It’s when your head dips to press wet kisses against his taint that his whines really begin to get desperate. Has always loved your mouth. Loves it when it does things it shouldn’t.

A girl like you shouldn’t have your nose pressed to a ballsack or her tongue mere millimetres away from an asshole, but the way you focus on delivering him pleasure would suggest otherwise. You’re made for this. Made for him.

It’s when you whine, though, obsessed with his body's response to you, that he really begins to get twitchy. His hips pulse ever so gently, encouraging the movements of both hands.

“Yeah?” you breathlessly whisper, smirking at how a man so strong is just absolute putty in your hands. “You fucking yourself with my hands, huh?”

Jeongguk is beyond the point of pride. Has no need for dignity. Just wants to feel good.

“Yeah,” he admits between desperate breaths. “Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard.”

Everything is moving in the same chaotic rhythm: his chest, his beating heart, his pulsing hips. Jeongguk’s cock is twitching, the sensation of you massaging his prostate taking him closer and closer to the point of release. He isn’t gonna last, and you don't want him to.

Your hand grips even tighter around the base of his cock, the stimulation impossible to fight against. There’s only so much he can take.

“B,” he whines. “Oh, fuck.”

“Cum for me,” you tell him, not even caring for your lost orgasm from earlier. He can make it up to you later. You keep the pace of your finger consistent, but wank him off faster. He whimpers and he writhes, but he doesn’t ease up. “C’mon, baby. Show me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

If there’s one thing that drives him wild, it’s when you call him sweet little names.

“Please, baby,” you beg, because you know just the right buttons to press. His hands grip his bed sheets, eyes struggling to stay open. He’s seconds away from death, or so it feels. A little death, at least. His legs begin to twitch. The onslaught of what is about to happen is unmistakable. “That’s it, baby,” you coo. “Show me how good it feels.”

“B,” he tries to speak, but can’t. All he can do it succumb to the pleasure. Whine. Mewl. Moan.

And then it’s happening; the evidence of how fucking good you are for him painting his abdomen. His cock is pathetic as it spurts ropes of thick, hot cum onto his belly. White and wet, it’s never-ending. He cums and he cums; gasps and gasps.

It’s not until he begins to twitch, chest heaving, cock spent, that you withdraw from him. Immediately, you gently begin to trail your tongue across his hard abs, cleaning up the evidence of how much he likes having you in his ass. You're keeping his secrets. Promising you'll never tell a soul.

“Shit,” he curses, all breathless and fucked out, one arm over his chest, while his other hand reaches down to stroke the side of your head. “Fuck.”

Giggling now, you clamber up to join him, and Jeongguk cares not for the fact your cum is still on your tongue. In fact, he deliberately stokes his against yours, swapping the evidence of his pleasure between you both. Moaning into your lips, he’s spent in a way he never has been before.

“God, I love you,” he whines into your mouth. Gets needy all over again. “You know that, huh? You know how much I love you?”

With a bashful nod, you find yourself giggling. “You know I know.”

“Good,” he nods, pulling away to face the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to get a little breath back. You snuggle into him, all rather sweetly considering what you’ve just done. “��Cause I do. And I mean it. You’re literally, like, the love of my life.”

“Who knew all it would take was a little ass play to get your saying such soppy shit,” you tease him, pressing a kiss against his chest. “Should have done this months ago.”

He laughs now, too. “Just cause I didn’t say it back then doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”

The pair of you descend into a comfortable warmth, giggling and joking, until you get up to wash yourself up a little. Jeongguk protests. Says he needs to return the favour—but ultimately agrees to wait until the morning.

“Need to sleep at some point, babe,” you tell him as you both meander to the bathroom. Jeongguk makes a mental note to get a place with an en-suite when he moves out. In a pair of boxers, he watches you fondly as you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, all love drunk and bleary-eyed.

You’re in one of his shirts, and it drapes over your body in a way that it would never drape over him. He likes it better on you. In fact, he likes most things in his life better with the addition of you. Thinks life would be impossible, if he were ever to lose you.

“I think I’d die, yanno,” he mindlessly says, watching you plait your hair to stop it from tangling in the night. “If we ever broke up or weren’t together, I’d think I’d just die.”

You laugh, because it’s absurd. Both the concept of dying of a broken heart, and the idea that you would ever break up.

“Don’t speak it into existence, then,” you tease. “It’s a full moon, Gguk. Can’t be manifesting things like that on a night like this.”

“I’m not,” he assures you, because if anything, he’s trying to do the opposite. Not once does he think to tell you that the full moon has nothing to do with it, or some other belittling remark about believing in the stars, like you know most guys would. Why would he though? A star is the closest thing he knows to religion, and he’s looking at it right now.

“Well, good,” you hum, turning to face him, hair now secure. “Let's just agree to not break up, and that way you won’t die.”

“Sounds good,” he sleepily smiles, tugging on your hand, guiding you back to his bedroom.

It’s a ridiculous conversation for a ridiculous concept.

Or at least, in the warmth of lust-drunk night, it is.

In the cold light of day, stark and sterile, everything has the potential to change.

After all, bad decisions are your forte, are they not?

#byholly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bangtan fic #jungkook fluff #non idol au #bts fanfic #bangtan ff #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #bad decisions #dappleddaisies

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clubdionysus · 11 months ago

Text

TEASER [BD #61]

a/n: we've reached the uncharted territory of being caught on here! never thought i'd see the day!! chapter 61 isn't yet finished, but i'd like to give you a little something to tide you over---kofi subscribers will have already seen this (I do teasers and early access type things over there! (and on that note, kofi girlies, I'll have something for you tomorrow!)), but it will be new to most of you! hehe hopefully I shouldn't keep you waiting too long for the rest of the chapter x

wc: 1.4k (takes place midway through the chapter!)

Life dissolves with Jungkook. Days merge into one. Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time just melts.

So does Jungkook, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. Turns into a supernova like stars often do.

He lets himself merge into a shared identity with you. Is certain it isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship. Doesn't care, regardless.

Days have rolled on by since the auction without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jungkook’s had meetings with realtors. Everything has happened with little thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jungkook’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way.

You spent so many years fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jungkook’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter.

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jungkook. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jungkook is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can.”

“But should I?”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jungkook nods.

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend. You’re supposed to help.”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. Also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look.

Jungkook is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jungkook. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you to never play against him again.

It’s only apt that you’d get free access.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him.

He nods.

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him all while under the ruse of thinking he’s a bullshitter.

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your king, and had been preventing Jungkook from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made.

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but—fuck—he’ll never understand your brain. You're so smart most of the time, but every now and again your brain seems to melt.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check.

Mate.

Groaning, you realise what’s happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There’s no way Jungkook actually enjoys this.

“Not again,” you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jungkook’s ceiling. It’s without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

“B,” Jungkook laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You’ll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, “What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king.”

“I tried!” You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

“You left him wide open for me to take!”

“You could have gone easy on me!”

“I was!” He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. “I swear you didn’t listen to a single thing I told you—”

“I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place,” you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn’t deserve niceties in times like this.

He’d argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against your throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“Go on.”

“Strip chess.”

“Pervert.”

“For every move you make, I’ll take an item of clothing off,” he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a sock on either foot, and underwear — that’s only five moves, but then again, Jungkook normally has your king trapped by that point.

“I think you’re just trying to get me naked.”

“I’m always trying to get you naked, B,” he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. “So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?”

#bad decisions #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #fic teaser #bd teaser

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clubdionysus · 11 months ago

Text

[BAD DECISION #60] Obduracy

warnings: starlovers!!!! <33 i really luv jimin in this one hehehe, lots of callbacks to earlier chapters!! fingering, pretty tame by their standards!!! but kinda semi-public? i mean they're at home but like... kitchen?? i dunno up to you to decide!

a/n: this one doesnt have a little cover image :( had to make it fresh :( the first non wattpad chapter :( waaaa. im hoping to having something new ready for you tomorrow hehehehhe

wc: 8.3K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Jeongguk wears his hangovers incredibly well. Like an oversized shirt draped over his broad shoulders, it billows down his body, leaving you to guess what's hidden underneath.

It's hard to tell if he's suffering like you are, for his face gives nothing but contentment away.

Hair messy and dishevelled, it sits like an unruly crown on his head as he washes dishes left from the evening before. A soft smile lingers on his lips as he hums along to the song quietly playing through the kitchen speaker, his voice far prettier than the original singer. The king of his very own kitchen, there's an innate flick to his wrists as he shakes water off steel bowls and pops them on the drying rack.

Chest bare, he pays it no mind when tiny flecks of warm water splash against his skin.

Vines of ink trail up his arm and onto his shoulder. His self-modification proves he wasn't born from gold but rather polished to resemble something like it.

In a way, it makes him so much more valuable. Or at least it does to you.

As you watch on from a bar stool on the opposite side of the kitchen island, chatting with him about the events of the night before, you wonder how it's possible for a man with a smile like his to have a body like that.

The maths just doesn't compute, but you've never been great with numbers. Have always been more drawn to art—and God, what a work Jeongguk is.

Quite the contrary, you wear your hangovers with far less grace.

There's glitter all over your skin, and your hair looks more like a bird's nest than a crown.

In front of you sits a barely touched glass of water and two Tylenol tablets yet to be taken. The thud in your head has only intensified since you woke up with a dry throat and achy body, but you're trying to push through it.

"You're only making it worse," Jeongguk softly scolds you when you whine and slump down to rest your head on the countertop. "Don't be so stubborn."

When he talks like that, all assertive and domineering, it only makes you wanna be even more stubborn. It's in part thanks to your defiant nature, but also in part due to your desperation to have him use that tone of voice with you again.

"I can defeat it," you whine against the cold stone, a pathetic moan humming in your throat.

With your hair still damp from your shower, you find yourself irritated by how quickly Jeongguk's hair dries compared to yours. It's your own fault, for you're the one who insists on changing its colour with the seasons, but it annoys you nonetheless.

Then again, everything irritates you when you're this hungover.

Truth be told, you'd happily get your hair wet all over again, if it meant you got to indulge in another shower with Jeongguk. Want nothing more than to relieve the way it feels for him to shampoo your hair, rubbing the pads of his fingers in circular motions against your scalp. If the restaurant doesn't work out, he could always opt to be a hairdresser, you think, then mentally reprimand yourself for daring to even think of a scenario in which the restaurant doesn't work out. Would never forgive yourself if you jinxed it.

Jeongguk doesn't mind the grouchiness that comes with your hangovers, 'cause they always come with an added side of clinginess, too. You had wrapped around him like a koala bear for that entire shower. Had your cheek to his chest, arms tightly locked around his back, eyes firmly closed as he washed your hair.

Gorgeous girl, he thinks to himself, then resumes the stern telling off he was giving you. Just wants you to feel okay, that's all. Knows you're too determined for your own good, sometimes.

"Clearly," he almost scoffs, not mean but definitely a little curt. His head's killing him, too. He just hides it better. Swinging open the fridge, he grabs a bottle of water—2 litres—and cracks open the seal. "Take your pills, or I won't get you anything when I order breakfast."

"Gguk," you whine, slowly sitting up straight to look at him with the biggest pout. Head tipped back, he's chugging on his water straight from the bottle at such a rate you're surprised he doesn't choke.

By the time he's finished, he's practically at the halfway point of the bottle. Shaking his head, he swallows his last mouthful down. Pants, a little. Says, "Water, pills, now."

Narrowing your eyes, you finally do as you're told, but make sure to say, "You're mean."

Jeongguk just shakes his head. "I love you."

With your eyes on his, you try your hardest not to show any sign of weakness—but when he presses his lips into a thin, curved line and smiles in a way that makes it impossible to fight, you can't help yourself.

"Fine," you strop regardless, tossing your pills back and swallowing them down with a chug of water.

"See," he softly says in a way that is both patronising yet ever so gentle.

He walks around the counter to stand beside you, and welcomes the innate way your hand reaches up to hold his waist. He's just the same in how his hand cradles your cheek, keeping your face angled to look up towards him.

"Wasn't so hard, was it, baby?" He gently toys.

"You're the worst," you assure him, 'cause he knows he's being a little git right now.

And so, just like the last incredibly soft insult thrown his way, he fends it off by saying, "I love you."

"If you really loved me, you would have let me stay in bed."

"We have shit to do today, B," he reminds you. "I forced you up because I love you. Now, don't be rude. Say it back."

Jeongguk's ability to demand you say such heavy, ardent words is nothing short of a miracle.

When you first met Jeongguk, the idea of him being so straightforward and forthcoming with his own feelings felt like an impossible task. Yet here he is, unafraid to tell you how much he cares for you, and unashamed to ask for reciprocation.

Tugging him a little closer, you rest your pointed chin against his sternum, and get him looking down towards you.

Quietly, you whisper, "You know I love you."

"Say it again," he demands once more, his heavy-lidded eyes trained on yours as he speaks.

"I love you."

He smiles, now. Nods.

"Good," he says, then pulls away to grab his phone and open up a delivery app. Has his favourite cafe pinned to the top. Clicks through to the menu without a second thought, muscle memory prevailing. "French toast? Iced coffee?"

"You know me so well," you hum with a pleasant smile, hopping off the bar stool and meandering over to Jeongguk's sofa.

He follows you without hesitation and tugs the blanket from the armchair as he does so. You're wearing one of his shirts, and he's just in a pair of sweats, so a blanket seems like a sensible choice for now.

Jimin still hasn't risen from his pit, and Nabi's clothes are still in the living room—just in a neat pile now, thanks to Jeongguk's innate need for a clean space to ensure he can power through his hangover.

"You reckon they're gonna wake up soon?" You ask Jeongguk as he snuggles in beside you, flicking on the television.

"Not a chance," he laughs. "Nabi's probably gonna escape out his bedroom window or something like that. Spent years denying there was anything going on, and I don't think her pride will be able to take the hit of being wrong."

"You never know," you begin to playfully theorise. "Maybe they're just friends."

"Have you forgotten getting home last night?"

"Well, yeah, but I mean, I shagged you plenty of times, and we've always just been friends."

"Oh, fuck off," he laughs. "We've never been just friends."

"No?"

"No," he says with a cocksure confidence that has been earned over many months of knowing you as intimately as he does. Smiling as you roll your eyes, you don't bother fighting back. It's a losing cause. "We're best friends. Duh."

If you could have it your way, the day would be spent exactly like this—cuddled up on Jeongguk's sofa without a care in the world—but you've got work to do.

The gallery needs to be cleaned up from the night before. It's not a huge amount of work, but still tedious labour that you'd rather not do with a raging headache. One of the reasons you're given such liberty with the gallery space is because you always make sure it's left without a trace, and so you know you need to get it sorted sooner rather than later.

Jeongguk's offered to help out, 'cause his day is empty. Other than discussing the business with Yoongi, his agenda is remarkably clear, and if he's being honest, the last thing he wants is to talk about the restaurant.

See, Jeongguk worries. He's got everything in the palm of his hand—his girl, his dreams, his future. All it takes is one misstep, and he could lose everything.

Comfort is found in you. Solace.

"Smell good," he mumbles, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your neck, sinking into a more comfortable position snuggled up against you. Doesn't kiss you, but he does let his lips trail up your skin in a way that promises he eventually will.

"Smell like you," you sweetly reply, 'cause none of your things have made their way into his home yet. The shampoo you use is his. The shower gel, the moisturiser, the suncream. It's all him—and you love nothing more than going home with such innocent reminders of him on your skin.

"Mhm," he confirms. That's exactly why he likes it so much. The silage of you is the signpost of him. "Mine."

Any gap between you (which admittedly isn't much at all) is eliminated with the way Jeongguk drags you into his embrace. It's the kind of hug that can only be described as acceptance: there is no you, nor him. Just the pair of you, together.

It's dangerous territory to embark upon, with such reliance on another person, but it's also a path that you just can't seem to resist.

Laced in berries, the hedgerows of this rambling walk you're strolling down together keep you going forward. Occasionally, you'll stop. Smell the roses. Pluck a berry here or there. Pause when you hear the noise of a wild beast in the forest that surrounds you, or the threatening echo of a farmer and his gun.

But then forwards, you'll go. Destination, unknown. Wherever you end up is exactly where you'll need to be.

The wait for food is wasted away together, dumb conversations about nothing and anything that comes to mind. Jeongguk toys with your fingers. Plays with your rings. Strokes the pad of his index finger over the small callous on your middle one.

"Used to be worse," you acknowledge, holding up your hand to study it. Back when you were in school, the amount of writing and doodling you did meant a callous was inevitable. Now that you're out of the habit of doodling, and far less likely to spend hours writing by hand, it's softened. Almost looks as if it wasn't even there to begin with. Part of your history that is slowly fading away.

One day, you won't be able to recall any part of your life that isn't inexplicitly saturated by him.

He holds up his own hands. Studies them against yours. It's like some juvenile flirt, comparing hand sizes, as if your legs aren't tangled with his, and his other hand isn't wedged between your thighs.

You're not learning anything new. Are revising, for a lack of a better term. Just like you used to do with the birds, when you wanted any excuse you could use to be intimate with one another.

It's different now, you suppose. Intimacy. How you view it. Just isn't what it once was.

Things that used to be sacred to you are now second nature.

Glancing across to Jeongguk as he natters on about the deep line that runs along his palm, and how it signals he's destined for greatness, you realise there's an ache blooming in your chest.

His pouty lips rabbit on, dark eyes occasionally fluttering across to you, then back to his hand.

There's a vulnerability to him. It's his eyes, you think, and their need to check in on you. He's making sure you're listening. Interested. Aren't bored or waiting for him to shut up. It's a somewhat nervous habit of his, stemming from the fact he doesn't ever really talk this much with anyone else.

In a way that no one else is lucky enough to experience, Jeongguk opens himself up to you. About the big and the bad, the emotional and the heavy, but also about the small, lovely, lightweight things, too. Weather talk, mindless chatter he'd never bother engaging in with other people.

He talks of superstitions and legends, movies he watched as a kid, and dreams he had overnight—a stream of consciousness, all for you.

See, Jeongguk talks.

Around you, he talks and talks and talks.

If his mother could see him like this, she'd be gobsmacked. He's always been the more quiet one of her sons. Reserved. Cautious to speak in fear of saying the wrong thing.

But he's childlike in his eagerness to share with you, Bambi eyes wide and sparkling, teeth nibbling down on his bottom lip whenever he leaves enough room for you to respond.

Time is lost in conversation until his doorbell chimes—a notice of food arriving.

"Go get changed," you say, tapping on his knee as you get to your feet. "I'll sort out breakfast."

Nodding, he does as he's told, lightly spanking your ass before heading to his room. Glancing over your shoulder, you feign a little hurt.

"I'll kiss it better," he promises, and you know he will.

The curse of his devotion to you means he can never lie.

He can, however, keep secrets. Small ones. Teeny tiny ones that will have no consequence other than to make you melt when he finally reveals them.

Checking his phone, Jeongguk smiles to himself when he notices a notification of confirmation—plans made now rolling into motion. You cope with surprises far better than he does. Appreciate the romanticism of it all. He's sure you'll like it.

When he comes back into the kitchen, you have to hold in a desperate groan. Who gave him the right to look like that? And how many cats did you save from trees in a previous life to deserve it?

Dressed for the gym, he's in a pair of dark shorts that sit on his hips as if they were made just for him. The contours of his upper body are on display for everyone to see, a tight black compression shirt outlining the ridges on his chest.

The silver chain he always wears is tucked outside of the shirt, 'cause he doesn't like the pressure of the fabric on top of it, and his hair lays flat against his head. He's perfectly undone.

As he's putting on a pair of socks by the sofa, he clocks you staring. Simply hums, "Hm?"

Eyes wide and unassuming, he's oblivious to the fact you feel like you might faint just by looking at him, even if the socks he's putting on have individual spaces for each of his toes.

We can't all be perfect, after all—though Jeongguk would argue his socks encourage correct toe alignment, which could only be a good thing.

"Anyone ever told you that you're a menace to society?" You painfully whine, the groan you were hiding making its presence known.

Almost bashful, Jeongguk tips his head to the side, eyes twinkling your reflection back at you.

"Flattery won't convince me to let you go back to bed," he teases, playing off the compliment. Socks on, he makes his way over to you without hesitation, his tattooed arm draping over your shoulders, as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

"Was worth a try," you playfully tease him, even if you did mean it. Hooking your arm around his waist, you give him a squeeze and glance up towards him. A tender kiss is given and received, his lips softly curving into a smile against yours. "Eat up. Quicker we leave, the quicker you can get to the gym, and the quicker you can come back to mine afterwards."

The outline of your day is solid: go to the gallery and get it cleaned up, meander back to town with Jeongguk, send him on his way to the gym, pick up some groceries and then head home.

Small errands that will eat up most of the day, but an empty evening that can be spent exactly as you'd like: with him.

"We at yours tonight?" He hums, still getting used to just how easy it is to coexist next to you. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined a life like this.

"Feel like Jimin might need the privacy," you note, very much aware that he hasn't made a single appearance, which is very unlike him. He's normally reciting lines from The Notebook by this point in the morning.

You know he's fine, 'cause you heard the synthetic ding of his speaker being turned on a little while earlier, presumably to drown out any 'conversations' he might be having.

Jeongguk smirks, picking out a strawberry from the container next to the french toast, and says, "He never gave us privacy."

Tossing the strawberry to his back teeth, there's a smile on Jeongguk's lips that's impossible not to mirror. Turning slightly, you get yourself trapped between his body and the kitchen island. Wrap your arms around his neck. Encourage him down to nudge his nose against yours.

"Yeah, but he also never caught us having sex," you remind Jeongguk, lips brushing against his. Breakfast can wait. Or maybe the menu can just change. "We were incredibly well-behaved as far as he's concerned."

"We were?" Jeongguk quietly flirts, his hips pressing against your tummy, letting you know just how much he enjoys being with you. "I don't think you've ever been well behaved."

"Oh, but I am," you simper right back. Reaching down for his hands, you encourage them to roam your body. Squeeze them over your chest, then encourage them down to the tops of your thighs—or, more specifically, between them. "I'm such a good girl for you, aren't I?"

Pressing his fingers up against your thinly-covered cunt, Jeongguk smirks, the subtle markers of your arousal greeting him like they so often do.

"You are," he nods. "And you're gonna be good for me now aren't you?" His fingers hook the lace of your underwear to the side, and gently begin to tease your wet folds. "Gonna keep it nice and quiet for me, huh?"

Nodding, you let yourself succumb to your unbridled desire to have your lips on his as he sinks his middle finger into your cunt. With a small whine, you totally disregard the promise you've only just made.

And so Jeongguk shakes his head, still kissing you. Barely parts from your lips when he says, "Shush, shush, shush, baby. Quiet for me."

When he pushes a second finger into you, your brows furrow, but the whine you're dying to sound out just vibrates into his mouth.

"Attagirl," he praises as his fingers begin to pump inside of you. Deepening his kisses, Jeongguk strokes his tongue against yours, as if your body was just made for him to claim. Signed, sealed, delivered: his. Your hips roll into his movements, but it's not enough.

As much as he wants to keep you plugged, Jeongguk wants easy access more.

Pulling his fingers from your cunt, there's a satisfied grin on his pretty lips when you whine.

"Shush," he says with such affection it could make even the coldest heart thaw. Dipping slightly, he hooks his forearms just beneath your ass and swiftly lifts you up. Gets you perched up on the counter. Spreads your legs, and is pleased when you lift the hem of the baggy shirt you're wearing to fully reveal your pussy to him.

"Look at you, gorgeous," he husks. Genuinely thinks he might die just from looking at your cunt. Too perfect. Too fuckin' nice. Stroking his still-wet fingers up your folds, he wastes no time sinking two fingers into you once more. "Quiet, baby."

"Room," you breathlessly say, desperately trying not to make any sounds that could give yourselves away. "Don't wanna be quiet. Take me to your room."

Jeongguk just smirks. Looks in your pretty eyes and challenges you. "Say chess. I'm not going to my room, but you can say chess."

He knows there's absolutely no way in hell you're saying chess.

Narrowing your eyes, you reach to the front of his shorts, and stroke his hard cock through the fabric. If he's gonna make this hard for you, then you're gonna do it right back.

"If you're gonna torture me then you may as well do it right," you feign a little boredom, tugging his shorts down just enough to play with him over his boxers. "Your fingers are nothing, baby." A lie, but that's neither here nor there. "Make things difficult for me. Make it impossible for me to keep quiet."

"You really want Jimin to find out, huh?" Jeongguk teases, still playing on the idea that you've ever managed to convince anyone that you are, in fact, just friends. "You want him to know that we fuck?"

But then Jeongguk glances over your shoulder to the doorway that leads into Jimin's room, as the click of his latch goes. Jeongguk barely has enough time to pull his fingers from you, and definitely not enough time to pull his shorts back up over his boxer-covered boner, so instead, he presses up against you to keep himself covered. Thank God he's behind the island and not anywhere else.

If you thought it was torture before, then now must be a whole new level, just a few layers of fabric keeping you apart.

"It lingers, y'know," the grouchy voice of Jimin echoes from behind you.

Turning your head, thighs squeezing against Jeongguk's hips to keep his dignity protected, you try to hide your embarrassment.

Jeongguk's hands rest on your thighs, and the one that's out of sight to Jimin is being wiped against your skin to rid his fingers of your arousal. This could have been so much worse than what it is.

"The smell of sex," he adds with a little disdain. "I always knew."

As if the God of Thunder personally gave birth to him, Jimin's face is stormy as can be. His scowl is so deeply ingrained into his expression that you're certain the wind must have changed in his direction as he was first pulling the face. Whatever you drank last night, he must have had it too.

Hair all haphazard, face a little dewey from a warm slumber, there's an unusual dishevelled nature to Jimin. He's not even bothered to put on clothes. Is quite literally in just a pair of boxers.

It's quite unlike him. Then again, so are the hickies on his collarbones.

"Well, that's weird, 'cause me and Jeongguk have never had sex," you reply without even thinking, the lies ingrained into your reflexes at this point. Even Jeongguk looks at you with confusion this time.

"Firstly, we eat off that counter, sickos. And secondly, I heard," Jimin simply assures you both, walking to the counter and picking up a plastic fork. He sticks it into a chunk of the french toast, and doesn't ask permission. Just chows down on it. Speaks with his mouth full. "Like, so many times. In fact, I've heard you at it so many times I can almost predict what's happening when."

"Bullshit," Jeongguk laughs—and he'd be right. Jimin's never heard, not properly at least, unless you count the muffled groans in Pohang that put him off his food for an entire day. He just hates the embarrassment of being walked in upon by the pair of you. The one time he needed privacy the most and he didn't even think to bolt the door—or better yet, go to his own bloody bedroom. He wants you to know what his embarrassment feels like. Jeongguk is unphased, though. "Nabi still here?"

"Shut up," Jimin replies, pulling the rest of the french toast towards him, closing the lid. He narrows his eyes, then snatches the box right up. Holds it to his chest. Scowls at you both. Turns on his heel and returns to his room, grinning now that you can't see him, shutting the door behind himself.

Neither of you stop him.

"Is he…"

"Okay?" Jeongguk finishes off your query. "No idea."

But one thing for certain is that Nabi's possessions are still very much inside the apartment. She's still here, and you're willing to bet he shut the door with a smile, holding his stolen breakfast with all the triumph of a cat who got the cream.

"On that note," you begin to tangent off, knowing you've already wasted too much of the day. "You okay to drive? Or would you rather take the subway?"

"Subway," Jeongguk immediately responds, reaching over to take a sip of his coffee. "Don't wanna risk it."

And he also wants any excuse he can find to spend time with you. Takes three times as long to get to The Ryu on public transport than it does in his car, especially with how he drives.

"Alright," you don't argue against him or bother suggesting a taxi instead. "And am I cool to leave my things here? I'll pick them up next time—"

"You know you don't need to ask," Jeongguk grins, the ring in the corner of his mouth flipping ever so slightly in that heavenly way it so often does.

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Keep it here," he says. "Don't take your stuff home next time. Leave it. I'll clear a drawer. Some hangers."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nudges his nose up against yours. "You've been leaving glitter here for months. May as well move onto something more substantial."

As if your heart isn't enough.

"Plus," he considers. "At least that way you can stop stealing all my favourite shirts."

"You love it when I wear your shirts."

"B, I love it when you wear nothing at all," he smirks. "Clothes have nothing to do with it. But on that note, go put some clothes on so we can actually do something with our day."

Reluctantly, you agree.

And just as reluctantly, he lets you go.

The subway is always crowded at this time of day. Jeongguk insists you sit while he stands in front of you, holding on to the railing that runs overhead. It's a small kindness—the kind you never really thought about until you met him and learned how lovely it is to have someone actually care about your comfort and well-being.

He doesn't spend the journey on his phone like so many of the other commuters. Instead, he focuses on the windows, and the small glimpses indicating where you are along the subway line. Occasionally he'll look down at you and smile. Though you're not sleeping, your eyes are closed, cutting out the harsh lights of the tin can you're situated inside. You've never been more desperate for your bed.

Once you reach your stop, Jeongguk tightly scoots in behind you on the escalators.

"We can have a quiet night in," he softly promises. His hand rubs at your waist, and the elevated position of your body allows him to press a kiss to your shoulder.

Even despite the fabric of your shirt—one that belongs to him, of course—it still feels like a star is burning through your very being.

Nodding, you place your hand over his and squeeze ever so gently. Reciprocate his warmth.

You don't mean to be so grouchy and unexpressive, the hangover just really is killing you. If it wasn't for the video Jeongguk insisted on assessing after waking you up this morning, you might not have even recalled exactly just how raunchy you'd been with him at Dionysus.

Fucking someone at work had always been one of his covert fantasies; the kind of thing he wanted to do just so he could say that he had. Wouldn't mind leaving the box next to it unchecked on his mental to-do list. Would happily do it all over again.

His notice has been handed in, though. Dionysus is no longer his place of work. His contract runs until the end of the month, but he saved up holiday time. Never has to go back, if he doesn't want to.

As his fingers squeeze a little tighter on your waist, he can't help but wonder if he's making the right choices. He's been comfortable at Dionysus. Wasn't making great money, but was making enough.

But when you squeeze your hand over his, he knows it doesn't matter. He can make all the bad decisions in the world as long as he doesn't make any that'd result in him losing you.

The weather's slowly been getting warmer over the past few weeks. As you exit the subway station, the sun confronts you with such aggression that you almost stumble from the impact of her punch.

"I'm never drinking again," you whine, bringing the hand of yours that's holding his up to cover your eyes a little. He lets you dictate his movement freely.

"You say that every time," Jeongguk reminds you, playfully nudging into your side, before rounding the corner up towards the gallery. "C'mon. Fake it till you make it. Pretend you don't have one."

"Impossible."

The remainder of the morning is slow. Every time you glance at the clock, it seems only a few minutes have passed.

Cataloguing and processing the sales of art from the night before is laborious. It takes a lot of mental energy that you can't seem to conjure up.

Jeongguk doesn't really know how to help, but he is far stronger than you. Does all the heavy lifting as you prepare various canvases for shipping.

Eventually, he's left twiddling his thumbs, so you insist he heads straight to the gym.

"I'll meet you after," you tell him, as you sit on the floor of the gallery, crossed-legged, a pencil behind your ear and a million documents scattered around you. Jeongguk has no idea how you can work in such chaos. Finds himself getting stressed out by it.

It takes a solid fifteen minutes of assuring him you'd be fine on your own, but eventually he leaves for the gym. The way you see it, the quicker you both get your tasks for the day done, the quicker you can go back to yours, make some dinner, and call it a night.

"Call me when you're done, yeah?" He says, lingering by the door because he just can't bear to leave you. As the sunlight peers in through the windows, small speckles of glitter sparkle on his skin. "I'll come meet you halfway."

With an ever-sincere smile, you just laugh. "Go."

Finally doing as he's told, Jeongguk walks backwards until you're out of sight. Feels his heart physically ache in his chest. Doesn't understand why he's so damn pathetic all of the time when it comes to you, just knows he wouldn't change it for the world.

Despite the solitude of an empty gallery, you're perfectly content. The lingering scent of paint and paper isn't too far removed from your place of work. Makes it easy to imagine a life where this could be your work.

Devoting yourself to this is easy. Passion has always yielded a higher reward for you than wages, so you don't mind burning the candle at both ends.

The situation is becoming strained at best, you know. Eventually, something will have to give.

For now, though, you finish off your jobs. Arrange couriers to pick up the artworks sold, and make sure the names and numbers match the deposits with a copy of Jeongguk's business account bank statement, of which you made him print out for you.

"I can just log into my bank on your phone," Jeongguk had shrugged when you'd first asked him for it, seemingly not realising just how insane he sounded. When he clocked your look of bewilderment, he laughed. "What? It's not like you're gonna run off with all the money."

While this is true, looking at the sheer amount of money in there could make you cry. It's all so attainable now; Jeongguk's dreams and a reality in which they come true.

So engrossed in your own thoughts, you almost jump out of your skin when a knock sounds at the doorway into the office.

"Sorry," Shinwon hums ever so pleasantly, a smile on his face, thoroughly bemused by how startled you look. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"No, no," you shake your head, endearingly playing off your embarrassment. "I just didn't expect to see you here! Or see anyone here, for that matter."

Between exhibitions, the gallery will be closed for the next couple of weeks. It's partially to allow for the staff to reset, but mainly to allow for careful considerations of how the space will be used.

As Jina's maternity leave cover, it's Shinwon's job, but you're yet to see any plans from him. You don't even know which artists are due to be showcased. She did say that a new vacancy would probably open up around this time, and if Shinwon doesn't start putting some tangible hard work in, you wouldn't be surprised if it's sooner rather than later.

There's been no mention of it, though. The big bosses don't seem to care about his underperformance, probably 'cause they know he's temporary.

"Just coming by to drop something off," he explains, holding up a small white envelope. Pressing it down on the desk, he looks uncertain, as if there are words dancing on the tip of his tongue. "It went well last night, didn't it?"

With a tight-lipped smile, you nod. Feel your cheeks swell. "Yeah. Went really well."

"Good," he nods. Is about to leave. Pauses when he reaches the door, and awkwardly turns to face you. Nods towards the letter on the desk. "There's gonna be a position opening up soon. You should apply. I'll put in a good word."

Furrowing your brows, you glance over the white envelope, then back to Shinwon. "But they're not hiring any—"

"Letter of resignation," he concedes with a tight-lipped smile. "I've got an overseas opportunity that I don't wanna pass on. I'll work my two weeks, but then there'll be a position to fill until Jina is back from maternity."

By overseas opportunity, he really means that some of his private school buddies are going travelling, and he wants in on the fun. This was always an opportunity of convenience for Shinwon. He was never passionate about it. Not like you are.

"Apply," he encourages. "You basically do my job as it is for free, anyway. May as well get paid for it if you can."

He doesn't stay to chitchat. Probably won't even remember your existence once he heads off on his trip. Was never in this for the right reasons.

You've resented him on plenty of occasions. Been annoyed at the fact he does fuck all and gets paid for it. Yet the idea of actually filling his (albeit incredibly small) shoes is fear-inducing.

A job at the gallery would be the first step to actually doing what you love for a living—being around art and artists. Sure, you could argue that the art cafe gives you that, but a highschooler nervously painting by numbers on a first date has nothing on the works that you see here.

There's joy to be found in your current job, though. Fun. Safety. Home.

But nothing remarkable ever happened to people who choose to remain comfortable.

Quickly finishing your to-do list, all you want to do is speak to Jeongguk about it. See what he thinks. You know it's a no-brainer. You have nothing to lose. You just want him to give you the green light that you're making the right choices.

The headache you've been battling is weak in comparison to your racing thoughts, now. You're thinking of the possibilities—of all of your hard work actually being for something. You've proven to the gallery that you can bring in punters, and that you can utilise their resources for profit.

It's always been a case of who you know, not what you know, but you know the gallery, now. They know you.

It could really happen.

By the time you reach the gym, fantasies of a life with a staff ID card and access to the archives, you can't stop smiling. It'd change your life. Flip it upside down in the best of ways.

The gym is just the same as it always has been. There's a new girl behind the front desk. Not someone you recognise. Smiling as she greets you, she's keen to help, long dark hair tied into a ponytail, her branded shirt tight to her curves. You're reminded that the gym is a breeding ground for beauty, but it doesn't matter. You'll get your cardio in later beneath your sheets.

She's also got the kind of smile that you just can't help but reciprocate.

"I don't have a membership," you begin to explain, knowing just how troublesome it was on your first ever visit and not wanting a repeat of it. There's no way you're paying for a month, 'cause now you don't need it as an excuse just to see Jeongguk. You also can't help but overcompensate, and give far too many details in an awkward, endearing mess of an explanation. "Well, I mean, I used to have one so my details are probably on the system. Sorry, not important. I know you guys don't do day passes—"

Furrowing her brows, she kindly interrupts. "We do."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she says, nodding towards a sign in the corner of the countertop. Clear as day, daily and weekly memberships are listed. "We've done them for as long as I've been here. Don't think it's a new policy. Anyway, happy to help—just a day membership?"

Jiyeong might be a distant memory now, but thoughts of her will never fail to irritate you.

"Yeah please," you smile regardless, sliding your card out from your pocket—and then you're over explaining again. Probably habit from the Jiyeong era. Is also probably why you make a point to mention Jeongguk by a title only you have the privilege to use. "I'm just joining my boyfriend for a session. He's—"

"Oh, he's a member?" she chirps, not rude in her interruption but efficient.

"Yeah," you nod, and are about to mention him by name, but the girl speaks too quickly again.

"Oh, you should have said! Members get a monthly plus one. It's not a free session, but it's half price, so better than nothing," she smiles. "I'll just need his gym ID—or name, I can search the system—so I can put it through."

You know she really ought to ask Jeongguk's permission. You could be any random woman.

But you're not, and so you tell her. "Jeon Jeongguk?"

"Ah," she nods, vaguely aware of his existence. Unlike Jiyeong, she hasn't spent a substantial amount of time fawning over Jeongguk. To her, he's just another dude who comes in and leaves her alone. She appreciates it, given how some guys can be, but she also doesn't care to reward bare minimum.

She asks you to confirm his phone number, which you can do without issue, so at least there's some level of security in place.

It's a perfectly pleasant exchange, and it thankfully rids you of woes you didn't even realise you had. The Jieyong debacle had left a mark on you, but it feels like it's been rubbed clean. Your mind tends to jump to thoughts of her whenever he goes to the gym, and so at least you can sleep well knowing that the new girl isn't interested in any way shape or form.

Buzzing you through, she tells you to enjoy yourself—but as you start heading up the stairs to the main gym section, you already feel your regret looming. A hangover is still a hangover.

You clock Jeon Jeongguk almost immediately. How anyone isn't immediately drawn to him, you'll never understand. Just finishing up with some weights, he's re-racking the ones he's used, skin glowing with sweat.

There's a beauty to seeing him like this. Primal desires.

Glancing up to the mirrored wall behind the rack, Jeongguk eyes are on yours just as quickly. It's like you're magnets, destined to meet.

A confused smile etches into his exhausted face, brows furrowing as he turns to face you.

"What are you doing here?" He mouths, head puppy-like in the way it tilts.

Shrugging your shoulders, you walk towards him. Mouth, "I just love the gym."

"Liar," he simpers when you're within earshot, reaching his hand out for you to take so he can pull you closer, of which he immediately does.

One hand clasped in his, your other hand rests on his still-heaving torso. He's gone hard today, to make up for the night before. His compression shirt is silky beneath the palms of your hands, the strong ridges and contours of his body yours to hold. Other people can look all they like. None of them get to feel. Not like you do.

As he looks down at you, there's a softness to his gaze. A smile that he doesn't care to hide. A sparkle in his eyes that shines even out of direct light. Just a consequence of looking at a star.

"You shouldn't be here," he quietly hums. "We both know you hate it."

"I can go, if you like?"

Jeongguk just shakes his head. Smiles as he turns you both around and begins to walk backwards, pulling you with him.

"You're the one who hated being here," he reminds you. "I loved you being here."

"Obsessed," you grin, gingerly letting him drag you anywhere he likes. "And good, 'cause I used your monthly plus one."

"Yeah," he confirms, ignoring the curious glances of other people in the room as he leads you back to your old 'spot'. "Thought we'd established that already? And that's fine. Use it every month."

Funny, how you used to hypothesise over the lives of other people in this very room, and how you know others must be doing the same for you now. You hope they all think you're besotted with him.

When you look at him like that, all love drunk and starry-eyed, how could they not?

"Was just about to finish up, anyway," Jeongguk tells you, heading in the direction of the treadmills. Glances back to you, then nods in their direction. "For old times sake?"

"For old times sake," you beam, following his lead, stepping up onto the treadmill closest to you. They're all vacant, but Jeongguk steps up on the one beside yours, 'cause of course he does. He'd go on the same one as you, if it were possible.

God, he loves you being here. Can't stop smiling.

You don't mention the potential job opening. For old times sake.

Instead, you revel in what it used to be like whenever you came to the gym, 'cause it just makes you so much more grateful for what you've become. Like Dionysus, these four walls saw the groundwork of your relationship being laid.

You've already lost access to one of the most important places to you both with Jeongguk leaving the club.

If you change jobs, you'll lose the art cafe, too. The lease is coming up soon on your place, and if Danbi chooses to just move in with Tae, that'll be another safe haven gone. One by one, places of your past are closing their doors to usher you forward into new spaces.

Life can't always stay the same. Change is needed. Necessary.

You've changed. So has Jeongguk. You'll continue to change for years to come.

The difference now is that you'll change together. Adapt. Merge, in some ways, just like a pair of orbiting stars so often do.

On the way home, Jeongguk picks up a bunch of wildflowers from the market stall he once bought you apology flowers from. His fingers are intertwined with yours as he pays, hands lightly swinging.

It dawns on you all rather quickly, as Jeongguk nibbles on his bottom lip and waits for the payment to go through, that maybe this is a change that you needn't fight. Perhaps it's okay to look forward to your future instead of being hung up on the past.

"C'mon," he tugs on your hand as you leave the market stall, encouraging you to gain a little momentum. "I'm starving. If we don't get me food soon, I'll turn into you with a hangover."

"Cute?"

"Oh, so close," he grins, then shakes his head. "But no. Grouchy and unbearable."

"You were practically begging to shag me," you remind him. "Can't have minded that much."

Jeongguk can't argue against this one. "I didn't—but working out increases like… all the hormones that were working overtime this morning. If I don't eat soon I might die, but if I don't shag you soon, I also might die. Honestly it's a lose-lose situation, B. There's only one solution."

"Sixty-nine?" You offer, 'cause it's perfectly logical. He gets to eat while you get him off. A win-win, you'd argue.

"You're a disgusting pervert," he tells you with stern sharpness, paired with a smirk he just can't help, as if he totally wasn't angling for you to say it. "But now that you mention it, yes. That'd be ideal."

"I don't shag boys who call me disgusting," you reply, knowing that he absolutely didn't mean it like that. You just like winding him up.

"I'm pretty sure I've called you worse before," he reminds you, then holds the flowers out in front of you both. "These can double as apology flowers instead of just my-girlfriend-is-really-pretty-and-I-love-her flowers."

You narrow your eyes as you look across to him, but the smile on his face is just too hard to resist. Thin lipped, his dimples are present, lip ring flipping in the corner of his mouth.

It's like his lip ring does the thing and you're reduced to jelly.

"Lucky you're cute," you grumble.

"You can thank my mum for that one," he offers, fully aware of how often people would coo over his cuteness as a child and then proceed to tell his mum how similar they are. "And for how pretty I am, too."

Though he's just joking, he's right. He really is the prettiest man you've ever known, inside and out.

You won't tell him this, though. Would give him far too much negotiation power.

"Who do I thank for how annoying you are?"

“Jimin,” Jeongguk says. "That's a learned behaviour. Nurture over nature."

"Figures," you accept, before tugging on Jeongguk's hand to lead him into a grocery store. "I've got nothing in. Need to pick up food or else you'll be going hungry."

"I thought we already agreed on six—"

"A little decorum please," you cut him off. "We're in a public space."

"You said it first!"

Playfully shrugging, you let go of his hand and grab a basket as you enter. "Watcha fancy?"

"You."

"For dinner, idiot."

"B," Jeongguk sighs as if he really is hard done by. "We've already discussed this. Literally, you."

"Shut up," you laugh, and let the shopping trip descend into chaos.

Jeongguk just puts whatever catches his eyes into the basket. Gets a kinder egg and a hot wheels car. Will surely just run it over the curves of your body when you're in bed later that evening. Also gets an entire pineapple, and when you raise an eyebrow, he just shrugs.

"If I don't have a snack before I shower I will die," he assures you. "I'm craving a burger, so you should really be thanking me for the noble sacrifice I'm making. It benefits us both."

"You're an idiot."

"Fine, I'll get a burger."

But when he goes to put the pineapple back, you stop him. Smile. Say, "Pineapple is good."

"That's what I thought," he stands tall and proud, chest puffed, head tilted back. He looks like an asshole but god damn, does he look good doing so. As he peers down at you, you know it'll be a miracle if you even make it to the shower by the time you get home. Want him too bad.

"Stop bickering," you tell him. "Quicker we get home, the quicker we can—"

"Say no more," he nods, taking the basket from you, then zooming off up the aisle. "C'mon, B! Places to be! People to see!"

As he darts off to the next aisle, all you can do is wonder how on earth this is your life.

But it is—and when you finally find him again, standing in line to pay, basket full to the brim from his supermarket sweep, you know that all these changes happening around you really don't matter as long as you have him.

"Alright," you quietly say as you stand beside him, flicking open your phone and heading for your taxi hailing app. "I'll order a taxi. Don't want you to die on the way home."

"Teamwork," Jeongguk smiles.

"It makes the dream work, or so I heard," you hum with a somewhat smug smile, pleased to be getting exactly what you want: time spent with Jeongguk away from the prying eyes of the three fates.

"Yeah," he quietly says, leaning over to press a kiss against the side of your head. "It sure does."

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clubdionysus · 11 months ago

Note

Hi, Holly! I just wanna ask, wthat happened with every chapter's "playlist"? Because I remember them in every chapter when bd was still in wattpad and in some of the first chapters here until maybe somewhere between chapter 20 and 30. I really liked that part of the whole bd experience because that songs were becoming special in some way and everytime I was listening or even just hear it somewhere it reminded me of bd (still reminding me). BD have big room in my heart and every little thing that can be related to bd reminds me and that room just becomes warm. I really love you and your works! 💕

P. S. : I really miss bd's wattpad era mostly the comments part but wattpad is just dumb and is deleting such a masterpieces like bd :(

the honest is answer is that I just can't remember what songs I chose for the chapters—sometimes I have screeshots of the tops of chapters from when I'd make announcements on my insta stories which helps, but I reached a point with bd when I just got out of the habit of adding songs to the playlist on Spotify, and so now it's hard to recall which songs I used :(

I also love playlist recs for fics!! it can really add to the atmosphere.

a lot of the time when I'm scheduling on tumblr, I'm doing it quite last minute, so just don't have the time to trawl through my library to find something new to fit the vibes.

thank you so much lovely!

this is definitely food for thought, and is something I'll hopefully rectify going forward ♡

#ask

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clubdionysus · 11 months ago

Note

where can i read sbsm?

you can find it on wattpad!

link: somewhere between smoke and mirrors

everything is a bit all over the place at the moment, fics are here there and everywhere, but my goal is to have everything on ao3 eventually :)

#ask #nonbd

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clubdionysus · 11 months ago

Text

[BAD DECISION #59] Betting Against Yeonjun

warnings: there's a section towards the start where I was really going thru it with my adoration for jk lmao bingo if you spot it!!!, seokjin, byeol at her best!!, jungkook also at his best!!!!, mmm I luv our starluvrs <3, conversations re: the first night they met waaaa, okay phew where to start: smut, jungkook's phone gallery is a hotbed of sin (recording), semi-public (club booths), bratty b, dominant koo, a lil degradation, (he says something that would piss me off (b is a better woman than I!! (but she gets her own back!!))), oral (m), lots of lovely words, a little titty worship <3, b on top (yeehaw), creampie, cum eating, oral (f), jimin + nabi!!!!!

a/n: this was the final chapter on wattpad before bd got taken down :( it's very bittersweet. also makes me suuuuuper aware of how few updates we've had since (1.... we have had 1 update (wattpad really knocked the wind from my sails, and if you've been keeping up with me outside of bd, you'll know how crazy busy I've been (the plus side is that I'm so nearly freeee to write to my hearts content for a couple of weeks! <3)))

wc: 10.5K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

While Jeongguk has always looked good behind the bar of Dionysus, you can't help but think he looks so much better in the middle of a tight-knit crowd, with an arm looped around your waist and a drink in his hand.

Under the cosmic lights of Dionysus, there's a glisten to his lips—alcohol yet to be licked away—and the sheen of sweat on his skin. Hair dark and dishevelled, his fringe tickles at his brows. You don't push it out of his face, 'cause it'll just fall back into position as soon as he moves to the beat of the music.

With a smile on his face, Jeongguk turns to his friends. Chants the lyrics to some song that soundtracked the summers of their youth. Is rowdy and careless in how he jumps around, but not once does he ever loosen his grip on you.

You're all in your finest—the boys in suits, and girls in cocktail dresses. While Nabi is in a deep navy satin number, Danbi has gone for black. Seoyeon opted for an early night, her and Yoongi heading home when the rest of you made your way to the bar.

In the dress picked out for you by Jeongguk all those weeks ago, you're far too overdressed for a bar like this—but you're also under the influence of far too much alcohol.

You know this is one of those golden moments; the nights you won't remember but will have stories to tell about it in years to come. Folklore. Whispers of Aurelian affairs weaved into your subconscious.

History has been made tonight. Not the kind that'll be read about in textbooks, but the kind that grandkids will be told a dozen times over—in a home that's covered in tiny specks of shimmer, while the scent of samgyeopsal waltzes from the kitchen to the courtyard.

So, no, Jeongguk doesn't loosen his grip, and he doesn't think he ever will.

You ignore just how many drinks have been knocked against you, and have also long forgotten the annoyance of sticky liquor on your feet. It's nothing a shower won't fix. Knowing the man beside you as intimately as you do, you're almost positive it's where you'll end up in a few hours, anyway.

Thoughts of you and him doing as you so often do have you wishing you were home already. Tonight is for celebrating, though—and oh, how lovely it is to have an excuse to celebrate Jeon Jeongguk.

Venus herself would've had a hard time crafting him, you think. Carved from marble and yet soft as the silky words he likes to wrap you up in, he's unlike anything of this earth.

For all of his thoughts about you, and the cosmos, and how he's certain 'Milky Way' is written where a location should be on your birth certificate, you've had just as many deliberations.

He says he was born in Busan, but men like him don't just come to be as a result of random genetics. He's forged of gold. Perfection in the form of a mere mortal man.

But then he's shouting something to Jimin over the sound of the music, and he stutters a little. Repeats himself with a goofy little grin, unphased by his innate imperfections, and it only serves to make your heart swell.

Jeongguk isn't perfect. He's capable of making mistakes and saying the wrong things. He wears toe-separating socks more often than you care to acknowledge, and sometimes he can be a little stroppy for no reason.

The pout always eases, though, and he derives such joy from those stupid socks that you can't ever bring yourself to tell him how ridiculous they are.

Perfection isn't measured in traits. It's measured in perception.

And you've never perceived a human more perfect for you than Jeon Jeongguk.

Anyone who looks your way would agree—or maybe they'd just see the way you're looking at him, all dewy-eyed and fawn-like, and know that there must be a little magic between you both.

When he turns his attention back to you and realises just how much adoration is glittering your eyes, he does the only thing he can do: tightens the arm he has around your waist and press the sweetest of kisses into your lips.

"Get a room!"

"Disgusting!"

"PDA! Gross!"

The noise that erupts for your friends is nothing short of embarrassing, even if it is obscured by the thudding base of the club speakers.

None of them really mean it. All have smiles on their faces. Are laughing.

Even if they weren't, they'd far rather you and Jeongguk were insufferably sweet, instead of still pretending like you aren't crazy about one another. You ignore them all anyway. Pout when he pulls away from the kiss. Get him back on your lips just as quickly as he left them.

Jeongguk's lips curve into a smile as he sinks his lips into yours and revels in the way it feels.

In the middle of a bar he could call home, surrounded by people he adores, Jeongguk's got you .

Has caught a shooting star, and is gloating just because he can.

"Fuck, I love you," he mumbles into your lips barely loud enough for you to hear, yet your arms wrap around his neck because you know exactly what he said. Kiss him back with a smile just as insufferable as his.

"Yeah?" You giggle.

Your friends have stopped caring—or at least, they've stopped teasing you. Are just letting you be. Suits Jeongguk fine. Just gives him the green light to tighten his arm around your back and lift you ever so slightly.

"You know I do."

Jeongguk loves without condition. Doesn't need to hear you say it back, not when he knows how you feel.

And yet you indulge him regardless.

"I love you, too," you tell him, and then can't help but giggle at how stupid it all feels. He puts you back on your feet. Press a kiss to your forehead, and then urges you back into the group. Shaking your head, you pull back. "Just gonna get another drink."

"I'll come with."

"Stay," you insist, squeezing his hand as you pull his grip away from your hand. He should be with his friends, you think. Plus you'll order him a drink, too. Won't put it on his tab, 'cause you know damn well that bar tab his friends love so much will no doubt migrate to his restaurant. Still, you make sure to call back, "Will only be a minute, babe!"

You know it'll pacify him for a moment or so, and you also just wanna indulge in the simple pleasure of watching his lip ring do the thing. You'll never grow tired of it. Two birds, one pathetically pretty heart-shaped stone.

You lose yourself in the crowd. Know this place like the back of your hands. Doesn't take you long to find yourself by the bar with an incredibly sober Yeonjun raising his brows in your direction.

He saw you coming. Already has a few empty shot glasses lined up on the tray ready to make you starfuckers.

Rolling your eyes, you're about to say something that'd feel far wittier in your drunk mind than would be in reality when you feel a hand on the small of your back.

Instantly, you flinch away.

The hand isn't cold nor is it aggressive; it's just not Jeongguk's. You knew without hesitation. Eyes flicking over to the mirrored backsplash of the bar, you briefly catch Yeonjun's unimpressed gaze.

He doesn't know the man who's taken the spot beside you, but he knows the man is far closer than a stranger should be.

He's strapping. Incredibly good looking. Broad shoulders, hair slicked back. Is put together in a way that men in Dionysus rarely are.

"Water?" Yeonjun offers you, 'cause no matter how much he likes to wind Jeongguk up, he's grown into a good man. Has a lot to thank Jeongguk for. His care for drunk punters, and making sure they're okay, is one of those things.

Yeonjun also knows Jeongguk would pluck every single cerulean hair from his head if he were ever to let anything happen to a single hair on yours.

"Yeah," you nod, edging away from the man beside you.

It doesn't go unnoticed. The man closes the space you created.

"You were in your element tonight," he says, looking down towards you. "Could be making a name for yourself instead of doing some kid's hard work for him."

When your eyes flicker up at him, they're sharp. Pointed. Daggers where daisies once were. Edging away again, you create a distance that isn't so easily closed this time.

"And you could piss off, Seokjin."

"Oh," he hums with the kind of smirk that would have sent you reeling once upon time. Just makes your stomach churn, now. "Full name? Am I in trouble?"

"I'd have to actually give a shit about you for you to be in trouble," you tell him, and are kind of surprised by how little you feel. You're not even angry. You're bored. A little irritated. Mostly indifferent. "And quite frankly the way you've been behaving recently has just confirmed everything I already knew about you. If you could stop interfering with my life, I'd really appreciate it."

"Interfering?" He half snorts, taking a swig on his drink. "You're the one who invited practically my entire department to your little boyfriend's fundraiser."

"I invited their wallets," you correct him, before turning back to Yeonjun. "The usual, please. Four."

He doesn't need to clarify what you're after. He knows the drill. Gets cracking on the starfuckers.

"Icy," Seokjin continues to tease. There's an arrogance to him. Curiosity, too.

You're not the woman who used to cry in his shower and beg him to stay. Your hair is longer, and your wardrobe is less refined. The role you played to be favoured by him is long-forgotten about now.

Stars don't belong in boxes. They'll just burn out. He never got the luxury to see you shine as brightly as you could, and now that he is, he thinks he likes it.

"There's a reason why you kept coming back, or have you forgotten?" He says with a kind of sleaziness you never before attributed to him. When you come to think about it, you realise that maybe you should have. "Need reminding?"

"No. What I really need is for you to gain a little bit of that decorum you like to pretend you have, and then I need you to stop embarrassing yourself," you assure him as you pull your phone from the small clutch bag you've been carrying with you. Flicking open your message thread with Jeongguk, you manage to put together a very tipsy string of messages that tell him to come to the bar. "You're beating a dead horse."

"If that were true, you wouldn't be talking to me right now," he smirks. "And if anything, I'm the horse in this equation, given how much I know you like rid—"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You snap, frankly taken aback by his vulgarity.

If there's one thing Seokjin always was when he was with you, it was respectful. Not to you, or your feelings, but to other people's perception of him. For him to be stooping to such a level just to get a rise out of you means one of two things: the insidious 'boys club' nature of his workplace has corrupted him, or that he thinks so little of you that he believes this is what'd make you fold.

"We ended well over a year ago, and you didn't even want to be in that relationship for just as long! Christ alive. You never had trouble getting laid when we were together. Find some other poor woman to bother—or better yet, just go home. Save everyone's sanity."

Seokjin shrugs. Casts his dark eyes down your glitter-speckled body. Smirks. "You know I always want what I can't have."

You're unattainable. Out of his reach. Belong to skies, when his feet are cemented into the sidewalk.

It's not why he's here, though.

You know him too intimately to understand how his brain works.

Kim Seokjin will never be the man he pretends to be. Will always be the lackey of some CEO. Will never quite own a penthouse, even though he'll probably land somewhere a few floors below. His full-potential will never be reached because he doesn't know how to apply himself in a way that isn't intended on bringing other people down.

He won't climb ladders; he'll just drag people beneath his feet to make himself feel taller. Goes through life as if he's wearing Cuban heels, and steps on the toes of anyone who threatens to achieve more than him.

When you were together, he didn't cheat for the forbidden romance of it all, or anything borne in innate human desires. He didn't do it because he particularly liked other women, or because you weren't satisfactory enough. Quite the opposite.

He cheated for the gratification of coming back to you. He'd hold your body with hands that had been covered in the evidence of someone else; tarnish you and leave himself squeaky clean. Was a power trip. An ego stroker.

It's what's fuelling him right now, you think. The way he knows your body and how his hands used to stroke up the curve of your waist. The eroticism of it all. Thoughts like that used to make you shudder. Now, they make you want to dry-heave.

He knows his hands have been replaced with Jeongguk's lips; that your skin is golden where it once was void of anything but markers of Seokjin.

You went to Jeongguk's apartment once after Seokjin had left those very markers on your throat. They were invisible, but you could feel them. His hands, his lips. How tender he'd been with your skin no matter how rough he had been with your heart.

Jeongguk had crafted you a nest out of every single pillow in his home that night. It was almost like he knew birds would play a pivotal role in the both of your lives. Was giving them— you —a safe place to hatch. To bloom. To shine.

Seokjin doesn't want you.

He just wants Jeongguk to be beneath him.

If that means also getting you beneath him in a more literal sense of the word, then so be it.

But as Jeongguk comes to stand in the space between you both, nodding towards Yeonjun with all the nonchalance he can afford, you know that nobody else will ever have you like he does.

Picking up one of the starfuckers, Jeongguk shoots it back. Picks up a second. Looks to you. Softly wraps his hand around your throat and strokes his thumb up towards your earlobe. Holds the shot to your lips. Waits for you to tip your head back ever so gently—and when you do, he slowly pours the liquor into your mouth for you.

Not once does he take his eyes off yours. Not even when you close them to swallow down the familiar sensation of what it feels like to be in love with him. Just naturally happens whenever you drink a starfucker. Always has done.

"Missed you," he tenderly says, as if it hasn't been a matter of minutes.

When he's holding you like this, his strong hand commanding the angle at which you can look at him, you're without any autonomy. You're his, his, his. The presence of a man you barely even remember being with fades into nothingness behind Jeongguk.

An incredibly love-drunk smile finds its way back to your lips. Jeongguk smiles, too, letting the hand holding your neck ease so that his arm can wrap over your shoulders, as yours does the same around his back. Hooked onto one another, physically as much as you are emotionally, there's a unified front to your partnership.

"These ours?" He asks, nodding towards the remaining starfuckers. You nod. Say nothing, 'cause you don't need to. Just squeeze his waist even tighter. Jeongguk glances up to Yeonjun. "Tab? Four more, and two lemonades."

"Right you are, boss," Yeonjun nods, and gets to work.

"Cheers," Jeongguk thanks him, then picks up one of the starfuckers. Turns ever so slightly, but not enough to loosen his grip on you. Smiles in Seokjin's direction. "Want one? They're good. Practically made her fall in love with me, though, so be careful. You might get a crush on me, too."

"Think I'd be fine," Seokjin scoffs back. "I don't tend to fall for charity cases that can only get girls who feel sorry for them."

"You'd be surprised by how much a starfucker could change your tastes," Jeongguk entertains him. "Take B for example. Used to date limp dick losers who couldn't get her off—"

"Gguk!"

"—One starfucker was all it took, and now it's a seven days a week occurrence. Ain't that a beautiful thing?"

Seokjin grates his jaw. Tries not to let it show. Fails.

"So you have to get her drunk to fuck her?" He sneers.

"Nah," Jeongguk laughs a little at such an absurd suggestion. "Just like I wouldn't need to be drunk to tell you to back off."

"Can she not talk for herself?"

He knows damn well you're able to speak for yourself — he just chooses to disregard everything you say.

"Can you not take a hint? You're not welcome," Jeongguk snaps, before swigging down the shot he had offered Seokjin. Is a little aggressive in how he tosses down the plastic shot glass. "Get fucked—by yourself, that is. My girlfriend isn't included in that suggestion."

"I think—"

"Seokjin," you finally sigh, voice laced with contempt. Shaking your head, you really don't know what more you can say to really drive it home. He never cared this much when you were together. "You're embarrassing yourself. Go home. Find a new bar. I don't care. Yes, I used your connections to get more money to the auction, and no, I'm not sorry. Use the money you saved from losing the bid to get a therapist, or a hooker, or anything that'll help you be a little less insufferable. Maybe an STD check, while you're at it."

He could make a crude remark about how he always wore condoms whenever he cheated.

You know this to be true, 'cause you know you tasted the latex on him once. Thinking about it doesn't hurt like it used to. Annoys you more than anything.

Instead, Seokjin concedes. Can feel the eyes of the bartender searing into him. Knows that you're right; he is embarrassing himself.

That was one thing he could never fault you for. You were always right. Each and every time you called him out on his bullshit, you were right to do so.

"You know where to find me whenever you're done fixing whatever's broken with him," Seokjin simply shrugs. Knows you have a complex. That you tried to 'fix' him, too.

"Fixed it already," Jeongguk says, 'cause he isn't letting Seokjin have the last word. "Seriously, man. You lost. Not because I won, but because you were never worthy of winning in the first place. Stay away or don't, but this is always what you're gonna be greeted with. Always."

Seokjin doesn't look at you. He stares Jeongguk out, instead. Smirks, as if he thinks Jeongguk is an idiot, but lets the ambiguity of any words he could speak linger in the air. Decides it will be a little more torment if he leaves you both wondering what he could have said instead.

He just doesn't realise that neither of you could care any less than you already do.

At this point, he's just like an annoying mosquito buzzing around. With any hope, he'll find another blood source he enjoys more and become an irritating presence for someone else instead.

"Christ," Jeongguk mutters, shaking his head when Seokjin finally retreats. Squeezes you tighter and presses a kiss to your cheek, before pulling the fresh drinks made by Yeonjun closer to your side of the bar. "He's fuckin' insufferable, B. The fuck did you ever see in him?"

Jeongguk pours the starfuckers into the lemonades, turning it into a makeshift version of a starlover. It'll do the job, and was easier to order than it would have been to explain the process to Yeonjun in the middle of a busy shift.

"Before we get into that—" you take the drink offered to you by Jeongguk, sipping a little down " —Seven days a week? Really?"

"Oh, c'mon," Jeongguk grins, as he begins to lead you both away from the bar. "You can't be annoyed with me! He was being a tool!"

The door that leads up to the private booths is closed today—none were booked out, and it saves the clean down time if that entire section stays off limits to punters.

Elevated above the dancefloor, the booths are in the balcony section that wraps around the room. People in the booths can see down to the dancefloor below, but you'd be hard pressed trying to look up into the booths from the dancefloor. They offer a little anonymity. Privacy.

It's why Jeongguk stuck Jiyeong and her friends up there on New Years Eve—purely so that he wouldn't have to deal with them.

Jeongguk isn't just any punter, though. He's the one who installed the door to make his life a little bit easier by keeping drunk stragglers out of the booths. Knows the code, 'cause it's just his birthday backwards.

And right now, he wants a little privacy with you.

"You didn't have to be one back!" You reprimand him as he punches in the code for the door, but you're smiling, too. It's not like you actually gave a shit. If anything, it was kind of hot watching him brag so arrogantly.

"I did," he assures you, quickly encouraging you through the door so as to not draw any attention to yourselves. Taps your ass just 'cause he can. Squeeze, again, just 'cause he can. "Didn't want the old man thinking I was a little virgin."

Rolling your eyes, you nudge him away as you begin to head up the stairs. He's right behind you. Is squeezing your ass again as soon as he can be. "No one is ever gonna look at you and think that."

"Oh, yeah?" Jeongguk flirts. "So when we first met, you thought I was some sort of sexed-up fuck boy, huh?"

"No," you innocently offer, stepping up into one of the booths, and sinking down into one of the plush sofas that run along the back wall. "But I did wish you hadn't been behind the bar so I could find out for myself."

Jeongguk puts his drink on the table in front of the booth sofas, then comes and plonks himself right down next to you. Is practically on your lap. Doesn't care. Is like a fully-grown dog who doesn't realise he's not a puppy anymore.

You just let him. Personal space is null and void.

"Oh? So you went home with Jimin 'cause I turned you on?" He nods to himself. Smirks. Looks incredibly pleased with himself. "Nice."

"Shut up," you laugh, a little scandalised that he's mentioning it so carelessly.

Jeongguk's got half a dozen starfuckers in his system, and does not care for tact. In fact, if he had it his way, he'd set the world to rights. Would make that ancient wish of yours come true, now that he isn't behind the bar.

You set about neatly arranging his hair as he steals your drink from your hand to take a sip.

"You were so pretty," he quietly says. Wraps his hand around your wrist to stop you from preening. Pulls your knuckles to his lips and presses a tender kiss against them. It comes naturally, being like this. "Still are. But that first night... Fuck. Spent my whole shift watching out for you. Was gutted when I got home and you were there."

It was so long ago now that it's almost hard to believe Jeongguk remembers it as clearly as he thinks he does.

"Looking for somewhere to charge your phone," he laughs softly, shaking his head, as he recounts the memories. "Just for you to end up forgetting it. What will we do with you, hey? Silly, pretty baby."

Your face scrunches up at his recollection of the details. Had you never gone home with Jimin, then perhaps you'd have never ended up here—but you kind of wish it had never happened. Wish that you'd stayed by the bar all night. That you'd have had the water Jeongguk gave you. That you'd have sobered up by the time he finished his shift, and asked if he wanted to walk you home.

The 'you' of present day is not the you that shot through the bar that night with reckless abandon for who got blinded by your shine. You wouldn't have stayed, if you'd have gone home with Jeongguk. Or wouldn't have asked him to stay. Would have fucked him and never spoken to him again.

Or maybe you wouldn't have. Who knows?

"Sorry it was all so... messy," you offer a little sheepishly.

Bad decisions were made by you both—but stars can only form when dust clouds collapse. You needed to break a little before you could become who you were meant to be.

Jeongguk shakes his head.

"Messy can be good," he promises, then adjusts you both. Pulls you across his lap. With a leg either side of his, you let your nose find its home next to his. Smile as his hands stroke up your back.

"Yeah?" You whisper against his lips.

"Mhmm," he mumbles, letting his lips sink into yours for a moment, before adding, "Got a canvas we made together that proves it."

The curve of your lips as you press into the kiss can be felt by him. Just gets him smiling, too. As his lip ring presses into your plump bottom lip, part of you wishes you were back in those damn busan photobooths. Want to see what it looks like. How you move together.

Slowly, he encourages your hips to languidly grind. Keeps the momentum slow, you both ignore the chaos of the club that echoes around you. He controls you with a hand on your waist, the other resting on your bare thigh.

The dress you're in—the one he chose—is everything he could ever want and more from an outfit on your body. It sparkles like the Han river under Banpo bridge during the evening light show, and clings to your body like droplets of water slowly sinking down an ice sculpture. Provides him with easy access, yet leaves his imagination free to go wild.

He knows your body well enough, now though. Knows the underwear you're wearing. Is impatient. Wants to push them to the side and get his hard cock buried in your tight walls.

Good things come to those who wait, though, and Jeongguk is more than willing to be a good boy for you.

Hidden in the darkness of the club, the thudding music is no match for the beat of your hearts. Lights splash you in colour every so often, but for the most part, you revel in your obscured entanglement.

His tongue slips into your mouth, and your hands tangle in his hair, deepening the kiss. You can feel how hard he is beneath you as you grind on his lap. It'd be easy, you think, to fuck him right now.

Jeongguk is right—good things do come to those who wait.

And he's been such a good boy.

You let your lips trail down to his throat. Latch on to his sweet spot just beneath his ear. Suck. Graze your teeth. Do the same to his earlobe, and feel his grip tighten. A moan vibrates in his throat.

Lips brushing against his ear, you whisper, "Phone."

Though your tone is soft, Jeongguk knows it's a command. Digs into his back pocket, keeping you firmly in place. The movement just has his thick bulge pressing even deeper against you, as his grip on your waist gets tighter.

It has you smiling; giddy with how glorious it is to have a man of such calibre so greedy for you.

It's not like it isn't reciprocal. Never before have you ever been so feral for a partner; so risky in your need to have them experiencing bliss because of you. Before Jeongguk, sex always served a purpose. Was never just sex for the sake of sex. There were deep-rooted issues and insecurities you were trying to fix.

But you're secure, now; in his grip, his hands, his heart. You don't have any ulterior motive for the things you do other than an innate need to make Jeongguk come undone. His buttons, his belts, his primal need to make you his; you'll undo them all.

Flicking open his camera, you stay in his lap as you reach across the sofa and rest the phone up against the wall that separates it from the next booth over. Tap on the little red record button. Though the lighting isn't entirely clear, enough bleeds in from the LED screens behind the DJ to clearly show the pair of you. Once his camera settings adjust to low light, you may as well have the main lights turned on.

Jeongguk raises a brow, tilting his head with sweet, puppy-like confusion.

"We're drunk," you tell him, as if either of you need any liquor to behave like animals. "Wanna make sure you remember this in the morning."

Jeongguk's hips push upwards as his hands on your waist keep you tight against his lap. "You think I ever forget fucking you?"

"Who said anything about fucking?" You tease with a smirk, biting down on your bottom lip.

He groans.

"If you blue ball me again, I'll die," he tells you. Flails a little. Leans back against the booth. Pouts. Wait for you to lean closer and deliver a pretty little kiss to make him feel better.

"We can't fuck here," you tell him with complete certainty, as if that's not exactly what you're hoping for. "Anyone could see us."

No one would be able to see you in this position, and you damn well know it, but it still feels incredibly exposed. You're a few metres from your friends and hundreds of other random club-goers. If you were to peep over the balcony railings, your hiding spot would be revealed.

"So?" Jeongguk smirks. "Everyone knows we fuck. Bet you they've imagined it. And you know how pretty you are when you cum? Everyone deserves to see that at least once in their life, B."

"We're gonna end up at an orgy one day, aren't we?" You tease him for his sheer unrelenting need to show you off.

He shakes his head. "Fuck no. Ain't no way anyone else is ever gonna touch you."

"No?"

"No," he tells you, stroking his hand up your chest and tightening his grip around the base of your throat. "You only cum for me."

It's a statement just as much as it is a command.

The thoughts are in Jeongguk's head now, though. You, and those cosmic calamities you call your eyes, and how they'd stare him out as someone else fucked you. The feeling gets under his skin and pollutes his heart. Pumps sulphur into his veins. Turns his blood green.

"Say it," he grits, as his hands move down to cup your chest. "Tell me who you cum for."

Yanking down the material of the top of your dress, Jeongguk wastes no time. Repeats a similar action with the cups of your bra. Gets your chest exposed.

If either of you were to look at his phone screen, you'd find your silhouettes look like fuckin' sin—but all you can focus on is him.

His lips latch around one of your nipples, harshly sucking your tit into his mouth. His hand massages at the other, pinching and rolling your nipple between his thumb and finger. Head tipping back, you continue grinding against him. Don't give him an answer 'cause it feels too good to focus on anything else but the sensation of him.

You indulge in the sheer volume of the club speakers. Moan without reservation. Gasp as he pulls away and delivers a sharp spank to your tit, before latching onto your other nipple.

The way your hips grind even deeper against him is testament to how badly you want him; the wetness seeping through your underwear and onto his trousers.

He grazes his teeth against your nipple. Makes you shudder. Licks. Kisses. Sucks again, then pulls away with an oh-so-satisfying pop. Holding your chest with his hands, Jeongguk is stern as he repeats: "Tell me who you cum for."

You could do it. Could say him. Could do as he asks.

Thing is, you don't think he really wants that.

You think he wants to be mean.

And you know you want him to be mean.

With a small shrug, you widen your eyes. Feign innocence. Like butter wouldn't melt, you suppose, "Anyone who touches me right."

He scoffs.

There's a look in Jeongguk's eyes that promises you that he'll get you leant against that damn balcony while he fucks you just to prove a point—not only to you, but to any fucker who thinks they could ever make you feel the way he does.

"Word?" He grits.

"Chess," you say without hesitation.

It's the green light he needs, but still he tells you, "Gonna be mean."

As much as he enjoys playing the roles of a person he's not when he fucks you, he also never wants you to ever take it to heart. Loves you so purely that he'll always do what he can to keep you comfortable.

It's cute.

Also entirely irrelevant right now, 'cause you want him to be mean.

"You're gonna try ," you tease.

Jeongguk scoffs, again. Likes how bratty you can be. Smirks. Knocks his head to the side. Shakes it. Grips your tits a little harder, then spanks one of them and is pleased with how your body jolts.

A wanton moan escapes your lips. Eyes on his, you're Jeongguk's to devour.

"You think anyone else could get you like this, huh?" He grits, dropping a hand to your spread legs. Sinks his hand between his crotch and yours. Is greeted with evidence of your arousal. Strokes his fingers against you. Gathers some of your slick on his fingers, and is ever so pleased when your lips part for him without a word. Sinking his fingers into your wet, wanting mouth, Jeongguk smirks. "Needy little slut."

The vibration of your moan around his fingers just confirms everything Jeongguk already knows.

He laughs. Is arrogant. Cocksure. Obscenely hot. Your brows furrow as he pulls his fingers from your mouth, before he grips the base of your throat again.

"If you aren't gonna use that mouth to give me serious answers, you're gonna use it for something else instead, aren't you?"

Oh, you're eager . Don't need telling twice. Are off his lap and sinking between his legs without even so much as a guided instruction.

"That's it," he husks as you quickly undo his belt. His trousers, too. Tug them down his thighs. Get his Calvins on show, and his furiously hard cock tenting in them. Your lips press kisses against the fabric, tongue wetting his shaft through the cotton. "Stop fuckin' teasing, baby. Suck it."

If there's one thing you know about Jeongguk, it's that he gets whiny when he doesn't get his own way. On your knees, eyes flicking up to his lust-laced features, you're not gonna be a good girl for him just 'cause he wants you to be. You're gonna hold out. Gonna get him whiny. Gonna—

"You know how many girls down there want this cock, huh? How many waste their time at the bar vying for my attention?" Jeongguk arrogantly smirks. Watches the change in your expression. The hardening of your eyes. The power relinquishing from you to him. The sulphur that's transferred. The club lights paint you in green. He licks his lips. Says, "If I want my cock sucked, I can get it sucked. Give me a reason not to."

Back in the early days, you and Jeongguk had been through his message requests together. He'd downplayed it, but you know it's true. Girls practically drool on the Dionysus bar for him.

If he wanted to, he could.

But he wants you.

Only ever wants you.

You're feeling challenged, though. Are petty. Shrug, "You know how many people hit on me by that very bar?"

He does. Has seen it himself. And has also seen how quickly you dismiss it. Never feels threatened.

Your hands work in tandem, one of them pushing up the bottom of his shirt to reveal his toned abs, the other tugging down on his boxers, revealing his cock.

There's something celestial about having Jeongguk like this. Hard and weak at the exact same time. The tip of his cock has the sheen of precum spilling from his slit, and you don't think you've ever seen him this hard. He's needy. Pathetic. Gorgeous.

Your tongue licks a stripe up his shaft, and Jeongguk's eyes close. His hand finds a home in your hair as his gaze lands on you again.

"I could do this for them," you assure him. Though the music is loud, Jeongguk reads your lips. Twitches as your tongue flicks against his slit. Lips pressing a kiss to his tip, you jerk him a little just to remind him of who is in the position of power right now. "Could fuck anyone I want."

Jeongguk smiles at this. Finds it funny. Cute, even.

"You could," he acknowledges. Tightens his grip on your hair. Gets you back in position, your lips wrapping around his cock as he begins to encourage a momentum. "But I'm still the only one who'll make you cum, aren't I? Could slut yourself out, but it's still me you'll be thinking about. Me you'll be wishing you were with. Me who you'll crawl back to 'cause no one else satisfies you."

With every sentence, he fucks his cock deeper into your mouth. Is practically hitting the back of your throat. Getting your eyes all watery—and he knows your pussy is even wetter.

He lets you do the hard work, but makes sure he pushes your head to the right rhythm. Keeps your movements shallow, focused on his tip, now. Is after one thing and one thing only.

Which is why when he starts moaning in a way that you know means he's close, you pull away.

"Fuck," he hisses, almost keeling over in his seat. The look he gives you is one of sheer disbelief.

"What?" You smile as if butter wouldn't melt. Pretend like you didn't realise he was about to spill over. "You wanna cum, or something?"

"You know I—"

"Go get one of your other girls, then."

Dragging you up onto his lap, Jeongguk laughs, clutches the sides of your face with his hands. Nudges his nose against yours. Doesn't care to keep up the pretence anymore, 'cause he's sensing a nerve was struck.

Even if you are just being petulant for the sake of it, he doesn't ever want you to feel like it's a viable option. Says, "You know I don't want anyone else. Stupid."

"S'not what you said," you childishly pout against his lips. You know damn well he didn't mean it. Honestly, hearing him speak with such arrogance was a turn on; the acknowledgement that even though he's desired, you know he's chosen you. "You said—"

"Hey—you said you could fuck anyone down there," he reminds you. Presses a feathery kiss against the tip of your nose. "And you could. I don't want you to, though."

"No?"

"No, Byeol," Jeongguk whispers against your lips now. Lets his hand sink to your underwear. Pushes them to the side. Lines you up against his shaft. Encourages you to rock ever so gently, coating him in everything you are. "Want you forever, B. Just you and me. You want that, hmm? This, forever?"

Jeon Jeongguk has this way of making you feel powerful and pathetic all within the same moment. You want him so badly it hurts. And so you nod. Raise your hips. Line the tip of his cock up with your entrance. Remind him, "No one else makes you feel like I do. They never will."

It's funny, 'cause that's exactly what Jeongguk was wanting to hear from you earlier. If he really wanted, he could be a dick—but you're the one being needy now, and he likes it so much. Adores it, even. You're so cute , he thinks. So he shakes his head. "No one, baby. Just you."

"You're mine," you tell him, then sink down onto his length. Both of you gasp from the sensation. You've been waiting for this; desperate for it. Foreplay is fun, but all Jeongguk ever wants these days is to utterly and completely lose himself in you. This, to him, is Nirvana.

He nods. Lets his eyes close as your walls adjust to his size. He's so big that it should be painful, but there's something about fucking Jeongguk that just works. The fit is snug, but it's perfect. "Yeah, baby. Yours."

Your hips grind ever so gently, the feeling of fullness he gives you hitting just right. Clit rubbing against his neatly trimmed patch of hair above the base of his cock, you're overwhelmed with just how good it feels to give yourself up for him.

As the sensation settles in, he encourages your movements. Gets you bouncing, his hands on your ass to keep control. Presses wet kisses to the base of your throat. Promises, "You're gonna make me cum so hard."

A man of traditions, Jeongguk takes 'ladies first' incredibly seriously. Knows he's been edged so well this evening that he won't last long at all. Needs to make sure you get there before him.

He sits you up straight. Stops your movements. Has you warming his cock as he just kind of stares at you for a moment. Everything else is drowned out around you both; the music, the lights, the fact this is Jeongguk's place of work, the way his phone is still recording you both.

With a hand on your waist, he holds your cheek with the other. Smiles as your eyes close, head sinking into his touch. Is so in love with you it feels like his heart might just explode.

"My pretty girl," he grins, biting down on his bottom lip. Shakes his head as if he can't believe his luck.

Your chest is exposed, pretty purple posies blooming on your skin from his lips. There's a sheen of glitter all over your body, and Jeongguk knows there must be one on his, too. It's getting harder to distinguish the pair of you as the days go by; your orbit growing smaller.

Both of his hands drop your pussy. One spreads your lips, while the other slowly rubs against your clit. Instantly, you tense a little, the pleasure pulsing through you.

"My pretty, needy girl," he corrects himself, and is incredibly pleased when you nod.

As one of your hands wraps around his wrist, you try your hardest to not start fucking him again. Want this feeling to persevere, but also innately want to coax an orgasm out of him. It's human nature. He's building you up. You wanna do the same right back.

Thick and firm inside you, Jeongguk's cock throbs from just how tightly your walls clamp around him when he begins toying with your clit. Head tipping back, the laugh that stutters in Jeongguk's chest has you whining.

"Stop being so hot," he groans. "Gonna make me cum so fuckin' fast."

Admitting this is a mistake, for it just makes you wanna interrupt his plans of making your finish first. Gets your ass bouncing on his map as Jeongguk desperately tries to hold himself back; to regain a little control. It's a fruitless endeavour. The silky warmth of your cunt is too good.

"Fuck," he grits, giving into the feeling. "B—"

His words are cut off by your lips stealing a kiss from him, that he then steals right back. Messy and without any considered thought behind them, your kisses dissolve into frantic, breathless whimpers. Jeongguk can't hold off.

Head knocking back, Jeongguk's grip on your waist tightens. He holds you down in place, his thick shaft filling you entirely. He's bottomed out; fully encased in the woman he loves. It's too fuckin much. His legs shake. Chest shudders.

And then it's happening; thick ropes of cum spurting into your cunt, filling the spaces he can't reach. He just wines. Whimpers. Curses. "Fuck. Cumming. Making me cum so fuckin' hard, babe. Fuck. Oh, fuck, this cunt. So fuckin' perfect."

His praise is met with the sweetest of giggles, which only encourage him to cum even harder . Both endless and over far too soon, Jeongguk cums so deeply inside you it feels like he's losing all the oxygen in his brain; like a trap door has been pulled beneath him and he'll never stop falling.

Lips finding yours once more, he eases his grip on your hips. Encourages slow strokes of your pussy up and down his cock just to ease the final spurts of cum out of him.

With a laugh and an incredibly heavy chest Jeongguk leans back once more. Shakes his head. Can't stop smiling. Nor can you.

When his gaze finally lands on you a moment or so later, he's still grinning as he whines, "I wanted to make you cum first."

As mad as it sounds, making Jeongguk cum is satisfying enough for you.

He would disagree. Thinks the concept of you not cumming is pure insanity. How anyone could have you like this and not strive to make you come undone is criminal. Also knows he can't stay inside you for much longer, 'cause the overstimulation might just kill him off.

Pressing a kiss to your shoulder, Jeongguk leverages his position. Lays you down, your head near his phone, his cock still inside you. Kisses the base of your throat as he reaches up for his phone. It's warm from the battery being drained, but it's still recording. He leans across and stands it up against one of your drinks on the table. Not much is in frame—but enough to capture his soaked cock glistening under the club lights as he pulls out of you.

Jeongguk is impatient. Tucks himself into his boxers and sinks down immediately. Plugs your hole with his fingers, keeping his cum inside you. Latches his lips around your clit. Sucks. Whines. Vibrates. Makes you writhe as your back arches, legs wrapping around his head.

If heaven is a place on earth, Jeongguk knows it must be between your legs.

His tongue strokes against you as his fingers curl. There's little care given to how messy it all is. If anything, it just makes him like it even more. Wants to fuck you all over again, but knows his cock isn't up for it yet, even if he is.

There's a small shudder to your body; a little warning sign that Jeongguk is edging you closer and closer to coming undone. Just a little more and you'll be there.

He withdraws his fingers, and sinks his tongue to your entrance. Gathers his cum on his tongue, then spreads it all over your needy cunt. Lays claim to you in a way that no one ever has before. Spits. Flicks his tongue so rapidly against your clit it's hard to comprehend. Gets you shaking. Shuddering.

And then he's sucking, fingers plugging you once more. Your body writhes, and he holds you in place. Sucks harder. Fingers faster. Shakes his head, still sucking on your clit. Releases your with pop and then delves back in.

You whine his name, but it's obscured by the bass pumping through the speakers. All you can do is focus on him. How he feels. How much he wants you to feel good, and how well he succeeds at it.

The pressure builds like a star about to burst—and then stardust is scattering around you both, your orgasm disrupting the very atmosphere you're orbiting in.

Sparking through you, the sensation of your orgasm almost makes you fucking cry. Your body shakes. Jeongguk doesn't relent. Goes until you're spent, legs jolting, whimpers pathetic.

Overstimulated and overwhelmed, you encourage him up. Get his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth. The taste of his cum intertwined with yours only serves to make you whine even more.

The pair of you are spent and sticky, and somehow still desperate for another.

He's the one who eases up first. Pulls back. Presses kisses all over your face. Your neck. Your chest. Your lips once more. Whispers with a smirk, "You got jealous ."

"Didn't," you pout a little.

"Did," he grins, letting his body collapse on yours, 'cause there's no way he wants to go back down to the dancefloor. Not yet. "Jealous and possessive."

"Says you," you huff a little, stroking up and down his still-clothed back with the tips of your nails. Part of you wishes you were home, in bed, clothes tangled in a pile on the floor. It's okay, though. You know it's where you'll end up.

Head on your chest, Jeongguk holds your tits just 'cause he can. Gets one of your nipples in his mouth, again just 'cause he can. Sucks. Pulls back just to say, "Oh, yeah. I was. Fucking hate the idea of you with anyone else." His lips latch around your nipple again, until he takes a second to add, "I'm literally in love with you."

You're caught between laughing and moaning when his lips wrap around your other nipple. There's no reason for him to be toying with you in the way that he is. Both of you have finished. He's just doing it 'cause he likes it.

"You're in love with my tits," you brush off his declaration.

Shaking his head, nipple still in his mouth, he looks up at you. Poutily lets your nipple slip from his lips. Assures you, "I'm an ass guy," then presses your tits together to get both of your nipples in his mouth at the same time.

"You're an ass, full stop," you laugh. "Lucky I love you."

Now this does pull his attention away from your chest.

"Yeah?" He grins, repositioning himself so that his nose can nudge against yours. On top of you, his chain pools against your chin—and then his lips are sinking into yours, pretty kisses taking the place of needless declarations. You both know exactly how you feel about one another.

"Yeah," you nod into his kisses. "So much."

By the time you finish your mindless chatter in the form of aftercare, Jeongguk's phone has a low battery warning on the screen. Neither of you even wanna think about how long that damn video must be.

You set the world to rights; finish your drinks, and cosy up together just to indulge in a little more time alone—but the night is getting away from you. Your friends will be wondering where you are.

Glancing around to make sure you haven't forgotten anything, Jeongguk's face bunches up when he clocks the security camera he'd forgotten about in the corner of the booth. Nods, to drag your attention to it.

"Yeonjun's gonna have a field day with that one," you grimace.

"I'll delete it before he can," Jeongguk promises you.

Far more sober than you both were earlier, Jeongguk deposits you off with your friends when you get back down to the dancefloor. Ignores their questioning of where you've both been. Gives you a quick kiss before he goes to the bar.

Yeonjun's brows seem to be perpetually raised—but it's just 'cause his eyes caught the glimmer of the booth door being opened half an hour ago, and knows damn well exactly where Jeongguk has been.

The fact that Jeongguk's hair is pointing in all different directions only confirms exactly what Yeonjun thinks he must have been doing.

"Need to go into the office," Jeongguk tells Yeonjun, but is met with the shake of his head.

"No need," Yeonjun deadpans. Leans a little bit closer. Assures him, "Cameras are off. Your secrets are safe, boss."

Jeongguk wants to die. Not for the fun reasons he normally does, but for the sheer embarrassment of his junior almost reprimanding him.

He also doesn't trust the cerulean-haired fucker as far as he can throw him.

"I'm still gonna check."

"Fine. But you'll owe me 20,000."

"Huh?"

"It's a bet," Yeonjun says. "I bet you 20,000 that they're off."

If Jeongguk wasn't already convinced, he is now. Yeonjun hates losing these dumb bets.

Still, Jeongguk agrees.

Not even two minutes later, he's walking back by the bar, chewing on minty gum that's kept in the office for far more innocent purposes than this, dropping two 10,000 won notes down for Yeonjun.

"You're welcome!" Yeonjun shouts after Jeongguk with a smug grin. Shakes his head. Puts on the thick accent of an old man and mutters to himself, "Kids these days. Randy bastards. No decorum. No class. Just hormones and bad decisions."

But as Jeongguk is drawn to you in the crowd, like a stargazer is drawn to Polaris, he knows that for all the bad decisions he's ever made, there is one universal truth: No decision has ever been better than making you starfuckers on that very first night.

Arm looping over your shoulders, he presses a kiss to the side of your head. Steals Jimin's drink from him. Gags when he realises it's neat tequila. Offers it to you regardless. Apologises when you also gag.

The night is lost to Dionysus. Just like its namesake, the club is a cesspit of sin and debauchery, but it's impossible not to love the way it feels.

You don't leave until the final song of the night.

"My place or yours?" Jeongguk asks as you meander down the street together, a little behind the rest of your friends. With convenience store snacks in your hands, Jeongguk's phone dead in his back pocket and your clutch bag in his hands, the pair of you are the poster children of a reckless youth maturing into something far better.

Gone are the days of seeking out new strangers, or living for the weekends.

This is it, you think. An endless back and forth of his place, or yours, until one day it'll become obsolete.

So you indulge in what little you have left of the early days. "Yours."

"You know Jimin'll wanna watch The Notebook in the morning, right?" He reminds you with a smile. Is at such ease with his life. Isn't sure what he did to deserve it all.

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

Choosing to walk the half an hour distance it takes to get back to Jeongguk's place, instead of opting for a taxi like the others to their respective homes, you and Jeongguk revel in the early hours of the morning. Talk nonsense. Talk business. Talk nonsense about business.

Time wasted with him is really not wasted at all. Even if the sun is coming up by the time you're entering his building, nodding at the doorman, neither of you are tired of one another. It's hard to imagine a reality where that would ever be true.

When you reach his apartment door, both of you stop in your tracks. It's still on the latch. Ajar. He glances over to you, brows furrowed. Steps in front of you, tucking you in behind him.

Says, "Keep quiet."

Slowly edging the door open, the entryway is a mess. Where a neat pile of shoes typically sits, clothes are strewn. It confuses him for a second—until he hears something that makes him dry heave.

He pushes the door fully open, and is met by Jimin cosplaying as his best Jeongguk impression, eyes wide, like a deer in headlights. His hands are over his crotch, naked and bare for all to see. Behind him, a half-naked girl darts to his room.

Both you and Jeongguk look at Jimin with equal parts shock and horror.

"At least close the bloody door!" Jeongguk almost shrieks.

"I thought you were going to DB's!"

"Well apparently not—wait," Jeongguk looks around the room. Recognises the clothes. So do you. Knows exactly who was wearing them earlier that evening. Gasps. Whisper-shouts, "Is that—"

"Shut up!" Jimin whisper-hisses back, and retreats backwards, hands still covering his modesty as if neither you nor Jeongguk have ever seen it before. "You didn't see shit!"

He escapes into his room, and you do hear his lock go, just to be safe.

Both you and Jeongguk look at each other in a state of shock. It's only broken when you say, "Well I guess he won't be watching The Notebook tomorrow."

But Jeongguk shakes his head. Nods towards the deep navy dress that's crumpled on the floor beside Jimin's shirt. The same dress Nabi had been in earlier that evening. Says, "It's her favourite film. She's the reason he watches it."

And on the counter, rests a flyer from the gallery event. It's folded into the shape of a butterfly.

Looks like the ones Jeongguk always attributed to Hayun.

It's only now that he realises he'd been wrong this whole time.

Just like Jimin watched The Notebook 'cause the girl he could never seem to get over loved it, Hayun made paper butterflies, 'cause her best friend taught her how to make them. Said it'd be a good little party trick to make boys fall in love with her.

And it had been—but it had also just been an entirely fabricated part of her personality. The irony of it all isn't lost on Jeongguk. All he can do is laugh. It confirms everything he already knew: he never understood love until you came along.

"What is it with us and walking in our housemates shagging?" You laugh as you kick off your shoes, unaware of Jeongguk's realisation. Sure he'd told you about Hayun's butterflies before you made your first birds, but it was so long ago that it's a distant memory, now.

"No idea," Jeongguk grins as he follows suit. Holds your hand as you head towards his bathroom. Forgets to grab his towels, but doesn't care even when he remembers. Will risk the naked dash across his apartment later. All he wants is to be with you right now. "We're not far off, though. Yoongi practically caught us at it earlier."

You hum as Jeongguk starts the shower, checking yourself over in the mirror as you discard your dress. The hickies bestowed upon you are ridiculous. The teasing from your friends will be relentless.

"Maybe we should stop being so reckless," you suppose with a glint in your eyes that Jeongguk catches as he turns to study you in the mirror. Slipping your dress off, you keep your eyes on him.

"Where's the fun in that?" He grins, coming to stand behind you. Dipping his lips to the base of your neck, his hands hold your hips. His kisses are gentle. Sleepy.

"So you want to get caught?"

"Never said that," he mumbles. "But I do want everyone to know you're mine, so if that's what it takes..."

"A ring would do the job just fine," you tell him without much thought. "Far less embarrassing, too."

Jeongguk rests his pointy chin on your shoulder. Looks at you in the mirror. "A ring?"

It's only now that you realise the gravity of what you've said. You're tired and your brain isn't really functioning right and oh god—you've barely even been dating for five minutes. It's too soon for any of that.

"Well I've already got a necklace," you try and downplay it, reaching up to touch the silver bird that sits between your collarbones. "Earrings work, too."

Jeongguk smirks. Stands. Rids himself of clothes, and walks to the shower. Tests the temperature of the water. Nonchalantly says, "Always thought you hated the idea of marriage."

"It's archaic," you casually reply, unclasping your bra, and letting it drop to the floor. Jeongguk's eyes are all over you. There's nothing about you he doesn't adore—your need to bicker with him included. "The tax benefits are nice, though."

He nods as you discard your underwear. Says, "I'd make you sign a prenup. Wouldn't want you stealing all my sculptures in the divorce."

" Action figures ," you correct him, joining him in the shower. He doesn't get a chance to argue back, for you're on your tippy toes and pressing a kiss against his lips to remedy the insult you know he's about to feign. "And you're already planning the divorce? That's not very promising. May as well not get married."

He shrugs. "Just making sure I have my ducks in a row before I commit to anything."

"Virgo," you accusingly tease, narrowing your eyes with a terribly hidden smile.

"What was it you said about Virgos?" He teases right back. "That we're written in the stars?"

You can bicker and you can argue all you like—but when Jeongguk has you in his sheets a little while later, curled up against his chest, softly settling into sleep like stardust into the atmosphere, he knows it must be true.

"Sweet dreams, B," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You mumble a response, half asleep already. Let him do as he pleases as he pulls your hand up to his lips. Barely register it when a tender kiss is pressed to your empty ring finger.

"Obsessed," you murmur against his chest—but also delicately press a kiss right where you know his heart is.

He just nods. Yawns. "Obsessed."

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