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joongtreasure · 6 months

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Cupcakes and Kisses

Mingi x Fem Reader (ft. ATEEZ members) Word count: 6.6k Genre: high school au, jock Mingi, kissing booth au Note/s: Based on the film Kissing Booth (2018). This was in my drafts since 2021? + Mention of Changbin of Stray Kids <3 hehe Photo credits: 1, 2, 3

High school—it's the period for the most embarrassing moments of your life. Not only was it the time for raging hormones and puberty, but also a time for wrong decisions.

And today was no exception.

Today was the last day of the pitch for the spring carnival at KQ Prep. The student council required every club in the school to set up a booth for the event. Or else, no extra funding for club activities.

You were the vice president of the culinary and baking club, or as others would like to call it, the foodies. It's not that bad or insulting, to be honest (depending on you if you take it to heart). It is certainly not for your best friend, Jung Wooyoung, who was also the president of the club.

You and Wooyoung were like a tandem, a buy-one-get-one-free deal. In many ways, you and Wooyoung fill each other up: you were the shy and patient one, while Wooyoung was the confident and loud one. There was never a boring moment with him, but that doesn't mean all moments with him were good. Like right now...

Wooyoung, with a firm grip on your school blazer sleeve, dragged you across the hallway, whining, "It's a good idea!"

You, on the other hand, tried to pull away, saying, "No, it's not!"

Wooyoung grumbled. "The water sports are doing a toss and dunk booth! We have to beat their sorry asses!"

"You just want to beat Changbin!" You tried to pull away again but Wooyoung's grip was so firm that your school shoes were starting to skid against the school floor. "How is a kissing booth by us any better?!"

"It will be a hit!"

"It spreads germs!"

"We'll provide sanitation and mints!"

"We could be sued for public indecency!"

Wooyoung sighed and let go of your hand. "Oh, come on, live a little, Y/N."

You shrugged. "Can't we just make a bunch of food for the carnival? I know everyone will be hungry."

Wooyoung gave you a pointed look. "Everyone is going to sell food and trinkets at the carnival."

"Well," you jutted your chin out in confidence, "we could do, uh, well, an apple bobbing competition?"

Wooyoung scowled at you. "That's boring." He sighed. "Look, the majority of the officers already agreed to the kissing booth, Y/N. Except you."

"That's because you implied that San will be in the lineup of kissers," you stated. "Even though you haven't even asked him yet."

"That's because he and I think alike. Trust me, he would agree."

You pouted. "And trust me, the food will sell."

Wooyoung smiled and patted your head. "Oh, sure, you do that," he said before turning around and scurrying towards the student council's office.

You sighed.

-----

You slumped on the empty front steps of the school, sporting a frown on your face. Wooyoung was taking so long in the meeting. You hoped the kissing booth was rejected by the student council.

The doors of the school opened, the sound of the creaking metal startling you out of your thoughts. You looked back to see Song Mingi, the star of KQ Prep's basketball team, exiting the building and looking fresh out of a shower. He probably just finished practice.

You looked away before he could catch you staring. Mingi was one of those guys who looked straight out of a movie—tall, handsome, athletic, always wears a varsity jacket, drives a Jeep, and center of the school's attention. But it would be foolish to think that he's arrogant and proud like the trope. He's one of the sweetest and nicest people you ever met.

You had a few classes with him. You could say that the interaction between the two of you is funny. He could be playful yet gentle and respectful at the same time. And in time, you also found yourself liking him like the entire student body.

Unbeknownst to you, as soon as Mingi saw you alone on the steps, he smiled and slightly hurried down. "Hey, Y/N," Mingi greeted, plopping beside you on the warm pavement.

You internally freaked when you saw Mingi next to you. The loose shirt, the sweet scent of his shampoo, and the dopey grin were too much for your poor heart.

"You had a club meeting today?" Mingi asked.

"Not really," you responded. "I'm waiting for Wooyoung to finish his pitch for the spring carnival."

Mingi nodded. "And what will your club be doing?"

You groaned. "Don't remind me. It's embarrassing."

Mingi chuckled. "Why? It can't be that bad."

You sighed before muttering, "it's a kissing booth."

Mingi's eyes widened in surprise. "That's... interesting."

"It's all Wooyoung's idea," you shrugged. "Nothing better than to capitalize on teen hormones, right?"

"Right," Mingi said monotonously.

Seeing his somewhat dry response, you slumped. "I told you it was an embarrassing idea."

"No, I mean, yes—I mean," Mingi stuttered a response. "It was just unexpected, that's all." Mingi somewhat looked conflicted, but he still smiled softly at you. "Is it alright for me to ask if," he paused.

"If what?"

"If you—I mean, would you be joining?" Mingi asked.

You blinked in thought. "What do you mean?"

Mingi studied your confused expression before shaking his head. "Nevermind," he said, standing up.

You groaned. "Great, now you got me curious."

"It's nothing." Mingi laughed. "But, hey, if teen hormones bring you the money, then, why not?" He said, making you laugh as well. "Got a ride home?"

"Yeah," you smiled, "I'm riding with Wooyoung."

Mingi nodded. "Alright, I'll see you around then, Y/N."

You blushed. "Yeah, see you," you said as Mingi continued his way down the steps.

"Hey," he turned to you one last time, flashing you his oh-so-perfect smile. "You look cute as always, Y/N," he said before heading towards the parking lot. You swore you could've melted right on the front steps that day.

-----

It was no surprise the council approved the kissing booth idea. You totally blame Wooyoung. The boy could probably smooth talk himself out of jail if the situation calls for it.

Your club already started building the podium and mini stage for the booth in the school courtyard because there wasn't room in the Home Economics classroom. The weather was too perfect to ignore by anyone who had free period at the time.

"I'm going to get more paint," Wooyoung said to you before jogging towards the doors and into the building.

You were left alone with a few of your members, who were engaged in a hushed conversation while you minded your own business.

You took a peak at the guys playing at the basketball court. It's no surprise that Mingi and his friends were playing. They always do during free period. They must really love the sport.

It is also no surprise that they have a few spectators as well. It's the only time you would ever find Mingi and his friends setting their blazers aside, donning only their school shirts that accentuated their build so heavenly. Not that you were staring…

Speaking of, Yunho and Mingi laughed among themselves as Yunho tried to shoot the ball. Mingi effectively blocked him with his hand, however the ball bounced out of the court. It bounced until it was rolling over the pavement and stopped right where you were painting. You were able to grab the ball before it could barrel into the newly painted podium.

Seeing where the ball ended, Mingi ran towards you. "Hey," he greeted as he picked up the ball and crouched down next to you, "it's looking great. What's it for?" He asked, referring to the podium.

"It's for this week's carnival," you answered with a sigh.

"Right," Mingi chuckled awkwardly. "Umm," he paused, "so what will you be doing while," he drifted off, evidently conflicted as he pondered over his words carefully.

You looked at him funny. "While...?"

"While, you know," Mingi shrugged, "while people are kissing."

"I'll just man the booth," you said nonchalantly. "I'll leave it to Wooyoung and the others to facilitate the germ spreading."

Mingi laughed, looking somewhat happy and relieved at the same time. "Still haven't warmed up to the idea, I see."

"Never."

Mingi grinned. His face morphed into embarrassment as Yunho called for him from a few meters away. "Are we going to play, or are you too busy mingling, Mingi?"

Mingi rolled his eyes before smiling at you. "I gotta go. I'll see you around, Y/N."

You waved at him as he stood up and went back to his friends. You chuckled at the sight of Yunho giving Mingi a headlock and basically hauling him back to court. The boys laughed between themselves before returning to their game with their other friends.

You were feeling blissful, like how you always felt whenever you and Mingi talked to each other. You truly liked the guy. However, the blissful feeling was short-lived as a wild Wooyoung plopped down next to you. "What was that?!" He asked.

You blinked curiously at him. "What was what?" You looked at the spot you were previously painting. "I'm almost done. I didn't miss a spot as far as I could tell."

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. "I wasn't referring to the podium. I was referring to you and Mingi!" He exclaimed.

You looked at him funny. "It was just a friendly conversation."

"Friendly?" Wooyoung sighed exasperatedly. "Oh no no no, honey, you didn't see what I see. The guy is into you!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Wooyoung," you shook your head. "We have always talked like that. He's just super nice—"

"Na-ah! Again, you didn't see what I see," Wooyoung replied. All of a sudden, Wooyoung's face broke into excitement. He started slapping your arm, making you groan not in pain but in annoyance. "I just thought of the most brilliant idea EVER."

You frowned, not liking where this was going. "What?"

-----

"This is worse than you pitching the kissing booth idea to the council."

"Oh, come on," Wooyoung said as he kept pushing you towards the gym where the basketball team was training. "I will be of service to you forever if you manage to get him."

It was already past class hours when Wooyoung dragged you into putting his idea into action. He said you guys should have a meeting about the spring carnival after class. But alas, he deceived you again. That sly fox, you thought.

Wooyoung faced you towards him. "Alright, your uniform is clean, no evidence of your lunch anywhere," you rolled your eyes as Wooyoung checked you up and down. Wooyoung scrutinized your face before smiling triumphantly. "No booger or drool in sight too," he said.

"You—!" You exclaimed, but Wooyoung turned you around again and shoved you closer toward the gym doors. Sighing, you walked toward it, and right when you were directly in front of the entrance, you looked back at him. "How is this the most brilliant idea you ever had, again?"

Wooyoung shrugged. "The plan here is simple: talk to Mingi and his friends into joining our lineup of kissers so we can get more people to come to our booth."

"I don't want to use him, Woo."

"The man's too soft for you," Wooyoung smiled. "He will do whatever you want, I guarantee."

You gave him the most innocent look you could ever muster in an attempt to change his mind. But Wooyoung just shooed you with his hand and raised his eyebrows pointedly. With a defeated sigh, you opened the doors and entered.

The basketball team was in the midst of a practice game. You immediately spotted Mingi, running while dribbling the ball across the court. When he managed to outrun his opponent, he immediately made his shot, the ball flying through the air and into the hoop. You stared at him, awed as he was in his element.

A bunch of squeals echoed in the gym. There was an audience watching with excited grins and squeals near the team's benches. It was an open practice after all. Sighing, you sat awkwardly at the side.

The coach blew his whistle, signaling that training was over. The players rejoiced and immediately jogged to their bags scattered on the benches. There were a few girls who called for Mingi, but he only smiled sheepishly and went to his gym bag.

"Hey, Mingi," Yeosang, his friend and teammate, spoke between his breaths. "Isn't that your friend?"

Mingi looked at wherever Yeosang was pointing. And true enough, you were there at the edge of the bleachers, awkwardly twiddling with your fingers.

"Yeah," Mingi said, dumbfounded at the thought of you watching their training.

"I think she's looking for you," Yunho, Mingi's best friend, said. He shook his head in amusement, eyeing Yeosang knowingly as Mingi started wiping his sweat and combing his hair deliberately to the back. Mingi hastily gathered his things before approaching you.

"Hey," he greeted with a smile.

You stood up awkwardly. There was something about a wet-haired Mingi in a basketball jersey that had you tongue-tied for a moment. "Uhh, hi, umm, Mingi."

"Were you waiting for me?"

"Umm, yeah, can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure, have a seat," Mingi said as he sat a bleacher apart from you, not wanting you to smell his sweaty state. "What's up?"

"Well, our club is hosting a kissing booth for the spring carnival," you slightly frowned at your awkward self. "Umm, but I think you already knew that."

Mingi chuckled and nodded amusingly. "Yeah, you might have mentioned it once or twice," he joked.

You let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I did, didn't I? But, well, you see, Wooyoung asked me to ask you about something."

Mingi nodded again, urging you to go on.

You sighed nervously. "Can you," you cleared your throat, "can you be—wait, I must emphasize that it was Wooyoung's idea."

"It was Wooyoung's idea," Mingi repeated. "Got it. Crystal clear. Now, what's up with Wooyoung's idea?"

You sighed defeatedly. Well, here goes nothing, you thought. "Can you be one of the kissers for our kissing booth?"

Mingi's eyes turned wide. "What?"

Your lips formed a thin line. "Umm, can you be one of the kissers for our kissing booth?" You repeated, less confident this time.

Mingi blinked unbelievably. "Why me?"

You sighed. "Well, Wooyoung was hoping your friends too. He said that having the players of the basketball team would bring revenue to the booth."

"Oh."

You frowned. "I'm sorry, I told Wooyoung you might be uncomfortable with it, but he insisted that I should still ask you."

"Why would I be uncomfortable with it?"

"I don't know," you shrugged. You were busy playing with the ends of your school blazer as the conversation pursued. "I guess, I didn't pin you to be the type to openly kiss strangers, or show public displays of affection."

"Maybe," Mingi side-smiled, "maybe not. Or, maybe it depends on the person."

"Oh," you muttered, "sorry. I didn't know."

Mingi then leaned on his knees, getting a better view of your slightly flustered face. "Do you want me to be a kisser?"

"What?" You stared at him blankly. "Well, Wooyoung said—"

"I mean, do YOU want me to be a kisser?" Mingi emphasized, "You as in Y/N L/N, and not Jung Wooyoung?"

You didn't reply immediately, pondering over what his question meant. "Why are you asking me?"

"I don't know," Mingi said. "I feel like I should listen to you."

Why, though? This conversation was going nowhere and it was making you more nervous than before. Not to mention Mingi's inquisitive gaze that had you looking anywhere but him.

Do you actually want him to, though? I mean, the kissing booth opens so many opportunities, but you were uncomfortable with the thought of him... the thought of him kissing...

"No," you said.

Mingi smiled, nodding at your answer, which confused you. "Then I won't," he sat properly again against the bleacher, letting his intense gaze turn into a soft one. "I won't join then."

"What? Why?" You were dumbfounded.

"Just tell Wooyoung I'm busy or something," he said. "But I will try to talk to my friends, though. Emphasis on the word 'try.'"

"W-Would you have joined if I said yes?" You probed, but Mingi already stood up as if the conversation was already over, smirking at your confused look.

"Do you have a ride home?" He asked.

"Umm, yeah, Wooyoung's right outside," you answered.

"Well, then, I'll see you around." Mingi smiled at you for the last time before exiting the gym.

You sat back on the bleachers. Though your stance was already relaxed due to the conversation being over, your mind still couldn't wrap around what just happened in the conversation. Would he have agreed if I said yes?

The doors of the gym creaked as someone entered. It was Mingi again. He approached you with a different glint in his eye this time. What now?

"Hey," Mingi greeted. "Could you hold this for a moment?" Before you could ask, he put the object he was referring to in your hand. It was a set of keys—car keys, in particular. "Don't lose it, okay? I'll be quick, I swear." And just like that, he left again.

You stared at the keys in your palm. You really like Mingi, but he was seriously giving you a whiplash at the moment.

Your phone buzzed in your blazer pocket, indicating that you received a text message. You pulled it out to see a text from Wooyoung.

There's an emergency at home. Had to pick up Kyungmin from our grandma's house. Go get your man!

-----

You walked back and forth in the hallway, in front of the boy's locker room. You didn't know why Mingi left these keys with you, but you figured you had to return them to him before you leave for the bus stop. You couldn't just leave it somewhere and message him about it. Someone could steal it. Or worse, someone could steal his car.

Just in time, Mingi exited the locker room, fresh out of the shower and now sporting a big hoodie and sweats. "Hey," Mingi smiled.

"Hey, you gave these to me for some reason," you jiggled the car keys before placing them on his palm.

"Right," Mingi chuckled. "Shall we?"

You stared at him. "Shall we what?"

"Wooyoung already left, didn't he?"

"How did you know?"

Mingi chuckled. "The hallway was empty when I left," he shrugged, putting his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, "I figured he went somewhere."

"Ah, yeah, he said he had an emergency at home," you responded, following Mingi outside the school.

Truth be told, Mingi met Wooyoung in the hallway.

---

Mingi smiled as he saw Wooyoung in the hallway. "Hey," he greeted. "Sorry, I don't think I can join. I think I have to visit my grandma that day."

Wooyoung slumped. "Oh, okay. Where's Y/N?"

"She'll be right out, I guess," Mingi replied. "See ya—"

"You like her, don't you?" Wooyoung asked.

"Uhh," Mingi blushed. "I-well, I, umm—"

"Yup, you like her," Wooyoung smirked. "Why won't you ask her out then?"

Mingi sighed. "I don't think she's interested in me in that way."

Wooyoung scoffed. "Believe me, she does." He started walking away. "I'll be taking my leave. Hope you get the guts to ask her out."

Mingi sighed again when suddenly he remembered, "Hey, aren't you her ride home?"

Wooyoung turned around and started walking backward with a smirk. "Am I?" He waggled his eyebrows before disappearing in the hallway.

Mingi grinned and shook his head in amusement before rushing back inside the gym to leave you his car keys.

-----

Mingi glanced momentarily at you with a smile. He would have to apologize in the future for using your kindness like that. But he hoped that doing this would drive him to ask you confidently out on a date.

Mingi opened the school doors wide enough for the both of you and waited until you were completely outside before closing it.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride," Mingi offered.

"Oh, no thank you," you hastily refused, "I'll take the bus."

Mingi shook his head. "I'm not taking no for an answer. We live a few blocks away, anyway, so it's really convenient."

"But I don't want to impose," you sighed.

"You're not, Y/N," Mingi said. "And you won't. Like ever."

You sighed again. "But—"

Mingi shook his head then snatched your school bag. "If you ever want to see this bag again, you're going to have to catch me," and with that, Mingi ran towards the parking lot.

"Hey, no fair!" You followed him, pouting as the distance between the two of you widened. Damn his athletic build.

You chased after him, groaning in annoyance when Mingi reached his car and wiggled your bag as if to spite you. But you both found yourselves laughing as soon as you almost barreled into him and he caught you before you both could barrel into his jeep.

"Come on, Y/N, it's really not a bother," Mingi said, opening the passenger door.

You sighed. "Fine," you huffed as you grabbed your bag and settled in his passenger seat. "Just this once," you told him.

"Oh, don't count on it," Mingi said, winking at you before closing your door. You swore he would be the death of you.

As Mingi drove his jeep out of the school lot, you both fell into a casual conversation. "So why don't you want me to be a kisser?" Mingu asked.

You narrowed your eyes at his teasing expression. "Oh, stop smiling. I don't want anyone to be part of that"

"I guess, you didn't have much say on the idea?"

You slumped against the car seat with a soft 'yeah.'

Mingi looked at you momentarily before focusing on the road. "What was your idea?"

"Nothing special." You smiled. "I was thinking of just baking cupcakes or pastries."

"I think that's a great idea."

"Yeah, right," you muttered sarcastically.

"No, I swear. I think your baking's great," Mingi stressed.

"How would you know?"

"Because I bought and ate a lot from last year's fundraiser." Mingi smiled and chuckled, almost as if he could smell and taste your fresh batch just by thinking about it. "Especially those cupcakes. I swear, they're good."

"Huh, no wonder the cupcakes sold out easily," you chuckled. "We had an influencer."

"Or," Mingi drawled, "your baking is just that good." He smiled, switching his gaze back and forth between the road and you.

"Said no one ever," you shot back teasingly.

"I just said like seconds ago that they're good." Mingi shook his head in disbelief. "You don't take compliments very well."

"Maybe because I don't usually get them," you retorted.

"Ahh, all the reason for me to compliment you more then."

You looked at him before turning away upon seeing his smirk. "Oh, stop it," you said jokingly, but your heart felt like it was ramming against the seatbelt of his car.

The car slowed down to a stop just right in front of your house. You were about to thank him when Mingi suddenly exited the car. He rushed to your side before opening the car door.

"Thanks for the ride," you said. "You didn't have to do that."

"I don't mind," he replied, following you to the front door.

"And you didn't have to walk me to the door." You chuckled. "It's literally like a few steps away from the fence."

"But I want to, though." Mingi shrugged and put his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie.

You both arrived at the front door. You were too busy finding your keys to notice that he was lingering to stay with you longer. As you opened your front door, you finally noticed his awkward stature. "D-Do you want to have dinner with us?"

"Oh," Mingi snapped out of it. "Uhh, maybe next time. My mom's waiting for me at home."

You nodded in understanding.

"Y/N," Mingi sighed. "Do you want to...?"

"What?"

"I mean, umm," Mingi scratched his head awkwardly. "Do you—do you have any of those cupcakes lying around?"

"Oh, could you wait here for a minute?" You smiled before disappearing into your home.

Mingi palmed his face in frustration, muttering 'stupid' and 'dumbass' to himself. He pulled himself together when he heard your footsteps nearing.

You came out again with a small box in hand. "I baked them last night but they're still good," you said, handing out the box of cupcakes to Mingi.

"Thanks," Mingi grinned sheepishly nonetheless. "I'll give some to my mom."

"You better," you smiled.

"Thanks again, Y/N. I'll see you at school," Mingi started walking backward with a soft smile.

"See you," you waved at him. "Thanks for the ride."

Mingi winked at you before hopping into his jeep. As soon as Mingi's jeep disappeared into the night, you slumped against your front door and tried to calm your blushing self.

-----

It was the day of the dreaded carnival. The field where your school held the said carnival was almost in full swing, the lights and excitement gradually increasing as time passed by.

Your club has been there since early morning to finalize everything for the booth. Despite your judgment against the club's concept, you still had to do it for the sake of the team.

Although, you had convinced Wooyoung to sell baked goods nonetheless. Your point was to remind the audience that you were still the culinary and baking club of the school. Thankfully, he agreed.

So, here you were, setting up a separate table for different baked goods beside the registration.

Wooyoung surprised you with an arm around your shoulder and a big grin. "I can already feel wads of money in our laps." He dramatically inhaled for effect. "I mean, look at our lineup so far."

You begrudgingly looked at the people readying themselves on the mini-stage.

Leave it to Wooyoung to invite people from the top of the high school food chain. Everybody likes Wooyoung anyway. At least there were a few friendly faces—school mascot San, street dancer Seonghwa, up-and-coming celebrity Jongho, and... student council president Hongjoong?

"How did you get him?" You almost giggled at Hongjoong's icy demeanor just standing in the middle of the lineup.

"Oh, he owes me," Wooyoung said nonchalantly. When you gave him a look, he just replied, "Don't ask."

You shook your head as if to shake the idea of Hongjoong in Wooyoung's debt. It's an amusing sight, though.

"So where's your pretty boy's friends?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen them ever since."

You knew it was too good to be true. Your moment with Mingi lasted only a day as you haven't seen him for the rest of the week. Not even on free period. And when you had a class together, he looked like he was about to doze off and fall from his desk. You didn't want to be a bother.

"Oh, wait, nevermind. Here they come."

You immediately glanced up to see Mingi, Yunho, and Yeosang walking toward your booth. You could feel the crowd starting to buzz upon seeing the star players approach the kissing booth. Your gaze landed on Mingi who sported a plain oversized shirt and ripped jeans. So simple yet so handsome.

"Hey," Mingi greeted with a smile, never looking away from your gaze.

"H-Hey, how have you been?" You tried to keep your blush at bay.

"Well—"

"We're so glad to be here, Y/N. Mingi really convinced us to be here," Yeosang smiled in a—teasing?—manner, which you responded to with an awkward chuckle.

"Yeah," Yunho chimed in. "Mingi really, really wanted us to join your kissing booth." Yunho smiled widely at Mingi, who only rolled his eyes.

"That's great, great news!" Wooyoung rejoiced. He quickly winked at you before ushering Mingi's friends to the lineup.

When you and Mingi were the only ones left, you smiled sheepishly. "I hope it wasn't much of a trouble convincing your friends."

"Don't worry, Y/N, it wasn't." Lie(-ish). Yunho and Yeosang complained a lot and made Mingi do whatever they liked for the past few days. From doing their homework to washing their cars, they were relentless. He hadn't gotten any proper sleep because of it. But, it wasn't really much of a trouble since he was doing it for you. Well, your club. But mostly for you.

Mingi stared at the table of baked goods in front of you. "I see you convinced Wooyoung to continue with your idea." He smiled.

"He still listens anyway." You chuckled. "Do you want one?"

"Definitely. I'll take a—"

Before Mingi could finish, Wooyoung appeared and dragged you away from Mingi. "Sorry, Mingi! We're about to start now!" He yelled, but not before freezing on the spot as an idea popped into his head.

Wooyoung went back to Mingi with you in tow. "Actually, can you do us a favor and man the table? I need Y/N for the register."

You clicked your tongue and were about to protest when Mingi immediately said, "Sure."

You looked at him curiously. "Really?"

"I don't see why not," Mingi smiled.

Deep inside, Wooyoung was popping confetti. Wooyoung thanked Mingi before going to the center of the mini-stage. You placed yourself at the registration table as Wooyoung shouted, "And the kissing booth is officially open!"

----

You thought you could handle the smooch-fest behind you. But... you thought wrong. The amount of kissing and hooting was too much for your poor heart. Thank the heavens the registration continued to pile up and you had to put your sole focus there. Well, not entirely.

You would sometimes peek at Mingi who had his own long line to attend to. Mingi manning the food table seemed to generate a longer line than the kissing booth, which made you chuckle softly before turning your attention back to the registration.

It wasn't long before Mingi managed to sell everything on the table and he approached you with the funds he generated. You dumbfoundedly accepted and stared at the small lunchbox where he put the money.

"I hope I did well, Ms. Y/N." Mingi smiled.

"You did, Mingi," you replied. "Thank you so much for helping us."

Mingi shrugged. "It was no problem." He looked at his watch. "Well, I have to do something for the time being. Will you still be here later?"

You nodded. "I'm here 'til it closes."

"I'll see you then." Mingi winked before disappearing into the carnival crowd.

-----

If you were being honest, the rest of the afternoon felt slow despite the buzz around your booth. With Mingi gone, it suddenly felt boring. You didn't show it though. You still wanted to be presentable to the carnival-goers.

As night rolled in, the excitement started to die down. The crowd dissipated until only a few people were passing by the booths. The kissing booth was more successful than you thought, thanks to Wooyoung and his lineup of volunteers.

As Wooyoung set aside the podiums, you counted all the money you had raised from the kissing booth and food table. You were halfway done when Wooyoung finished packing up and stood beside you. "So, how much did we earn?" He asked.

"I'm not done counting," you said. "But, we already have enough to win the student council's favor and have some extra funds for our own," you happily gleamed.

"Yes! Let's get drunk and party!" Wooyoung cheered.

You glared at him. "You're joking, right?"

Wooyoung forced a smile and patted your head. "Of course, I'm joking," he said, though his tone didn't sound as sincere as you had hoped.

You tutted before turning back to the money in your hands. For a moment, Wooyoung was quietly watching you count the bills. Then, all of a sudden, he spoke, "Oh, would you look at the time, it's getting late. Gottagohomenowbye," before scurrying away.

You looked up confused, your eyes following his seemingly excited figure before landing on a tall one that was walking towards the booth. You tried to hide your fluster as Song Mingi stopped in front of the registration counter with a smile. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," you smiled sheepishly. You can't help but notice the oversized windbreaker that he is now sporting. "Umm, we've closed already."

"I know," Mingi said, "I just came here again to talk to you."

"Oh, what about?"

Mingi scratched the side of his head. "Uhh," he mustered, "nothing in particular. What are you doing?"

"I'm just counting all our earnings," you referred to the bills in your hand. "Thanks again to you and your friends. I think you were the ones who attracted the crowd, Yunho and Yeosang especially."

Mingi scoffed. "If the crowd knew how weird they are, they wouldn't be lining up at all."

"And you're not?" You teased.

Mingi raised an eyebrow. "Who wanted me to join your lineup again?"

You rolled your eyes. "That was Wooyoung, not me."

"Sure, okay," Mingi shrugged with a smirk.

You shook your head, wanting to wipe that smirk off his pretty face. You turned back to your money and jotted down the numbers under the last person to register. "Weren't you interested in our lineup of kissers? I can't thank you enough for helping us and being here and all."

Mingi leaned over the counter and crossed his arms. "No, not at all," he answered as he watched you work.

You looked at him and chuckled. "So you just came to watch your friends make out with a bunch of people, then?"

"Well, I did to maybe get some material for blackmail," Mingi chuckled then cleared his throat, "but I was also waiting for someone."

"Oh," you said. You sounded so dry that you wanted to beat yourself up for seeming affected. "Who?"

"For you, actually," Mingi answered without a hitch, making you blush madly. "I—uh—also got you something." He placed a small chick plushie on the counter.

You smiled uncontrollably as you grabbed and squeezed its fluffy material. "Where did you get this?" You happily asked.

"The claw machines rented by the robotics club," Mingi sighed. "My talent is limited to basketball I guess, since I only got one."

"It's cute," you chuckled. "What is this for anyway?"

"I figured a gift is better than $5 for a..." Mingi trailed off, unsure of how you would react.

Your face morphed from happy to surprise upon realizing what he meant. You looked him in the eyes to see whether he was joking or not, but eventually, you avoided his intense gaze. And you suddenly realized how close he was as he continued to lean over the counter, waiting for your response. "Stop that," you mumbled, "please."

"Stop what?"

"That," you said, not looking at him as you pushed him gently away from the counter. "Stop messing with me."

Mingi sighed as he stood properly, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. "I'm not messing with you, Y/N. I," he paused, plucking up the courage, "I want to kiss you—no, I want to ask you out first because I like you a lot."

You bit your lip anxiously. He wouldn't mess with you, right? You continued to stare at your feet. You can't bear to see if he was joking or not.

Mingi leaned over the counter again in an attempt to see your face. "I can see that you're holding yourself back. What's stopping you?"

You sighed, meeting his eyes for a moment before looking back down. "You're Song Mingi—"

"Nope, don't start. I don't wanna hear that bullshit. Give me a logical one like, I don't know, you don't like me back?" Mingi said sternly. His deep voice made the hairs on your nape stand. "I can date whomever I want. And that's you, Y/N. I like you for who you are. You're sweet and kind to everyone. You're one of the smartest people I know. You even stand up to your best friend for what you think is right."

You bit your lip again in a fluster, still too shy to make your move.

Mingi sighed. "If you don't like me back, it's alright, Y/N. I'm not going to be mad." He smiled softly. "I'm sorry for bombarding you with these things. You don't have to answer when you're uncomfortable." He moved to walk away, but you instantly grabbed the lining of his jacket to stop him.

"No, I—" you gripped the material nervously. "I like you too, Mingi. I—" You paused again, not knowing how to say your problem.

Mingi's eyes widened in surprise but waited for you to finish.

"I like you, Mingi. I—" you gulped. "And I also want to kiss you."

"But?" Mingi asked. "I feel like there's going to be a 'but' there."

You looked down at the counter. "But, I don't know how."

"I'm sorry." He smiled apologetically. "We don't have to kiss right now. We can just have dinner for now—"

"But I want to," you blurted out, which you immediately apologized for nonstop.

For a moment, you thought Mingi was going to laugh at you. You guessed that most of the people your age had already gotten their first kiss. Heck, your club's booth was a testament to that. So you were utterly embarrassed by your confession.

However, Mingi did no such thing. "Move over," he said. You didn't know what he meant until he climbed over the counter. You almost tripped backward when he jumped down right in front of you. He caught you just when you were about to stumble.

"What are you doing?" You mused.

"Can't you tell?" Mingi teased as he held your face tenderly. "I'm trying to kiss you properly."

You shook your head in disbelief and amusement. This guy is really sleek.

"C-Can I kiss you, Y/N?" Mingi asked. He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, comforting you.

You were extremely flustered by the warmth, not to mention the anticipation of what he was about to do, so all you could do at the moment was nod silently at his question.

Mingi smiled. You thought your heart was going to explode as Mingi came closer. You thought he was going to kiss you on the lips right away, but he planted a soft kiss on your forehead first. Then on your nose. You had to refrain from giggling, given the soft moment. Then he slowly came closer to your lips. You closed your eyes when you felt it against yours.

You couldn't explain it, but you felt warm and fuzzy inside despite your heartbeat ramming against your chest. The air felt soft yet exciting at the same time. It was definitely more than what you had imagined it to be.

You slid your hand against his chest and rested it behind his neck. His hands softly slid against your waist and pulled you closer. You could faintly hear Mingi humming in delight. And a few moments later, you both stopped to gaze at each other.

Although, you still had trouble maintaining eye contact with his intense ones. And Mingi just chuckled lightly at the sight. "You still don't want me to be a kisser?"

"No, I—" you pouted and Mingi just laughed.

"Don't worry, you're the only one I want to kiss," he murmured before kissing your forehead. "Dinner?"

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bubble-dream-inc · 2 years

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Cod men + what cars they drive

⤷ feat. The 141 + König

a/n: this is v self indulgent and the sources are the voices in my head thanks

CAPT. JOHN PRICE → 1970 Ford Mustang

☆ I can see Price being all about classics and old cars, so it makes sense that he would have a Mustang.

☆ However, if we had to think more british, alternatively i could see him with a Ford Capri, the british equivalent of the Mustangs.

L.T. SIMON "GHOST" RILEY → 2021 Jeep Wrangler

☆ Ghost couldn't care less about what he drives. He doesn't care for car brands, looks, and, let's be honest, my man's a terrible driver.

☆ With that in mind, he decided it would be better to have a sturdy car, for harsh terrains, and something more familiar to what he is used to driving in missions.

SGT. JOHN "SOAP" MACTAVISH → 2017 Honda Civic

☆ I can't justify this one. It's just the vibes. ☆ It might be a basic car, but it's reliable and looks cool, so i think that would be his reasoning. Gaz would laugh at him for it though.

SGT. KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK → Audi A8

☆ Kyle is the youngest of all of them, and we can assume he gets one fat paycheck by being in one of the most elite taskforces in the world. Plus, he's rarely home, so he's got to make his rare driving worth it.

☆ So it's plausible he would blow a big part of his payment on an expensive car, but that's ok because he would look incredibly hot while doing so.

KÖNIG → 2013 Honda Pilot

☆ Listen. It wasn't his first choice. König hates being noticed, so, logically, he doesn't like big cars at all.

☆ However, he was forced to get this one since it was one of the very few cars that he could fit inside comfortably, considering how absurdly tall he is, so he just accepted it and grew fond of it.

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 7 months

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You're the Only Girl for Me - Chapter 14

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @jeyusosgirl @melaninsugababy @bemybabiibish @jstarr86 @baconeggndcheez @nbanenefrmdao @purplehairgawdess @arination99 @m3llowww @alyyaanna @harmshake @jeysbae @empressdede @theninthwonder @badbitchcentralinc @bluesole16 @leaderofthebadbitchbrigade @bebesobrielo @venusesworld @babysyhsyh

if your name is bold, tumblr won’t let me tag you

February 6th 2021

AIRIELLEJONES

liked by: trinity_fatu , raymondwwe and 193,000 others

AirielleJones: could u imagine fumbling me? ✌🏽💋

view all comments:

user:@ uceyjucey damn bro how u fumble?

user: so now we got a chance

uceyjucey: can't fumble something thats still mine.

yasmine_jones: oop user: @ uceyjucey so yall still together? uceyjucey: most def.

raymondwwe: wouldn't even dream of fumbling you (❤️ by author)

yasmine_jones: double oop trinity_fatu: @yasmine_jones : girlll..... lol

Yasmine shook her head with a slight smirk on her face as she put her phone down and looked at Airielle. “You better stop playing with that man.” Airielle shrugged.

“Girl you gon’ make that man pop a blood vessel” Trinity said as the three of them watched Airielle’s phone light up again with another phone call from Josh that she let go to voicemail.

“Listen, he lied and I'm supposed to be okay with it.” Airiell rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine. She, Trinity and Yasmine were having a girls night and decided to visit one of Airielle’s favorite restaurants in Pensacola.

“Girl.” Trinity stressed. “I like you a whole lot, so i’m not saying this because he’s my brother-in-law but, from what I can remember they been separated since August right before the twins birthday.” Airielle sighed and cut her eyes at Trinity. “Don’t let Tracy get in your head, I don’t know what her goal was but what she did was weird as hell.” Yas nodded in agreement.

“I mean, why would he have you around his ex-wife if he was lying about something like that?” Airielle sighed and looked down at her plate knowing they were right.

“Okay so let's say when you got with Jon and his ex said some shit like that and his response was ‘let me explain’ how would have you reacted?” Trinity bit her lip as she thought about the question.

“Honestly, I probably would have reacted the same way you are, but I would also hear him out to see what he had to say.” Airielle let out a deep sigh and decided to change the topic. She was tired of talking about Josh.

After the three girls finished eating, they were headed out to the parking lot, towards Airielle’s Jeep when something - or someone stopped them. The three of them stopped in the tracks at the sight of Josh leaning against the drivers side door, staring directly at them.

Trin and Yasmine shared a knowing glance before Yas took the keys out of Airielle’s hands. “We’ll be in the car.” She said and smiled at Josh before she and Trinity entered the car giggling. Airielle rolled her eyes at the two of them before crossing her arms over her chest.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, scoffing as Josh’s eyes traveled along her body before he finally made eye contact with her.

“If you didn’t want me to find you, you shoulda waited until you got home to post those pictures.” She rolled her eyes again in response. “You been ignoring all my calls and messages -”

“So you decide to stalk me and block me from entering my vehicle.” She cut him off with a scoff and another eye roll. Josh chuckled and stepped away from the door.

“If you wanna leave, go ahead.” He smirked when she made no move to enter the car. He nodded his head towards his F-150 that was parked right next to her car. “Get in.” When she didn’t move he sighed. “We ain’t goin’ nowhere. I just wanna talk Airi.” Airielle nodded and muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ when he opened the passenger door for her.

When he got in the car he said nothing for a minute or two, he just sat there admiring her beauty. He cleared his throat and reached into the backseat pulling out a manilla envelope that had JAMES V. FATU - DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS written on the front. “I told you when we first started dating that I was never gon lie to you or do any of that fuck shit your ex did.” He started, keeping his eyes on her. “I wanted to explain why Tracy said that shit bout done slapped the taste out my mouth and stormed off.”

Airielle looked down at her lap and he grabbed her chin, making her look back at him. “Early October, we tried to work things out, you know for the sake of our children but I found out she was also seeing this other guy that she’d been seeing since before the separation. So I dipped. I told her she could have the house and I moved back down here with my brother and Trin and then I met you. There was no two-timing involved. All the proof is in that envelope just look at it. I wouldn’t lie to you Airielle.”

February 12th 2021 - Tropicana Field

AIRIELLEJONES

liked by raymondwwe, trinity_fatu and 192,000 others

AirielleJones: 🖤

comments on this post have been disabled

Airielle had been avoiding Josh since he popped up on her at the restaurant last Saturday. She had read everything in the envelope and saw that he actually wasn’t lying about he and Tracy not being together around the time he and Airielle went on their first date, so she was happy about that.

The problem now was.. the problem was still Tracy. Airielle thought she was okay with Josh having an ex-wife but everything that went down last week proved that she was not ready to deal with any of that.

When she was with Christopher, his baby mom was a godsend and never gave Airielle any problems and Airielle knew if she continued her relationship with Josh, Tracy would be the complete opposite and she was certain that was something she did not want to deal with at all.

She groaned as her phone went off again, knowing it wasn’t anybody but Josh.

Airielle smiled at the text message despite how she was feeling. She needed to make a decision about her relationship with Josh and she needed to do it ASAP.

I'm happy with the direction i'm going w/ this story. I hope you all are too. ❤️

Can't believe I was able to get two chapters posted back to back 🤭

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

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hooked-on-elvis · 6 months

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Official publicity photos during the army. Friday, October 3, 1958, Elvis at Ray Barracks in Friedberg, Germany. Elvis had arrived in Germany on the morning of October 1st.

The newspapers had been reporting that Presley was initially assigned to join the crew of a medium Patton tank. However, before Elvis arrived in Germany, he said his last assignment had been driving a truck for four weeks in Fort Hood. The army announced the new assignment was made after reviewing Presley’s military tests and records, and an interview with his company commander. This is the reason why on October 3 Elvis first posed with the Company D sign for publicity photos, but just a few days later was photographed with the Headquarters sign.

“The assignment of scout jeep driver is given to soldiers of above normal capability,” an army official explained. “The soldier must be able to work on his own, map-read and draw sketches, know tactics and recognize the enemy and enemy weapons.” A rumor started circulating that Elvis was transferred due to a perforated eardrum which meant he had to avoid loud noises of artillery fire. “That rumor didn’t make much sense to me,” Lt. Taylor commented. “It’s implausible that the army medical exam system had failed to detect such an ear problem long before Elvis was assigned to a tank company.” During the day, Elvis was driving jeep “HQ31” for the Master Sergeant of a scout platoon, Ira Jones from Arkansas, who had served in World War II and the Korean War and was a Purple Heart recipient. However, Presley was not just a jeep driver. According to Jones, each scout “was trained to operate in enemy territory with or without vehicles.” The scout platoons were the first ones who would see the enemy in combat. As a result, Jones was quite impressed that Elvis did not try to get out of his assigned position to serve in the field with his Reconnaissance Platoon. “As time passed, Elvis became our friend and we hoped that he would stay with us,” recalled Sgt. Jones. “We could count on him to be a member of the team… By the time Elvis had been with us six or seven weeks, we were confident that he was going to succeed in the U.S. Army.”

Excerpt from "Elvis: The Army Years Uncovered · Behind The Scenes Of The Two Years That Changed The King Of Rock 'n' Roll's Life" by Trina Young (2021)

Official publicity photos during the army. Friday, October 3, 1958, Elvis at Ray Barracks in Friedberg, Germany.

#elvis presley #germany #1958 #elvis #50s elvis #elvis history #army history #elvis the king #army elvis #elvis fans #elvis fandom

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 5 months

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Smiles. - Ghost x OC fluff

pairing: COD OC!Victoria "Whiskey" Callahan x Simon "Ghost" Riley words: 2.1K~ cw: none. just toothrotting fluff.

Whiskey looked at him with a cocked brow as they laid tangled up, in her barrack’s bed.

“If something happens to me, I’d want you to get the widow’s pension.” Simon mused aloud as he stared at the ceiling.

“Yeah, same, it’d just make sense to-” Victoria began to say before she stopped herself and her head shot upwards, glaring into his eyes. “Are you proposing to me, Simon?” She asked him in shock.

That hadn’t been his intention. They had just been halfway through discussing what life would be like for the people around them, once they’re dead. But now that she mentioned it… “Yes.” He replied deadpan.

Victoria continued staring at him like he was insane, eyebrows scrunched, eyes narrowed… But then she simply answered an “Okay.”

“That doesn’t scare you, does it?” Simon asked her as he dipped his head to the side, looking at her through down his nose as her head rested on his chest again.

“No. Just caught me off-guard.” Victoria said with a shrug and a silent exhale of a laugh, shaking her head against his chest. Her ear was right on top of his left pec and she could hear his heartbeat, slow… steady.

April 18th, 2021.

They didn't sleep that night.

Not something new for either of them...

But it was perhaps the excitement of the realization that prevented it even more than usual.

By 0500 hours. they were both up, heading to the gym together, conducting their specific workouts.

By 0630, they had taken alternating showers back in her room, put their gear on, and headed to the mess for breakfast.

At 0800, they were knocking at Price's office door.

"Come in." The gruff voice of the captain sounded through the door.

Ghost and Whiskey stepped inside, both masked, both in full-gear, both looking like they had drank one of Johnny's energy drinks, nearly bouncing off the walls.

"What can I help you with?" Price asked as he saw the two of them, watching how Ghost closed the door and then came to stand beside Whiskey across the desk from Price, one hand on the small of her back.

Whiskey and Ghost exchanged a look and then they both pulled off their masks, baring their faces to their boss, who raised his eyebrows in confusion. He knew how to read Ghost, somewhat, but Whiskey was still a mystery for him.

"We need you to do us a favour." Simon said as he stared at John with stern eyes and thinning his lips by pressing them together.

"What kind of favour?" John asked with a cocked brow as he leaned back in his desk chair and crossed his arms.

"We want to get married." Simon told John directly. No flourishes, just straight to the point.

Whatever John had been expecting... That wasn't it. The man's face went still as stone other than his eyelids, which blinked repeatedly as he attempted to process what he heard.

Then, John blinked his eyes into staying shut for a longer moment, his eyebrows twitching, and opened them again, letting them flitter between his two lieutenants.

"Married." He repeated, as if the word made no sense.

"Married." Victoria agreed, which made Simon nod curtly while looking at John.

John took a deep breath and leaned forward, toward his desk, already reaching for his landline phone. "I'll give Laswell a ring." He grunted.

Johnny and Kyle were confused when, at 1430 they watched Price, Ghost and Whiskey climb into a jeep. For a moment, they almost considered following... Where were they going alone?

But they didn't. And good thing too.

The drive to the Hereford Town Hall was very quick. 15 minutes to get there, and at 1450 they were being allowed into 'The Oak Room', a 40+ seat ceremony room for civil wedding ceremonies.

Laswell had pulled a LOT of strings to expedite the ceremony when normally they'd need a 30-day waiting period... They definitely owed her one.

Simon and Victoria did the due diligence of taking off their face masks, having already taken off their Kevlar vests and weapons back at the base.

They sat at the head table, side-by-side, exchanging looks and soft smiles. John sat behind them, at one of the guest chairs, on Simon's side.

The registrar sat across from them, flicking through the pages of documents in her hands, having already a copy of both their birth certificates in front of her at the table.

The woman was stern-looking, with more than a few grey hairs, glasses on the tip of her nose, and a no-nonsense expression on her face. She, however, didn't seem to be judging them too hard for having come to their own marriage ceremony in fatigues and combat boots.

"Dear guests... erm... guest," The woman said, with a bit of a sarcastic sense of humour, as she glanced toward John, who gave her a nod and a little thumbs up, smiling in amusement, just as Victoria and Simon were.

"Welcome to the Hereford Town Hall, where we four are gathered today to witness and celebrate the marriage of Ms. Victoria Isabelle Callahan, aged 29, born on October 27th, 1991, in Nashville, Tennessee, USA, single and childfree; and Mr. Simon Michael Riley, aged 31, born on May 15, 1989, in Manchester, England., also single and childfree" She continued.

"Marriage is a beautiful union, a commitment between two individuals who have chosen to embark on life's journey together, sharing their joys and sorrows, triumphs, and challenges. Today, we are privileged to be part of this special moment in their lives." The registrar spoke, reading from the file in front of her.

"Victoria and Simon, you have come here freely and willingly to declare your love and commitment to each other in the presence of your loved ones. Marriage is a profound and sacred bond, a promise to stand by each other through all of life's adventures."

"As we embark on this ceremony, let us take a moment to reflect on the love that has brought Victoria and Simon together and the journey that lies ahead. May your love continue to grow stronger with each passing day, and may you find joy, laughter, and fulfillment in each other's company."

"Before we proceed, I must remind everyone that marriage is a legal union as well as a spiritual one. As such, it is my duty to ensure that all legal requirements are met. Victoria and Simon, I must ask you now to confirm your intent to marry and to make your solemn declarations."

The woman in front of them looks up over the frame of her glasses, and glances at Victoria and Simon who have, the whole time, been holding hands under the table.

"Let's start with you Simon, please repeat after me." The registrar says as she looks at him. Simon holds eye contact with her for a moment, before he swivels in his chair and turns to look at Victoria, who also turns to look at him.

"I, Simon Michael Riley," She begins.

"I, Simon Michael Riley,"

"confirm that I willingly take you, Victoria Isabelle Callahan,"

"as my lawfully wedded wife,"

"and with it all the rights, duties and responsibilities that come from said union."

"I promise to love and cherish you,"

"to protect you and respect you,"

"to not harm you or allow harm to be done upon you,"

"and to stand by you, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth,"

"for as long as I live."

There was something in Simon's gaze as he spoke the vows allowed. Even if they weren't his own, his eyes spoke volumes, those vows were but a fraction of the things he wanted to tell Victoria but would never have the proper words to say...

Victoria was looking at him with fondness in her eyes, her eyebrows lowered and a slightly trembly bottom lip. She felt the same. She knew those words were not enough, but they came close.

"Now for the bride." The registrar continues. "Please repeat after me, Ms. Callahan:"

"I, Victoria Isabelle Callahan," The registrar begins again.

"I, Victoria Isabelle Callahan,"

"confirm that I willingly take you, Simon Michael Riley,"

"as my lawfully wedded husband,"

"and with it all the rights, duties and responsibilities that come from said union."

"I promise to love and cherish you,"

"to protect you and respect you,"

"to not harm you or allow harm to be done upon you,"

"and to stand by you, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth,"

"for as long as I live."

Simon's eyes softened to a degree neither of Victoria nor John had seen before, glossy and bright as he looked down at her. Oh, how beautiful she looked now, as she vowed to love him for as long as she had air in her lungs...

"The wedding rings?" The registrar beckoned as she looked at them and John with a cocked brow.

The three officers looked at each other with a bit of a surprised and worried look because, like idiots, all three had forgotten one of the most important parts of the ceremony.

John was almost about to stop everything so he could run to a jeweler nearby and buy a couple of non-descript bands just for the moment.

But he didn't need to.

Simon caught Victoria's eye again, then reached around the back of his neck and undid the chain holding his dog tags. "Will this work?" He asked as he held the chain up for the registrar to see, his circular dog tags catching the light.

The registrar's permanent scowl seemed to crack a bit and she gave a nod and a small smile. Victoria immediately followed Simon's lead and removed her own dog tags from around her neck.

Exchanging a look, Simon reached forward and, coming inches from his bride's face, he slowly wrapped his hands around the back of her neck and clipped his dog tags onto her, the round circles hanging low due to his chain being long, coming to rest right atop her cleavage.

He pulled his hands back slowly, allowing his rough, calloused fingers to caress the patch of exposed skin around the base of her neck as he pulled away, setting his hands on his thighs after that.

Once he pulled back, Victoria leaned forward herself, her knees brushing against Simon's, and her hands slowly wrapped around his neck, clipping her dog tags around his neck.

Her dog tags were different, the standard stadium geometric shape, and hung higher than his, coming just below his collar bone, the chain fitting him more like a choker than a necklace...

But once she pulled back, her hands sliding down his shoulders and off him at the pecs, she couldn't help but enjoy the way her tags looked on him... And, hell, he liked seeing his tags on her, hanging just in line with her heart.

The eye contact between them was obscene, pupils blown as they couldn't help but smile, open-mouthed, teeth, for once, showing, as they took in the sight of one another.

"By the authority vested in me by the State of England, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now seal your union with a kiss." The registrar said, which caused both lieutenants to freeze, yet again.

Public displays of affection were Not Their Thing. But, hell, they'd come this far.

Steeling themselves, they leaned forward together and Simon's hands grabbed Victoria's face on both sides, around the back of her head, his fingers disappearing amidst her brown hair, which was tied back into a bun, as their mouths came together.

Victoria's hands rested on his forearms, her fingers digging in tight as her eyes fell closed and they kissed slowly and deeply for a good minute.

Once they pulled away, she looked away, hiding a smile again, her eyes falling to the floor beside her, and Simon's own face turned away too, eyes locked on the wood paneling of the wall on the other side of the room.

They both looked so awkward that John had to cover his mouth with his hand to try not to laugh.

They got food to go from a nearby Indian and John even had the decency as their witness/Simon's best man, to buy them a small Madeira cake from Tesco.

Then, they returned to base and parted ways, John giving Simon a handshake, and Victoria a pat on the back before he left.

Simon and Victoria perched themselves on an outdoor table of the base, near the mess, eating their meal and making copious amounts of eye contact, their dog tags still around each other's necks.

It's as Victoria's about to cut the cake with one of Simon's throwing knives, when Simon reaches forward and sets his hand atop of hers, helping guide her through it, as traditional couples would do during a traditional wedding reception, that they finally can't hold it in anymore and start laughing.

for everyone that complained about the angst (/pos): , @xxshadowbabexx , @crashtestbunny , @cod-z , @superhero-landing , and @loveandplanet

#ikea writes 💚#cod oc #oc: victoria “whiskey” callahan #ghost x whiskey #simon ghost riley x oc #ghost x oc #simon ghost riley #fluff #cod fanfic #cod fluff #simon riley deserves good things

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tagoreautopart · 2 months

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alphabetboyluvr · 1 year

Text

throttle - jjk | five

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - jk and yoongi showdown (by showdown i mean they just glare at each other a bit), THE BUSAN CHRONICLES BEGIN!!! anyone who has read throttle know how important busan is for these babies he he, depictions of sex that aren't smut (i'd argue?), hair pulling, she's on top, existential crisis thoughts during it all, unprotected sex, creampie, HELLO KIM TAEHYUNG, he's a sleaze, ANGST, cc watches jk wank himself off <3, a lil mutual masturbation moment, cute kisses <33, cums on her tummy <3, character insight! backstory! ugh! i love the busan chapters! i'll upload the rest of the busan chapters now too

word count - 18.5k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

Jungkook has a face straight from a nineties rom-com. Boyish charm, eyes that linger; teeth that nibble on thin lips, and a smile that breaks like sun through a thunderous sky.

You're convinced that if he actually was a movie star, you'd watch every single film he was in - twice, at the very minimum. Maybe one would even become your comfort movie, for the days when real people felt like too much to handle; solace through the silver screen.

His nose slopes and points so delicately at its tip, that you always find yourself staring; marvelling. Wondering how an angle so simple could have you at such a loss for words. Eyes are wide and dark, they're like a vat of melted down dark chocolate, slowly hypnotising you with every stir of the rich delicacy.

It's when he smiles, though, that you really find yourself lost in everything he is. It's radiant, the way those plunging, round eyes of his crease at the sides, a deep line forming beneath them. His brows raise, and the dewy skin on his cheeks begins to tighten as they apple, and then his teeth - pristine, you think, ignoring any imperfection - are on show. You're home.

Home in his laugh, in his happiness, in the way that he always seems to be like this around you. Home in how he always finds an excuse to be touching you in some capacity, home in the sanctuary of unspoken words, and home in the hopes that maybe one day, he'll be brave enough to say them.

Hope is a funny thing, though. So much to gain and yet so much to lose - but if you never really had it, can it be considered a loss at all?

You're musing about this when Yoongi comes in through the side door, palms slick with motor oil, a few streaks staining his face and his shirt from where he's been a little bit careless. He cocks a brow, and throws you a cautious, coy smile.

"What are you doing here?" He angles his body away from you, almost as if he suspects you're about to throw something at him. His tone is slow, reserved, a little bit accusatory, if you do say so.

"My job?" You question - but you know exactly why he's asking such a thing.

You're always getting Jieun to cover you these days. He thinks you've barely worked enough shifts to cover the rent this month - and he's right.

He just doesn't realise that you have money sitting in the bank from stocks and bonds that had been purchased in your name when you were just a few months old. Rich people shit. Shit you wished you didn't understand, but were thankful for nonetheless. You may not be on good terms with your family, but you're not ignorant of the fortune you've had as a result of their choices. Having the ability to run from them is a privilege in itself.

"You still remember how to do it?" He teases. "Don't forget to offer the customers a receipt, and make sure you always pull up the right pump tab. Don't wanna be charging a soccer mom for some asshole's jeep tank."

"I remember, Yoongs," you say with a roll of your eyes and a narrowly hidden smile. He likes this smile of yours; the one you don't want to give but can't help but deliver regardless. "Thanks for the crash course, though." You thread your fingers together and stretch them in front of you. The way they click together has Yoongi looking at you like you've just shagged his dad. "Sure you don't wanna work my shifts all the time?"

"I'm sure," he nods. "Not a chance in hell I'm covering for you again."

And then there's that look on your face; the one he can never resist indulging in.

"Don't you dare," he says.

But you've always been up for a challenge.

"Yoooongs," you sing, voice high and sweet, like a hit of coke up his nose and down to the back of his throat, washed clean with Ribena. He knows what's coming, and he knows he won't like it - but he does like the way you bat your lashes for him. "Watcha doing this weekend?"

There's a resistance, but the invisible string that tugs on his lips is stronger than he cares to admit. He smiles, and you know he's where he's always been; wrapped right around your little finger.

"Why?" he deadpans, not hiding his infatuation well. "You asking me out?"

He laughs as if it's not what he wants more than almost anything in the world; as if he doesn't know it's the last thing in the world you'll be asking.

You laugh too, but it's to cover the guilt that weighs down on you. You thought he'd be over it by now.

"Not exactly."

"You should really start dating someone who respects your work schedule," Yoongi jokes, but it's kinda totally not a joke. He doesn't say it, but he'd always respect your work schedule. Would never ask you to make compromises for him; would never ask you to prioritise him.

But Jungkook doesn't do that, either. It's your choice.

"I'm not dating anyone," you say. It's childish because even though you aren't technically dating Jungkook, you're not exactly not dating him either. The 'what are we' talk hasn't happened yet. You're not ready for it. He won't ever be ready for it. You don't know this though, so you just think you're at the same stage, which is a whole lot more comforting. Think that things will progress naturally. Fall into place when they need to.

"But you're about to ask me to cover for you so you can go on a date, no?"

"...No?"

I mean, you're not.

You're not going on a date with Jungkook. You're going to his childhood town. So you're telling the truth - no dates involved.

But fuck, he'd held your hand as you stood beneath his shower together, telling you all about how he was going to take you to his favourite places, and you'd giggled when he told you that he'd force you to go swimming in the ocean with him, even if it was below zero.

You'd told him that it was fine, that you love winter beaches, and then you'd challenged him to a race from sand to shoreline. He'd agreed, of course, and then your laughter had dissolved into the pitter-patter of his shower, the warm water running over your body like a poor imitation of his hands, which were preoccupied elsewhere.

So no, you're not going on a date.

You're not dating Jungkook, full stop.

But you are existing together. Most nights these days. He works a night shift here and there, and sometimes you just need a little alone time - but more often than not, you'll head to his after work and wait until he finishes whatever he's working on. Your toothbrush has moved from the bathroom cabinet to the pot by the sink.

Your presence is undeniable, even if you are in denial.

Feels like you're lying to everyone, including yourself.

Especially yourself, actually.

Yoongi's back stiffens, his soft gaze that once was on you hardening as he glances out towards the forecourt. He nods curtly to his line of vision, and you know. He doesn't have to say anything because you can read Yoongi like a book.

His eyes look green in this light.

Beneath his breath, he mutters, "Speak of the devil."

And what a devil he is; dressed down in a pair of dark jeans with a black raincoat pulled over his head. You're down so bad that you're enamoured with the fact he's dressed for the weather, as if he's not a fully grown man very much capable of making such choices.

You think it's cute, and imagine him looking out the window as he was getting ready, heading back to his wardrobe for the anorak upon seeing the rain.

By the time you turn back around to tell Yoongi to fuck off, he's gone; snuck out the back to finish whatever work he was doing. He's not interested in watching you play happy families with some fucker he knows isn't worth your time. Jungkook could have been a brain surgeon, a charity worker, a fucking saint, and Yoongi still wouldn't have cared.

And by 'wouldn't have cared', he'd have been internally seething and ignoring the very existence of him, regardless.

"Just can't stay away, can you?" You say as you turn on your heel to walk away from Jungkook as soon as he enters the store. You're getting around to the cashiers' side of the till, creating distance.

Not because you want it, but because you think it might make him want you more.

It does.

"The cashier at Kang's ain't half as pretty," he flirts, and you swear that smile of his might send you to an early grave.

"Checking out other women, are we?"

"I'm here, aren't I? Not at Kang's?"

You want to argue with him just for sake of the flirt, but that anorak is really doing a number on you. All you wanna do is squish his cheeks and tell him how cute he looks in polyurethane-coated nylon.

"Touche," you grin, but it's muffled as he rests as palm on the kiosk and uses his other hand to pull you closer and steal a kiss. It's a risky move. Something he shouldn't really be doing. Not when there are three windows behind him.

He's on display like a puppy in the pet shop windows downtown. Anyone could drive by. Pull in. Anyone. Daegu ain't as big as it likes to pretend to be.

"So, I'm lying," he says, voice sweet and low. "I actually do have an ulterior motive."

"Mhmph," you breathe through your nose, rolling your eyes. "You're a boy, Jungkook. I know you didn't drop by just to ask how my day was."

"Okay, one - ouch. And two - I always want to know how your day is."

For a chronic liar, he's refreshingly honest when he wants to be.

"But?" You encourage, not wanting to skip the flirting, but anxious of the outcome for whatever it is he's here for.

He pokes at the bagged sweets like he so often does, his tattooed fingers gently prodding and pushing them about with no real purpose. He appears distracted, but he's anything but. You know this now; know it's just a Kookism.

"Buuuut," he takes his time, dragging out the word because he knows it will drive you insane. "I was thinking why don't we just head over to..." he pauses. Suddenly feels uncomfortable declaring the plans you have so publically. What if he hadn't noticed someone behind a shelving unit? What if your coworker is listening in? He carries on as if he didn't skip it, but waffles so much you don't have a chance to interject. "Straight after work? We go straight from here? You finish round about now, don't you? I know we were gonna wait till the morning, but I got itchy feet, baby. Wanna get outta this place."

You nod as his questions pour out like a broken faucet. You don't have to worry about your shifts, 'cause Jieun's already swapped with you. You'd struck a deal to work her typical early shift that day in return for her covering you over the rest of the weekend.

Truthfully, you weren't going to ask Yoongi to cover for you earlier - you were just going to ask if he'd watch the shop for 5 minutes until Jieun arrived so that you could escape a little earlier than you were meant to. He'd only just started his shift, opting for a later rota than usual. Weird, but not weird enough for you to question it too hard.

"Lemme just get changed," you smile, having come straight to work from Jungkook's apartment that morning.

The way you're always in each other's company, it's as if he'll suffocate without you around - which admittedly does feel like it's true, but it's more so that he's scared of what could happen if he's not there watching over you. Scared that someone will interfere with what he's doing. Scared the rug will get pulled from beneath your feet before he's gotten a chance to scatter pillows on the ground beneath you.

Running late, you'd skipped dropping by your place that morning. You weren't feeling all that fresh, despite the shower you'd had at his that morning, thanks to the second-day clothes you'd arrived in, so had opted for the uniform spares in the back rooms. The sizings were all off, and you're pretty sure you felt filthier in them than your own clothes, but it was rare for you to ever feel all that hot in your work uniform.

Jungkook is left alone in the shop as you head to the backrooms. He figures your colleague will be out soon enough to man the tills, so goes about looking a little busy. Eyes up the stale pastries that are definitely past their best in the cabinet next to the till. Reads the magazine covers, and wonders why the fuck people care so much about celebrities.

It's as he's flicking through a copy of Drivers Weekly that he hears a cough. "We prefer it if people don't read the magazines in the shop."

His eyes land in the direction of the voice, towards a man who is shorter than stature than Jungkook, but somehow feels taller. Broader. Stronger. A better man. Competition.

"You must be Yoongi, right?" Jungkook nods, voice a little hoarse. He's on edge. Doesn't like the way Yoongi is looking at him as if he can see straight into his soul - not that he'd find much there.

That's the trouble that comes with making a deal with the devil; he'll eat you from the inside out. It won't be long before Jungkook implodes, bones caving in on themselves. He's got a little while left to go until then, though. Maybe some major organs left to harvest. A little bit of liver for all the soju he's gonna need to drink to get over this, and the tiny sliver of his heart that belongs to someone else.

To you.

"Heard a lot about you," he continues.

Yoongi laughs. It isn't kind. "Funny. I've heard fuck all about you."

He stays stoic as he watches Jungkook purse his lips; shoulders rising ever so slightly and dipping again as he nods, letting out a scornful laugh. "Right."

Despite all he's done, all the stupid little mistakes he's made, Jungkook isn't dumb. He knows how to read people - and currently, Yoongi is a pair of burning red capital letters: F. U.

A petty remark rests on the tip of his tongue, one that could spark and ignite the dry wood of the bridge between the two men. There's no water beneath it yet. Jungkook would incinerate the entire structure.

Best not to. Not yet, at least.

"Hey babe," he calls instead, loud enough for you to hear, and direct enough to crawl beneath Yoongi's skin. You muffle a response to let him know you're listening. "I'm just gonna wait in the car, alright?"

"Okay!"

"Don't keep me waiting too long," he flirts, but he's looking at Yoongi. He's smirking. Eyes narrow. Winning. "We've got a hotel room to check into."

It's childish and he knows it, but he wants Yoongi to know exactly who's gonna be making you cum that evening.

You're cringing, knowing that Yoongi will be mentally imploding, but you also think that Jungkook is none the wiser. "Go wait in the car!"

"There's a place just off Gwangalli," Yoongi says, his attempt at looking unbothered fairly convincing - but not to Jungkook. He's convinced that everyone wants to fuck you just as much as he does, so would have always figured Yoongi was jealous. "A shoreline hotel. She really loves it. Maybe you should book a room there next time."

The insinuation is clear; Yoongi knows where you like to stay. For all Jungkook knows, maybe he's even stayed there with you.

But Busan is Jungkook's old stomping ground, and funnily enough, he does actually listen to you. He knows all about the hotel you love, and the fact you've never actually stayed there. Just dreamt of it; bridge views over the harbour, sleek marble coating the walls.

He also knows that it's overpriced and that there's a far better hotel just a few blocks up that doesn't get half as much attention. It's the place he's booked - 'cause fuck taking you home to meet the family - for the weekend.

Apart from the final night.

He's got you the hotel you love for the final night.

He'll say goodbye to Busan with you, just as you feel like you're saying hello.

There's an acute awareness that things between the pair of you won't always end happily, so he's trying to make the memories sweet. Giving you happy endings to daydream about when you forget that you hate him, as you inevitably, eventually will.

He's so caught up thinking about it that he forgets to reply to Yoongi. His train of thought is interrupted by Yoongi once more, his voice low this time. He's trying to avoid being heard by you.

"Just... be careful with her."

Silence in the wake of Yoongi's request deafens them both. His words are weighted. Jungkook knows Yoongi is telling him to take care of you, but part of him can't help but wonder if it's a warning. Maybe he should be careful of you, instead.

He's not the only one with secrets. Naive of him to assume he is.

"Thought you were waiting in the car?" You smile as you finally emerge.

Jungkook's eyes are on you immediately, and suddenly you're not the only one with a chime in your stomach. There's one in his too, and it's humming to the beat of his heart.

He'd already figured that you'd stolen one of his shirts before he woke, thanks to the fact your dress was hooked over the back of his desk chair that morning. It's grey and faded, a billion sizes too big, resting just below your midthighs. You're wearing tights again, because of course you are.

He knows, within about a second, that he isn't gonna be able to make it to Busan without being inside of you at least once. There's gotta be a side lane close by that you won't get caught in. Shit. Maybe he should just take you in the back rooms right now. Yoongi'd get over it, he's sure.

Cheeks a little hot, Jungkook is cringing at himself as he feels the blood rush to his cock. He can't be getting a semi in a GS-fuckin'-25. Wouldn't be the first time, but-

"Kook?"

"Sorry," he says with a smile, and pretends as if he was listening all along. "Was just talking with - sorry, what was it again? Yooji?-"

"Yoongi," you correct sweetly, eyes so smitten that Yoongi thinks stabbing himself in the eye with a motor oil dipstick would be less painful.

"Yeah, that. Didn't really how much we have in common. Both love our cars, real penchant for good soju..." Both wanna rail you so hard you forget your own name. "Interesting guy."

You look over to Yoongi, and it's clear as anything that he doesn't agree with a single word of what Jungkook is saying -but you think Jungkook is trying, and that only makes those eyes of yours even drunker in lo-

"You not have a hotel to get to?" Yoongi grimaces.

"Pollution's bad today, baby," Jungkook mumbles softly into your hair, ignoring Yoongi. It's said out of concern for you, but also for himself.

It's easier for him if your face is a little obscured; easier to deny that you're the one he's holding onto for dear life as he leads you out of the shop. You think nothing of it, pulling up the mask that had been resting below your chin before the cold wind gets a chance to hit your face.

He's not wrong - the midday skies are clouded, a thick smog obscuring the mountain peaks that you love to look at so much. You love the winter sun, but it has you wishing for rain. It always clears the skies a little more; brightens the world up.

Daegu is dreamy, in the obscure, nightmarish kind of way that made you eat cheese before bed as a child. The best kind of dreams were always the ones that made you feel something - and as Jungkook starts up the pony, you're terrified.

It's not a big deal. Going to Busan is casual. But being invited into a world that is exclusively his? Well, that's not casual at all.

It's weighted and deliberate, and intentional. He wants you there. Wants you in every aspect of his life, and yet you haven't even had the 'what are we' conversation yet.

You wait until Jieun arrives, just a minute later, before you make your departure. She says goodbye with a knowing look, and Yoongi is already out back working on breaking up a written-off car that came in for parts earlier that morning.

Jungkook's hand is on your back as he guides you out, the mask he had insisted on you wearing for air pollution purposes obscuring your face. It doesn't stop his eyes from darting all over the place, making sure he hasn't missed anyone lurking. He knows he's getting sloppy; that he could trip up at any point, and fall at the feet of the men who had sent him into your shop all those weeks ago.

But as the pair of you pull onto the highway, your dainty hand resting at the top of his thigh, nothing but the open road ahead of you and the smell of your perfume wrapping around his senses, he doesn't care.

He'd do it all again, he thinks.

In fact, he thinks he'd kiss you sooner, just to get a few more in. Your days are numbered. He knows you're not gonna last long enough to see the cherries blossom, and maybe it's better that way.

When he got into this mess, he was in search of a spring day to break; the seasons to change, and life to renew. The deeper he gets, the more futile he realises that dream was. You're the only thing he wants to see bloom, these days.

Such a shame he has to cut you from your roots, and watch you wilt instead.

────────────

Jungkook doesn't know what 'home' feels like anymore, and hasn't done for quite some time, now. He doesn't know what it feels like to be completely content, nor at ease, within his own body.

Sometimes, though, when he's behind the wheel, the balls of his feet pressed to the pedals, he thinks it might feel close.

When the scent of gasoline seeps through the vents, and a toxic combination of burnt rubber and wiper fluid clouds the atmosphere behind his tinted windows, it seems like he could have a grasp on what it means to be 'home'. Or to have one, at least.

Maybe that's why he clings to the idea of you so much, and the way that your hair smells like gasoline.

It's a trick of the mind; a subtle deception that perhaps you could feel like 'home', too.

He thinks of this as his car rolls onto a street he hasn't visited in what must be years, by this point.

He's silent, glancing over to where you nap peacefully in his passenger's seat. Light scatters through the branches of trees which are yet to bloom, refracting as it hits the pale stone in your necklace. The underside of your chin is painted in rays of rainbow light. Your throat, too. Impossible, he thinks, for someone to be so ethereal without even so much as trying. Thinks that you're magic.

But magic isn't real. He knows that deep down, beneath the scent of your hair and the taste of your rainbow stained skin, you're not real, either.

You're an illusion; a projection, just like that refracted light.

Still, he smiles as you begin to stir, neck aching from the uncomfortable position you've had it in for the last thirty minutes.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he teases, while you squeak and stretch your body out at far as you can. Palms on the dash, your head feels all stuffy and horrible, the nap only serving to make you feel even more sleepy. You bring the back of your hand to cover your mouth as you yawn, brows raised, eyes closed.

"We here?" you mumble, turning to face the road, only to find the view is obscured by cargo lorries ferrying things to the harbour.

The shipping container next to you is a deep navy blue, its history etched onto the corrugated steel with white chalk markers. It rusts at the joints, paint flaking off and scattering into the atmosphere. It's remarkable, you think, how even things built to sustain the most brutal of weathers can still have areas of weakness.

"Just about," he nods, turning the radio up a little louder now that you're awake. His phone is plugged into the aux for once, but it sounds like it's still your playlist going. It's not. He's been crafting his own, taking note of the songs you like, and adding his own into the mix. Subtle integration of you into his life, perhaps. "About 10 minutes away from the hotel."

You hum a response as you sit up a little straighter, a frown on your face. You hadn't meant to sleep through the journey, but late nights with him and early starts at the gas station have really been doing a number on you.

Jungkooks thinks he's benefitted from your sleepiness, as it made you so bloody endearing that he found himself wanting to let you sleep, instead of pulling into a vacant side-road to sort out the awkward hard-on he's had since the moment he saw you in GS25 earlier on that day.

There had been a brief moment, when the pair of you had stopped by your place to pick up your travel bag, that he'd considered making a move - but you were excited to get going, and so was he.

Why waste time in Daegu? He wanted out of there. Wanted to be elsewhere, anywhere. Wanted to hold your hand in public, with your mask off and your hood down, just to watch the way other men would double-take you.

Maybe because it's unknown - being with you, without fear of getting caught - or maybe it's because his intentions with you have changed in recent weeks. Whatever reason it is doesn't matter, though. The outcome will still be the same.

You watch as the cargo trucks begin to roll into gear, and then you're chasing the sun, heading towards your destination. Jungkook hasn't told you anything about where you're staying, just that he thinks you'll like it. Part of you hopes it will be that hotel you love along the shoreline, and as he takes a right onto the next road over, edging closer and closer to the shore, you think you might be in luck.

These hopes are short-lived, though, when you see a sign with the branding you know so well - even if you've only ever seen it online - and watch it disappear in the rearview mirror.

Funnily enough, there's no disappointment that follows this realisation. You couldn't care less where you stay. All you seem to care about is who you'll be staying with.

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips when his indicators begin to tick, and his hand, flat against the wheel, begins to pull clockwise. The place he's turning the car in to is nice. Too nice. There's a surface level car park, for starters, not one tucked beneath the first floor of a drive-in motel, like you'd half been expecting.

The exterior walls are finished with European style red bricks; purpose-built and not in keeping with the dated architecture of its surroundings. There's an attitude to the building; attention-seeking without trying, refined yet unassuming. It reminds Jungkook of you, in a way. Reminds him of how no matter what you do, his focus always seems to be on you.

"Had this place on my bucket list," he says. "Opened up around the time I left town. Always said I'd stay here if I came back with someone else."

His last comment is unnecessary. He doesn't need to tell you he'd never brought anyone home to Busan, and yet he does, because it somehow feels important.

A hotel resident swings through the front door as you're getting out of the car, and you can't help but notice that the chime is eerily similar to the one of the GS25 door. Identical, almost, to the one in your stomach.

"Pretty," you muse, adoringly looking at the ivy that trails up and down the side of the building.

"Prettier in summer," he says, taking your luggage from your hands and tilting his head forward as if to say 'ladies first'. "There's another vine running through it that blooms like nothing I've ever seen before. It's too cold for it to flower, yet, I think."

You smile as you listen to him talk, enamoured that a man so brash and bold can be so delicate and gentle when he wants to be. Mindless chatter fills the space between you as you enter the lobby, and wait for the concierge to check Jungkook's booking on the system, just to find out there's been a free upgrade.

"Wish she hadn't announced that," Jungkook mumbles in your ear as you head towards the elevator. "Totally would have pretended I'd splurged out on the upgrade instead."

You laugh, and tell him that he's stupid - and that you also saw the room rates by the front desk, so in your eyes, even the standard rooms are a splurge.

He shrugs, and insists he got it cheaper online thanks to some bullshit discount he can't be bothered to lie too deeply about. He wanted to experience this hotel, and he wanted to experience it with you. He'd have paid the price, whatever.

Chances are he'll be making the money back in a weeks time, thanks to you, anyways.

Thanks to you. Because of you. In spite of you. Whatever. Same difference.

Same disgusting guilt that coats his skin like oil and drips from his body. Dare you strike a match, he's sure he'll set fire. Ablaze with the glory of whatever the fuck he feels for you; the flames of his failures smoking him to suffocation. Failure to act quick enough, failure to control himself, failure to do wrong by someone that feels so right.

He shakes the thoughts from his head, his guilt steeped stomach a constant aide-mémoire.

"613," he reminds you of the room number as you reach the sixth floor.

It's not quite the top floor, but it's far enough up that your view of the harbour will take your breath away, you're sure.

He laughs when you squeal in response, thankful for the fact you don't try and downplay your excitement like he knows you would have done when he first started seeing you. He assumes you're comfortable now. Assumes you trust him. Assumes you feel safe. Assume, assume, assume. You're rubbing off on him, it seems.

He's got a rucksack on his back, and your own bag hooked is over his shoulder, yet he still uses his free hand to hold onto your waist as he walks behind you. He's so desperate to keep you close; fearful of what could happen if you ever were to part. His fingers grip a little tighter when you take a stride further than he anticipates, and he doesn't shuffle back when you finally reach the door. He rests his chin on your head instead, and watches the light on the door handle flash green when the room key taps against it.

The pair of you walk into the room in the same position, your back pressed to his chest, his strides wide behind you, so that he can walk in time with you. It's clumsy, and awkward, and hard to synchronise, but both of you are laughing so much that you're almost distracted from the view that floods in through the wall-length windows. Almost.

You stop in your tracks when you see it, gasping at the sight. Jungkook looks up from your hair, his arms tight around you, to see what you've noticed - and then he notices it, too.

"Holy shit," you say, unable to articulate anything else.

The ocean in front of you spans for miles; endless upon the horizon, with nothing but Gwangalli bridge standing in its way. Boats dapple the vast expanse, tiny and delicate, obscured by the incredible distance between you.

It's blue. Blue, blue, blue; the skies, the sea, the way you feel sorrow in your chest from never having seen anything so beautiful before.

Jungkook is smug as he whispers into your hair, "Boy did good?"

You've not even looked at the crisp white sheets, yet, freshly laundered on a queen size bed, nor the decadent hotel decor that you're sure will be identical in every single room. The other rooms don't matter to you, though; just 613, and the boy with bleach blonde hair who had driven you to Busan in his bright red pony.

The stuff of fairytales, some might argue.

"Boy did good," you whisper back, turning your head to steal a kiss. He smiles into your lips, your body his to move as he pleases, as he begins to walk you to the bed.

A soft puff of air blows around your body as it lands on the outrageously fluffed duvet. He crawls onto the bed with you, one hand on your cheek, the other laced with yours above your head.

"View like this and all you wanna do is waste it?" You grin into his lips, voice as sweet as his touch.

He's quiet as he presses his lips to your throat, slow as he trails his tongue down it.

"Not a waste,' he says, as his teeth graze ever so gently. The firmness of his crotch is devastatingly erotic as it presses against you. "And fuck the view. Rather look at you."

You go to argue against him, but he's adamant you're far prettier. Tells you if it means that much to you, though, he'll be willing to take you from behind so that you can look at the view - which is how you end up wrapped in a duvet, hair a mess and mascara a little smudged half an hour later.

You're sat together on the floor, backs against the side of the bed, looking out at the view as his arm drapes around your shoulders. His lips are nestled into your hair, because it seems to be his happy place, but neither of you are talking. Just existing, like you so often like to do together.

There's an unspoken understanding that this is an unusual occurrence for the both of you.

He doesn't do romance. He doesn't really do anything that would ever indicate a shag is more than just a shag. He'll compliment, and he'll charm, but he'll never say any words of actual worth. Not like he does with you. He doesn't cuddle, doesn't snuggle, doesn't kiss outside of the realm of a fuck. Again, not like he does with you.

When you turn to face him, catching the countenance in his eyes as he looks at you - chin, nose, eyes, lips, eyes again - you know that any kiss that could follow would be fatal.

It would seal the deal that neither of you have been brave enough to make.

There's hesitation. His breaths are heavy, prick still a little plump beneath the sheets that covers his modesty, but he's not hard. Not horny. It's not what's leading his thoughts, nor his actions.

And then, suddenly, but somehow also so perfectly predictable, he kisses you.

It isn't simple. It isn't just because he can - but it's also not for any ulterior motive, either. It's soft, his lips not as hard against yours as they usually are. They squeeze your bottom lip, then release. And then he does it again. No welcome intrusion of his tongue. No hands roaming to your chest. No smile as he does it.

But why would he be smiling when he's terrified?

He just kisses, and kisses, and kisses. He makes no further moves, not even when you let the sheets slip, nor when you hook your leg over his lap and move across to straddle his thighs. You're so incredibly wet, his touches minimal, yet so deeply intimate, that he can feel you leaking all over him. His cock is flushed, stiff, and stood to attention, resting against the base of his abs.

Still, he doesn't really touch you. His wrists are resting on the top of your thighs, but his palms aren't lying flat. They're open, not balled into fists, and you can't quite figure him out. You feel shy and insecure, because why isn't he touching you? Doesn't he want you?

But then you go to pull away from his lips, and he whines and shakes his head.

Come back, baby, he wants to say, but it gets trapped in his throat, and all he can get out is a little grunt.

He knows he's being pathetic. Knows that he must look like a fucking weirdo.

Part of you wants to laugh; wants to ask where the man who ate his own cum out of your pussy and spat it into your mouth is.

Most of you, though, is consumed by the sheer terror that's encompassing him. You feel it too. All of this is so unfamiliar, and scary, and alarming and yet so... safe.

His palms finally lay flat, prowling to your ass, where he squeezes as if to say hello. Eventually, he pulls you further up his lap. You're raised above him, the heat of your pussy so warm, and welcoming, and inviting, that he simply can't hold back any longer.

No words are spoken, you simply nod.

You aren't kissing anymore. Just looking at one another. He doesn't drop his gaze when he lines himself up with your entrance.

It's only when you sink down onto him that his eyes close, as his head leans against the corner of the mattress. The expanse of his throat is pristine, not a hickey in sight, and you like it this way. It - you - somehow still feels like a secret. One shared, but one that is safe. Just for you. Just for him. For one another.

Jungkook lasts longer inside of you than he thinks he will. The silence is only broken by hushed whines and dulcet groans. Your hands rest on his shoulders, and stay there the entire time. It's almost like you're both petrified that changing position will change the way that you're feeling. You look at one another like you're holding hands across a tightrope, dependent on one another to stay alive.

If he falls, so do you.

But it's not the falling he's afraid of. Not really. He's been enjoying the freefall for the past few weeks, now. It's the inevitable crash and burn that scares him.

There's something about the angle, the way he's got you deep and slow, that has the tightrope tying itself in pretty little bows around the bell that lives rent-free in your stomach.

Jungkook sees the way that your brows begin to furrow. He grunts as your lips rest ajar, restless gasps shying away, hiding in your throat. His hips keep at the pace he's set. He knows what's happening, and even though he's spent the last couple of weeks desperately trying to not let happen, he knows he's gotta let you come undone.

He wants you to. Needs you to. Needs to know that it's not just him that can't control himself.

It's euphoric when it happens. His arms wrap around your back, pulling your chest to his, and only then does he realise how hard your nipples are; how much your entire body has begged him for this. He squeezes you so tightly that your back clicks, but he doesn't really worry because you're shaking on him, muscles out of control as the orgasm he was fucking into you finally cascades over your body.

You're thankful for the way he's holding you close, your pussy so tight that Jungkook finds himself whining into your neck; and then he's kissing it, pressing his teeth to your skin, holding them there as his muffled moans vibrate against you.

'Shouldn't-' he thinks, even his thoughts stuttering and getting all confused. 'Shouldn't do this. Gonna end in tears. Gonna end - shit. Gonna fucking end. Shit. So good. So fucking good.'

Pussy so good he swears he'll fuck it forever, and then his thoughts catch up with him, and he's spiralling all over again.

'Fucking disaster. Heaven in human form. Temptress devil dressed as an angel. Shut the fuck up, Jungkook. The fucking audacity,' he begins to scold himself. 'Prick. She never fucking lied -' And then his head is battling against itself. '-but she did though - she didn't - did-'

"Shut the fuck up."

He doesn't even realise he's said it until your laboured breaths and spent body seem to falter, but you fail to muster up anything more than a "Hmm?"

You're sure you must have heard him wrong.

"Nothing. Not you," he husks in your neck, though he can't really get his words out 'cause he's seconds away from spilling into you. "You sound so good, baby. So good. Gonna make me cum so fucking hard." He knows he shouldn't be encouraging it, but he can't stop. "Keep moaning for me, baby. Let me know how good I feel."

You hum a laugh, so sweet and saccharine that Jungkook thinks you must be laced in some kind of addictive substance. It's the only way to explain how he feels. He's an addict, hooked on you.

The moans that roll off your tongue aren't fake, but you let yourself be a little louder for him.

"Like that," you tell him. You're already done, spent, but you want him to feel just as good as you do, even if his size has you feeling a little sore by now. You encourage him, knowing that it'll become painful if he doesn't finish soon.

It almost feels like there's something holding him back, though. You think he's just edging himself. You don't notice the way the lines in his forehead crease together in such a way that they almost spell out words. You'd have studied them, if you had noticed. Would have convinced yourself that you could read 'trust,' in the lines, and not 'traitor,' instead.

You move your hips against his, ass bouncing against the top of his thighs in a way that you haven't done for the entire session. He's been working so hard for you that it's about time for you to return the favour, it seems.

The way his neck stretches back, eyes shut, lips pouted and perfect as he fails to formulate anything other than "fuck, baby," lets you know it's appreciated.

'I'm going to fucking hell,' he tells himself. 'When I die, which seems like a sooner rather than later kinda thing, I'm going straight down to the pits. Pussy like heaven, so fucking good that it's a sin. Angel. Angel, angel, angel, baby. Gotta have you. Can't let anyone else have you. Fuck, no. Shouldn't. Shouldn't have you. Fuck it. Need you. Oh, god. Like that. Like that.'

He pulls on your hair so that you're sat up straight as he rams into you, your fucked out face the only thing he wants to see when he finally succumbs to your body. He nods at you, as if he's trying to say something that you don't quite understand. Letting you know he's close? Letting you know that he feels the same way, too? It's unclear, but you're in no position to ask - so you just nod back, and let the rapture happen.

"Shit," he all but whimpers, and then he's in purgatory; heaven and hell meeting at some kind of divine intervention as he spills all that he is into a vessel of freedom that he isn't sure he can afford anymore. "Jesus Christ," he chokes, the mess of his load leaking from you and down his shaft.

The lines in his forehead have smoothed, now, brows open, eyes half-closed. He laughs, once, twice, unable to stop himself. He forgets it all in the wake of his orgasm; his turmoil, your troubles, the turbulent path he knows he's about to go down.

All he can think about is you, him, the present, the physical. The right now. The way that you're in Busan, and how the dreary streets of Daegu can't hurt you.

Rather foolish of him to think that little deaths would have you falling in love, when he's the one whose head feels like cotton candy, heart beating like a butterfly bursting from its cocoon.

The screen of his phone is alight on the dresser, again. You had noticed it earlier, but neglected to say anything; mainly because you didn't want to lose the moment, but also because you feared that whoever was on the end of the line could have you losing him, too.

The freedom of your arrangement, the unspoken boundaries, affords you great comforts, but also leaves you with lingering doubts. You aren't naive. You know that men his age - men in general - aren't ones to be trusted with your heart. Platonic, romantic, familial. Not a single man has ever deserved to hold it in their hands, and any that you have given the chance to have dropped it at the first hurdle. It's a death sentence, you think, giving Jungkook your heart.

So you simply won't.

But in the comedown of a fuck that really didn't feel much like a fuck, more like a meeting of minds, bodies, consciousnesses - fuck it - hearts, you find yourself thinking that maybe it would be nice to try.

You're still in his lap when he stands, his cock inside of you, even if a little soft, now. He's gentle, and slow, taking you with him, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his hips. There's comfort in his silence as he leads you to the bathroom; familiarity in his feverish need to shower.

His phone continues to ring out on the dresser, silent and sinister, the glow of his screen the only source of light other than the moon that pours in through the windows. He clocks it as he turns to close the door, while you let your body become acquainted with the pressure of the shower on your skin.

And then, he presses the door firmly shut. The world can wait just a little longer, even if only for a night.

Tonight, he's yours, even if you never asked him to be.

He's yours, because he knows that come next weekend, you really will never ask him to be.

But you're just as much his.

He'll wrap you up in a fluffy white towel, and lay down with you in white sheets, that are creased only by the illustrations of your entanglement. He'll give you a tissue, white, to clean yourself up with, after he loses himself inside you once again. He'll laugh with you, teeth on show, white, as you talk into the early hours of the morning. He'll watch the moon reflect in the ocean waves with you, white, until you both fall asleep.

And you'll feel all pink; rosy cheeks, blushed lips, bubblegum heart and peachy pigmented skin from his kisses that bloom like posies. Pink like the early dawn skies over quiet ocean waves, and pink like your favourite wine that can get you tipsy with just a few sips. Pink and pretty like his lips that pout even when he's asleep. Pink like the pads of your feet as you tiptoe to the bathroom to get a glass of water as quietly as you can. Pink, like the faint light next to the plug socket where his phone is plugged into a charger. Pink, like the tiny light at the top of his screen to let him know he has a flurry of unread notifications; missed calls.

Except it's not pink at all.

It's red.

Your eyes are just tired, and you're deluding yourself. Just like you have been of every single red flag that Jungkook has presented to you so far.

But when you look at the mess of blonde hair that belongs to the man hidden in the white sheets which have kept you warm all night, everything is pink again.

"Sleep," he mumbles as you crawl back into bed, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close. His lips rest in the crook of your neck, a lazy kiss delicately finding its home there.

"I'm sleeping," you whisper, the white lie nothing more than a joke that you're both in on.

"Promise?" he sleepily humours you, to which you smile.

"Pinky."

────────────

There's a magic to sea air.

It's not quite Disney, and definitely isn't Hogwarts, but it's something. It makes you feel all excited, and giddy, and like the world is at your feet. If you say the right words, or swish and flick a little bit of driftwood in the right order, then maybe you'll find that the world isn't all that hard to acquire.

Because maybe it's not the sea air that's magic. Maybe it's just what comes with being beside someone like Jeon Jungkook.

You quickly learn that there's a side to him you never knew. It's one that's incredibly mundane, but just as refreshing as the peach teas he points out to you on every cafe menu, 'cause he knows how much you like them, and doesn't want you to miss out on the opportunity to indulge in something you find such simple pleasure in.

Jungkook smiles.

He smiles a lot.

He smiles at the harbour views, at the elderly as they walk past, and at the market stall owners who charge him far too much for a stick of strawberry tanghulu. He smiles when you ask him about his life in Busan, and he smiles when you get distracted by every single dog you walk past, regardless of the conversation you've been engaged in.

He smiles when you tell him you fancy Italian for dinner, instead of engaging in an awkward back and forth of 'what do you want?', 'no, what do you want?'.

He smiles when you reach the halfway checkpoint of the Igidae coastal trail. You're leaning on the wooden bannister, clearly out of breath but pretending to look at the view instead - and it's a beautiful view, at that. Clear blue skies, waves that crash and mellow within the same second, and an endless cerulean sea.

He thinks about all the possibilities out there, and half-wonders if maybe he could just get on a boat with you and say goodbye to the choices he's made.

The only choice he's been sure of lately is you, and when his horizon is blocked by your sloping shoulders and claw-clipped hair, he's pretty sure you're the only opportunity he wants to experience from now on.

He's never walked this trail before, but he wanted to show you the best of Busan, hoping it would convince you that you're also seeing the best of him. As he pulls on your hand, pointing out the little numbers some poor soul had scribbled on the stairs to reassure other hikers how many were left, you're positive that you'd walk the trail a thousand times over, just to be met with his smile at the end.

Because Jeon Jungkook smiles.

He smiles and he smiles and he smiles.

He smiles over dinner, in a tight little hole-in-the-wall pizzeria, that at least attempts to make pizza authentic, even if they do have '+corn, 500w' next to every single option. He smiles when he tells you to put your card away, 'cause it's on him, and then he smiles when you trip on the ledge between the restaurant and the street.

You don't fall because he's holding your hand with a grip so tight you swear your fingers might actually fall off.

"One beer and you're legless," he teases, his hold on your hand tightening as he loops his arm over your shoulder. It's a warm embrace; one that fills your nose with the scent of his aftershave, and plasters an equally large smile on your face. He's infectious, it would seem, and not once has he insisted that you wear a mask since you arrived in Busan.

"Fuck off," you laugh, walking down the street together as if this is how it's always been.

Not a single person gives you a second glance, not even the middle-aged men sat drinking outside of the bar at the end of the street. It's dark, lamposts and decorative fairy lights guiding you home, the city alive with the hustle and bustle of whatever happens after dark. The noraebangs in the area are all hostess bars, and the actual bars are packed, so home is where you're headed. There's no company you'd rather keep than one another's.

"I love this place," you muse. There's a vibrancy here that you've been missing in Daegu, but if you were to take a moment to think about it, the cities have nothing to do with it. It's the boy, and the lack of distractions from him, that you really enjoy.

"Home sweet home," he replies nonchalantly. "Ain't nothing like it."

"You miss living here?"

Your question is met with silence. You leave it a moment, thinking that Jungkook is just debating his answer. Perhaps it isn't something he's ever given much thought to before. That seems like a safe assumption to make.

The answer would reveal a truth that Jungkook isn't quite ready to admit to just yet - but he wants to admit it. Wants to tell you everything.

All the things you should know, and all the secrets he wishes you'll never find out.

It's inevitable that one day you will find out, and he wonders if it would hurt more coming from his tongue. Regretfully, he thinks it will. To lie is to be merciful, or so he tells himself.

"You're so-" he begins so decidedly that it's almost a surprise, yet he cuts himself off. It's like he shocked even himself with the outburst. He glances down to his hand - the one you're holding onto - laughs, and then gazes back to the end of the street, where the dark tide is rolling onto a shallow beach. With a shake of his head, he says 'fuck it' to his reservations, and tries out a little honestly. "You're fucking with my head, you are."

There's a smile on his lips despite the accusation, and it has you smiling, too. You think nothing of it more than flirtatious banter.

"Oh yeah?" You toy. "How so?"

He knows this tone of yours, and knows you've taken it well; knows that all he can do is play along, so as to not raise suspicions. He doesn't mean to be so erratic with his thoughts, and in turn, his words - but he isn't kidding. You really are fucking with his pretty little head.

"How are you not?" He flirts back. "Can't think straight when I'm around you."

He watches as you drop your head, your nose all scrunched up, in the same way his own nose scrunches up whenever you're too kind to him. The only difference is he doesn't believe he's being kind at all.

You deserve more than he can - or is willing to - give you.

There's untapped potential between the pair of you, that will sadly remain that way. He figures he should make the most of this while it lasts; hold your hand as much as he can, get lost for days in the scent of your hair, and make you laugh for hours on end. He knows he'll miss hearing it when it all ends.

You don't know it yet, but you'll miss it too.

Maybe you'd do things differently if you knew that your time was limited.

"You're stupid," you reply rather childishly, because it's the best your bashful brain can think of. "Is that why you nearly hit me that night on the bridge? When you were racing? Too distracted by how much of a mindfuck I am?"

"You have any idea how much easier my life would have been if I had just hit you?" He muses, looking down at you.

You wait until he's finished his words to look back at him, but you wish that you hadn't, 'cause there's a look in his eyes which makes you think he isn't lying.

It should scare you - but like an uncomfortably awkward damsel in distress from a vampire movie, crushing on a bloke who is definitely a little bit too creepy for anyone's liking - it doesn't.

"Far easier," you guess, not letting your smile drop. "Waking up next to me must be torture."

"Waking up next you," he nods. "Sharing my aux with you, paying my water bill after learning just how much you like showers hot enough to kill a lobster. Hate it all."

"Oh god, me too," you say quickly before his lips cut you off for a second, only to let you finish a moment later. "Hate it so much. So glad we're on the same pa-"

This time, it's not the lips of the boy you like a little too much cutting you off, but the voice of a boy you're sure you could grow to like just as much, if ever given the opportunity.

"Well I fuckin' never," a voice booms from across the street in your direction.

You ignore it, not really thinking anything of it - just some rowdy lads who are talking amongst themselves after a few too many beers, you assume - until Jungkook's head snaps in the direction of the voice.

His expression is startled, but quickly softens to his usual boyish disposition. There's a defensiveness, though, to the way his hand tightens around yours - until he drops it altogether.

"Kim Taehyung," Jungkook beams, adjusting his posture so that you're partially shielded from the man across the street, who's checking both sides to make sure it's clear before he crosses.

He's handsome, in a way that's entirely different to Jungkook. His broadness isn't exclusive to his shoulders, but the way he carries himself, and the sleazy smile that rests on his lips where a cigarette fits snug. He exhales, and crosses the road, the grin on his face only getting larger.

"Jeon Jungkook," he nods, greeting him with such familiarity that you feel all embarrassed.

You've no idea who this man is. His name has never been mentioned before. In fact, no names have ever been mentioned. There's little you know about Jungkook.

Sure, you know how he mindlessly fidgets, and how he whines when your tongue strokes against his taint, but what do you really know about him? Nothing of any value. Nothing that signifies you're of any value to him.

"And who's this?" Taehyung asks, but Jungkook's reply only further confirms your assumptions.

The question is addressed to you, Taehyung looking just as dangerous as that cigarette in his mouth is. He's a slow burn, you think, the kind of boy who'll grow on you, and before you know it, you'll be just another victim of his charm. It's unsurprising that he would be acquainted with Jungkook. After all, the company you keep is a reflection of yourself.

You look to Jungkook, who looks over his shoulder back to you. He's not really looking at you, per say, not how he does when you're alone. When he turns back to face Taehyung, you see the way his cheeks rise to smile, and you don't mind his coldness all of a sudden.

But then he opens his mouth and you think if you weren't such stone-cold bitch, you'd cry.

"Just a friend from Daegu. No one special."

It's humiliating, granted, but any reaction would only serve to embarrass you both - so you simply keep quiet, and smile. Your brows lift a little, eyes on Taehyung, who takes a toke as he looks between you and Jungkook.

He's smirking as he exhales, like he knows Jungkook is full of shit.

"Well, fuck me. I gotta find myself some friends in Daegu. Taehyung," he says as he holds his hand out for you to shake, with a look on his face like he hasn't eaten for a week.

There's something about him that's refreshing. He's an asshole, yes - undeniable - but at least he doesn't pretend not to be, like Jungkook does. He's undressing you with his eyes in the same way that Jungkook does with his hands. And for what Jungkook just said? You're pleased. Maybe you should let Taehyung take you home instead - after all, according to Jungkook, you're just a friend from Daegu. No one special.

"Uh-uh," Jungkook shakes his head. He's teasing, but he steps further in front of you, blocking Taehyung from your vision. "I know what you're like, Tae. Hands off this one."

The way he's talking makes you wanna turn on your heels and walk all the way back to fucking Daegu. Whoever it is that's currently shielding you from the danger of a fuck boy isn't Jungkook. Not the Jungkook you know at least.

"I'm just a friendly guy," Taehyung jokes back. "You know me. What brings you back home? Haven't since you since the wake. Been a while."

Jungkook's back stiffens, but Taehyung doesn't notice.

"Just some family stuff. Thought I'd make a weekend of it." He tilts his head back towards you. The movement has Taehyung's eyes on you again. To feel so unapologetically desired is thrilling, but it kind of makes you sick. You want Jungkook to hold your hand. Signify that you're his. Tell Taehyung that he doesn't stand a chance. But of course, he doesn't. "Thought I'd show her around. Visit some old haunts. How have you been?"

"All good," Taehyung replies, not really interested in what Jungkook has to say. It's formality, really. If he cared that much about what Jungkook had been up to, he would have made more of an effort to keep in touch. "Saw your brother yesterday, actually."

God, it's like one sucker punch after another. A brother? You've no idea who this man is.

"Seeing him tomorrow," Jungkook nods, and again, it's bloody fucking news to you. "He good?"

"Baby's keeping him up all hours apparently, he looks fucking exhausted. Met the baby yet?"

"Nah, nah, tomorrow," Jungkook says, and you're surprised by how... mundane the conversation is. You can't tell if they're friends, or if there's something more troubling at play. Everything feels coded, but you're struggling to read into it. You're too fixated on how much of Jungkook's life you're unaware of.

"Oh, nice," Taehyung replies. "You should come by the boxing club while you're in town. Be good to see you. I'm sure the boys would be pleased to see Busan's finest back where he belongs." He looks over Jungkooks shoulder to you, again, and smiles in that sultry way you're sure enables him to never go without a bed to sleep in. "Bring your friend with you. Think we could all do with a new friend."

The way he talks is crude. It's unapologetic, and if it were any other man, you'd probably be repulsed - but you're too busy being pissed off with Jungkook to care.

"Think I could do with a new friend, too," you hum back, lips pouty, chest a little pushed forward. "See you there?"

"Oh, I'll be waiting," Taehyung almost fucking moans.

Jungkook presses the pad of his thumb across the tops of his fingers, one by one, clicking them in their sockets. His frustration is evident, but the grave he's in is one that he dug himself.

You may feel like you don't know him, but he knows you. He should have anticipated that you wouldn't play nice after he said something like that.

But oh, on the contrary - you think you are playing nice. Very nice. For Taehyung, you'll be the nicest girl in the world.

And that's all Jungkook can think about.

It's intrusive, the thought of just how nice you can be.

He's thinking of your hair, all nice and tied up in a ponytail, and how Tae's hand could wrap around it. He's thinking about your pretty little knees, and how good you look when you're on them. He's thinking about your chest - God, he fucking loves your chest - and how it stands to attention when you're cold. And of course, you'd be cold, 'cause he's imagining all of this happening in the back rooms of the boxing club. At least you wouldn't be able to come, but he's barely been making that happen lately, anyways.

If there's one thing he hates more than the idea of you with Tae, it's himself.

Taehyung says his farewells, and lets his gaze linger on you for far too long, and says "you've got a look about you, friend from Daegu. Something familiar," before heading back to where he came from. The gaggle of lads he was with are still waiting for him. It seems as if he's in charge; the ringleader of sorts.

It intrigues you.

But he doesn't entice you the way that Jungkook does.

There's no softness to him, not like Jungkook with his big, round, chocolate button eyes and ever-scrunched nose.

You're mad at him now, though. Pissed. In fact, you begin to walk away as soon as Taehyung is gone, because you simply don't want to be around him any longer. You're even thinking about booking yourself in for a separate hotel room. Fuck his gestures, and fuck the effort he's made. Means fuck all, now.

Who the fuck does that? Who brings you to their hometown - into their life - and turns around and dismisses what you are to them so cruelly? He'd paid god knows what for that hotel, driven the pair of you to the city, paid for everything despite your protests, and asked for nothing in return.

You know full well that if you'd have gotten back to the hotel before the Taehyung incident, and had been too tired to fuck, or just not in the mood, Jungkook wouldn't have cared. Even sex wasn't something he seemed to think he was owed. Not like most guys.

He'd have probably stroked love letters onto your back with the tip of his index finger until you fell asleep, instead.

See, there are - or at least there were - no expectations with Jungkook, which is probably what makes this all so disappointing for you. Foolishly, you thought you had a good one in him.

He's a man, though. How good can they ever really be?

Heels clicking against the pavement as you walk, you sound far more powerful than you feel. You want to take your stupid fucking shoes off and launch them at his stupid fucking head. How dare he reduce to nothingness.

"Hey," he calls after you, as if he hasn't just torn your heart out, hands all bloody while he toys with it. "CC! Hold up!"

There's a trail of blood as you walk that leads to the hole in your chest, and so he follows it like a bloodhound in search of its prey.

He repeats his call when you ignore him, catching up with you far too easily for your liking. You don't like getting caught.

"What?" You snap, arms folded across your chest, but you keep on walking. A gaggle of girls walk by, far too drunk to be in heels that high, and they coo a little bit as they clock Jungkook. You find yourself sneering. "Oh look. Some more friends for you to make."

"Hey, c'mon," he reaches out for you but you shake him off, so he tries again, a little harder. It doesn't hurt, and if you want to, you can pull away.

Shamefully, you can't bring yourself to. Those with the power to hurt are also apparently those with the power to heal - and all you want is for him to put your heart back where it belongs and kiss it better.

"You know I didn't-"

"Didn't what?" You fight, because that's all you're really good at. "Mean it? Mean to say it? Or didn't think that this actually meant anything?"

"Fuck," he seethes a little, teeth gritted and jaw sharp. He loosens his grip on you, and rubs the pads of his fingers against his jaw instead, tongue pressing into the side of his cheek. His nostrils are flared, and there's bite behind his bark. "Don't turn this into something that it isn't."

"I'm not turning it into anything," you say so calmly that it's almost unsettling. "But turn it into what? A lovers tiff? No worries. We're just friends, babe. Can't turn it into one of those."

"You're being unreasonable."

"I'm being perfectly reasonable."

"CC-"

"I've got a name," you remind him. "Maybe use that, instead. CC feels a little... I don't know. More than friendly? And we wouldn't wanna blur those lines, would we?"

"Christ. Can you stop?" he pleads, the frustration he feels overwhelmed by the desperate need to control the situation. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"I don't think you know what you meant, Jungkook," you shrug, because fuck letting him think you're hurt. "You just let some guy fuck me with his eyes, because according to you, we're just friends. You saw that, right? You saw the way he was looking at me like a piece of fucking meat? And you let him."

Jungkook doesn't say anything for a moment. His body is stiff, as if he's rebooting; calibrating to find an answer. Yes, he had let Tae do whatever the fuck he liked, because it was easier than explaining the truth of who you are to him. Safer. In his eyes, it had been a lesser of two evils, but you're seeing Jungkook as the only evil.

Your chest is beating so hard in your chest that the thump, thump, thump has drowned out the chime that's usually there.

"No," he tries again. "It's not like that. I know what I said, but it's not what I meant."

And then you do that thing again. You calm yourself, your voice so serene and superficial that it makes his skin crawl. He can tell how angry you are, and yet you're so fucking pleasant. It's psychotic - but how can he complain about your anger when you're fucking smiling at him like he just saved a bird from drowning?

"You don't have to explain, Jungkook. It's cool"

"No," he protests, but it's met with vacancy behind your eyes. "I do."

"No," you say, tone firm and assertive. You don't need to be let down gently. Your feelings don't need to be spared. "You know what I'm like. I need to stop making so many assumptions."

Ouch. He can practically feel the dagger you have for a tongue slicing at his heart.

"Well what did you assume?" He asks, because playing along seems like the only way he can get you to engage in conversation with him.

"My assumptions are mine," you say quietly, walking closer towards him, until your index finger can tap against his chest. "Maybe if we were friends, I'd share them with you. But I don't share with people who only know how to take. From the look in Taehyung's eyes, it seems like he knows how to give a thing or two, so who knows, Jungkook? Maybe I'll share with him."

Jungkook is silent.

It's a threat. He fucking knows it's a threat.

All those missed orgasms seem like a terrible idea, now. He thought he'd been helping, thought that you'd just think he was an idiot, like any other guy who didn't know where the fucking clit was. Thought it would help slow the feelings that are developing regardless.

But you knew he knew.

He's a fucking connoisseur. He's had you coming undone in ways that no other man has ever gotten close to. For him to suddenly forget how to make you tremble on his fingers was laughable.

You'd chosen not to mention it, because foolishly, you thought that you were the issue - but if he's gonna hurt your pride, then you're gonna hurt his right back.

You shake your head, and walk to the curb, raising your arm for the taxi that's hurtling down the road. There's a screech as it comes to a stop, almost like a reset button being pressed.

You feel a weight being eased from your chest, glad to have finally put him in his place for the no-gasm issue, but a new weight is just as heavy on your feet. You open the door, think about getting in, but can't. For some reason, the idea of leaving without him has you close to tears.

Asking the driver to wait just a minute, you turn to find him fixated on you, those soft chocolate eyes of his so warm as they stare you down. His brows are lifted, mouth firmly pursed shut, but you can see from the way his chest is beating that he's breathing heavier than his lungs can really manage.

You've never seen him cry, but you think you might tonight.

"C'mon," you eventually say, knocking your head to the side. You've a lot fight in you, but far more fear. You don't know what you mean to Jungkook, and you're not gonna kid yourself and pretend like you feel secure in it - but you know what he means to you. The idea of him staying elsewhere has you feeling all feeble and pathetic. You don't think he would, but you know that he could. "It's late. Let's just go back to the hotel."

He stuffs his hands into his front pockets and looks down, the usual confidence he wears masked by a thin layer of shame. It has a sheen to it; a stain. He's not the man that he wants to be for you, and he knows you're starting to wise up to it.

"Kook," you encourage, but he still resists.

He doesn't deserve this; doesn't deserve you. Doesn't deserve the olive branch you're extending, when he knows he should be on his knees begging like a dog.

He could do that for you. Beg like a dog, in his own, fucked up, kind of way.

On his hands and knees. Begging.

In fact, he thinks it's the only thing can do for you right now.

And so he gets in the taxi as you ask, and stays quiet.

The drive is silent, but taxi rides often are, so he tries to ignore it. When you go to pay, he holds your hand back, and offers up his card instead. The grip he has is gentle, but it burns like the heat of a thousand matches, and when it leaves, you're left smouldering. You don't want to lose the heat, no matter how much damage it can do.

Silence permeates, and dulls the chime in your stomach that you'd expect to hear in a hotel elevator with Jungkook.

So much silence.

Silence as the door to your hotel room clicks open, and silence as you kick off your shoes. Silence when your bag is tossed on the bed, and silence when Jungkook's shoes join your own.

There's silence as he walks to stand behind you while you look out onto the midnight sea, and there's silence when he presses a kiss into the crook of your neck.

There's silence when he whispers your name, and silence when you hum in satisfaction from the way his lips feel against the expanse of your throat.

Silence so loud that you want to scream.

Silence so loud that you wouldn't be able to hear the scream regardless.

Silence, silence, silence that is so fucking loud, you must be deaf.

But you can hear the small intakes of breath that he takes between the kisses he peppers on your skin. You can hear the click of his lips, and the way he whispers 'I didn't mean it,' as if it would eradicate the hurt caused by such a simple exchange of words.

And then his hands of fire are creeping beneath your shirt, and you're all warm and pliable for him.

You so desperately want proof that he didn't mean what he said, and if there's one thing you're sure of, it's that he doesn't fuck you like you're just a friend.

So you think you might just let him.

He can tell you're apprehensive and he knows why, and that he has to prove himself to you. Moonlight pours in through the window, and you're bathed in it like some kind of ethereal goddess that will surely disappear when dawn breaks. He has to make this last.

He strips you of your clothes, and funnily enough, it isn't the most vulnerable you've felt in the last few hours. In fact, you feel confident, now. You know what you're doing when it comes to matters of the body. Matters of the heart? Not so much.

Your capabilities for either of those aren't required now, though. This is all on him.

He encourages you to the bed, so you sit by the foot, and wait for instruction.

"Lie down," he says, eyes remarkably on yours, and not your tits instead. It must be a first.

It's curious how softly he looks at you; almost like you could break.

Maybe it's because he knows he has to be extra careful, because he's the only one capable of breaking you.

And so you nod, because maybe, just maybe, he could fix you, too.

In fact, when he gets to his knees and grips his palms around your ankles to drag you closer to the end of the bed, you can almost feel your heart swelling. Healing.

Y'see, it's familiar, and safe, and certain; Jungkook will fuck you, and you will mistake the way he kisses you when he cums as a declaration of something more than what it is.

For now, though, he's only thinking about ways to get you off. Anything is on the table. He'll do it all. Do whatever you ask. Do things you're too afraid to ask.

He spreads your legs apart, and spends longer than is normally comfortable staring at you. He's appreciating it; the way your lips slowly part, a little damp and so delightfully warm. He loves your scent. Wishes he could bottle it up - but for now, he'll settle for drinking from the source.

When his tongue strokes against you, it's slow. The pressure behind it feels intentional, the warm studs of his tongue piercing making your toes curl from just one touch. He exhales against you, then inhales because - fuck me - you smell divine. His tongue licks again, languid and flat, his head nodding ever so gently. The change in movement has your hands gripping onto the sheets, a shallow affirmation of 'fuck, Kook, yes' spurring him on.

He hums against you, and you swear it's better than any vibrator you've ever had. It's almost as if he's saying something, but can't get his words out - which would make sense, given the fact his mouth of full of your pussy. His tongue points, as his palms rest on the underside of your thighs to angle you a little better for him.

He pushes his tongue into your entrance, and it has you mewling. Wetness seeps into his mouth, sweet and musky, just how he fucking likes it, and he's doing that thing where he whines against you again, and you swear you might just cum right there and then.

It's noticeable, though, how your grip is on the sheets, and not him.

Your heels are digging into the duvet, not pressing against the top of his spine, and your fingers aren't in his hair.

Still, your pussy is leaking onto his tongue, and arguably, he could be fooled into thinking you've let down your guard for him.

But you haven't really.

He can see this; the way you've detached sex, and the pleasure that it coexists with, from the emotional intimacy he's fostered with you.

It's like he can touch you, but you're scared to touch him. You're using him - and he knows he deserves it.

When he pulls away from you, clear strings of slick connect his mouth to your core. The sheen covers his lips, his chin, the tip of his nose. Moonlight drenches him, and in turn, so do you. He watches how your chest heaves as his fingers come to replace the pressure from his tongue on your pussy.

Your body may be his, but you're not.

'Touch me,' he wants to say, but he's embarrassed by how badly he seems to have fucked up the one good thing going for him - and so he pushes his fingers into you, hoping that he'll be able to get you forgetting about the fact he's no good for you; get you wanting him like you used to.

And you do.

Oh god, you do, so badly.

There's nothing you want more than to have your fingers tangled in his hair, have him hissing when you pull a little too hard, keeping him locked in position against the mess he's made - but you're embarrassed. You fear that by taking any kind of leading role, you'll be forcing him to play along to something he isn't really all that into.

As much as you could pretend like you don't care about what happened earlier, it's chewing you apart, inside out, making it harder for you to get there.

Your body keens for him, though. The sounds of his fingers working your pussy are lewd, and only amplified when he spits on it in that way he always does. It drives you insane, but even now, you're floundering.

"Hey," you whisper, and your hand finally comes to rest against his hair. He leans into your touch, heart stiff in his chest as it appears to stop beating altogether. How a touch so simple can have him so damn wrecked is beyond him. He hums a response, and is met with a gentle tap against his bleached ends. He looks towards you to find you looking back, and the stillness of his heart is replaced with a beat so loud he swears it sounds like a thunderstorm is hurtling across the ocean. "Stand."

Your voice is soft, and Jungkook is confused, but he doesn't question it. He does as he's told, because quite frankly, he'll do anything you want at this point. He'd get on his knees, on his back - fuck it, he'd even get face down, ass up, if that's what you wanted - but you don't. Not now, at least. Maybe another time.

Right now, you want him as vulnerable as you feel.

When he stands, he keeps his fingers inside of you. He's gentle, massaging, making sure the movements aren't too rough. You've never shied away from things getting a little heated, but there's a time and a place for that. You don't want it hard. You want soft. Soft, soft, soft, like his eyes.

"Clothes," you say, almost timidly, unable to string your words together in a way that makes coherent sense. He knows what you mean, though, and slowly pulls his fingers from you, not caring to wipe them off. You're pristine, in his eyes. He couldn't care less about how dirty you could make him. He'd wear it like a badge of fucking honour.

He takes his shirt off first, eyes never leaving yours. He can see the way your heart is beating beneath your chest, and decides pretty quickly that he needs your tits in his mouth at some point before the night is done. His favourite fuckin' feature of his favourite fuckin' person - when he's horny, at least. He could list a million things he likes just as much, but his brain kind of just short circuits when he can see your chest looking all heavy and pliable and like it belongs in his mouth.

There's a clang, the metal of his belt tapping against itself, his tattooed fingers working quickly to rid himself of all his constraints. He pulls it from the loops of his trousers, tossing it on the bed just in case he'll need it later.

Your lips rest ajar, but you close your legs a little, watching him unbutton his jeans. He lets them drop, revealing the white of his Calvins.

He usually wears dark boxer briefs, which are always welcomed by you - but there's something about the white that has you salivating.

The outline of his cock is thick. He's stiff, and there's a tiny tell-tale mark of precum leaking from his tip. The contrast of his honey skin against the crisp white is the kind of visual you'd expect to see on a Hollywood billboard; not in your hotel room with you.

He'd worn them deliberately, expecting this kind of reaction, but had anticipated a far different feeling in the room.

The look on his face doesn't match the confidence that his strong body oozes. His wide eyes are just as vulnerable as yours. You both look like you're gonna fucking cry, which is actually kinda funny, when you think about it - but you don't laugh.

Perhaps that would be the most vulnerable thing you could share with him, and he with you: tears. There's a heaviness between the pair of you, the weight of unspoken words, hidden truths and deceptive intentions, which have led to the cluster fuck that is the relations of which you engage in.

It's just fucking, but it's also not. Not really. If it was just fucking, he'd be railing you right now, just like he did on that very first night you spent together.

But instead, he's cautious as he asks, "Where do you want me?"

You have to bite your tongue and stop it from saying 'inside me.' You're trying to keep your heart safe. Distance is needed. You're scared he's gonna steal it if he gets too close.

Pulling your legs up, cross-legged in front of him, you give him a look that he doesn't understand, but one that he knows means no harm.

He thinks you're asking permission to move, so he nods, and is proven right. You crawl a little further towards him, on your knees, until you're at the end of the bed. You sit up on your knees, shorter than him still, but the height is more matched than it is when you're standing on solid ground.

You give him that look again, and so - of course - he just nods. He's yours. You can do whatever you fucking like to him. He'd take anything you'd give him, pleasure or pain. He's stoic in the way that he stands, but you can see his jugular vein beating like he's just gone three rounds in the boxing ring.

Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, right where the V of his hips meets the fabric, your eyes are on his.

It's torture, knowing you could be watching his thick, swollen cock spring free, but this isn't about the sex. Not really.

He bends a little, pushing his underwear to his ankles, kicking them off to the side and resuming his position in front of you. You still haven't looked at his cock, even though the thought of it has slick wetness seeping onto your inner thigh.

Your hand finds one of his, and pulls it to his cock. It throbs as you wrap Jungkook's hand around it, nodding at him, before retreating.

He's stood at the end of the bed, naked, hand tight around his fat, leaky cock, eyes on yours as you sit by the pillows. Your legs are crossed, knees up, covering your chest, light from the moon washing over you both.

He looks heaven-sent in this light. A white halo whisps around his fluffy blonde hair, the thick lines of his tattoos defined, his body carved from marble. And yet there's still a softness to him. It's in his eyes. Big and round; home in human form.

And so, for all the fear, for all the ways he has you scared about his intentions, for all the sheer instances of turmoil you put your heart through, none of it really matters.

In this moment, you feel safe.

"Wanna watch," you say quietly. You can see the way he swallows, his chest doing a terrible job of hiding the fact he actually seems to be a little bit nervous.

"Watch?"

You nod. "Wanna watch the way you get yourself off."

The request is simple, but it feels more complex than that - and it is. You want him vulnerable. You want him weak. You want him falling apart all over you without even so much as a single touch from you.

In his heart of hearts, he knows all this.

He knows, and still, he wants to do it for you.

There are sins to repent, and this feels like a start.

"Wanna see the way you touch yourself when you think about me," you continue, because you like the way his eyes look so pure and chaste at such a request.

There's a shadow to his face, the moon only illuminating half of his body, but it runs deeper than that. Divine feminity is a gift from the celestial body that watches over you, and it overcomes him, too.

Despite the hardness of his muscles, the metal of his piercings and the stiffness of his cock, he's so, undeniably soft for you.

Soft and velvety, just like his eyes. Soft and timid, like the boy who cried wolf and finally got caught. Soft, and softer still, when he says your name in such a hushed tone it barely reaches your ears.

"You do that, right?" You ask, though the answer is granted by how utterly enthralled he is with you - or at least, your body. "You think of me when you touch yourself?"

He nods, licking a slow stripe across his lower lip, before biting down on it.

His tight fist begins to roll up his cock, slowly bringing it back down again to the base of his shaft. There's a hypnotic quality to the way his foreskin retracts, exposing how red and flushed the tip of his cock is. There's desire burning through it, and he needs you - your pussy, your mouth - to soothe it.

He knows he isn't getting it, so instead, he revels in the pain that comes with being refused your body.

He's tepid as he starts, but his pace quickly builds, and so does the way he's moaning. It's a miracle you can even remember how to breathe. His torso is tense as he lets the pleasure run over his body, head tipping back, the expanse of his throat thick and wide, just like his cock.

He hums, imagining the way your pussy is leaking as you watch the show he's putting on for you.

He's not a performer, not by any stretch of the imagination, but the way he moves his body has you thinking that maybe in a past life, he could have been. You'd pay good money to watch him on stage. You'd devote yourself to him. Watch from the crowd as he sold himself to a thousand people every night. He'd be the main event, the headlining act, and maybe if you were lucky, he'd stick around for an encore.

What a shame, you think, that he never took advantage of his boyish charm and deliriously handsome face - but more fool him. You're the one who gets to reap the benefits, as you watch him now, free of charge, front row seat.

And yet, somehow, he seems to adore the crowd more than the crowd adores him. It fills your ego. Has you convinced that you've ruined this poor boy's life. Maybe you have.

"You're gonna think of me for the rest of your life," you tell him of your conclusion from your perch up by the pillows.

He so often talks in definitive certainties, that it's only fair you return the favour - but, remember, you're just friends, according to Jungkook. Best not to get ahead of yourself.

You find yourself prowling down the bed on all fours, stopping just beyond his reach. There's something primal about his gaze now. Predatory - but you aren't his prey. You're not going to get caught.

"Give it twenty years," you simper, rolling onto your back so your ankles are by the pillows, eyes on his cock as you tilt your head back. Kneading one of your boobs, you let your other hand dip between your legs. "When you're married, and your poor wife can't get you hard anymore, it's gonna be me who you think about."

"Shit," he hisses, both hating and loving what you're saying. Hating it because you're probably right, but loving it because, again, you're definitely right.

"It's gonna be me," you repeat. "When you get hard in your car, 'cause another girl has put her hand on your thigh. It's gonna be me you're thinking about."

He wants to protest. Wants to tell you that there'll never be another girl. He'd be lying, probably, but fuck knows why he'd ever give you up. Would have to be insane, you think, or something like that.

You know just as much as he does, that symbiotic energy like yours doesn't occur all too often.

"When your couples therapist asks what you think could be done to spice up your dead marital bedroom, it's gonna be me - gonna be this, right now - that you think of."

"C," he husks, unable to even get the full term of endearment out. There's a clammy sheen to his body now, his arm jerking at such a pace his veins are all engorged and pretty, just how you like them.

"It's gonna be me," you say again, barely a whisper, but it's enough.

And he agrees. "It's gonna be you."

Victory and defeat all in one blow; you're his forever, but it's likely he won't be yours.

He senses the heaviness behind his words, and the weight they've put of your chest, so he tries distraction as a method of easing it.

"Open your legs," he husks, the final syllable catching in his throat. When you do as you're told, he fucking whines.

The slickness pooling around the top of your thighs is sticky and hot, strings of clear fluid connecting your legs - all of you - together as you spread yourself for him. He nods, and it's your turn to obey, now.

Your fingers begin to rub at your clit, and Jungkook almost just give himself upright in that second. He swallows back the saliva that's pooling in his mouth, his cock growing hotter and heavier in his grasp. The way he's pumping himself is gonna have him finishing far quicker than he'd like, but he can't stop.

Not when you're looking up at him like that. Not when you're matching his moans.

"Don't stop," you almost beg as you see him begin to ease up. Returning his eyes to yours, his lips are parted. His hand continues to jerk, just a little slower.

"I gotta," he whines, but does as he's told, his grip a little looser than it had been. The muscles in his abdomen are tight. His balls, too. You want them in your mouth.

He watches as you turn, resuming the position you'd been in earlier.

As you wrap your arms around his neck for support, Jungkook finds himself grunting, picking his pace back up. He can smell you, your gasoline hair and sweet pussy, and it has him unable to think straight. Unable to do anything other than jerk himself off for you, because it's what you want.

The world. He'd give you that. If you wanted it, he'd give you it. He thinks he'd give you anything. Everything. Whatever he could.

The only thing he can't give you, not really, is himself.

And so he'll settle for everything and anything else your heart could ever desire.

But as your lips meet his, he knows that he's fucked, and that the only thing you really want is him.

Your kisses are slow, and tepid; a stark difference from the way his hand is working his cock, but it's everything he needs. How selfish, it is, that he still gets what he wants.

Unaware, you pull away, pressing your foreheads together, lips brushing his as you say, "you're gonna cum for me, now."

He tries to ask where, but you just kiss him instead. You kiss, and you kiss, and you kiss, and he's so fucking consumed that he barely notices when he starts gasping against your lips. His body begins to stall, muscles mirroring the way he begins to stutter, and then it's happening.

The tip of his cock is pressed against your stomach as he begins to unload himself, once, twice, and then he's sensitive, and trying to pull back, but he's still coming and - "Oh, fuck, babe" - he's painting you white with the innocence of the way he feels about you.

It's everywhere by the time he's done; your tummy, the underside of your breasts, dripping down to the mound of your pussy. He can barely fucking breathe, so caught up in the way it always feels to have you kiss him through his orgasm.

His hands grip your jaw, pulling you in for more, because he needs to distract his mouth from the words he's scared are gonna tumble from it. You both ignore the fact they're covered in the seed that's just spilt over onto them. It's nothing new, after all.

It's not like he's gonna declare love, or anything fucking ridiculous like that, he just doesn't know how the fuck he feels - and that's dangerous.

Unpredictability only leads to messiness, which it could be argued is what's happening right now.

Still, Jungkook hooks his hands beneath your ass and moves onto the bed with you, and thinks it's a pretty nice problem to have.

His cock is firm still, nestled in the warmness of your pussy as your legs wrap around his hips. Neither of you care about his cum, and it's interesting how often you seem to be covered in one another, with no desire to rid yourselves of it.

He didn't make you cum, but it was your choice, this time.

It's funny, because you're one who is scared now that an orgasm could have you falling in love. You don't want to give him that power back. Not yet, at least.

Your kisses dissolve into light pecks, the pair of you unable to hold back from worshipping one another. But you must, for it's foolish to idolise mortal Gods.

"This doesn't seem very friendly, Kook," you whisper.

Your chest feels uneasy as you joke. He closes his eyes, hanging his head in shame against yours, knowing that it was him and his inability to ever say the right fuckin' thing that had you refusing to fuck him that evening.

He's not stupid. He knows you stopped him from making you cum. He knows why. And he hates himself for it.

He presses a kiss against your cheek, once, twice, and works his way to your lips. It's goofy, the way he's planting little seeds of love all over your skin, but only time will tell if he'll water them. For now, you think you'd quite like to imagine the wildflower garden that could bloom in their wake.

"It's cause it's not, CC," he admits. "It's not very friendly at all."

And then, you just can't seem to help yourself as you tease, "Even if I'm just a friend from Daegu?"

He smiles, because he knows you're trying to soothe the burn of his words. Naked, spent, and vulnerable, Jungkook rolls off of you, repositioning himself so that you can rest your head on his chest. Still, neither of you care to get cleaned up. There's no disgust, nor discomfort.

More fool the both of you for thinking that this isn't love.

"You're my only friend from Daegu," he whispers, pressing a kiss against your hair. It's not strictly true, but he sort of wishes that it was. Wishes he knew you before he knew them.

"What about your other friends?" You ask gently, because maybe it's your fault you don't know more about him. Maybe you just haven't been asking the right questions.

Jungkook pulls the comforter over your body, 'cause he can feel how hard your nipples are against his torso, and guesses that you aren't exactly still horny now that you're asking him shit like this. Again, there's zero care for clean up just yet. Zero care for anything but one another.

And then you tack on an extra little question that has Jungkook mentally groaning.

"Who's Taehyung?"

Convinced that you're snug like a little comforter-human-burrito, Jungkook holds you tightly. He's still stark bollock naked and doesn't really care to be covered, but he wants you warm. Wants you happy.

And knows that your happiness, now, rests on open communication.

"I knew Taehyung in high school," he eventually admits. "We were both on the boxing team, and we were friends, but -" he stops, and laughs a little. "Well, I kept beating him. So on the days I'd stay behind and work on my form, shit like that, Tae would..." Jungkook sighs. And then he laughs again. "This is so embarrassing." He gently shakes his head, and then thinks fuck it. You deserve the truth, so the truth is what you're gonna get. "I started going to club more often, thought about going pro. I was pretty serious about it. Got to the point where Tae couldn't compete with me - but one thing he could do, apparently, was fuck. And I didn't know, but apparently, he could turn that into a competition, 'cause on the days I trained alone, he'd go hook up with my girlfriend."

It doesn't upset Jungkook anymore. Not really. Annoys him a little - and means there was no way he was letting Taehyung think you meant anything more to him than just casual sex.

"Shit," is all you can say.

"Yeah," Jungkook sighs. "Went on for like, 6 months. I didn't know till my dick started fucking burning. Turned out he'd given her chlamydia from someone else and in turn, me."

"Bastard."

"Right? At least wrap it up if you're gonna fuck about. Anyways, after that, it was rare for him not to pursue any girl I was interested in," Jungkook finally admits, and it feels good to get it out. Good to share. Fucking fantastic, actually. "Me saying what I said... It was a defence mechanism more than anything, and I'm sorry. I just didn't wanna give him any reason to try it on with you."

You nod slowly, because there's a lot to unpack. "What happened? With the girl?"

"We broke up," he says honestly. "That was the nail in the coffin, really. He's done it with a few other girls I've dated or fucked since then, to the point where it's definitely a pattern of behaviour, but I tend to avoid serious relationships. If I'm being honest, I haven't had one since."

"Since high school?"

God, it's mortifying, he thinks. "Since high school."

Heartbreak is a funny thing, though. You're similar in that regard. Neither of you ever want to give another person the power to break the one thing keeping you alive. It's just asking for trouble.

Then again, every single fucking thing about your 'friendship' is asking for trouble. Maybe it's fitting.

"I'm sorry," you say, because you're not sure what else to say. He squeezes the comforter bundle you're in and shrugs.

"Don't be. Just please don't have sex with Kim fuckin' Taehyung."

You laugh, because such a thing feels absurd - but it would do. You trust Jungkook. You care about Jungkook. Care for him. Care for his opinions, his well-being.

Would be a shame if that ever were to change.

But that doesn't feel like a possibility right now, so you simply don't think about it. Instead, you ask the question that you've been holding back, because you wanted to at least look a little compassionate before you got ahead of yourself.

"So what you said to him about me," you begin, and he rolls his eyes, 'cause he knows exactly where you're going with this.

"So what I said about you."

"You lied."

"I lied, CC."

The way he whispers it back to you has you all giddy and docile for him. He's dangerous, in the most delectable way.

"You like me," you accuse, and you're met with a shallow kiss, his lips curving upwards because he can't help but smile at how fucking smitten you look.

"I'm terrified of you," he smiles. "The way you make me feel scares the living daylights out of me, CC. This isn't... I'm not good at this. I mean, hello? Been out of practice since high school."

"Mmmm," you interject, questioning his statement. "You've fucked plenty of girls since high school."

His eyes roll again, because he knows you're just trying to get him to be specific.

"What do you want me to say, huh, CC?" He nudges his nose against yours, his grin prevailing as he sinks them down into a kiss. "That I spend my whole entire fuckin' day thinking about you? You stay at my place all the time. My Netflix account reckons I'm halfway through season one of Gossip Girl." You smile. It's a guilty pleasure. You watch it at his place when he leaves early for work, or on the days you arrive before him. "There's a spare toothbrush by my sink, and it's yours."

The way he emphasises 'yours' has the chime in your stomach ringing like a church bell.

"I haven't been serious about anyone since high school, so yeah, I'm a bit out of practice. I don't wanna put labels on things or move too fast or say things I can't take back. I just know it would really fucking sting if you slept with Taehyung," he smiles, attempting to lighten the fact he's basically just put his heart on the line for you. "So please just... don't."

The issue is, Jungkook's forgetting himself.

He's forgetting that you're not just you. He's not just him. The way you met wasn't organic like you think it was, and he's letting himself get wrapped up in the idea that the pair of you are just normal people who found one another despite all odds.

The thought creeps into his mind, but frankly, he wants it to fuck off. So he kisses you. Slow and deep. Just him, and you.

If he'd have met you under different circumstances, he'd have probably already asked your father's permission to-

And then it hits him. The reminder that he can never have a happy ending with you, all thanks to your fucking father.

Jungkook asked you to come to Busan for a reason. There are things you need to see, things you need to understand before it all goes to shit.

"I want you to come somewhere with me tomorrow," he husks against your lips, your noses stroking gently against one another. "Somewhere important. I've got some errands to run, and I'll see my family alone, but after that, I wanna show you something."

You nod to confirm that it's okay. Of course, you don't mind him seeing his family alone, and you could do with running a few errands yourself, so it works out well. He's opening up. Sharing. And that's all you can ask for.

It has you thinking that maybe you should do the same for him.

"Thank you," he whispers.

It's a loaded phrase, and you're not sure which part he's thanking you for, but you accept it nonetheless.

This is progress, you think.

Funny, 'cause Jungkook's the blonde one. If anyone should be a dumb bitch, it's him.

But the blonde is fake, and he's smarter than he should be after all those blows to the head in the boxing ring.

You're private school educated. Could have been anything you wanted. Could have had the world. Your daddy worked hard to make sure of it.

But as Jungkook leads you to the bathroom, stripped of everything except for the stain of his sex, you think you already have the world.

You think, for once, you finally have something good that isn't the result of nepotism or political fear.

Your daddy worked hard. He worked real hard. He gave you the world, and then some - but the world doesn't come for free, and there's a little collateral that he never counted on caring enough to fuck with his self-made solar system.

Yeah, your daddy gave you the world.

But it's Jungkook's job to give it back to its rightful owners, whether he wants to or not.

And so, as the shower begins to heat up, and the pair of you are doing what you do so well, his phone begins to buzz in the bedroom. It goes unnoticed. It's not Jungkook's priority anymore, which leaves him in quite a predicament.

The outside world can wait for a moment. He's letting himself indulge in the fantasy of you one final time.

What a brilliant, intangible fantasy you are.

But fantasy is just that;

a lie.

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livingdreams97 · 2 months

Text

Kylie Jenner -- "The Babysitter" (Part 1)

Kylie Jenner x fem reader/oc

Summary: Who would have thought that anwering to a babysitter job offer for the summer to a unknown family would let to meeting someone that would move your world.

Words: 4007

Masterlist

(It´s not really well written but it´s something)

POV You

Relax Y/n, this is just a job interview. Just a job interview, just a job interview, just a job interview. I repeat myself over and over again inside my head. I pull up my metallic blue 2021 Jeep Wrangler two-door in front of the security fence and roll down the window.

XY: Good morning.- the guy from the booth greets me, with a tablet in his hand and stands next to the window. -Your name and the name of the person you are coming to visit please.- he asks me and I give it to him quickly.

Y/n: Y/n Brown Davis and I don't know who I come to see honestly.- I answer a little embarrassed. -They called me for an interview and they only told me to come here and to go to house number 2432.- I explain watching him nod and type on the screen.

XY: You're on the list.- he confirms and takes a weight off my shoulders. -See if you turn right at the second exit and continue straight for about five minutes, You will find the house right away.- he explains to me and I thank him enormously.

He gets away from the car and opens the fence for me, letting me pass into the urbanization. I follow the instructions he has given me, seeing the mansions on both sides of the street and thinking about which celebrities will live in those houses.

I know that some of the Kardashian Jenner family live in this neighborhood, but I don't know where their houses are and I don't really care much either. I'm not a big fan of them, I only watch the reality show when it happens to be on and little else. But my older sister is the opposite, she loves the reality and everything that has to do with that family.

I come from a family that has money, enough to live comfortably with some luxury; but not because of an inheritance or something like that.

My mother is one of the best surgeons in all of England, working both publicly and privately; so she earns good money. My father is an architect and engineer, so he also earns well, but less than my mother. My parents have always told me that I have to win my money, that I can't be depending on them and that I have to start having work experience.

My parents are both English, my mother was born in Manchester and my father in Surrey. Both my older sister Olivia and I were born in the London Hospital. My sister is 25 years old and she is 6 years older than me, since I am just going to turn 19 in two months.

But now I live in Los Angeles, because I won a soccer scholarship at UCLA and I couldn't turn it down. But my first year in architecture is about to end, the summer holidays were approaching and I had decided to get my first summer job.

I had spent three weeks looking for some job news or something that was appropriate to what I can do and in which I had a minimum of experience.

But since it was my first job, I didn't have much experience in anything. But I saw an offer about being a babysitter and I had experience in that. Maybe not officially through a contract, but when I was 15, 16 and 17 years old I worked to take care of the children of some neighbors for almost three years. So I had some experience, so I sent an email with my resume and information and a week ago they contacted me.

In that email only the date and time of the interview appeared, along with the address and house number. My parents were somewhat insecure when I told them about it, since they usually put a reference name and there was none in mine.

So they were not very sure and they were a little nervous. But I assured them that because of the area it was in, it would surely be because it was someone important and they didn't wanted to give the address to anyone.

When I get to the house, I stop and look out the window at the beautiful mansion in front of me. I park the car on the sidewalk and get out of it, locking it. Although it's probably not really necessary takin acount the money that tis mansions costs.

I walk nervously up the long driveway, noticing the flowers and decorations on the driveway.

I stop in front of the door, taking a deep breath and making sure my clothes are okay. I had decided on something simple and casual for the interview.

Black and white checkered pants, with a black short-sleeved bodysuit and white platform All-stars, with a small black bag for the car, house, wallet and mobile keys.

I take another deep breath and ring the doorbell of the house. I quickly run my hands through my hair, making sure my light brown hair is neat and not completely tousled. The door opens, letting me see a woman in her 30s or so with a friendly smile on her face.

XX: Do you want something? - she asks me kindly.

Y/n: I have an interview here. - I answer a little nervous. -My name is Y/n Brown and I come for the babysitter interview.- I inform and I see how she nods in understanding.

XX: Come in and wait here for a moment please.- she tells me letting me enter the house and closing the door to disappear around the house.

I just look at the marble stairs in front of me, looking at the entire entrance with fascination and taking in the architectural details.

I get out of my impression, when the same woman comes back and asks me to follow her. I quickly do so and walk almost on his heels and playing with my hands nervously.

XX: Come in.- she says opening a door for me and giving me another smile.

Y/n: Thank you.- I thank you and enter the room, seeing immediately that it is an office.

Kris: Good morning.- she greets me and I am surprised by the person in front of me, but I prevent the surprise from being external. "Please sit down." she offers me, pointing to one of the seats on the other side of where she is sitting at her table.

Y/n: Good morning.- I greet with a kind smile; sitting where she just pointed me out.

Kris: First of all I want to ask you some personal questions, okay? - she asks seriously, but with some kindness and I nod. -In your curriculum it says that you are from London, that you are 18 years old and that you are here for your studies, right? - she asks and I nod again.

Y/n: I was born in London and I study at UCLA with a full scholarship for my sports skills.- I inform her, watching her nod and write something on a piece of paper.

Kris: And what are you studying and why did they give you the scholarship? - she asks me looking at me over her glasses.

Y/n: I study architecture and I have a sports scholarship for soccer.- I answer with a small smile.

Kris: Being English, I need to know if there was any problem with the student visa or something like that.- she tells me and I swallow a bit nervously.

Y/n: There would be no problem, since before coming I studied and got dual nationality: so I have English and American nationality. - I explain, seeing how she points something again and reads something else.

Kris: In your resume you say you've worked three years as a babysitter.- read and I nod. -Because of that do you think you are more qualified than another person to take care of four children? - I wonder and I almost open my eyes surprised; I thought it would be one or two children.

Y/n: I don't think it's so much about being more qualified than someone else, with all the respect in the world. I think it's more of something vocational, if you don't like children, no matter how qualified you are, you will never give everything at work and that is something very important from my point of view. - I begin to answer her. -It is very likely that there are many other people more qualified than a girl of almost 19 years, who has only cared for two children for three years and who does not have an experience of 10 years as surely many other people will.- I say seeing how she stares at me. -But I love children, I enjoy taking care of them and it is a job in which it is never the same every day.- I commented and I see how she writes something more. - In addition to the fact that the number is not so important, if you are able to handle two; You can handle more and in a very effective way with some tricks. - I finish telling her and I see how she nods.

Kris: The vacancy would be for specific dates and on weekdays during the summer.- she informs me and I simply nod. -What availability do you have? - she asks me, bringing the pen closer to the paper.

Y/n: All?- I ask more than I answer. -In a week I finish the semester, the university league ended a week ago and I have the rest of the summer completely free.- I explain and she notes something.

Kris: If we went on vacation, would you be available to come and take care of the children wherever we went?- she ask me and I nod immediately, work and paid holidays? Who would say no to that.

Y/n: If the contract stipulates that then yes,of course I will.- I answer as professionally as I can.

Kris: If that was the case, we would pay for both the flight and the accommodation and more.- she informs me and I just nod without taking my eyes off her. -Okay, I'll discuss it with my daughter and I'll let you know the answer.- she comments getting up and I do too.

Y/n: I'll be attentive to the phone.- I inform her with a smile and shaking the hand that she offers me. -By the way, you have a completely impressive hall from an architectural point of view and it's beautifull.- I praise and she smiles hugely at me.

Kris: Thank you very much.- she thanks me walking towards the main door with me behind. -Thank you for coming and pay attention to the phone.- she tells me as a farewell, once I am at the entrance and out of the house.

Y/n: Thank you, Mrs. Jenner, it has been a pleasure and I'm glad I was able to have this interview. - I say gratefully and say goodbye walking back to my car.

As I walk to my car, I just wait for them to call me so I can call my parents to tell them I've gotten my first job. I'm sure they will be incredibly proud of me as it opens my first job alone and without any connection; like taking care of the neighbours' children.

...................................................................

I had been working as a babysitter for Kim Kardashian for a month, Kris called me the next day and asked me to come to her house again. When I returned the next day, she was waiting for me with Kim in her office and a contract ready for me to sign.

The kids are amazing, North has moments where she acts a bit like a diva and is usually a bit difficult. But you just have to let her have a little tantrum and she immediately listens to you.

In addition to the fact that the three little ones stick to me, they listen to me right away and are very calm. So I don't have many problems with them.

I'm usually with them from 8 in the morning, while Kim works from her office or goes out to work; until 6,7 or 8 in the afternoon. There are also a few days, when I stay over and Kim can go out or relax with the family without worrying about her children.

I knew everyone in the family except for Kylie, Rob, Kanye, and Caitlyn; since when I have been with the family they had not been and we had not coincided.

But from those I knew, I could tell that many of the things they say about them are completely untrue and that they are incredible people. Today was Saturday and I had the day off, since Kanye has the children this weekend and since they are separated I don't have to work.

I was lying on the bed completely exhausted, because last night after coming home from work I went out with some college friends and I had had a little to drink.

I had come home around 7 in the morning, drunk and with a slice of pizza in my hand. So I had not planned to wake up early or at least not before 4 in the afternoon.

But my rest is interrupted by my phone. I groan pulling my head out from under the pillow and reach over to pick up my phone from my nightstand. I put it to my ear and it's Kim.

She calls me to inform me that there has been a change in the holidays, the plane would take off on Monday at 8 in the morning and we would go to Mykonos for 1 week. But apparently the trip is early, so the plane takes off in two hours and I have a half hour drive to the airport. I thank her and quickly get out of bed.

I shower, leaving my wet brown hair to air dry and have a quick breakfast in twenty minutes. I put on a set of black underwear, a white Reebok tracksuit, with a short-sleeved top by Ralph Lauren and white Nike air force ones.

I put the clothes and the things I was missing in the suitcase and close it. I pick up the black Vans backpack, putting some tissues, a bottle of water, a headache pill, disinfectant wipes, my glasses, my sunglasses, my wallet, my passport, and a sweatshirt just in case.

I close everything and with my cell phone and house keys I run to my car. I dump all my stuff in the passenger seat, climbing in on the driver's side and putting it into gear right away. I drive as responsibly as possible, but trying to arrive as soon as possible so as not to be late.

When I make it to the airport, I park the car and put on my sunglasses so that my head doesn't hurt even more. I walk as fast as possible to where Kim had told me to, repositioning the strap of my backpack every two seconds and dragging the four-wheeled suitcase.

In the distance I see one of Kim's bodyguards, who signals to me and as soon as I stop next to him, he asks for my suitcase. I give it to him and he asks me to follow him to the private plane that Kim and the kids are on. I climb the stairs to the plane, immediately hearing the screams of the children and making my head hurt.

North: Y/n! - I hear her scream and how she hugs me by the waist.

Y/n: Good morning North.- I greet her, returning the hug as best I can due to the height.

North: Come play with us.- she says pulling my hand down the aisle of the plane.

Kim: Northie leaves Y/n alone for a few seconds and sit down, the plane will take off right away.- she tells her daughter, who immediately complains and starts a tantrum.

Y/n: Pay attention to your mother, the sooner you sit down the sooner we'll take off and the sooner we can get up to play.- I tell her and like lightning she sits in one of the seats.

I help Kim by getting the kids into the seats and making sure they're strapped in. I sit to the right of Chicago and Saint, while North sits across from Kim and Pslam sits on her mother's lap.

Kim: I'm sorry I called you and that you won't have yuor free weekend.- she comments and as I pay attention to her.

Y/n: It's okay, last-minute changes happen and it's common.- I answer with a smile, taking a pill from my backpack and drinking it with water.

Kim: Fun night?- she questions me with some interest.

During this last month, Kim has been very kind and we have a good personal relationship. She is an incredible person and since she is divorcing Kanye spends more time alone at home and I'm there. So we talk a lot and we are quite confident.

Y/n: Quite a lot.- I answer with a little laugh. - I arrived around 7 in the morning and I had barely fallen asleep when you called me.- I commented with a small smile, looking at the little ones and then at her again.

Kim: I'm really sorry.- she apologizes again, but I make a gesture with my hand and dismiss it as important. -Kanye has canceled his weekend, so my mother thought it would be better to bring it forward so the kids don't notice it.- she tells me and I nod in understanding.

Y/n: It doesn't bother me at all.- I assure her, since she has a lot on her and I don't want to make her think that it has bothered me or something, and feel guilty about it.

A few seconds later I start to entertain Saint and Chicago who call me, so they don't start complaining and give me a terrible headache. Five minutes later, a little girl runs into the plane and approaches Chicago.

Kim: Stormi, what are you doing? - she asks the girl and I already know whose name it is.

Kylie: Mom has changed planes for us.- I hear how someone responds, but I am only able to help the girl get on with her cousins and I hear how they talk without any sense, making Saint look at me begging.

I listen as the grown girls talk quietly in the background. I stretch out my arms to Saint and sit him on my lap, watching how the little ones fit better and I help Stormi put on her seatbelt.

Kim: And this is Y/n, the babysitter we'll have in the summer.- I hear how she says and as soon as I hear my name I pay attention to the adults. -Y/n this is the youngest of all, Kylie Jenner.- she introduces us and I get up with Saint in my arms and stretch out my hand towards her.

Y/n: A pleasure.- I greet and she shakes my hand with a small smile.

Kylie: So you're the amazing new babysitter for Kim.- she says when we separate our hands and I take the opportunity to greet Kris with a little hug.

Y/n: I think so.- I say with a small smile, sitting back in the chair and tying Saint and me with my seatbelt.

Kim: It's a shame that it's only mine during the summer.- she comments and I look at her curiously.

Kylie: And why is that? - she asks sitting in front of me and tying her own belt.

Kim: Because she knows how to control the tantrums of that onw over there.- she responds pointing to her eldest daughter.

North: Hey that's very rude.- she tells his mother looking at her badly. "I don't throw tantrums and I find it ridiculous that..." she starts to shout and I clear my throat making her shut up inmediatelly.

Kim: See, not even I have achieved that since she was born.- she says pointing to what just happened.

Kris: You did well to listen to me honey.- she says to her daughter sitting on my right side, across the aisle and in front of Kim.

The adults quickly change the conversation, as soon as it is safe to remove the seat belts me and the children go to the back to play. So I start playing with everyone, being very careful with Pslam since he is still small and can do damage.

Kylie POV

I stare at the girl in the back with my nephews and daughter, as I process what just happened with my niece. About how just by clearing her throat, North has stopped complaining to her mother and immediately shut up.

Kylie: How the hell did she made it? - I ask completely impressed.

Kim: I don't even know.- she answers looking at her children with a smile. -But I don't know what I'm going to do without her when the summer ends.- she tells me and I look at her confused.

Kylie: And why is that? - I ask curiously.

Kim: Because she's covering the summer shift and Nicole and Sara will come back to work in September.- she answers me with a little grimace. -Besides that she has to go back to university.- I commented and I looked at her surprised.

Kylie: University?- I ask with surprise, since she seems young but I didn't expect her to go to college yet.

Kris: Yes, honey.- she answers me with a small laugh. -She studies architecture.- she tells me and I nod processing the information.

Kylie: But how old is she, because I thought she would be 16 or 17.- I comment and they both laugh.

Kris: She's 19 and this September she'll start her second year of architecture.- she says and I look back at the incredibly attractive girl.

Kim: In addition to the fact that she is in the women's soccer team of her college and has a full scholarship for it. - she informed me and I nod, without stopping looking at the girl and paying attention to every possible detail of her.

Kylie: I'm impressed.- I comment sincerely.

Kim: Well, you will be even more so during the trip, because when you see how she is with the kids and how they listen to her immediately.- she comments and I look at her for a few seconds.

My gaze turns to Y/n, paying attention to the clear abs of her body that the t-shirt exposes and the perfection of her face. How her wavy brown hair falls over her shoulders and back. Her sharp jawline is exposed when she pulls her hair into a high ponytail, exposing her strong, feminine jawline.

I detail her for the rest of the flight, trying to hide it as much as possible and prevent my mother and sister from noticing. I don't want my sisters to find out that i'm checking out Y/n and spend the rest of the trip laughing at me for it.

So I try to be discreet while I look at her, feeling a certain pull in my stomach when I see her bite her lip or run her tongue over her thin but perfect and plump lips.

Those lips that call you to savor them and kiss them until your lips are sore. To kiss them until you feel like you'll faint from lack of air, until you feel like your lips will droop and you lose the feeling of reality.

I have never felt so attracted to a woman as i am right now. Yes, I am capable of appreciating the beauty of a woman, in a platonic and non-sexual or romantic way. But I have to admit that she would made me do anything for her and not complain one bit.

In addition to my clear attraction to her, I haven't had sex for a long time and when I say a lot, I mean a lot. So just by seeing her body and some of her gestures I'm already starting to get turned on.

#kylie jenner #kylie jenner x reader #gxg imagine #gxg #the kardashians #khloe kardashian #kim kardashian #kendall jenner #fanfic #oc character #fem oc #kris jenner

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