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alphabetboyluvr · 1 month

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habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao

wordcount: 16k

note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.

Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.

You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.

Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.

From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.

All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.

Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.

It's not that you actively want to see him.

You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.

He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.

God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.

The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.

In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.

Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.

And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.

You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.

But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.

You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.

It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.

But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.

Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?

Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.

The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.

The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.

The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.

The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.

Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.

The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.

"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.

Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.

"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.

They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.

There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.

It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.

"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"

"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"

"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."

On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.

Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.

Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.

After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.

Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.

Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.

Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.

"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"

"Obviously."

"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."

"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.

And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.

While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.

Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"

The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.

After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.

When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.

"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.

But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.

He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.

A routine grew. Habits formed.

Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.

Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.

The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.

He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.

And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.

Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.

But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.

Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."

"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.

But he was, and it was lovely.

The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.

"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."

It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.

Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.

Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.

You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.

It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.

"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.

"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.

"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"

On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.

"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.

"Sure."

There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.

"You think I can't be trusted?"

"I think it's foolish to trust any man."

His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.

"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"

"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.

"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"

With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."

"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.

"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"

"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.

"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.

Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."

Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?

His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.

Have you not served him enough?

You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.

"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.

He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.

"Excuse me, sir."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.

"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.

More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.

Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.

Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.

You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.

Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.

"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."

Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.

Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.

You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.

You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.

As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.

But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.

Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.

But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.

You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.

Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.

It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.

In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.

"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"

The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.

It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud.

In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.

But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.

You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.

Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.

Where you at? It could read. I'm here.

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.

Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.

You: you not coming in tonight?

You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x

You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?

Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.

Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery

"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.

It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.

Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.

You: i like it better when i don't see you x

Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.

You: they'd rather die :) x

Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: you just can't take no for an answer

Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.

You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????

The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.

Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.

You: charming x

Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.

You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.

Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.

The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.

Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.

Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.

Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.

"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.

Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.

"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"

Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"

His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.

Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."

He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."

"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."

"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."

Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.

He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.

"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"

"No!"

Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.

Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"

"I'm not!"

"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"

Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.

"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.

"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."

"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.

He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.

"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"

With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.

"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."

You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.

As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.

By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.

"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.

There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.

Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.

Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.

Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.

It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.

But he did, and you damn well know it.

Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.

"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."

But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."

You're silent when he says this.

Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.

But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.

Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.

"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."

Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.

He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.

"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."

"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"

"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."

He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.

They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.

Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.

"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.

"No one."

"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"

"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."

"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."

Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.

"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.

They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed.

It's that you're separate.

When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.

If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.

But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.

He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.

"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"

With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."

"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"

"You really have to ask?"

For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.

They always have done.

When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.

Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.

How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.

Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.

When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.

So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.

"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"

"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."

Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.

The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.

The irony isn't lost on you.

"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"

"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.

If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.

All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.

One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.

When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.

You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.

Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.

Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.

"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.

"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."

Nothing happened between you.

It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.

"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.

"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."

Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.

Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.

It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.

"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.

Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."

As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.

How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.

"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.

"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."

It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.

They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.

And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.

Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.

The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.

Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail.

Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.

In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.

Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.

The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.

Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.

Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.

But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.

"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.

The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.

Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"

"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"

Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.

"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."

Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.

"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"

It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.

"Mistaken identity."

"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"

You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.

He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.

"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.

"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."

"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.

With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.

"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."

Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.

"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."

Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.

He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.

It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.

Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.

This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.

You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.

Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.

As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.

Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"

Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."

"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."

And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.

If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.

He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.

But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.

It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.

Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.

"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.

"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."

The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.

"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"

"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."

Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.

"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"

"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"

It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."

He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.

"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."

The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.

A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.

And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.

Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.

The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.

"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"

You're gonna kill Taehyung.

In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.

"Safe," you grimace.

Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"

"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.

"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.

"My sentiments exactly."

Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge

"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."

"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."

Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.

"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.

"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."

Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.

"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.

The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.

You wish you didn't.

"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.

"Excuse me?"

"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"

"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."

"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"

Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.

And so he doesn't try.

"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"

You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.

"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.

"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"

It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.

"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."

"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."

"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"

"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"

He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."

Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.

"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"

He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.

"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"

"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.

"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."

"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.

The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.

"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."

"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."

"You know that's not—"

"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.

Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.

Feels like it, too.

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"

"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"

"I didn't ghost you."

"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."

"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"

"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"

"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."

"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."

"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"

The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.

"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."

You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.

To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.

With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.

Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.

With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.

"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."

Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.

The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.

"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.

"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."

He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.

Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.

"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"

The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?

All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.

"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"

The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.

Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.

And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.

It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.

An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.

When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.

While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.

He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.

He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.

As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.

And so it's up to him to put you back together again.

"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"

His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to. Also knows that he does need to.

"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."

"But I—"

"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up."

He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.

"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"

His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.

An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).

"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.

The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"

"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"

"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."

Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.

Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.

It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.

"I want you," he husks against your lips.

"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.

"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."

"And what was that?" You encourage.

There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer.

Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."

And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?

Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.

The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.

"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.

"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"

"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."

He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.

"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.

"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.

As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.

"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"

You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."

He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.

"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.

"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.

"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.

There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.

"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."

Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."

"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.

And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.

His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.

"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"

"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.

"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."

With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.

Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.

His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.

Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."

The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.

He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.

When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.

Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.

But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.

"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."

If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.

Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.

Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.

You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.

But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.

As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"

Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.

"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."

The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.

"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.

"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.

"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."

It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.

His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.

"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.

"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.

"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."

"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"

"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.

He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.

"S'all there is. They alright?"

"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"

"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."

His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.

"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"

When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.

"I promise," you swear.

As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.

"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"

"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"

"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.

"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."

With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.

"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."

"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.

You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.

"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."

His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.

In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.

Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.

Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."

Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.

He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.

"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.

The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.

You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.

"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."

"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"

His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."

And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.

But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.

Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."

"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.

"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."

"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.

"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole.

His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes.

Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"

There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."

But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before.

His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.

The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.

As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.

The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.

"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.

"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."

You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.

"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.

"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"

It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.

"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.

"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."

The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with.

His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.

But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"

That's the thing.

He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.

Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.

"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."

Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.

And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.

"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"

You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.

"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck.

Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.

Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.

"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.

Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.

As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.

Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

#byholly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bangtan fic #jungkook fluff #college!jungkook #non idol au #bts fanfic #bangtan ff #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #college au

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urszn · 1 month

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SUNGHOON BF TEXTS

♡ ｡ﾟ idol!sunghoon x idol!fem reader

genre : fluff, comedy ( want more check pt.2 )

warnings : cursing and that literally it i think (lmk if there’s more)

note: my first time doing these text thingys 😭 that’s crazyy anyways hi

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gyusrose · 5 months

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➵ i still get jealous -> y. jw

⚠︎ smut ! (mdni)

✎ toxic!jungwon, unprotected sex, degrading, dirty talk, face-fucking, angry sex

summary: you’ve been friends with jake for as long as you can remember, jungwon shouldn’t feel insecure about him, right?

wc: 1.5k

{ jungwon x fem.reader}

( i got inspired by that one question they asked won in the fan meet hehehe)

“wonie? wonie? is everything alright?” jungwon gripped the steering wheel locking his jaw. of course he wasn’t alright.

you’ve spent the entire night (according to him) on your phone texting that fucker. it’s always ‘jake this’ ‘jake that’ he’s starting to feel a certain way about this dude.

jungwon shook his head at your question, not trying to start arguing while he’s driving.

“you’re just awfully silent, is something bothering you? do you feel sick?”

jungwon rolled his eyes at your naiveness, you pretty much ignored him (again according to him) the whole night.

“i don’t know, maybe ask jake how he feels.” there. he said it, well.. spatted.

you instantly rolled your eyes, he’s back at it again.

“don’t start, you know exactly what’s between me and jake.”

“are you sure ? you were giggling on the phone the whole night!”

“i answered one 3-minute call! that’s it! do you not trust me ?”

“i sometimes feel like i don’t, you barely talked to me, it always jake jake jake jake.”

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. where was he getting all of this from?

jungwon was in fact wrong. you didn’t ignore him nor talked with jake the whole night. you answers ONE call from him and then turned off your phone to give jungwon all your undivided attention. but jungwon like always, overthinks everything.

“at this point just date him.” at this point jungwon was furious.

“oh stop being ridiculous jungwon!”

“oh i’m ridiculous ? alright we’ll see.”

the rest of the ride was quiet, you didn’t have the guts to respond to jungwon after what he said. your breath quickened, for some reason you felt..nervous?

jungwon threw his keys on the counter as y’all entered the apartment.

he pulled you into the bedroom in a blink of an eye, gripping your neck, so you’re looking at him straight in the eye.

“i’m gonna fucking teach you, not to be such a little slut, i’m the only man you should talk to, am i right?”

you nodded quickly.

“use your words”

“yes, yes jungwon only you.”

he let go of your neck, now stripping from his clothes, you went along with his steps and took your own clothes off.

“on your knees baby.”

he said stroking his dick in front of you.

“you know what to do.” you grabbed his base and licked the tip slowly. feeling the urge to tease him.

jungwon groaned at your actions. grabbing your chin.

“nuh uh, open wide, i see what you’re trying to do.” you opened up your mouth while he grabbed hair into a ponytail. his hips thrusted up inside your mouth as he pushed your head down onto his cock. pretty much fucking the hell out of your face.

jungwon’s eyes closed in pleasure as he continued to furiously thrust into your mouth, the feeling of tagging drove him over the edge, the way your throat closes made his dick twitch.

“fuck yeah, that’s right, keep that mouth open for me whore. “

at some point you couldn’t take it anymore and started moaning into his dick sending vibrations through it.

he finally pulled out of your mouth, not wanting to cum so easily. you were just adjusting your breathing when you felt being thrown into the bed.

“are you tired already ? i haven’t even fucked you yet, how pathetic.” she said shaking his head in disappointment.

without any warning, he inserted two of his long fingers into your cunt, making your back arch at the sudden sensation. he purposely went really slow, loving to see how stressed you’d get. lifting your hips up a little to go faster.

jungwon held your hips still, smacking the inside of your thigh, making you squirm.

“you think i’m going to let you do what you want?” his fingers still thrusting into you curling them inside.

you moaned loudly, wanting to be filled up already.

“please jungwon, fuck me, just fuck me!”

jungwon chuckled, this is how he wanted to see you, begging for him only him.

“so desperate for my dick, you fucking love it don’t you?” he said looking straight at you.

you could barely form a sentence but you managed to.

“yes please wonie just fill me up, i need you.” jungwon didn’t want to give in so easily but fuck was that so hard to do when you’re looking at him with those eyes begging to be fucked.

he retracted his fingers from you and instead lined himself up with your entrance. the wetness from his dick and your pussy was more than enough lube.

he dragged his dick up and down your pussy making you whine.

finally, he slowly entered you. nothing could be compared to the feeling of being inside of you. the way your pussy engrossed his cock almost made him cum on the spot.

jungwon wasted almost no time and started slamming into you with no mercy, your cries could probably be heard from blocks away.

the bed squeaked with every thrust he stirred.

“oh fuck jungwon, just like that fuck yes!” he knew how to drive you crazy, knowing exactly where to hit in your insides.

“mhm yeah? you like that? can jake fuck you like this? can he?” he grabbed your chin straight at him. normally you would roll your eyes at his remarks over your best friend but how hot it looked right now.

wanting to tease him more, you nodded your head.

“i don’t know maybe, he could probably go faster..” jungwon was appalled.

his thrusts weee enraged. you could feel how infuriated he was with every one of them. it was amazing.

“oh you think? can he make you feel like this? huh?” his hand lowered to your pussy, rubbing your clit in circular motion making you hips snap at the impact it had on your body.

you whines, moaned and groaned at all once.

“answer me!”

“no-shit - not he can’t.” with the speed he was going at, jungwon was dying for this view, you tits bouncing up at every thrust, he couldn’t help but lean down to suck and fondle them.

your hands reached down to his hair, gripping it not wanting him to pull away from them.

jungwon pulled away from your nipple and leaned back to his original position. now putting your legs over his shoulder in order to go even deeper (if possible) .

“only i can see you like this, you get that slut? no one, specifically jake can.”

“yes only you baby, fuck i’m gonna cum!” tears could be seen streaming down your face from the immense amount of pleasure you were receiving. jungwon wiped your tears then leaned down engulfing you in a deep kiss. his tongue swirled around yours, it felt like everything all at once. lust, love, anger, compassion.

“who’s pussy is this huh? tell me.”

“i’m cumming holy shit.”

“do not cum! tell me answer my question! who’s pussy is this?”

the ecstasy from the pleasure but now the urge to cum made your mind numb. barely forming a sentence.

“yours jungwon.” you said quietly, sure he heard it but he wasn’t content with it.

“i can’t hear you!” jungwon leaned closer to you. smirking. he wanted to cum so bad, but he wanted to hear you say that before it.

“yours jungwon! all yours to fuck.” you said much louder this time, the stress visible in your voice.

that’s all it took jungwon to come undone inside of you.

“fuck cum with me baby, cum all over my dick.” your orgasm mixed with his meant a furor of moans echoing around the bedroom.

jungwon pulled out of you before plopping right next to you, hugging your waist.

“tell that fucker to not call you so much.” you chuckled and kissed his lips knowing damn well that you’ll probably do it again in order to have this side of jungwon again.

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yoonbroom · 9 months

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SEVENTEEN FIC RECS

a list of seventeen fics I really enjoyed! pls go and show these amazing authors some love <3 also if there wasn't a summary on the fic I just included a little paragraph or the request! now onto the recs ↓

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

HELLO TUTORIAL - @97-liners

oneshot, fluff, college au, frat au

it’s your final year of college, and you’ve been elected president of your sorority. this is all great and fine, but as the semester goes on, you find yourself having repeated run-ins with the president of the fraternity next door in a series of unfortunate coincidences (that might not actually be coincidences, as you come to discover). or: in which you’re trying to deal with your crush on seungcheol in a normal way, but the meddling kids are making it harder than it needs to be.

FRACTURED PARENTING, PT.2 - @berriesandjunnie

oneshot angst, fluff, idol au, separated parents au, enemies to lovers

parenting can be an emotional rollercoaster when you’re far from divorced and the flames are far from dying.

YOON JEONGHAN

UNTITLED - @userjuyo

drabble, fluff, est relationship

"i just know than jeonghan would tease his s/o a lot, but whenever they went “hannie :(“ he would literally MELT like he’d just be like “okay sweetheart i’m sorry 🥺” and the members would be like ????? BC HE WON’T LET THEM LIVE but it’s his baby so <;3"

UNTITLED - @wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship

“what if crabs think that fish can fly?” your question is whispered into the darkness of your bedroom — you gazing at the ceiling thoughtfully, while jeonghan curls up beside you.

OF RAINY NIGHTS AND ROSES - @chenfleur

oneshot, angst, fluff, idol au, est relationship

In the heat of the moment, Jeonghan grows careless with his words. Now, he has to bear the weight of saying things he didn't mean.

DAISIES - @viastro

oneshot, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers

the best type of revenge is to hurt the person that means the most to them. aka, in which jeonghan is in charge of making you fall in love with him, just to break your heart.

JOSHUA HONG

BEST FRIENDS BROTHER - @chocosvt

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, best friends brother

joshua happens to be your best friend’s older brother. he’s pretty, and he’s got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.

IT TAKES TWO - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, fluff, idol au, parent au, est relationship

a family is a little scary when your partner has over millions of fans.

UNTITLED - @/wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship

"it feels like the sky has only just welcomed the sun when joshua tries to get up to leave."

WEN JUNHUI

HEAVEN COULDN'T WAIT FOR YOU - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, angst, idol au

i just couldn’t stand to see you leaving but heaven couldn’t wait for you.

HAPPY ENDING - @junkissed

one shot, angst, fluff, marriage, est relationship

a pointless argument escalates until both of you need some space, but it couldn't come at a worse time.

KWON SOONYOUNG

LET ME TRY AGAIN - @papermatisse

oneshot, angst, fluff, exes to lovers, parent au

Soonyoung had never wanted to live a restrained capitalistic life, forced to work a tiresome 9 to 5, paying taxes until the day he dies. Though in exchange to pursue the other option, that being devotion to a career, he had to pay an unfathomably large price—he had to abandon everything and everyone he's ever loved. can he fit himself back into his former life? one that's changed more than he can possibly imagine? could the ones he loved forgive him for his wrongdoings? could he get the second chance he wants so desperately?

(UN)TRADITIONAL - @neonun-au

oneshot, fluff, wedding au, est relationship

"The digital clock on the hotel night stand flashes the next minute as it passes. A re-run of Law & Order: SVU drones on in the background as you sit at the edge of the bed, staring sleeplessly at your wedding dress hanging on the back of the closet door. "

VOWELS AND VERACITY - @hansolmates

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, teacher au, single parent

after a blind date that makes you feel like a giddy teenager all over again, you’re forced to grow up and take a chance when you realize that special someone is your daughter’s kindergarten teacher.

BE SWEET - @heartkyeom

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, royalty, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers

“Why are you here?” Your tone is resolute, not allowing for even an inch of resistance. “That’s what we need to talk about. We’re getting married,” He lifts the corner of his mouth. You let out a laugh that is nowhere near polite, in fact, you’re nearly cackling at the prospect of this idea. It’s simply so outlandish, so fantastical that every time you look at his face it seems more unfathomable.

JEON WONWOO

FOR THE BOOKS - @trblsvt

oneshot, fluff, teacher au, est relationship

wonwoo's students seemed intent on matching him up with a fellow teacher. he didn't really want to stop them, it was too funny for him to break up their fun. plus, he didn't mind the certain someone he was being "set up" with.

HOW TO FALL - @because-of-a-friend

oneshot, fluff, angst, idol au

"hi!! <3 i love ur acc and i was wondering if you'd be able to write an imagine where you're besties with joshua and he invites you to meet the rest of seventeen for the first time and you instantly fall for wonwoo? maybe some angst but overall fluff? thank you!! no rush!! i love your work!!!"

UNTITLED - @/97-liners

oneshot, fluff, royalty au, friends to lovers, childhood friends

"a royalty au where you’re the heir to the throne and wonwoo is your shy (and lowkey bumbling) royal advisor…. he’s smart and always has his head stuck in a book but he’s also painfully awkward and clueless to how deeply in love with him you are. until your parents decide it’s time for you to get married. and suddenly you’re inundated by suitor after suitor, and wonwoo is quizzing them on their credentials and doubting their suitability for you, this one makes brash political decisions, this one spends too freely, this one has no tact for diplomacy. until one day, you turn to him and ask, “you’ve hated every single one of them. who, then, do you think i should marry?” and wonwoo blushes red and presses his lips together."

SCANDAL, PT.2, PT.3, PT.4- @fantasyescapes17

series, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, regency au

this is part of an extensive series that includes other members! you can check it out ⤳ here

The Viscount's sister with an enormous dowry, beauty and unmistakable talent- you began the London season as the most desired woman in any room. But Jeon Wonwoo (a man who would rather hide in the library than dance at a ball) is beyond your comprehension. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it embroiled you into a scandal with a man you could never love.

MEET CUTE OF THE CENTURY - @lovelyhan

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, idol au, strangers to lovers

the last thing you expected when you volunteered at your city’s local animal shelter is to meet the hottest cat person in the world. now if only he’d just adopt one of them so you’d stop ogling him every time he drops by.

MARRIAGE - @yikesmary

drabble, fluff, parent au, est relationship

where wonwoo’s nightmare is coming true.

BIRTHDAY SURPRISE - @/yikesmary

oneshot, fluff, parent au, est relationship

where you and nari try to make breakfast and a cake before wonwoo wakes up… if only your daughter knew what the word “surprise” meant.

LEE JIHOON

GUITAR STRING - @leejungchans

oneshot, fluff, angst, royalty au

"“Take me away.” Jihoon’s elegant fingers, previously plucking at his guitar strings, freeze at your words. The soothing, lullaby-like chords he had been playing echo into the inky darkness, carried away by the chilly night breeze."

WE'LL BE OK - @atinykidult

drabble, angst, fluff, idol au, est relationship

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you” for hurt!Jihoon

LIVE - @wondernus

oneshot, fluff, idol au, est relationship

having just finished composing a song a few hours ago, jihoon starts a live on his phone to sing to those who are feeling a little lonely at night. little does he know, your sleeping figure could be seen in the corner of his little livestream, causing his fans to go crazy.

MWHA - @cheolism

oneshot, fluff, est relationship

three times you said "mwah" at the end of a kiss and one time jihoon said it back

IM DATING WOOZI - @jihoonotes

oneshot, fluff, smau, est relationship, idol au

y/n is in a public relationship w/ woozi of SVTZ and decides to make a twitter acc to support jihoon, but SVTZ fans seem to think they're delusional.

JIHOON'S PUPPY - @rubyreduji

oneshot, angst, fluff, college au

jihoon can’t seem to shake the puppy dog who keeps following him around or the teasing he gets for it

HEARTSTRINGS - @wavelikewhat

oneshot, fluff, strangers to lovers, idol au

You help Jihoon meet an unexpected deadline for a song and he wonders why he can’t stop thinking about you. Luckily his members nudge him toward the answer.

LEE SEOKMIN

WARM ME UP ! - @ponkwan

drabble, fluff, est relationship

the one where you’re on your third date with seokmin.

KIM MNGYU

HOT OR COLD? - @jjuniehao

oneshot, fluff, est relationship

when looking for something on his phone, you find an email you didn’t expect…

BOYFRIEND PHOTOS - @babyleostuff

oneshot, fluff, est relationship, idol au

a sunny date spent with your precious boyfriend

XU MINGHAO

THE LETTER - @toruro

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, brothers best friend, childhood friends to lovers, idol au

in which you’re jun's little sister and have been pining for a man so close yet so out of reach for ages. now, years later, when you see minghao all grown up, famous, and still making your heart flutter, you're not so sure what to do about your not-so-little crush.

BOO SEUNGKWAN

A BEAUTIFUL LIFE - @sungbeam

oneshot, fluff, childhood friends, est relationship

Boo Seungkwan asked you to marry him beneath the shade of an orange tree.

CHWE VERNON

ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE - @suhnshinehaos

series, fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, arranged marriage, smau

the one where you get into an arranged marriage with your childhood best friend vernon, but neither of you seem to mind that much

UNTITLED - @/wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship, idol au

“vernon, we need to talk.”

OR, WOULD YOU RATHER IT BE ME? - @thepixelelf

oneshot, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, college au, soulmate au

A detested soulmark, a friendship over a decade in the making, and an unexpected proposal from one friend to another… what could possibly go wrong?

LEE CHAN

SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, fluff, est relationship, parent au, idol au

no matter what stage in life you’re at, or after all these years, you can count on his hyungs to still treat him the same.

08:23 AM - @wheeboo

drabble, fluff, est relationship, idol au

in which chan is late to dance practice.

want recs for other groups? check out my navigation → here!

#fic lists📃#seventeen fic recs #svt recs #seventeen fics #seventeen x reader #svt angst #svt fluff #svt smut #seventeen idol au #svt fanfic #seventeen dad au #seventeen smau #seventeen friends to lovers au #seventeen parent au #seventeen recs

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syeollock · 3 months

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𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚝. 𝙷𝚢𝚎𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Tags : Light Angst, Drinking, Hate Sex, Rough Sex (It gets rough), Daddy Kink, Degradation, Belly Bulging, Fingering, and one mention of peeing.

A/N: First fic finally came out... Thank God! I just want to say thanks to @capslocked for introducing me to other writers that helped me out. Thank you @gangplanksorenji, @ggidolsmuts, @iznsfw, and @fillinforlater for editing and guiding a beginner like me. Also thank you to the other writers (that didn't want their name to be mentioned.)

A glimpse, no. Perhaps a little longer, a gaze maybe? How about something more drawn out, a stare? To and away, you stared. “This is getting dangerous,” you deemed all the while staring at her.

The two of you walked slowly in the wet, desolate streets—admiring the peaceful solace the night brought. The streets lighting up but dying down; a moonlight gleam hugged her delicate features. The midnight dress emphasised her pale beautiful skin, foregrounded by the starry night. The base of her neck—her defined collarbone seeping down to her chest—caressed by the midnight breeze.

The rushing rain trailed off of your face. Her hand held yours, pulling you through city streets. Twisting through your callous hand, your hands intertwined. A mistake maybe? No matter. If it was you from the past it might’ve posed a problem but not anymore. By pure instinct, you grasped hers as well, strengthening the purest form of human connection.

A light flashed at the corner of your eye, the bus stop sign reflecting the moonlight glare. She seemed to not mind the rain, but you didn’t want her getting sick. A pull, strong enough to take control but gentle enough not to hurt her, was all it took to break her gait. You pulled her towards the bus stop, sheltering the both of you from the rain.

Admittedly, you pulled her a tad too hard; and Hyewon, unable to stop, came crashing onto your torso. Not wanting gravity to take control, you stiffened up.

“Yah!” she growled.

Your arms welcomed the crashing Hyewon, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Wet. Both of your clothes drenched and hers even more noticeable—her soaked clothes clung onto her body, tightening around every single curve, the very definition of form-fitting. You felt it all: the warmth of her hand on your pecs and her hot humid breath making its way up to you.

Seeing her eyes squeeze shut and her lips quiver, you brought her closer to you—embracing her a little while longer in hopes of soothing her distress.

You held her by her shoulders, “Sorry! Are you ok?” full of concern.

She unwrapped her eyelids, “Y-yeah. I’m fine. You just… surprised me, that’s all.”

You plopped her down on the bench, safe from the rain. Shivering, probably because of the cold, you took off your coat and wrapped it around her—not taking “no” for an answer.

“Oh… thanks.” She looked up, her eyes like that of a raindrop—reflecting your irises into hers. Hyewon would normally be easy to read. She was the type of person to lay it all bare—making you comfortable knowing she didn’t have any ulterior motives, but this time felt a little different. Her irises reflected the care and intimacy you had for her. You tried to look away but you were immediately drawn back in.

You take a kneel, your face now half an arms length away from her, only now do you notice the peaks of her mounds piercing through her dress. Bare. With every breath, her thin frame expanded and contracted. The fragility of her body displayed itself in all its glory.

“It worked out anyways,” her voice brought you back to your senses, “You dragged us to where I planned to go.”

And so, you waited for the next bus to arrive. A moment of peace and tranquility, a moment so plain from which insanity can derive from. Yet you felt your consciousness ebb away, and as clear as your thoughts were mere moments ago, your head slowly swayed into the flow of the wind. At once, you were struck with a certain heaviness. Your head over your shoulder, on the lookout, only to see Hyewon’s head leaning against it. Unbeknownst to you, your cheeks flushed red like a paper lantern, the city serving as backdrop. Were you able to disassociate yourself tangibly, the scene transpiring right now painted a romantic cliche.

A beam of light made its way around the corner—the bus finally arrived. “Hyewon,” you shook her by her shoulders. A small shift but nothing more. “You’re joking?” you murmured.

“Where did she even want to go…?” A heave and a ho, you carried her like a log. The driver motioned towards an empty seat in the back row. You sat her down once again with utmost care to not wake her up. Her head flailed towards the window—thump, thump, thump—hitting the window as the bus rode through the bumps. Your hand broke through the space in between and pulled her head closer up against your shoulder, her head resting on your shoulder once again.

Deep asleep, she didn’t notice you going through her bag in search of anything indicating the location of her humble abode. It didn’t take long, Gyeoul Gong-gan Apartment Unit 381. “Wait… we live in the same apartment. What am I doing?” you mused, your thoughts clearly influenced by the devil’s nectar. With a tolerance stronger than most, weakness struck with a heavy advantage. Clearly not used to it, your eyes grew heavy and fell—only putting up a tiny struggle before your head soon followed.

Flashback…

The pitter-pattering of the rain echoed throughout your apartment. The once lively place now reflected the same gloom the weather gave off. Oddly enough, it was calming for you. It served as a nice distraction to what used to be an apartment teeming with happiness and laughter—enough to rack up multiple noise complaints—now filled with a dreadful quietness, constantly reminding you of your lonesome. Minutes slipped by without notice, you found yourself staring at the ceiling with no recollection of the events prior to your sleep. Whether it be the drinks or the stress of university life, nights were no longer the same. There was never a release, a sigh of relief like there used to be, but it was all a subconscious effort to distract yourself.

After a couple of seconds, your pillow started to vibrate, or so you thought. It took quite some time before you could get his body moving but you did. You have one missed call. Suddenly, you felt rejuvenated. “Did she call?” you scrambled out of your bed, “I knew it was all going to be okay.” And similar to that of a balloon, you deflated—shoulders slumping and your breath slipping out—just as quickly as you scrambled. “Hey man… wanna go out to eat,” the message read out, “Class is starting again, the others are worried about you.” It was your best friend, Seonghoon.

It’s been a while since your friend group last hung out together; and because of the pandemic, the first years of your university life took place online. Little did you know that this supposedly forgettable and uneventful time in your life would actually be your undoing. One that would imprint a mark inside that would slowly gnaw at you from the inside out. Like a boat hemmed in the fog—fog so light it looked like cotton, fog so light that you couldn’t help but underestimate it—the captain’s head on a swivel. So desperate, you looked for any light that shone through the softest white that enveloped you. Clouded. And there it was, the fire and the glow in the form of a girl. More luster than the starry sky and more luminous than the lone lantern in the night. Like the vacuum of space, she took you in with a pull stronger than that of black holes. The same dark nothingness in the middle of the starry sky, she was a person of immeasurable depth—an abyss, so enthralling you couldn’t let your gaze slip.

The fire that embraced you with the warmth in the cold darkness, turned out to be the same fire that would reduce you to ashes—to nothing but a former shell of yourself. She called the tune and you listened. The tidal waves that would move as the moon influenced. The same body of water that would be lifeless without movement, “Maybe it was for the better.” She pulled the string—the tension tighter than an ancient lyre—and you broke.

Your phone vibrates once more, this time an alarm. Laundry - 3:00 pm. It was that time of the week but this one was more important than the last. Everyone was getting ready to go back to face-to-face classes after two years and first impressions were very important. But with dark circles under your eyes and a gaze so flat, it cut the air—you weren’t in the most presentable state. It took some incredible self-persuasion for you to finally get moving. Granted, all you had done so far was wash your face and wear some new clothes, but it was a step in the right direction no matter how minute it was. After taking some time to fix yourself up, you scanned your apartment. The acrid smell of the multiple leftovers pierced your nostrils—strong and stinging, you choked up—finally snapping you out of your sad-stricken state, even if only for a moment. Immediately realizing the gravity of the situation, you hurriedly grabbed your washed and dirty clothes and took them down to the laundromat.

It didn’t take long for you to go down the flight of stairs and reach the laundromat. An orange hue struck past the window, a nice and calming atmosphere, or so it would have been if you hadn’t confined yourself in your room; essentially locking yourself away from all sunlight other than the dim and gloomy light struggling through the thickness of the curtains, like that of an eclipse.

It’s been six months since your apartment was last filled with the voice of another and even longer since you last met up with your friends. “Maybe I should go…?” you questioned yourself, “What if I kill the vibe though?” You went back up the stairs and cleaned your apartment while waiting for the laundry. It didn’t take long, as the orange hue was still there when you went back downstairs. Quicker than you thought, you found some free time; memories of smiles and laughter came flooding in. You had so much free time now… time that would have normally been spent wit—

The laundry came to a stop unnoticed, but the cycle signal broke your train of thought. You collected your clothes and brought them back up. 1… 2… 3… 4… The elevator taking longer than usual, your mind wandered once again. A tiny grin started to form on your face, quickly turning itself upside down. “Damn… I’m really gonna live with this for quite some ti—”

“Oh my God, it’s been so long!” a voice interrupted, “remember me?”

A dazed, “Huh?” slipped out; with furrowed brows and squinted eyes, you tried to identify the owner of the voice but to no avail. Silence filled the air momentarily, “Uh… I think you have the wrong guy,” you suggested.

“Oh, come on! It’s me,” she swiped a lock of disheveled hair, “How about now?”

Your jaw fell, words stuck in your throat, “Hye—Hyewon? What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I live here,” she retorted, “So… you’re getting your things ready for class, huh?” A puzzled look appeared on your face, “Don’t tell me you also go to Seoul University.”

“Also…?” her eyes widened, a realization, “What are you majoring in?”

“Architecture,” they said in parallel to each other. “Jinx! You owe me a soda,” she exclaimed.

“Wha—” a smug face greeted you, “How did you know?”

She turned her head away, “That’s a secret.”

“You can’t be serious, right? I’m busy right now,” you exhaled.

“You can just buy me one some other time,” she presented her phone, “Just give me your phone number. I changed mine a while back.” In a rush, you quickly put it in and disappeared from her view.

———————————————

The bustling city filled your senses: the people being dragged by the unseeing hand of capitalism, the awful artificial vibrations of the many cars racing to get to their workplaces, the smell of the tears of the hardworking man, and the swell of humanity creeping in everyone’s personal space. It all slowly crept in—like the vignette forming in your vision. All sounds slowly if not suddenly muffled themselves.

A tap on the shoulder, “Yo… you good?” your head subtly swung, mimicking that of a pendulum, a response but not to the question. “Y-yeah… Sorry, I zoned out.”

“It’s our stop soon, get your things,” Seonghoon told you. "By the way have you heard of the new—” A ring broke the one-sided conversation—Hyewon was calling. “Oooh, so you have got someone?” he teased.

You waved Seonghoon off and answered the phone. “He—Hi!” a snicker from Seonghoon earned another wave. The voice on the phone echoed, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what I said last time? I was waiting for you, you know?”

“Right… yeah. Of course, I remember,” you replied, “There’s a Korean BBQ spot I know downtown. Are you free this Friday?” Your reply earned a smirk from your friend. “Alright then, just call me. I’ll pick you up.”

“And with that, the date has been set,” you exhaled.

Seonghoon’s brows furrowed, “It’s a date?!?!?”

Eyes widened, “What!? No, no, no! I meant the date September 14!”

A playful punch hit you on your shoulder, “Relax… I was just messing with you. It’s our stop by the way.” Seonghoon led the way while you followed. It was quite a trek before you would reach the main campus, eventually splitting up due to the difference in departments. You would then drag your drained self through the day, and all of a sudden it was nighttime.

The swell of humanity had already dissipated, and what remained were the remnants of people picking themselves back up from their busy day. There were also a few people—whether responsible or irresponsible, we’ll never know—burning the midnight oil. Some people were playing catch-up, while others were trying to get ahead of everyone else. It just made it clear that everyone was moving without a single care for your own problems.

And with less than three days to prepare and classes taking up most if not all of your time, it was physically impossible to be at your best.

The sound of sizzling meat mixed with the aroma of seasonings and sauces fill your senses as you enter the building. The aroma was intoxicating, causing your mouth to water—yet you couldn’t do anything but wait as you and Hyewon stood outside waiting to be ushered to your seats.

Korea just transitioned away from its pandemic protocols. It’s been ages since you last ate out by yourself, let alone with the company of someone else.

“Is it only going to be the two of you?” the waiter asked. You nodded in response.

“Just follow me.” The waiter motioned towards an empty seat. You allowed your partner to go first (now don’t get it wrong, you guys aren’t in that type of relationship) displaying your gentlemanly behavior. Partners, in a non-romantic way, just seems like the appropriate way to call it

The both of you sat down to where the waiter ushered you. You were welcomed by a soft yellow hue coming through the window from the lamppost outside. A calming atmosphere radiated from where you sat—the seats being padded which allowed for some of your stiffness to disappear.

Taking a short look around, your architectural senses started tingling. Things you wouldn’t have noticed before become apparent—Greek pillars lifted the ceiling to a higher degree than normal, to allow for a spacious and comfortable feeling, while small pots of flowers hung from the ceiling reminded you of ancient history, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon to be exact.

Ancient history… well, that’s another way to describe what you and Hyewon have going on. It’s been ages since you guys last met yet somehow you’re here eating with her, like it was just the good old days.

Anyways, it was kind of weird that a Korean barbecue restaurant had such a niche and unique design. The theme didn’t really match, like, who would pair the straight and harmonious architecture of the Greeks with a casual and relaxed establishment? The contrast between the two didn’t make sense from an outsider’s perspective but you guess it was a quality restaurant. There was an hour long line after all, so people must like it.

After looking around, you finally found your vision was naturally attracted to her face. You did look at everything else already so it just made sense to focus on the one last thing you haven’t paid attention to, whether on purpose or not.

Hyewon was definitely beautiful but you never really got a proper look at her. It wasn’t like you’d just randomly stare at her for a good ten seconds or so, that’d be weird… but it was happening right now. However, things are unexpectedly in your favor. Right now, all of her attention was directed towards the menu—if this was any other world, she’d have made a hole through the menu with how intense her gaze was.

It was clear she took great care of her appearance. Her skin was smooth to the touch, you imagine. Her lips were full and upturned at the corners, giving her a soft look of innocence. Hair, long and draped over her shoulders like the gentle waves of the ocean. Eyes, large and expressive—almost giving you a full view to what she was thinking—and her beauty was enhanced by her effortless charm and grace… or lack thereof. You knew that when it came to the grace part, she wasn’t the most graceful whenever food was in front of her.

You guys ordered some grilled pork belly accompanied by an assortment of side-dishes and some good old soju. With excellent service, your order arrived within ten minutes. She had just gone to the bathroom to touch up her makeup—so light that you didn’t even notice she had put it on. She returned at basically the perfect time.

“Hey! Are you going to help me or not?” She exclaimed, ready to put the meat on. You were staring at her again—no menu to distract her this time.

“Y-yeah… Sorry, I was just thinking about some things.” You reached out for the tongs she was handing you.

“It’s just our first week. Is there something wrong?” she asked with a hint of concern.

Eureka! The contrast between the straight and harmonious architecture of the Greeks and the relaxed and casual establishment perfectly reminded you of Hyewon. Her soft and innocent look, that just radiated charm and grace, was in complete contrast to how she actually acts around people. She was always a genuine person that did and said whatever she wanted. She never bothered to please other people just for the sake of it. Kind of weird that you’re comparing a restaurant to a person but that’s what happens to architecture majors.

You brushed away all of your thoughts. “No, no, no. It’s not a school thing,” you replied quickly, trying to clear her concern.

“Hmmm… If you say so.” She hesitated, trying not to pry. “Anyways, let’s start cooking for real this time. Let’s leave all that stuff for another time.”

You finally started cooking. You laid the pieces of meat over the piping hot grill. You watched as it cooked itself from the overwhelming heat coming from the grill. You watched as the raw fat from the pork belly slowly transformed to a nice golden brown and its juices slowly dripped off the edge. You were so absorbed into watching the meat being cooked that you didn’t even begin to notice the rustic scent of the grill slowly change to that of a tasty aroma. The sound of the crackling fat over the heat was nothing but music to your ears. You couldn’t read minds but you could tell that Hyewon shared the same thoughts as you. As far as you could tell, she was still the same Hyewon from your high school days that loved anything related to food.

You watched as the piece of meat slowly metamorphosed from a raw and inedible piece of meat to something irresistible.

Finally, it was time for you two to dig in. You reached out to grab the tongs and place the pieces of meat onto both of your plates.

Hyewon took the first bite with amazing speed as if it was a race. Her cheeks puffed up and just as quickly as she reached for it, she gasped for air. She made a fanning motion trying to get as much cold air in her mouth as possible. You offered her a drink to wash it down but she refused. She didn’t want her first bite to be diluted with alcohol.

“I know you want to savor it but… is this really the way?” you laughed as she stood up, trying to get even more air. It took a moment but she sat down soon after.

“Whew… That was an invigorating first bite.” She heaved.

“Yeah… Burning your mouth is definitely one way to feel alive and healthy,” you retorted. Concerned, you proposed a compromise to the hungry Hyewon. “Let’s eat some of the side dishes while we wait for it to cool, okay?”

“Fine…” her eyes downcast. The side dishes were quickly consumed, and it was, again, the time for the main dish.

You saw her all giddy and full of energy, making tiny quiet claps in anticipation—you couldn’t help but find it adorable. And for the rest of the main event, you found yourself constantly distracted by the amount of happiness Hyewon radiated with every bite. “So this is what parents feel like when they say that they can feel full just from watching their children eat,” you thought.

Some time passed by; conversations came and went, more pieces of meat were cooked and eaten, and drinks were poured and emptied.

“So… why did you major in architecture?” If it was any other person, it would’ve been difficult to discern what she just said. Hyewon’s cheeks were puffed up, trying to do two things at the same time—enjoy some food whilst talking to you.

“You know you shouldn’t talk with your mouth full right?” an awful attempt to change the topic. Her cheeks slowly deflated as the pork gradually melted inside her mouth. What should’ve been a good ten seconds, now became two. It was impossible for you to think of a response that fast—or at least an answer that would be believable enough. Running out of time, you deci— “Ok… so why did you major in architecture again?” she interrupted, her eyes lit up all proud and smug. Her face radiated like that of a golden retriever that just fulfilled its owner’s commands.

Your stream of consciousness wandered away. The numerous chatter, that once filled your ears, was now all muffled. The crackling fat on the grill found its way through the chatter to your ears, the aroma filled your nose. It was all so beautifully distracting.

“Hello??” her hand swatting the air in front of you, trying to get your attention. “Did you not he—” you stuffed her mouth with the last piece of pork. That should buy you some time.

You started to interrogate himself, “Why did I choose architecture again? Do they even make a lot of money?” subconsciously holding yourself away from the truth of it all.

Hyewon started chewing vigorously. The girl who always savored the last piece went out the window. The time that you bought yourself quickly ran out.

“Why didn’t she take her time with the last piece?!?!” you panicked.

“You do realize that that was the last piece right?” A pitiful last attempt to distract her from the topic at hand.

Her face quickly turned from one of eagerness and excitement to one of great disappointment. You saw her looking over the table, her eyes desperately panning left and right in search of leftovers. Sad to say, it truly was the last piece.

You saw her pouting—her face all scrunched up, hands clenched into a tight fist, her eyes downcast, and shoulders following the same trajectory—though unable to rid herself of her cute aura. You couldn’t take it seriously because of how large the contrast was, yet you knew the gravity of the situation. “Ehem…” you coughed, raising your hand in hopes of gathering the attention of an unoccupied waiter.

A good ten seconds passed by and you couldn’t help but be bothered by the daggers pointing behind your back. Wanting to correct the situation, you stood up—disregarding how you looked to everyone else—trying to get the waiters’ and waitresses’ attention.

“Could we get two more servings and some more drinks?” you said as you looked towards Hyewon, hoping to satisfy her. Arms crossed and lips pouted, she maintained her rigid and immovable stance. You knew she wouldn’t budge until you were actually able to replace what was taken away and then some. It took some time but she finally got around. Her once pouting face now held the crescent of the moon on her lips.

You reached out for the tongs once again and slowly distributed the meat onto their plates. Her face lit up every time he placed a piece onto her plate and drooped down every time you put one on yours. Noticing the small detail, you regretfully decided to just give the rest of the unclaimed pieces.

Her wide smile glistened, allowing the rest of her features to shine. She regained her radiance, the same radiance reflected onto him. And with the mood lifted by such a vibrant display, moments slipped by without notice.

Your hand interrupting the bustling atmosphere, you asked for the bill, to which a waitress arrived and gave, or so you thought. Another hand made its way to interrupt the waitress this time. The hand was delicate and graceful—slender fingers that tapered off into slender nails, wrists dainty yet strong and embraced by a simple hair tie. “I can pay. It was my idea anyway,” she protested. Fearing another fight, you decided to concede—but not entirely. The LED lights slowly crept in as the natural light slowly dispersed. “What if I offer to take her home?” you thought, “Hey—”

She interrupted, “You wanna drink some more?” presenting her hand.

She gathered her long locks of silky hair, “Wouldn’t want to be wasted so far from home do ya?” Her fingers worked gracefully—twisting and looping the hair into a tight bun, leaving some lengths untied for a slightly disheveled look.

“So… are you gonna take my hand or what?” She swiped the stray lock of hair from her face. Not missing a heartbeat, you took her hand—the very same hand you admired just a few minutes ago. To your surprise, her fingers intertwined with yours—an intimate and romantic gesture—but you had not a single clue if it held any meaning. Hyewon always had a problem with personal space and physical touch. “So this is what those boys, who confessed to her, felt.”

The cobwebs of your heart were slowly getting woven away. “Is this right? Am I allowed to feel like this?” The invisible vice grip returned, ever so slightly tightening in your solar plexus. To what should’ve been butterflies in your stomach, were the rotten cocoons all knotted up.

You shook your head in discord of your own thoughts. “Yeah… there’s no way. We literally just met again after all these years.” Hyewon pulled you by your hands outside, oblivious to your thoughts.

“Where exactly are we going?” you stopped in your tracks, forcing her to break her pace.

“Don’t worry about it,” she chuckled, “Did you always ask these many questions?” She tugged on you again, “Now, come on!” Forcing an exhale out of him, “Fine!”

Flashback end…

“Wake up you lovebirds!!” The driver yelled inside the now empty bus. Eyelids still heavy, everything slowly came into focus—your head resting on Hyewon’s. Somehow still asleep, “What the hell…? Is she a light drinker?” you carried her to her unit.

“Don’t tell me her keys fell out…” the slight jingle when exiting the bus replayed in your mind. Not wanting to leave her out in the open, you took her a floor down to your apartment.

Light. Your hands behind her knees, her breasts pressing onto you. You find yourself conscious of her braless venture with the way you felt her tits plunge itself, in its erectness, on your back; sending waves of sensation to and from your back.

You lay her down on the couch, dripping water all over the place. “How the fuck am I supposed to dry all of this?” Scratching your head, you began to unbutton your polo.

A hand slithers its way from the back of your shoulders to your abs—the finger tracing the definition of your muscles, leisurely admiring it. “I can’t believe your ex is missing out on this,” the girl whispers into your ears.

Earning a well-deserved shove, “Get the fuck off me! I’m letting this go just because you’re drunk.”

“Or what?” her voice alluring, tempting a reaction out of you.

A pinch to your temple—trying to hold yourself back, letting out an extended exhale, “I swear— say one more word and I’m gonn—”

A flash of light glared through the window—exposing her naked body, her transparent midnight dress gripping tightly—followed by a roaring thunder.

Don’t look. Your head turned away, you don’t see her approach you. A turn back and you’re greeted by her face, not a foot further—her face tilted, awaiting a reaction out of you. Eyes downcast, you’re taller than her, stronger than her, and yet it feels as though she has you under her grasp. She grabs your chin, “What now?” The water in her clothes weighed it down, slowly showing off more and more of her chest.

You grab Hyewon’s wrist, causing her lips to quiver. A twist and a turn, like that of a ballerina, you switch places. You trap her between your body and the wall, her hand forced by your own against it. “So you can take charge~” her voice trailed off.

“Fuck this.” You let go of her hand, the gentleness absent. You’re not falling for anything at this point. It’s clear she wants to rile you up… but why?

“It’s been six months right? Six months of no action too, I presume?” you see what she’s getting at.

“Was it all planned? Was that innocent display a lie?”

“Does that matter? I know you want me,” her finger peeling back her lower lip, “I’ve seen the way your eyes stare at me.”

“You’re not getting what you want, you know that right? I don’t know why I thought this shit would work,” you wave her off.

“I always get what I want~” approaching you ever so slowly. “Isn’t that right?” her hands curling behind your neck.

You prove her right—you lean in for a kiss, her hands pull on your hair, “Where did all that bravado go? Guess you were a bad boyfriend huh?”

You lift her by her waist, her body draping over your shoulders as you throw her onto the bed, not without a single smirk curling up her mouth, “There it is… there’s the man I want.”

“You fucking whore,” your fists clenching, “You think you can just come in here and do what you want? You don’t deserve any of that lovey-dovey shit.”

“Oh~ trust me. I don’t want any of that.” Hyewon crawls with no care in the world, her eyes focused on your bulge. Fuck. She lacks manners, lacks grace—her eyes completely bewitched. To her, you are her food for the night. Her teeth skillfully peels your underwear, revealing your cock. “Ooooh, big, veiny.” How phallic.

And suddenly, her grace comes back—the sultry grace of sucking your cock. She swallows it all in one dive. There’s no beauty behind it all, or at least there shouldn’t be. There was something hypnotic about how she stared at you with your cock in her lips.

Look down and all you can see is her disheveled hair with your hands gripping to the shape of her head. A subtle force keeps her plunging deeper and deeper to no end. Her tongue swirls around your cock, rubbing all over the veins, not leaving a spot untouched. Her nose plugged, her other senses heightened itself to that of a supernatural level. She feels you through the veins of your cock lodged in her throat, every throb and every pulse. She reads you completely—you weren’t thinking with your brain after all.

Not enough. You push her head deeper, her nose plunging deeper into your pelvis. Hyewon’s sultry grace disappears, “WAI-” The silent apartment, now resonates with the sinful sounds struggling out of her throat. “HMMMF!” her hands slamming onto your thigh. “Choke on it!” you punch it in. The walls of her throat begin to collapse, tightening. A cough, or so it should have been but instead she choked more on your cock, clearly too much for her to handle, the length forcing its way down even more.

Release. She pushes back, gasping for air. She needs oxygen and you deprived her of it. “I’m not done with you,” you grab her head and force your cock deep down her throat again.

“Stop, stop, stop! I can’t fucking bre- GOUHK!” A galore of drool seeped out the corners of her mouth, dripping down onto the already wet sheets. “Fuck you,” Hyewon slurs, this time you pull on hair. The constant bobbing continues, though not of her own volition. You press her head onto your pelvis one last time, this one stronger than all the others. Your spine buckles down—the same amount of force one would put when opening the lid of a jar, arms tensing and veins appearing—you unload onto the walls of her throat. The goopy, thick liquid forcing its way down to her stomach. Unable to take it all in, she pushes you away and coughs up the rest. You go along with it, feeling your load force its way out.

Hyewon lays down on her back, gasping for air, occasionally coughing up your cum like a broken water fountain.

“H-Holy shit… I almost died there.” Hyewon exaggerates as her fingers pull on the corners of her mouth, widening the moist entrance to show the masterpiece you created within her velvety walls—clumps of white semen sticking to her uvula, semen blending in with her ivory-like teeth.

“You’re not a one-hit wonder are you? If you were then I’d understand why she left you,” another remark looking to irk something inside of you. You pull on her ankles, “Ow! You could be much kinder to a lady like me, you know?” The sarcasm in her voice telling you she doesn’t give a shit about your feelings and your past.

Rip her dress off, “Fuck you! That was expensive.”

“You think I fucking care?” You shoot out a glare so flat it cuts the air.

“Oh~ I know you don’t,” she giggles, “Now fuck me like the slut I am will you?”

You twist her body—her back now facing you. Her hands unfolding her pussy, making way for your cock. A plunge deep inside, “Oh… fuck~ You’re so fucking tight.” Her plush flesh tightens around you. Hyewon’s hands are busy trying to keep herself sane—grasping at the sheets, almost ripping them.

“Yeah~ Just like that… daddy,” she turns around. You greet her face with a slap, earning a yelp. “I’m so fucking trashy right?” You hear the smirk in her voice.

“You’re not fucking learning are you?” her hair brutally balled up into your fists. Pull tighter—her back arching. Pull tighter—your other arm now putting her into a chokehold. You thrust into her, vehemently, without a single care. You have full control now. Let go of her hair and palm her abs, feeling your cock swell through.

“FUCKKKK!” She tries her best to push your arm away, “Fuckin- Stop! Stop pressing on it! YOU"RE GONNA RIP ME IN HALF!” She claws at your chokehold, trying her very best to get out. Fuck that’s hot.

It’s the way she surrenders every part of her body as you fuck the living shit out of her—well, it’s not like she has a say in the matter. You push her into any position you want. Manipulate her like a doll, existing purely for your pleasure.

The whines, the slurring of her voice, all of it so enthralling to hear. You feel her saliva drip onto your arms. You thrust harder than the last with every incomplete sentence coming out of her filthy mouth. With every incoherent word, your cock throbs. Every single moan now a glass-breaking scream. You’re piling on noise complaints. Harder. You’re really in it now—in her—almost fucking her ten crimes deep before you can relish in your high. The knot in your stomach is slowly unravelling, the floodgates are about to open. You’re remolding her into your toy—if only she wasn’t the one playing with your emotions but who cares, you were having the time of your life. Another rip-roaring scream, the last one. Now, everything that came out of her mouth was nothing else but a low grumble, her voice box pushed to its very limits.

Hyewon’s nails dig deep into your arms, “Ahm- I’M PEEING!” Her muscles contracting, her hips buckling. Your cock following the trajectory. She’s on her toes. You feel the warm fluid trickling down your thighs. You don’t let up; in fact, you squeeze tighter.

The whites of her eyes take over as they roll back in her head. A hand free, you go further. You mask her with your hand, her grumbles struggling through it. Every moan, every groan. You feel her depleting energy, channeled by her voice, propagating through your very veins.

Fall in love with the idea of sophistication, the assumption of carnal layers peeled back, to reveal the sin of lust inside such a person, peeled back one by one.

Take away a sapien. You were stripping her down to her very core, diluting it. Primitive. With pure instinctual fucking, you were singlehandedly reverting her DNA millennium’s back.

You free Hyewon from your clutches.

What a masterpiece to behold! Her body lays on the mattress—limp, almost lifeless. A quiver then and there easing your worries. Your floodgates open, you unload on her back—ropes of semen shooting out—marking her as yours. It fits her so well, almost like a back tattoo (but made of cum). The liquids making a cocktail in the sheets.

Your heart is beating out of your chest. You aren’t satisfied… yet. Your fingertips dig into her cheeks, “Fucking weak slut. All that talk for nothing.” Hyewon’s gaze is cloudy, she isn’t even staring at you. She’s drunk-dazed, almost jaded. You slap her face with your cock, “Wake up, bitch! We aren’t done!”

It’s a bit too late for some foreplay but here you are, rubbing her cunt vigorously. Are you starting a fire? One thing’s certain, her nerves are burning and you’re warming her up—her erogenous zones. Preparing them for the experience they’re about to go through.

Finger her. Your fingers—three to be exact—make their way through the ruined walls, like an explorer finding the ruins of ancient civilization. You feel some precum sticking to her walls. You bottom out, reaching the furthest your hand could go. You curl your finger in a come-hither motion, jerking it in a disorderly, primal manner. No techniques. It’s the pure girth of your fingers stimulating her G-spot, almost clawing at her walls, her body quivers with the slightest touch.

Hyewon, still unconscious, her body declares its sign of life with every single convulsion.

You don’t limit yourself. Your other hand making its way to her ass. What is meant to be a delicate spot—throw that out the window—you go at it with intensity. Rather than curling your fingers, you put pressure on the walls of her ass, working it in a circular motion—stirring it in its chaotic mess.

The obligatory orgasm, and when it eventually does come, like a dopamine hit, is thrilling and satisfying but for no more than a few fleeting moments but that’s all you need.

Her back arching, pelvis thrusting the air, her arms reaching for the ceiling, palms spreading to its very limit. Her liquids squirts all over your hand. You send an electric charge coursing through her veins, essentially resuscitating her, “HOLY SHITTT- LET ME TAKE A BREAK! PLEASE! DADDY! PLEASE! TOO MUCH! IT’S TOO MUCH! I’M CUMM-” Hyewon’s last words before passing out again. Her body crumples on the bed—her body in shambles, almost droopy.

A deafening silence fills the room, the only thing you can hear are your weary breaths. You just finished but are you finished? You look back, the view unlike any other. She’s a tool and nothing more. And despite looking pristine just moments ago—like a flower untouched, the color white personified—her body says otherwise.

How sinful. How tempting. She’s all that and she knows it. Hyewon may think she’s a devil but you beg to differ. A fallen angel you’d say. It’s almost artistic as to how much she encapsulates it without knowing so. The innocence remains the same, unaware of her surroundings and herself. Is lust a sin? You hear the moans reverberate from the upper floor. The normality of it all hits you. It’s an innocent sin. There’s no point overthinking. Enjoy yourself… just like Hyewon just now. You needed it, the release. “You could have been a lot kinder about your words, you know?” you give her a spank, blood vessels squeezing, your hands imprinting itself.

“You knew I was awake?” she looks back, struggling to sit herself up—her arms weak from what you just put her through. You lay beside her. “Yah!” You put her in your arms, this one a tender embrace.

Hyewon tucks her head under your neck, her finger tracing circles on your pecs, “Just so you know, I’m not taking back what I said. I don’t know her but she’s a bitch.”

You let out a chuckle as your fingers run through her hair, almost massaging her scalp. “Are you trying to score some good guy points now?” she looks up, her eyes devoid of ulterior motives.

“Is it working?” your other hand makes its way under her chin, caressing it.

Her lips quiver, resisting the urge to smile. “No,” she says as she hides her face away, pressing them onto your abs.

“Let’s get up by the way, your liquids are everywhere,” you punctuate.

You get off the bed, helping her on the way up, “I didn’t rough you up too bad, did I?”

An attempt to prove you wrong, she smacks your hand away, rejecting any form of help. “I’m an independent woman,” she says all smugly.

“Oh yeah?” you give her the side-eye, your fingers point toward her legs, “Is there an earthquake right now? You’re wobbling like crazy.”

“Fuck you,” she says just to immediately use your body as support. She looks up to see your smug face, “I hate you, you know that?”

“Your body sure doesn’t say so. But I still can’t believe you did all that… for me,” you grab onto her shoulders, standing her straight.

“I did all that for you—your cock all right? Don’t get it twisted,” you twist her body, then carrying her like a princess, “Yah! Put me down!”

“Or what?” you lean in closer, almost biting her ear. It sends shivers across her body, you feel the way her body just shivered, “You’re turned on again, aren’t you?” Met with silence, the sensation of wetness on your arm serves as her answer, “Just… don’t say those things next time, okay?”

“Who says there’s gonna be a next time?” shuffling in your arms.

“I did,” you give a light kiss on her forehead, “You were just lucky I gave in to you this time.”

“And if I don’t stop talking shit about your ex?” she crosses her arms.

“Then I’ll make sure you’ll be the one to give in,” you carry her towards the bathroom.

“Well… she’s a bitch,” you give her a glare, “Now, teach me a lesson in the shower will you?”

A/N: Hello!! I finally got this out! It took longer than I wanted since I got sick, and I just couldn't write properly. I got some more time now so hit me with some asks/requests. I might do them... but what's for sure is another fic before February ends. -🔎

#kpop gg #idol x male reader #kpop smut #izone smut #kang hyewon #hyewon smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #kang hyewon smut #girl group smut #smut #light angst

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haeryna · 3 months

Text

i would give up heaven if i had to ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ✶.ೃ࿔*.

← previous | ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | next →

summary: sugar melts saccharide sweet on his tongue, and yet the taste in his mouth is so very bitter. the look in suguru's eyes tells him more than any words could. they'd messed up; badly.

tw: angst but melancholic? mentions of illness, mentions of abandonment, reader has a healthy relationship with their parents, author uses switches between "gojo/geto" and "satoru/suguru" to denote emotions. food as a metaphor for love. not proofread. author is extremely tired

notes: title taken from enhyphen's "sweet venom (english version)." a shorter chapter to kind of fill in the gaps. banner from @/cafekitsune

It's been a week since Gojo and Geto showed up at your doorstep and ever since then, you've been filled with a pervasive sense of anxiety. After the whole six hours they spent pleading outside your door (you shudder just thinking about it), they had been uncharacteristically silent. It had gotten to the point where you felt almost a bit insane, peeking your head out the door to check outside if anyone was waiting for you, before you left for work.

It didn't matter if it had been five years, or five days. You knew them better than you'd even known yourself. The freckle on Suguru's collarbone. The barely noticeable scar on Satoru's arm. How Suguru preferred tea, black, and always expensive, while Satoru's guilty pleasure was instant coffee with ungodly amounts of syrups and sugars added to it. You knew them, and therefore you knew that the silence was suspicious. Even as children, whenever you'd get into fights, they would be even clingier than usual, as if they were desperate to reaffirm that you were still there.

So why was it so quiet?

The scream of the tea kettle startles you out of your thoughts and you flinch, hastily moving to remove it from the stove. Why should you care? The audacity they'd had, coming to your doorstep on a whim, before claiming they had no choice. Your thoughts are more bitter than the medicine you mix into your parents' tea. Satoru had been undoubtably hysterical once his parents had found out. You couldn't blame him for that. But Suguru had been the one to call all the shots, buying two plane tickets instead of three.

What if they couldn't afford a third one?

You shake your head, as if you could physically shake the thought. It doesn't matter now, you think viciously, as you stack the cups on a tray. Five years was a long time to go without seeing someone for. Fame and wealth changed people, and you were no stranger to the heavy influence they both exerted upon the music industry. Besides, it's not like your address had changed since they'd left. They could've found you whenever they wanted to.

"You never left?"

The cups rattle dangerously as you carry them to your parents' room. Your mother is sitting up in bed, staring longingly out the window. Your father must be outside, soaking up the last few rays of sunshine before the sun started to set. Gently, you set the tray down on the nightstand. "I have your medicine, Mom."

Your mother smiles, but there's a fragile kind of sadness to it. "When were you going to tell us?"

Heavy resignation falls over you as you sigh, shoulders slumping. "I didn't want to worry you and Dad while you were away at the hospital. It wasn't that big of a deal-"

Your mother cuts you off, eyes firm but gentle. "Dear, please. I saw how happy you were when all three of you were together, and how devastated you were when they left. I just..." She hesitates before continuing. "I don't want you to live your life with regrets. Especially because of your father and I. You deserve to be happy too."

"I am happy," you protest fiercely, but she shakes her head. "You had such lofty dreams. And now, your father and I are the ones holding you back. Life is too short to have regrets like yours at such a young age."

"It just hurt so badly," you whisper, as you take a seat at the end of the bed. Your mother reaches over to intertwine her fingers with yours.

"I know, dear. But which is greater; the love for the things they did do, or the pain for all the things they didn't?"

Your mother's words ring through your ears as you blearily stare into your coffee cup. While the insurance helped, there were still bills to pay, and food to put on the table. You'd stayed up all night finishing work for your remote office job, before taking the short bus ride to the cafe you worked at during the day. The world spins briefly. You would kill for a good night's sleep.

The door chimes and grimacing, you down the rest of your coffee, before pasting a cheery smile onto your face.

"Welcome, how may I help..."

Sator- Gojo stares at you from the other end of the counter. Even with the cheap medical mask he's wearing, the blue eyes and white hair are enough to have your coworkers whispering behind you.

"...you," you finish lamely, immediately looking down at cash register. Why was he here? Especially in the town over? More importantly, why hadn't he gone back to Asia yet? Cursing, you study the bills lined up neatly in the till. Gojo says your name, softly, and the whispers behind you intensify.

"That's me!" you chirp, forcing yourself to point at your nametag. The tips were nice here, and you couldn't afford to find a new job. The pitying stares from everyone back in your hometown was already suffocating enough; gaining the attention from Gojo's rabid fangirls would probably push you over the edge. "Is there anything in particular that you like? Our customers really love the caramel crunch latte."

There's a tone to his voice that you can't place when he finally speaks. "Yeah, I'll take one of those. Extra sweet. Do you happen to have any tea here?"

The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. "Unfortunately, we only have one drink that features black tea."

Fuck.

You can feel Gojo's gaze, searing into your face as you stubbornly continue to stare at the counter. "Sure, I'll take one of those."

Numbly, you recite the total to him. As he hands you his credit card, you can see your hand shake as you reach out to grab it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You should've forgotten everything about them when they left.

But you couldn't. You never could.

You hand his card back, but a firm hand on your wrist forces the air out of your lungs. Eyes wide, you peer up at Gojo in shock. His eyes are filled with an intensity that you've never seen before. "How much do I have to tip you in order for you to be the one to make our drinks?"

His grip is firm but not bruising, even as you try to tug your hand back. "I can assure you, our baristas-"

"I don't care," he interrupts. "I want you to do it. You're the only one who can do it." The final part of his statement is so soft that you barely catch it. "It's only ever been you."

You have the horrible feeling that the two of you are no longer talking about extra sweet lattes and London Fogs. The whispers are getting so loud now that you yank your hand back and give him a strained smile. "I suppose I can." At this point, you'll do anything to stop talking with him.

As you busy yourself around the cafe, you hate how easy it is to make the two drinks. Extra caramel; Satoru always loved when his coffee was practically infused with it. You grab the filtered water, running it through a filter several more times. Suguru always insisted tea tasted better the more filtered the water was. You heat the water as you crush up small caramel candies. Satoru enjoyed when his drinks had a little something he could chew on. The tea was steeped for five minutes, exactly. You added lavender and vanilla syrup. When Suguru had made you try a London Fog for the first time in ninth grade, you'd teased him for the "oddly pretentious taste." A splash of milk. An extra large heaping of whipped cream.

Wiping your hands on your apron, you can feel the pain in your heart form the salt of your tears. "Lizzie," you call out. "Can you deliver this to the customer? I'm going on my ten minute." Not waiting for a response, you dash into the bathroom, barely slamming the door behind you as you let the first of your tears fall.

"Toru! Toru!"

"What?" he snaps. Undeterred, you rush up to him, bright pink lunchbox clutched in one hand. "Sugu said you forgot your lunch at home, but it's okay! We pooled our allowance together, so Sugu's in line for the cafeteria right now"

A rush of warmth fills his chest. "You shouldn't have," he protests, but you wave it away. "Mama always says that food is meant to be shared, especially with people you love! And it wouldn't feel right eating without you."

The school onigiri had never tasted good, but that day, Satoru had savored every bite.

Satoru stares at the teenager who'd called his name, wringing her apron nervously, before taking the offered cups. "Thank you." Where had you gone?

"Can I get your autograph?" she blurts out, and Satoru winces. His cover had been completely blown. Suguru's not going to be pleased, he thinks wryly. Yet as he dutifully signs his name on the provided paper, his mind wanders to you. Your hands had been shaking. Were you cold? Tired? Or was it his fault? Briefly, he considers sticking around, before quickly dismissing that idea. You clearly wanted to avoid being associated with him, and although the thought makes his stomach twist, he understands it as much as he hates it.

The walk back to the hotel is short. Satoru's mind is a mess. The bags under your eyes rivalled Shoko's. Were you taking care of yourself? You seemed thinner, too. The sick feeling inside him only grows, festering into something ugly. He dutifully ignores it (like he has been the past five years) and takes a sip of the latte you made, freezing.

Every time all four of you had gone over to your house after school, you'd always insisted on making snacks for the three of them. The coffee tastes like sunny afternoons, and bright laughter, of your voice teasing Satoru for the sheer amount of sugar you'd have to put in his drinks. Caramel seeps into his system, and unbidden, he thinks of your eyes, watching him with a hint of apprehension and exhaustion.

When had it gone so wrong?

Suguru is lounging on the couch as he enters. "What took you so long?" Suguru grumbles, reaching for the other cup. It takes Satoru a moment to respond.

"She was working at the cafe."

"Is that so?" Suguru murmurs, taking a sip of his own drink. Immediately, he tenses, eyes stunned. "Did she-"

"Yeah."

"It tastes kind of like-"

"I know."

The two lapse into silence. You'd had so much love to give that it had practically overflowed. Food was just one aspect of it. Some days, you'd even give up parts of your lunch, insisting that Satoru or Suguru take a bite. He thinks of the way you'd hold him, the way you'd leave him encouraging notes in his locker, how you'd save up allowance to buy small things that reminded you of them. How you'd keep extra hair ties on your wrist for Suguru, and how you'd always keep a plastic water bottle in your bag for Shoko. How many times had they taken it for granted, taken you for granted?

"She looked so exhausted, Sugu. She's got these real dark bags under her eyes, like she hadn't slept in a while. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes were so dull, and so lifeless. I..." Satoru closes his eyes. "I think I would give up anything for her. Music, fame, money. I forgot what it was like, being with her. I felt alive, even though she could barely even look at me."

"I think the worst part is that she really thought we wanted to leave her behind," Suguru says, miserably. "It's all my fault, I was in such a hurry to get us out of there that I didn't say goodbye at all."

"You're not the only one to blame." Satoru's voice is sharp. "We both knew where she lived. We could've called her house phone, saved her number to our new phones from her parents."

"Will she ever forgive us?"

The way they'd heard you wailing from behind the door had torn their heart in two. They never wanted to hear you make those noises again, especially with the agonizing knowledge that it had been their fault.

"I don't know," Satoru says, truthfully. "But I can't even think about returning to music until she knows just how much we really love her."

#haerinwrites #idol!satoru gojo #rockstar!suguru geto #satosugu x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x suguru x reader #gojo x geto x reader

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houpss · 2 months

Note

I urgently need you to write about what if SKZ are upset/crying

you write so well that I cry every time from your works, they break my heart :( You're born for angst ❤️‍🔥🫶🏻

SKZ feeling upset/crying

angst, fluff, consolation, tears

𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧

Chan cries often, but he does it alone.

Because...he shouldn't cry. That's what he thought.

Chan helps everyone, he gives advice to everyone... but he is not able to help himself.

He looks like a drowning man, but he is drowning in his problems, he is drowning in self-hatred.

Oh...he thinks that he is absolutely ugly, that he is always behind and that he is always bad.

Tears of desperate pain choke him as he covers his mouth with his hand and hugs his knees to his chest as he sits on his bed in his room.

He knew he wasn't worthy of the fans' love or your love. What did he do to deserve you?

He slowly and surely destroyed himself from the inside.

It will be late Friday evening, Chan has had a terrible day today. He made a few mistakes, he's very absent-minded

He came home and immediately burst into tears. He collapsed exhaustedly on the bed, his body trembling with shame and tears.

He lay down in a ball and covered himself with a blanket, he wants to hide from the whole world.

You arrived a little later than Chan. you tensed up because the apartment was quiet and dark.

You went through all the rooms, but didn’t find Chan there, although his shoes and bag were in the hallway.

Your heart sank when you saw him in the bedroom, you felt his pain on you.

You entered the room and sat down on Chan’s bed, Chan was lying on his side, covered with a blanket up to his head, he was breathing heavily and sobbing. You saw several drunk bottles of whiskey on the table, it seems things are bad. You stroked Chan’s head and back as he lay under the blanket. You rubbed his back again and again. Your heart ached with every tear he shed, it hurt too much. Chan feels your gentle touch and sobs loudly. Tears dampen the pillow, his body tenses for a moment, but then he slowly turns to you and looks at you with wet brown eyes, full of pain and regret. “Y/n...you shouldn't have seen this... I'm sorry...” his voice trembles, he tries his best to stop himself from screaming, “I don't want anything to happen in our relationship because of me- that’s bad... please forgive me" ..."Channie..please tell me everything that bothers you...I will help you" Tears flowed from his eyes, he sobbed loudly and squinted. Y/n ran thumb over his cheek, wiping away large tears, they looked like pearls. Chan felt disgusted with himself, he was disgusted by his appearance and existence. The sobs slowly subside under your touch, and Bang Chan looks at you with sad eyes, they beg for help, shining under the light. * “I can’t stand it anymore... I want to stop... please help me...” Chan's voice cracks. as he speaks quietly, not daring to look away. Y/n smiles at him tenderly, but doesn’t promise anything yet.

"I know how hard it is for you and how hard you try...you are such a wonderful person, Channie...my beloved wonderful man. Why don't you take a rest?" You spoke quietly, stroking Chan’s hair. Chan wanted to protest because there was too much work, but he felt like he was breaking down inside. Chan sighed and laid his head on Y/n’s chest, he didn’t want to say anything, they understood each other without words. They are connected at the soulmate level. He didn't want to think about work right now. They lay there for a while, and Y/n gently stroked her lover's hair. Chan felt warmth spread throughout his body as you whispered soft words of comfort, “Go to sleep, my love... We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Eventually, Chan's sobs subsided and he fell asleep in your arms. Your love will heal him, it will give him redemption. You are his sin, but at the same time his protector, you are his eternal love. Thank you.

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰

He is always strict with himself, he strives for an ideal that does not exist.

He literally wants to be the best everywhere and in everything.

He may be on strict diets, exhaust himself with dancing, or spend a lot of time in the gym. This all indicates that he feels bad in his soul.

He won't ask for help, he's not a weakling.

It will be evening, late evening in the dance studio, he is sitting on the floor and breathing heavily.

He worked out so much again for so long. His bones ached, his heart beat wildly, just a little more and he would collapse, but he wouldn’t stop.

Why do so many people underestimate him? Minho wants to be the best.

You will go into the studio and sit quietly next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He won't notice you at first.

His mood will improve slightly when he sees you and rests his head on yours.

Y/n took his hand, squeezing it a little. You felt how tired Minho was, you felt that he was being destroyed from the inside, he needed help. Minho intertwined his fingers with yours and his breathing calmed down a little “Y/n, it’s late, go home” He said, straightening his wet hair from sweat. "I was expecting you, you've been training all day." "You know the comeback is coming soon and I can't—"

You stop him and stroke his face, he looks like an upset cat. You straighten the strands of hair that fell on his forehead, “I know, but if you go on stage like this, STAY won’t be happy...take care of yourself first.”

He wants to argue with you, he doesn’t want to seem weak. He would never be weak, “Y/n, it’s really okay,” but when he tried to stand up, his legs gave way and the pain in his hip intensified. You jumped up after him so he could lean on you. "Don’t be a hero, Min, we’ll BOTH go home now,” he wants to object again, but the pain in his thigh intensifies and he makes a face, allowing him to be led to the sofa. You ran for the first aid kit, giving him painkillers.

"I will remind you of this, Y/n" he grins through the pain, but allows himself to lean on you and lead him to the manager's car. He is grateful to you, maybe he will start to feel better about himself. In the car, he takes you to his side and kisses you on the the top of the head.

𝐒𝐞𝐨 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧

Changbin is rarely sad, he is always positive

Perhaps...he will be sad because some STAY don't like his appearance.

He will be quiet and taciturn, always looking at the phone screen.

One evening he comes up to you while you are preparing dinner and asks “Y/n...am I really that scary?”

You frown and don’t understand why he says that.

"Binnie, is something bothering you? You're handsome, baby."

He frowns and hands you the phone. He read the bad comments again.

You go up to him and pat him on the head, his head was at the level of your chest when he sat.

"Honey, antistay no one and you should ignore their words."

Before continuing, you handed Changbin his phone number, but with a post where there was a post where Changbin was considered the best. He is the best.

He will smile and lean towards you for a kiss.

He will shine all evening, he will be like the sun.

𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧

"Leave me the fuck alone for once"

Hyunjin will be furious, he was extremely annoyed by everything and everyone

As soon as he says this phrase, then you really should leave him alone.

He will pour out his sadness and melancholy in his paintings, he will completely throw all his emotions onto the canvas.

But

He will come to you later, but he will still be upset.

He will constantly talk about how terrible he is, how unworthy he is of your love, and may even question your relationship itself.

But he wasn't really asking you questions, he was just insecure and needed you to repeatedly tell him it was all bullshit.

You will run through his hair, stroking his cheeks and wiping away the tears from them.

Oh...it seems prince is a whiny boy.

Although fans believed that Hyunjin was perfect in everything, Hyunjin himself did not think so. He was absolutely afraid, he is afraid of everything.

He will wrap his long arms around your body while his head is on your chest, he quietly sobs and mutters something like: “please... don’t leave... don’t be disappointed in me.”

Give him love and care. Gentle kisses and long hugs will suit him.

He will cry for a long time, but because of his love for you.

Hyunjin is the sweetest person you've ever met. On the outside he is cold and inaccessible, but in reality he is vulnerable and soft.

Will fall asleep on you while you play with his hair.

"Sleep sweetly, my angel"

𝐇𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠

Jisung wasn't as extroverted as everyone says

He is actually sad a lot, there are too many doubts in his head.

He may get upset over little things.

At one point it all resulted in tears.

You found him in tears in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror and crying. He cried so hard and a lot.

His soul seems to be rotting from the inside.

“There is no loneliness worse than loneliness in society. Everyone laughs, but you want to cry.” This describes his life

You will hug him tightly while his limp arms cling to you.

He cries quietly in your arms, but does not explain the reasons. But you don’t ask him to tell you.

Even the funniest person can be broken at heart.

Jisung has lost his way out of his darkness.

He had not seen a way out for a long time. He was lost in the dark forest of his own thoughts.

need to live, not exist.

Will you be his light in this pain?

Then, Jisung will say for the first time that he appreciates you. Cherish these words until the last moment.

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱

He tries not to be upset, because the sun is never sad.

Felix hides his upset under a smile.

But... he won't deceive you.

He is too open and soft with you

He will cuddle up to you and tell you everything, he will be open with you and tell you about all his experiences.

"You came and everything became better"

He feels good and calm with you. You are his sedative.

He is like a kitten that needs all the love and affection.

He will sob and talk about all the problems.

You gently stroke his back, sometimes stroke his head. Throughout his story, you give him tactility and kisses.

The sadness will soon go away and you will go bake brownies or some other sweet together.

After crying, his face is little reddish, his eyelashes are pinched and his lips are swollen...he is a crying angel.

You will fulfill his every wish in order to prevent his tears! You have to tell him a lot of exciting stories to make him smile.

He must love flowers. Give him a bouquet)

If one kiss was not enough, then ten, if ten were not enough, then a hundred and even more.

The sun is shining again, and your sun happily moves around the kitchen and cooks with you.

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧

You didn’t know the last time you saw Seungmin sad, he didn’t care about anything at all.

He is sad alone, but he often remembers you. Thinking about you gives him peace.

He listens to any music and looks at your photos. He thinks a lot

You never touch him when he's sad. You just give him your soft toy and a glass of water.

It will take him a few hours, but he will be completely back to normal.

Seungmin never shares his experiences, but you know everything that happens on a subconscious level.

Perhaps he likes to go for a walk when bad thoughts come over him.

Only then will he call you and ask you to come.

You will walk in silence, only his cold hand gave him away.

Surrounded by your scent and beautiful views, he felt better.

When you get home, help him change and lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

He will feel better.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧

He hides his emotions.

No one needs to know how he feel.

Jeongin didn’t like unnecessary attention and didn’t talk much about his feelings.

But you know Jeongin from bones to toe.

He seems angry, but he is only upset in his heart.

Jeongin will be clingier than usual and won't talk much.

You ask what happened, and he will exhale heavily and try to tell you.

Jeongin's story will be a little incoherent, but he put his soul into his experiences.

You will help him solve his problems, because nuna/hyung always loves him!

He will feel better with your presence, as if you transferred your positive energy to him!

You will go for a walk, and then go shopping, because Jongin feels better when he buys new beautiful clothes.

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hongjoongsart · 3 months

Text

Reassuring Words and Mellow Touches | Choi San

💐 IMPORTANT: Re-upload from my deleted account (hongjoongspoetry).

💐 Summary: Being a mother wasn’t an item on your bucket list, never has and probably never will be. You were more than content with living a childless life and it wasn't an occurring issue before, until you brought your boyfriend on a trip to your parents’ where his love for kids unveiled right in your face. You were adamant on your choice, but scared what the future held for you and your boyfriend.

💐 Pairing(s): idol!San x f!reader

💐 Genres/Tropes: tooth rotting fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, a lil suggestive

💐 Warnings/Tags: no use of (Y/N), mentions of pregnancies, arguments, explicit language, expectations that come with being a woman, reader doesn't want babies, pushy family, emotional invalidation, listed pregnancy side effects, san with kids

💐 Wordcount: 12.2K

💐 Author's note: Here's a lil treat inspired by my fear of pregnancies. I am not a mother and I'm not trying to offend anyone who is. I haven't experienced motherhood so I wouldn't understand the complicit feelings that come with it, this is more my observation of it I guess.

Edited 22 January, 2024!

AO3 Playlist Click on me!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent San in any way or form.

Babies weren’t foreign to you even at the age of five.

You knew what they were; you had been one, your parents and siblings too, heck every living thing had been a baby at one point in their life. From the carrots growing in your grandma’s garden to the old ducks swimming in the pond down the street.

Babies were cute. A bit annoying, but nonetheless cute. Probably the reason why your parents decided to have so many children or was it the nostalgia of holding an infant when their kids grew up to be living ticking time bombs.

It wasn’t anything weird or something you paid attention to. It was quite simple too; people had children because they fell in love or to keep the relationship floating.

Children were simple beings. What they hear they shall question. Seeing your teacher highly pregnant, rubbing her stomach and wearing a gleeful expression, talking about birth and pregnancies and everything else coming with that had you taking in the information like a sponge absorbing water.

“Mom, did you give birth to me?”

“Of course, honey, I am your mom aren’t I?” You remember her gently wiping your cheek, a warm smile adorning her face.

You hummed in agreement, throwing a cut piece of steak in your mouth somewhat satisfied with her answer. Your eyes filtered between Hana and Jun, watching them push at each other’s shoulders clearly bickering over something so pointless your dad couldn’t bother stopping them. Not that it was possible, they were brought into this world together and separating them would only bring more chaos.

“Did you give birth to Hana-unnie and Jun-oppa too?”

“Yah! What do you think, airhead?!” Jun snarkily replied and got a light whack of the head by your sister.

“Sweetie, don’t hit your brother.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Even if he deserves it?”

“Even if he deserves it,” your father concluded and urged them to eat.

Another piece of meat was flung in your mouth as you stared at the family portrait behind the twins, focusing on your other siblings who moved out a long time ago and already started their own families. Your mother saw the bemused tingle covering your features.

“Go on and eat your food.”

A small pout adorned your lips, “How do you give birth?”

Your parents were more than prepared for the wonders of your mind, any question fired at them had already been answered years ago with your older siblings. That’s what they thought at least and it explained why the dinner table went pin silent as the question was flung out in the open.

The seasons changed like your father changed channels. Spring fluttered into summer quicker than expected. Budded flowers opened, the various colored roses adorning your grandma’s fence beautifully. The breeze welcomed you with open arms, proudly announcing the start of summer break. The transition between summer and autumn was slow. The rich green leaves took their time changing shades – red, orange and eventually an ugly brown that reminded you of wet mornings and cold coffees – before the howling wind swirled them away, stripping the trees of its beauty.

As the years passed your My Little Pony boots were replaced with wedge heels and your favorite color wasn’t pink, but black – even though Jun argued black wasn’t a color – and before you knew it Hana moved out with her boyfriend, now husband, of six years. A small but evident baby bump peeking behind her knitted sweater.

You were seventeen at that time, the twins twenty-two and your remaining siblings already thirty-something.

Her baby girl wasn’t the first grandchild of your family tree and she certainly wasn’t going to be the last either, because four years later she welcomed another child into the world just a couple of months before your brother’s wife. That made a grand total of seven grandkids, three girls and four boys.

You were very grateful to your mom for giving birth to you last and grateful for the free birth control your siblings provided you with. Despite their children having moments of incarnating the devil, they weren’t the issue to your disdain of want for a baby.

Some said it was the lack of a boyfriend and others pointed out you being too focused on your academic studies – that your decision to start university was too hasty – depriving you of your youth, as if a newborn wouldn’t.

You saw what motherhood did to your sisters and in-laws, and it wasn’t anything you’d like for yourself. Not even after meeting your boyfriend, who you were madly in love with and he was completely head over heels for you, did your perception change.

Babies were cute to look at, but growing one inside of you? No thanks.

You glanced at San through the bathroom mirror, white shaving cream around his face.

“Don’t you have filming with the Return of Superman today?”

“Yep, have to make sure the beard doesn’t scratch the kids.”

You laughed again, “Beard? I haven’t seen you with a stub in how many months now, let alone a beard.”

Your eyes met in the reflection, one of his brows raised and lips puckered as if contemplating something. He then let go of the razor and gently took hold of your waist and neck, pressing his sticky cheek against yours. You yelled out and tried to push him away, but he barely moved.

“What did you say about my beard?”

“You have a beautiful beard! So pretty and well-kept!”

San smiled brightly, dimples popping and eyes creasing as he planted a wet kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you baby!”

The white cream was washed off with extreme care, as he was afraid of wetting your clothes and hair.

“There you go.” He threw on a gray hoodie, black hair slightly disheveled but nothing that couldn’t be fixed with you running your hand through it.

“I’d say thanks, but you’re at fault.”

He rested his hands on your hips, thumbs sneaking underneath the white fabric of your blouse to caress the soft skin beneath. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Your twentieth lap around the world was filled with many experiences and emotions. You finally moved out of the countryside to the big city and found an apartment in the middle of Seoul. As much as you loved the feeling of freedom and independence you also despised it. Not having anyone waiting on you by the door, no home cooked meals or clean clothes neatly made on your bed reminded you of what you left behind.

Although it was hard to adapt at first you managed and with the help of a friend you quickly adjusted to the busy city life. As someone wise once said; after rain came sunshine, and your sunshine was San. The boy your friend introduced you to when you still had little to no knowledge of Korean pop groups besides the older generations and singing ring-ding-dong no repeat.

At the time he was just San, a funny and caring friend you could be yourself with, occasionally going out to secluded shops for coffee and pastries. You never questioned the scenery and request of privacy, always giving people the benefit of the doubt, until a girl stopped you on your way to a morning class with the demand you tell her who you were and what connection you had to her Sannie.

With a trembling voice you answered her truthfully, debunking any conclusions she already made up in her mind.

You didn’t go to school that day or home for that matter either, scared to be followed and questioned again by a potential lover or side-piece so you did the next best thing; stopped by a 7-eleven and spent your morning there before taking the first train to your sister’s unannounced, spilling everything like an overflowing bucket.

As the mature woman she was, she spurred you on to ask San. Saying you deserved answers to your questions and to potentially clear up any misunderstandings – if there were any of that is.

The moment you told him about the girl, he came forward with who he was, something he admitted he should’ve done immediately, but didn’t for two reasons: a) you allowed him to be himself with no walls and b) he was worried the truth would scare you away. Heck, you were already chased just by being near him and you didn’t even know anything. To your luck, the girl wasn’t his girlfriend or a crazy ex, but a fan and San was an idol.

A few weeks after his confession your friendship progressed and blossomed into a beautiful relationship. You could proudly call him yours in the privacy of your apartment and he could wrap his arm around you – face masks and caps on of course – scaring the prying eyes of other men. He filled your solitude with the comfort and love you missed so dearly.

“Honey, have you seen my gray hoodie? I can’t find it in your wardrobe.” San stood before your closet, torso exposed and an expensive towel you can’t remember the brand of wrapped around his hips.

You were in the kitchen brewing coffee for the both of you. A plain yet pretty dress stuck tightly to your form, “Mmm, I think it’s in the basket with all the other clean clothes.”

The taps of his bare feet filled your apartment accompanied by a gasp seconds later.

“Did you find it?”

Large arms slinked around your waist and pulled you into San’s chest, he nuzzled his nose against the bare spot on your neck before peppering it with tender pecks, “Thank you, honey.”

“Always, baby. Here’s your coffee.”

You gingerly handed him the cup, but San had other plans. Ever-so-gently he titled your head sideways as his lips met yours. It was soft and made your stomach swoop as if going down a steep roller coaster.

San had that effect on you no matter what he did.

“You have to…get dressed or…we’ll be late,” you said between kisses.

His chest vibrated against your back as he hummed in delight, “This is worth getting in trouble for.”

“I’m sure it is, but I don’t think Wooyoung will appreciate that.”

“I don’t care.”

A laugh bubbled out as you rewarded him with one last kiss to the cheek. Eventually you both parted ways. San went first, wearing an obligatory cap and mask while meeting up with his manager further down the street and you followed shortly after, taking the commute to your workplace.

“So,” you started after placing the pot on the table between your plates, immediately filling San’s, “my parents invited us to theirs next week.”

He nodded, “I think I can make it, but I’ll have to double-check with the guys and managers.”

It was the first date night in weeks where both of you were free from work and had enough energy to meet up. You originally invited all the boys, but San was keen on keeping you to himself, claiming he wanted some alone time. If it were up to him he’d see you everyday even for just five minutes, arguing that the short time could give him the motivation to work harder. In return you reminded him the journey from his dorm to your place was a thirty minute long drive without traffic, the energy he’d get would evaporate in seconds.

“It’s okay if you can’t make it, Sannie. I know you guys have a lot to do, especially with the release of your new album.”

“Mmm, don’t worry about that. We’ll see first, but I’m telling you now. I want to go.” He reached for your hand across the small table and you returned the sentiment with a squeeze before beckoning him to eat.

You took notice of his upturned lips and crescent moon eyes. It wasn’t an unusual sight, San was always in a good mood and when he wasn’t he still mustered up a smile warm enough to brighten your day.

“What are you smiling about?” You teased, carrying a grin of your own.

“You should have seen the kids the other day, they were so cute.”

“Oh, it completely slipped my mind to ask. How was it?”

“It was fun and they were so, so cute. All of them really.”

“I can imagine, Sannie.”

“I don’t want to say too much, you still have to wait for the episode, but ohhh! I can’t stop smiling.”

You chuckled and enjoyed seeing your boyfriend suffer a hard case of baby fever. San loved kids, put that man near a kid and anyone in one mile radius would see it. That was how you found out.

You were babysitting your niece one random Thursday night, your brother claiming ‘you owed him’ for something you did in your childhood days that was long forgotten. San asked if you were free that same night, but you sadly turned him down, briefly explaining the situation and voilá. The date was moved from a five star restaurant to your living room with blankets and ice cream and a toddler with bigger love for Bluey than her aunt.

San’s love for kids wasn’t something he expressed with you, but rather something you saw through gentle touches and light coos, a few stolen pecks here and there.

It wasn’t an issue to you. In all honesty, it was attractive because how many men did you know who actually showed interest in their children? How many dads knew their kids’ birth dates or their favorite ice cream flavor?

And yeah, you felt the same. Your nieces and nephews were cute, especially when they wore matching clothes for Chuseok and Christmas. Don’t even get you started on their birthday costumes.

But it wasn’t enough to make you want one.

It wasn’t worth the nine month long journey of fatigue, mood swings, nausea, stretch marks and not to mention the painful process of giving birth and what came after; potentially loss of teeth, tearing the perineum, hair loss… the list is truly endless.

Not wanting kids wasn’t a problem until you stumbled into San who carried a love big enough for the whole population of South Korea.

“I can’t wait till we have kids,” San admitted as you stuffed your mouth with a spoonful of rice.

The clock hanging above the kitchen entrance didn’t freeze but you sure did. The words would make anyone squeal and melt at once, however they washed over you like a big cold wave in the atlantic ocean and sent your food into the wrong pipe. San jumped up from his seat and patted your back while opening a can of coke with his other hand.

“Drink this.” He pushed the beverage in your hands and waited to make sure you were alright. The coughing didn’t stop but at least you could breathe. “Better?”

You sent him a nod, not trusting your voice to keep its cool. San didn’t question the lack of response to his blunt statement nor why you nearly choked to death. The night ended with you two hastily filling the dish machine and cuddling together on the couch with you laying on top of him. A boring movie played on the big TV while you basked in each other’s embrace.

Halfway through the movie you cleared your throat, not being able to shake the conversation from earlier, “You want kids?”

“Not right now, but someday,” San said, one hand under his head and the other rubbing your back. He then glanced down at you. “Don’t you?”

You turned so your chin rested on his chest, noses almost touching and his peppermint breath fanning your face. The simple two letter word was stuck in your throat, and like the coward you were you swallowed them down with guilt. You shot him a quick smile and even manually crinkled your eyes to make it more believable.

Twenty minutes later and San was out like a light, the hectic schedules and plenty of sleepless nights getting to him in the end. Sleep didn’t come as easy to you. Mind too occupied with thinking, thinking and more thinking. Tears blurred your eyes and you didn't know if they were from the stuffy room or the guilt bubbling in your abdomen.

The incident was pushed under the rug in your living room, neither bringing it up again nor the topic of a future family, mainly because you were both drowning in work and adult responsibilities. The days passed in a flash and when Friday came around San was parked outside the building early in the morning, welcoming you with a preheated seat and a cup of steaming hot coffee.

“The twins and their kids are the only ones who could come. Mimi-unnie’s little ones caught the flu and Jin couldn’t get away from work.”

Coming from a rather small family and then moving in with seven men he considered brothers was quite the change for young San, so hearing that neither Mimi or Jin, and their respective families, could make it made him deflate.

“That’s unfortunate. We haven’t seen them in a long time.”

“Yeah, but at the same time I can already feel the headache coming from having seven kids running around all day.”

“That’s how Hongjoong must feel all the time.”

The image of seven twenty-something-year olds running around as toddlers and an exhausted Hongjoong not far behind them popped up in your head and brought out a laugh. Then last week’s phone call with your mother interrupted the vision and you got serious again.

“Did you bring spare clothes? Mom said they were warning of a rainstorm.”

“Yep. It’s in the trunk with your things.”

Your hands rested on your lap and San, feeling the need to touch you, gently intertwined your fingers with his and placed a kiss to the back of your hand. He occasionally withdrew when changing gears before resuming his hold. The ride was long and by the time you arrived you were exhausted despite not doing anything but passing San snacks every once in a while.

Squeals of joy and multiple little feet padding against the hardwood floor had your lips curling upwards as you opened the door. You crouched down and were greeted with two kids catapulting in your embrace.

“Hello little chicks,” you said and planted a kiss on the crown of their heads.

“Did you miss us?” Borah asked, her small hands tightening around your neck leaving barely any room for her little brother.

Before you could reassure her the door opened behind you and in came San, thus stealing the lovely cuddle session right from beneath your nose.

“Uncle San!”

He lifted both children in his arms and beamed at their giggles and kicking legs. You craned your head up, eyes trailing up to San’s closed ones, and your heart swelled with love. He looked like he belonged right there surrounded by tiny humans with toothless smiles and snotty noses.

A tug at your sleeve had your head whipping forwards, “Kai,” you cooed at the youngest of the batch earning a blurb of happy noises.

The hallway proceeded to be crowded by the rest of the house. Hugs and kisses were exchanged with your family and out of the corner of your eyes you could see San exchanging a firm handshake with your father.

“You’re right in time for dinner!” Your mother gleefully exclaimed and ushered you inside, the little ones slinking around her legs like overly fed kittens mooching for more food.

The first hour was spent catching up and talking about everything you’ve missed out on in each other’s lives. Your father initiated small talk with San, asking him about the drive there and if he had a lot of work even wondering how the rest of Ateez were doing. To your relief your parents treated him as their third son and your siblings weren’t opposed to the idea of another brother.

You sat in between Jun and Jisoo – his wife – giving her all of your attention. Apparently she was in the middle of her second trimester, something you just found out. You sent Jun a quick glare and a whack to the back of his head, and as he was about to fight back he slumped back in his seat all thanks to the stern eyes of his wife.

“Here let me help you, mom.”

San ventured into the open kitchen and took the plates from your mother’s hands. She tried stopping him but it was to no avail, once a gentleman, always a gentleman. So she did the next best thing.

“Are you not embarrassed Jun? Sitting on your rear while the guests prepare the table!”

“I’m a guest too?!” He cried and Jisoo stifled a laugh behind her palm, the other hand rubbing her swollen belly.

“Yah, guest my ass. It’s your house as much as it’s mine so get over here before I rip your ear off.”

San stood by the table and waited for another chance to interfere, or as Jun liked to call it ‘buttering up to the in-laws’. You creeped up behind San and leaned your cheek against his bicep.

“You good?” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a lingering kiss to the side of your head. If someone knew what it meant to be separated from family then it was San, having not seen his own parents in how many years now?

“I’m perfect,” you replied and discreetly created some space between you as the rest of the family entered the kitchen.

Unlike San, you weren’t very keen on showing public affection especially as you guys never did it due to him being a literal celebrity. You had no problem showering him with love behind closed doors, but it was different with so many people around and in front of your parents nonetheless. That was just forbidden, almost illegal in your books.

As if they hadn’t done the deed at least four times–

“Well go on, why are you standing there like sheep waiting for Lassie.”

Everyone swammered the table per your mother’s request. You, San and Borah sat on one side of the table with your mother and father on each end, and Jun, Jisoo and Hana across from you.

“How is work, sweetie?”

You faced your mother as she filled your plate with food and you practically tore the spatula from her hands.

“It’s good. There’s a lot now that people are on vacation, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“You’ve always been a hard worker,” she grumbled. “And how are you otherwise?”

Your brows furrowed, “I’m great too. What do you mean?”

She stared you dead in the eyes, making sure you were looking at her too, and flickered her gaze down to your stomach and back up again three times.

“I am healthy.”

The bite you tried to hide slipped out and she couldn’t help but scoff.

“Of course you’re healthy. I don’t give birth to sick babies.”

You don’t know when your mother turned so…sour. When her gentle touches turned to pinches and words of endearment became sneers of displeasure. Over one summer she had changed drastically and called every two to three weeks, asking the same questions, hoping for different answers.

“At least someone here is eating for two.”

The sentence struck you right in the heart and it bothered you how easily she got under your skin. As if prioritizing yourself brought shame on your whole family tree, it wasn’t like she didn’t have a soccer team of grandkids already.

Your sister-in-law smiled timidly and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for her being put in the spotlight just because of your mother’s pettiness.

“Oh, that reminds me, San-ah! We watched your Return of Superman episode,” Hana said excitedly.

“Who do you like more, uncle San, me or Jaeyul?”

“Mmm, that is a hard question, Borah. How about this, I’ll tell you if you promise to keep it a secret?”

The five year old immediately nodded and San – keeping his promise – gently whispered in her ear, “You.”

A gasp slinked out of her lips and she threw her hands over her mouth, the two exchanged a look and San made a zipping motion over his lips, a gesture Borah copied.

“Wah, you’re so good with kids San-ah,” Jun complimented.

“I was just about to say that! We couldn’t stop smiling, it was so endearing. All of you, really,” your sister added and pushed her thick glasses up against her nose.

San straightened at the praise. A dust of red covered his face accompanied with a bright smile.

“I just love kids.”

“Then it’s about time you get some, don’t keep us waiting any longer.”

Your body tensed and your grip on the spoon tightened. Your mother talked about the matter as if babies were truly delivered by storks and not an almost year long process. You kept your gaze on your plate, not daring to meet anyone’s stares, not when you could feel San’s bore into the side of your face. You two had yet to talk about the future and it wasn’t something you were ready for, especially not after his random burst of baby fever.

San cleared his throat, “Well I’d rather first put a ring on your daughter’s finger, if that’s alright with her.”

Oh, how you loved this man.

You didn’t need things to be official to know how you felt about San. A scribble of paper and a ring on your finger wouldn’t make your love more real, but you knew if San asked the big question you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

Heat ran through you, from the center of your heart to the tips of your toes, and it was hard to suppress the smile fighting its way on your face. The twins ‘oh-ed’ loudly, Jun even made the table into a makeshift drum as Borah and Jisoo jumped on the teasing wagon. Your father smiled at the scene before him. It was about time you got married, he thought but kept it to himself. Your mother on the other hand wasn’t all too pleased. As much as she wanted you to marry before conceiving, she didn’t want to wait any longer than necessary and with how your life was going, a marriage wasn’t an event in any of her five future calendars.

“Are we supposed to call you Mrs. Choi now?”

A hard smack resounded in the house with a groan.

The dinner ended with no more personal questions about your and San’s relationship as all the attention was diverted to Jun and Jisoo’s unborn baby. Now you were all gathered in the living room, except for Jisoo who long passed out in Jun’s childhood bedroom.

“Auntie.” Borah grabbed at your elbow, her legs stretched over your thighs as she sat in San’s lap with her head resting against his chest.

“Yes, flower?”

Her eyes were droopy and she barely stayed awake despite the loud conversation of the adults. You inched closer to her to easily decipher her slurring words.

“I wanna sleep with you and uncle San.”

“Mmm, you want to cuddle with us?” She nodded tiredly. “Lemme ask uncle San first, okay flower?”

You caressed her hair and she smacked her lips before readjusting herself in San’s arms. Despite balancing between sleep and consciousness she was determined to know his answer.

It didn’t take much more than a gentle ‘Sannie’ for you to catch his attention, “Borah wants to sleep in our bed. Is that alright with you?”

He glanced down at the usually sugar rushed child and chuckled at her passed out form. “Of course. Here, I’ll tuck her in.”

While he went upstairs, easily navigating through the house from the previous visits, you stepped foot in the kitchen. The dishes from the dinner had just been pushed aside by your mother as she was dead set on everyone spending more time together, not allowing anyone entry in the kitchen unless it was to get more food.

Although she was challenging your patience for the past five hours, you still loved her dearly so washing the dishes was the least you could do without blatantly saying it.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

Speak of the devil and they shall appear.

“Nothing, making your life easier.”

“Oh, please. My life hasn’t been any easier since you moved out. Constantly worrying about you.”

“Really, mom? There’s nothing to worry about plus it’s not like I’m alone. I have San.” You rinsed a plate and stacked it on the rack to your left.

“I know…That’s what I’m afraid of.”

A glass nearly slipped out of your hands. Your confused eyes met her worried ones and you bit the inside of your cheek, not really understanding what she was getting at.

“Why…I’m sorry, what are you exactly…afraid of?”

The anxiety grew like weeds in your mind at her gentle whisper of your name. Did she not like San? But that was impossible; she practically referred to him as her favorite son-in-law.

“Don’t you think it’s time you two get serious?”

“Okay!” You dropped the sponge in the sink and placed your soapy hands on your hips. “You really need to stop talking in riddles or my head is going to explode from anxiety.”

“There you go again with that anxiety. It’s not real!”

“Nope! Don’t try to change the subject. Say what you really mean or just stop talking, mom I swear it’s the only chance I’m giving you to be outright honest with me.”

A beat of silence passed and then another. Just as you thought she was backing down, the second most outrageous thing of the day came out of her mouth.

“Get married to San before he leaves you for someone else.”

You scoffed, “Unbelievable. You’re unbelievable.”

The rag hanging off your shoulder was snatched as you used it to dry your hands, but the anger proved that to be difficult so you bolted up to your room, not bothering with bidding anyone a good night’s sleep. You just needed to get away from the tension downstairs and, believe it or not, you craved San’s comfort.

Anger clouded your vision and all rational thoughts were pushed aside as you threw the door open, scaring San and nearly arousing little Borah. As much as you wanted to slam it shut, you couldn’t. Instead you did the childish-angry thing where you swing the door with all your might and stop it just as it was about to close and create an atomic-like explosion.

San rose from his comfortable position on the pink fluffy carpet that teenage-you chose, eyes wide in alarm and arms reaching for you.

He had changed out of the black hoodie and gray suit pants and into something more comfortable; a satin black pajamas you gifted him for Valentine’s day with a pair of semi-rimless glasses perched on his nose. Something about the look made him so domestic your anger nearly disappeared into thin air.

“Woah, woah. What’s wrong?”

You hid your face in your hands and San wasted no time taking you in his arms, bringing your body close to him. The motion had you sighing deeply as you exhaustively sunk into his embrace. San didn’t push for an answer and for that you were grateful. He rubbed your back and kissed your temple, nose and cheek.

“It’s my mom,” you eventually whispered.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You didn’t move at first, weighing your options. Sharing the harsh words of your mom would lead to a conversation you weren’t ready to take. So you shrugged and clasped your hands around his torso.

“Yes and no.”

“Okay, come here.”

He gave you another kiss before moving you so your back was against his chest and shuffled over to the bed. He sat down by Borah’s feet, careful not to wake her, and pulled you between his legs dangling over the edge of the queen sized bed. His hands found home on your stomach immediately easing you off your anger.

“We’ll do whatever you feel like. We can talk about it if you want or I can just listen to you, but if you don’t want to we won’t. We can find something else to do. It’s up to you, honey.”

You took his hands in yours and examined his each and every finger. A wave of nervousness washed over you and a distraction was needed to untangle your tied tongue.

“She just said some…mean things I guess.”

“About you?”

You nodded silently. “About us.”

San hummed and you honestly expected a stronger reaction, but you should’ve known better.

He was rational and never really lashed out, at least not that you knew of. You’d never seen him angry enough to act on it.

“She didn’t mean anything ill thought, but you were the starting point of it.”

“Look at me?”

As you faced him his eyes immediately found yours and in them were swirls of pure affection and sincerity.

“I love you.”

The skin on your cheeks burned hot and your lips curled into an embarrassed smile. The confession sent a magic tingle through your body.

“Where is this coming from?”

“I love you,” he said again, not satisfied with your response.

“I love you too, Sannie.”

“Good. Don’t worry ‘bout what your mom says. I love you and nothing will change that.”

Reassuring words and mellow touches.

“Nothing?”

Not even your fear of childbirth?

Or the idea that the two of you never may have children?

“Nothing, my love.”

And if he noticed the turn your smile took – going from happy to sad – he didn’t mention it. Because despite everything you couldn’t stop the gnawing thoughts of dread and what if’s from filling your mind.

“Did you watch the episode?”

“What episode?”

“The one of Seonghwa-hyung, Woo and I with the kids.”

Right, that one.

At first you didn’t purposely push it back on your agenda but the more you remembered his wish of starting a family the more chores you suddenly had to do and oh, that pile of paperwork could certainly not wait until after the weekend and when you actually had the time to watch it your phone would ping with a billion messages, every single one coming from San who insisted he craved to hear your voice and see your ‘absolutely angelic face’ – his words.

So no. You hadn’t seen it.

“Ah, really?” He laughed at the speed you shook your head. “Well, let’s watch it together.”

“Now?”

“Mmm. Unless you don’t wanna?”

“Oh– Uhm, no! Go ahead, I’ll just change into something comfortable.”

Why he brought his laptop for a two day journey, you had no idea but apparently it worked in his favor because there you were laying on the side closest to the wall with Borah snuggled between you guys while the laptop was perched on San’s stomach, the episode playing in full swing.

Every interaction with the twins or Jaeyul made your guts twist and clench. You had to admit it was cute; so cute that your dinner almost went back up the same way it came from. You felt so bad and the worst of it all was the guilt that followed, the guilt of knowing you weren’t doing anything wrong yet you’d still be treated as if you were.

And it was such a shitty situation, because how come that the man who’d single-handedly light up each and every star for you, also was the one to summon the clouds obscuring the night sky?

You didn’t notice San’s lingering eyes or the way his fingers itched to hold yours or the three word long question resting on his tongue. Not that he was being obvious about it. Whenever you looked at him he’d flash you that derpy smile of his and a reassuring blink that lasted a second too long.

It may have been unclear to you, but nothing passed your radar of a brother. He did have the maturity of a boy going through early stages of puberty, but you had to give it to him, he was observant. Too observant for his own good.

“What’s going on with you and lover boy?”

Thanks to Jun’s stupidity you both were honored with dish-duties. What you didn’t know was that it was all a part of his masterplan.

“What?”

“I don’t know I’m the one asking you.”

You glared at him and he wordlessly took the clean tray from you.

“I’m just saying, we dudes, we see when something’s wrong.”

“So something’s wrong with San?”

“Not with San.” He put the tray in place and threw the rag over his shoulder, painfully dragging out the conversation, “With you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me?”

“Mm-mm, there is. You’re all tense and silent, and anytime someone mentions a baby you do this thing where you disapp– Yeah, just like that!” He snapped his fingers and pointed at your face void of emotion.

“I’m just not feeling it today.”

A gasp left his mouth and he looked around almost alarmed. “Don’t tell me you’re…pregnant?” He whispered the last word as if it was a crime that could sentence you to life in prison.

Out of sheer surprise and terror you smacked the side of his head.

“Are you out of your mind?!” You hissed back.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“It is a no!”

“Okay, don’t hit me again!” As you raised your arm he simultaneously threw his hands up to shield himself from your wrath.

A third party watched the banter from the living room, his feet tucked under his thighs in a pretzel motion and tongue poking at his cheek. The three years you spent together, from the platonic start to the blossoming romance, granted you more knowledge of each other than anyone else.

San noticed your change in behavior at the dinner table last night, after the talk with your mother and as you cozied up to him in bed. At first he brushed it off as jitters for not being home for so long and the overwhelming emotions of finally meeting everyone again, but the more he thought of it the more he realized it wasn’t like you. And he promised himself to ask you about it, he just needed to find the perfect moment when you weren’t being swammered by everyone else which proved to be nearly impossible. If you weren’t hounded by your mother or bothered by your siblings, then you were stuck with the little ones and their sticky fingers.

“San-ah.”

Hana brought him out of his thoughts.

“Do you ever see yourself having kids?”

The question threw him off guard because wasn’t it obvious? What more could he want than to start a family with the love of his life?

“Of course, but it’s not something we’ve gotten around yet. We’re not rushing anywhere either!”

Hana nodded and took a long sip of her chamomile tea. There was something so uneasy with her watchful eyes and the slight purse of her lips that had San thinking a little too much to his liking.

Was he missing something?

And he really shouldn’t have asked, prod at her interest and start something he wasn’t sure he was ready for but being the curious cat he was, San couldn't help himself.

“If you don’t mind, why are you asking?”

“Mmm…you see, she’s not the brightest when it comes to children.”

That sentence sounded like an unstrung guitar being played with a dull rock underwater. If San remembered correctly, you shone the brightest around your nieces and nephews. There was never a dull moment with them, always bringing you to tears from laughing too much. He saw you with them; you were gentle, thoughtful and careful, and he was certain it had nothing to do with you sharing the same blood.

San must have looked confused because Hana spluttered out an explanation, her hands waving around at the speed of light.

“I’m just saying that because I know how you’re with kids. Anyone can see you love them and I know it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“What wouldn’t be fair?”

“Not having kids,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

San wanted to ask more questions yet he decided to hold his tongue. He wouldn’t be able to see the complete puzzle anyways and he knew the missing piece could only be received from one person – you.

“It’s a mutual concern of ours and we are just looking out for you.” She gave him a few pats of comfort, for what he had yet to find out, “God knows my husband would be devastated if I didn’t want kids.”

San listened silently, the frown on his face deepening with each word.

Did your sister not want kids?

He followed her line of vision leading straight to you and then it hit him.

You didn’t want kids.

The images of San holding a toddler that was the spitting image of him; a head too big for its body, chubby cheeks and faint brows, haunted you every night. Some dreams were more vivid than others, but they were never the same. The most recent one was of the three of you taking a walk in the park. The little girl sat on San’s shoulders wearing a purple hat with cat ears while you trailed behind them, a matching bag around your shoulder and a camera in your hands. As San turned around you caught a glimpse of their bright smiles and identical dimples. The girl saw you and stretched her arms out, a giddy ‘mom!’ tumbling out of her mouth.

That’s when you woke up in a puddle of sweat. You could barely catch your own breath as you jumped out of bed, nearly toppling to the floor in the process.

A cloud of guilt and shame loomed over you for various reasons. Mainly for dreaming of a future you could not see for yourself. It got to the point where you stayed up all night just to avoid the dreams. You picked up more shifts at the office, working late nights and early mornings, and it was a success until you cleared your whole schedule. Then came the idea of starting a new hobby; crocheting but your patience ran out rather quickly, who knew learning a double crochet would be so difficult?

Your guilty conscience affected your relationship with San too. Dates were painfully awkward as if you were a high school couple going on your first outing together, stealing shy glances and looking away as soon as your eyes met.

Then it was the skinship, whenever you accidentally touched fingers or feet collided underneath the dinner table, you’d withdraw so quickly as if burned by the scorch of a hundred suns. It was almost foreign to cuddle up on the couch too, San’s hands on your lower back and your cheek against his chest. At first you didn’t think he noticed the change in your behavior, but as you laid on top of him you could feel his heart rapidly beat in your ear and hands ghost over your skin, a trail of goosebumps following his faint touch.

Neither dared to speak up about the thick tension, assuming it would all go away in due time but the closer you got to the date of Ateez leaving for their tour in Latin America, the less likely it was to subdue.

Little did you know San wasn’t feeling any better himself. Hana’s words played in his head on a loop, creating new presumptions of what she meant. She wasn’t that straightforward with her message and San could’ve either pieced together the wrong information or been completely spot on. He’d never know if he never asked, which proved to be harder than expected.

The few times your schedules aligned you were interrupted by San’s phone – Seonghwa and Mingi checking if he was dining at yours or with them – and if it weren’t that then it was something else. The days he made sure nothing could interrupt he’d chicken out last minute and smoothly avert the attention to anything remotely more interesting.

“Did you see Mingi’s new hair color?”

“I made Jongho promise to teach you how to break an apple in half!”

“Yeosang wants to buy a puppy!”

The confidence San possessed on stage in front of thousands was plummeting to the ground. Hard and fast. It honestly baffled him how much control one person could hold over him. Not that he complained, who was supposed to make his knees weak and brain all mushy besides you?

Knees weak and mushy brain was exactly how he felt as you opened the door, revealing yourself. You wore a black and white striped sweater with a black skirt stopping midthigh. The top was slightly big so you tucked it in your skirt. A small dark bag hung over your shoulder matching your leather boots. Simple yet elegant jewelry adorned your fingers and ears. You topped it off with black see-through stockings and black coat.

“Is this too much for a night out?”

You were stunning.

“It’s perfect, babe.”

He handed you a beautiful bouquet of pink and red roses mixed with fillers, the brown paper gave them an old school look. You suppressed a squeal of joy and took the flowers from him, planning to put them in a vase, but not before planting a quick and shy kiss to the apple of his cheek. Your lipstick smeared on his skin almost camouflaging with the redness crawling up his neck, attacking his ears and cheeks, luckily for him you bolted to the kitchen, embarrassed at your own gesture.

You truly were like a pair of high schoolers, but for once you didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. Perhaps it was your consciousness pushing the thoughts away for the night as it was your last date before San left overseas.

“Ready to go?”

San was breathtaking.

It was no surprise that your boyfriend was a work of art, but there was something different about him tonight. Dark slacks accented his hard thighs a black turtleneck covered his bulging arms and slim waist with a gray coat hung snuggly over his frame reaching his calves. You always said his natural hair color suited him the best and it was true, especially when it was slicked back with a few strands falling over his exposed forehead.

You gulped harshly, “Yup.”

You placed your hand in his and smiled as his fingers thread through yours like the roots of a tree becoming one with the earth. Giddy smiles hid behind your masks but the sparkle in your eyes was brighter than the night sky and its million stars.

San stuffed your woven hands in the pocket of his large coat for the short walk to his manager’s car and then his hand found its long lost place on your thigh during the drive to your favorite restaurant.

You were addicted to his reassuring words and mellow touches.

San held his breath and was fully prepared to feel your body still at the skinship or for you to slowly pull away, but when you did the complete opposite – tightening your hold on his hand – he exhaled in relief.

The restaurant was made for celebrities to have somewhere to go and enjoy their time without noisy people and overbearing fans. They even had a no phone policy to maximize the safety and privacy of everyone inside, that way the possibility of scandals coming out were zero to none. It wasn’t everyday you went on expensive dates for obvious reasons, mainly because of San’s schedule but also because you felt bad for him paying every time. It was no secret San earned more money than you, being a literal idol, but you still made it work somehow.

For the first time in a while you felt good beside him. The unsettling dreams and thoughts of the future were as if non-existent and you didn’t want it any other way, at least for the night. Halfway through your second glass of wine San started blabbering about the tour. You wouldn’t say he was drunk, but rather relaxed.

“So where are you going first?”

He thought for a minute, “Mexico, Brazil, Chile and then Colombia.”

“Isn’t it your first time performing there? That must be exciting!”

“Mhm, I can’t wait to see our Latin American Atinys. I know some of them have been with us since predebut. Honestly I’d travel around the world just to meet them all.”

“That’d be the dream wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “It’d be even better if you were there with me.”

His small pout and glistening eyes made you laugh, “Because that’d be such a good idea. I can bet all my life savings it would end up in a disaster one way or another.”

“What? Why?”

You placed your utensils down, “San, honey. I don’t think you realize how popular you are, like all of twitter wants to fuck you.”

San stopped mid chewing, his eyes wide and brows raised to the roof. The loading wheel appeared above him and he smiled embarrassingly as your words finally registered, his teeth white but the tips of his ears burned red.

“Yah, don’t say that.” He suddenly looked away as if he wasn’t showered with compliments on a daily basis.

“Well it’s Atinys’ words, not mine.”

“You jealous?”

The cheekiness didn’t go unnoticed by you so in an equally teasing tone, you replied, “I can’t be jealous of something I actually get to do.”

And if there was anything better than a tipsy San then it was a flustered one.

“You shy, baby?”

He shook his head with a little ‘no’ that barely reached your ears.

The rest of the date was perfect – much to your surprise – and not once did the guilt ridden thoughts infiltrate your mind, not even when you passed a happy couple pushing a stroller on your way home or when you saw, what must have been, the biggest smile of the night on San’s handsome face. For a split second you thought everything would work out in the end. You’d overcome this obstacle just like you did with the move to Seoul or with the test you nailed after months of pulling all-nighters. But only for a split second because as the clock struck midnight your night took an unexpected turn with it.

“You need a place to stay for the night?” It came out more suggestive than you intended, however you didn’t mind.

“I don’t know, did you plan to sleep tonight?”

Your pointer finger rested against your chin as you pretended to think.

“If that’s the case then you won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

A pair of very familiar hands grabbed your hips sending an electric feeling through your body despite the skirt separating your skin from touching. Your bodies fit like two pieces of a missing puzzle.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you replied and threw your head back against the crook of his neck.

“Good.”

You were a feather in San’s hand and he treated you with care. Never too rough or foul, always considerate and kind but not opposed to it if you asked. He spun you around and stared at you with a million stars in his eyes, completely and utterly lost in the beautiful galaxy that is you.

San cupped your cheek and traced your bottom lip with his thumb. His touch stopped at the corner of your mouth, his eyes widened as you lightly bit down on his finger. Your warm tongue against his cold skin. Your parted lips pulled into a smirk and it spurred San to push his thumb deeper in your mouth, now laying completely flat against the wet muscle. The innocent yet sultry bat of your eyes drove him crazy.

Reassuring words and mellow touches.

He wanted you. He wanted to lick and nip at your skin, paint it full of violet and crimson clover. Make your writhe and turn in his hold until breathless pleas filled your apartment. He craved you beneath him, bare and vulnerable while he worshiped your body with praises and sinful words. He wanted to make love to you.

Yet he couldn’t.

Not when you were both haunted by your thoughts.

He slipped his thumb from your mouth taking the sexual atmosphere with it.

“Love?”

His eyes snapped to yours and he knew then and there that the art of love wouldn’t solve any of your worries, because at the end of the night he’d still travel halfway across the world with the nagging thoughts packed between his briefs and socks.

“Is everything alright?” You gently latched onto his wrist, thumb stroking the back of his hand.

“I love you,” San suddenly confessed.

A crease formed between your brows, lips glued together and eyes almost glossy. You were taken back at the sweet words but even more so at the way he was looking at you – almost sad.

“Where is this coming from?”

“I love you,” he repeated.

The scene wasn’t a sense of deja-vu, that much you knew, but rather a memory from a few weeks ago. A memory that was much sweeter and domestic than now. The response San expected to hear didn’t come as quickly as he hoped and through his tipsy vision he recognized a moment of hesitation.

“Honey?”

“I love you too, San.”

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He suddenly asked.

The loving touches and flirty banter went down the drain and you were left with a silence so loud and overwhelming you couldn’t think properly.

“What?”

“I said, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean something’s got you distracted.”

“There’s nothing going on,” you insisted stubbornly.

“Absolutely nothing?”

“San…everything's fine.”

“Except it isn't! I know you enough to see the changes. You barely sleep and this is the first time in days where I’ve seen you with a real smile.”

It broke his heart to see you slink from his embrace. Arms crossing over your chest and head turning sideway.

“Honey, please talk to me.” He sounded desperate.

“And I am. There’s nothing wrong.”

He raked his hand through his hair. The deep sigh whirling around your apartment.

“Don’t lie. Not to me.”

You stayed silent yet again.

“I’m here for you, always will be.”

“I can’t,” you whispered into the august breeze.

“What?”

“I can’t tell you,” you repeated a little louder.

“Why?”

“Because you’ll hate me!” It stung San into silence. “You’ll hate me and never want to speak to me again.”

He hungered for your touch, hands itching to reach for yours and as he took a step forward you took one back.

“You can’t keep it bottled up forever, love.”

“I can try.”

Tears formed in your eyes and your voice cracked. You tried blinking them away but they raced down your cheeks against your will.

“C’mere.”

That was all it took for you to fling yourself at him. Your hands gripped the back of his shirt, nails digging into the expensive material. One hand cradled the back of your head and the other supported your back, rubbing gentle circles against your knitted sweater. San leaned down and pressed a long kiss to your crown, lingering and breathing in the sweet scent of you.

“I can’t breathe without you by my side so if you think I’ll ever hate you, you’re wrong. My love, you could break my heart a thousand times over and I’d still find reason to love you.”

Hot tears soaked into his shirt and you wanted to disagree but the tremble of your lips told you to be quiet so you shook your head violently instead.

You stood there for a long time, in each other’s arms with soft kisses and soothing touches. The emotions swirling around the apartment were too big for your shoulders and the rational part of you knew that you wouldn’t be able to carry them with you much longer.

“I don’t want children.”

It was interesting how a four worded sentence could either be the demise or rise of a relationship. What path your and San’s would take was yet to be determined, but God did you hope it was the latter.

The argument broke out three days ago and while you've gone months without seeing each other, these 72 hours were by far the most excruciating period of your relationship. You didn’t ever think there’d be a person you’d miss this much. To see and hold, kiss and laugh with.

The first day was spent bathing in your own tears and snot. You were forced out of work by your co-workers as they didn’t buy your lie of ‘everything being alright’. It wasn’t like you could tell them your idol boyfriend of three years ran head first out of your apartment after an argument, absolutely not because you literally told him to give you space. So from nine am to nine pm you were cooped up in your bed, crying, scrolling through your socials, crying some more until you eventually fell asleep.

The second day wasn’t anything better, except for the three tubs of ice cream you inhaled. They were kept in the back of your freezer for emergencies such as these. With a quick pat on the back for eating something you pushed the containers aside and continued your self wallowing, dressed in one of your (San’s) hoodies that smelled of caramelized sugar. Your phone blew up with calls from your family. Everyone concerned about you suddenly going MIA, but not enough to pay you a visit which you were both thankful and bitter about.

The third following morning came around and you decided that it was time to get your shit together. You still had a job to return to and bills to pay. It was all going well too, you cleaned the apartment and got rid of all the empty ice cream tubs, made a home cooked meal for the first time in three days, you even changed your bedsheets and did the laundry. The last thing on your list was a well deserved full-body shower.

The frantic ring of your doorbell fell on deaf ears as water pattered on your bare body and the tiled floor. Your fingers worked through your hair, rubbing almost painfully at your scalp as shampoo water went down the drain.

It was first after you cut the stream and stepped out of the shower that you realized someone was at the door. With a roll of your eyes, you leisurely squeezed the excess water out of your hair and wrapped a towel around yourself. The chime of the bell didn’t stop and you were on the brink of insanity.

There were only two people with keys to your place; San and your mom.

Your parents had no reason for coming all the way to Seoul in the middle of the day and San…even though your relationship wasn’t in the best shape you knew he’d never turn up unannounced, whether he told you by call or text didn’t matter as long as he reached out. He said it was a way of respecting your privacy and as much as you didn’t care for that, it was heartwarming.

6:30 PM glared the digital clock on the console table in the hallway.

All you wanted was one normal day. A morning without spilling coffee on your clean clothes, an afternoon without stubbing your toe on the desk in your office and a night without someone trying to sell you cookies or whatnot. It’d also be so much easier to crawl beneath your sheets and cry yourself to sleep without a maniac creating the newest billboard hit outside your apartment, but hey each to their own.

As much as you wanted to swing the door open and bark out profanities at the nuisance, you knew better and opted with looking through the peeping hole. Never did you expect a soaked San to stand there, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet while desperately abusing the doorbell.

San didn’t have time to react, neither at the door being opened nor for you appearing with only a towel. You took hold of his hand and dragged him inside to which he shut the door behind him and somehow managed to take off his shoes. You threw him a spare towel and disappeared in your room. San stood there like a kicked dog, ears flat against his head and tail certainly not wagging. A few seconds later you returned dressed in one of San’s many t-shirts and your pajama shorts, carrying a change of clothes.

You wordlessly gave them to him and escaped to your room again. San took that as his queue to get dressed.

The run to your apartment gave him barely any time to collect his thoughts, too busy with providing his burning lungs with air and keeping an eye out for cars and potential followers. So now that he stood, not in front of your door, but in your living room he was completely shitting his pants.

The cold and distant facade you managed to pull off in front of him crumbled the second you crossed the threshold of your room. You really strained all seventeen of your muscles not to cry and you could argue it was your best accomplishment yet as not a single tear kissed your cheeks.

“Hey.”

You looked up from your spot on the bed. Staring at your partner who stopped by the door. Your throat was dry and itchy, brain indiciseive of what to say and do. He wasn’t supposed to be here, that much you knew. Their agency had this weird rule of not allowing their idols out a day prior to their tour and it didn’t sit right with you knowing he went against their words, for you nonetheless.

“San, what are you doing here?”

Unsteady sleeping schedules, caffeine filled drinks and insomnia were the standard for idols. Anyone claiming otherwise was either lying straight through their teeth or had a great planning method something San could really use these days.

San was no stranger to succumbing to sleep at the early hours of the morning or not sleeping at all. The extra time was usually put into practice or perfecting his secret project, and sometimes something simple as laying in bed staring up at the ceiling.

But now it was hard to do any of that with you taking over his every thought. He found himself wondering about things that weren’t supposed to infiltrate his mind for the next five years.

Get married. Move in. Adopt a cat. Have kids.

A short list of things that were crossing the line between adolescence and adulthood.

The image of you and San doing that together spread a radiant smile across his face and his roommates, clueless as ever, couldn’t stop their own mouths from curving upwards. There was truly no other person he could think of doing any of that with and his heart was heavy as he realized he may never complete the list.

It took three calls from Seonghwa for San to acknowledge the older man sitting on the edge of his bed beside the open and empty suitcase.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Seonghwa leaned back on his arms keeping him from completely falling on the bed and stared at San’s computer screen, nonchalantly watching as he played one of his many games. The elder had come straight out of his own room from finishing a youtube live – a youtube live San crashed for a good fifteen minutes before abruptly leaving – and although Atiny probably didn’t notice the change of behavior in the younger Ateez member, Seonghwa did.

San sighed as the last character of his team died and the word ‘defeat’ flashed in large capital letters took over the majority of the screen.

“San-ah.”

Said man placed his expensive headset on the desk and twirled in his chair, and Seonghwa had a feeling the glum look on his features wasn’t from losing the game.

“I’m not saying you aren’t. I’m just checking if there’s something bothering you. Something I can help you with?”

The prolonged silence did nothing to soothe Seonghwa’s worries. He closely watched the hesitation slowly crack through San’s facade – bottom lip caught between his teeth, picking at his nails and eyes glazed over, darting literally everywhere except at Seonghwa.

Cautiously, he asked if it had something to do with you and his suspicion was confirmed when their eyes met.

“It’s…complicated.”

“How so?”

“Because I thought of a thing and it turns out I was right.”

Seonghwa tried asking as few questions as possible to not overwhelm San, but the conversation wasn’t giving him much to work with.

“And what were you thinking about?”

San ran his hands through his black hair and looked as if he was racking his brains, he then violently rubbed at his eyes too. It was one thing to think about the whole situation and another to say it out loud, possibly speaking it into existence.

“You don’t have to te–”

“Starting a family.”

The trip to your hometown really did a number on him, Seonghwa thought.

Cheeks red and palms sweaty, San cleared his throat. A little embarrassed at the confession and for cutting Seonghwa off so abruptly.

“I was thinking of what it’d be like to start a family with her.”

“Starting a what with who?”

Mingi stood in the doorway with parted lips and eyebrows raised to the roof, wet tufts of blonde and black hair peeked from underneath the towel on his head.

“It was just a thought.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with it,” Seonghwa assured.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t really matter.”

“How come?” Mingi pressed, now leaning against the door.

“Because she doesn’t want a family…or well, at least not kids.”

Seonghwa and Mingi exchanged glances. All of Ateez knew of San’s adoration for kids. Heck, Seonghwa had front row seats to it and all. He remembered thinking how skilled San was with the twins and even with the energized boy.

But none of it mattered now. If what San said was true – which he had no doubts about – then your choice went above everyone else’s, including San’s.

“And how do you feel about that?”

San looked at the eldest. “There’s nothing I can do about it. I mean, sure I love kids I do, but I love her more.”

“Then I don’t see what the issue is,” Mingi chimed in.

“It’s still a bitter situation Mingi, and Sannie has the right to feel…upset. Have you talked to her?”

San groaned and buried his face in the palms of his hands, thinking back how it all escalated so quickly. The split second he tried processing everything, you’d already decided it was time for him to leave and pushed him out, crying how you needed to be alone. Too stunned to properly react, San did as told.

“I walked out…”

Dread filled their guts as Mingi and Seonghwa patiently waited for the remainder of the story. They hoped San wouldn’t say what they were thinking.

“She confided in me at first and then pushed me away, screaming at me to go and I…listened. ”

“Well that changes the trajectory of things don’t you think?” Mingi said after the minute long silence and Seonghwa shot him a pointed look.

“San, we are not leaving for the tour until you talk to her,” Seonghwa declared.

The elder had no lover of his own, but he had seen enough movies to know how these situations ended. Spoiler alert: a painful break up for both parties.

San shrugged, “I’m sure Hongjoong would like that.”

“And you don’t think your girlfriend would? Listen here. We’re supposed to leave for the airport at seven am, I’ll give you the night if you make amends.”

Seonghwa stopped before San, a wide smile on his gorgeous face. “Besides, a family doesn’t become a family when a child is brought into it. If you think about it, the three of us and the rest of the guys are like a family, right?”

“We are a family,” Mingi corrected.

“Exactly. So who’s to say you two aren’t one too?”

“I’m here to do what I should’ve done days ago.”

It was hard to look him in the eye. The sincerity in them had your heart in knots, tugging and tightening with your every breath.

“Can I come in?”

San had his arms by his side and hands balled into fists to keep them from trembling. There was no doubt in his mind that you’d be in his arms by the end of the night, but it didn’t stop his pulse from skyrocketing.

“You’re already here.”

A faint, appreciative smile crossed his features as he gingerly took the seat beside you. There was no real malice to your words and he was thankful because honestly speaking he wouldn’t know what to make of it if you still needed ‘time’. San straightened and breathed out a sigh as if letting go of all his nerves.

“I want to start by saying; I’m sorry.”

You snapped your head towards him, confused as to why he was the one apologizing. You were the issue at hand here. You were the one depriving him of something he wished for, you pushed him away. Not the other way around.

“I’m really sorry for pressuring you–”

“San, no–” You shook your head, tears already threatening to make their dramatic entrance.

“Just listen to me, please.”

And his desperate plea was their queue to waltz in much to your dismay.

San lifted your chin so he could see your face and frowned at the tears. “I'm sorry if I ever made you feel obliged to push your feelings aside for me. That has never been my intention and it never will be.”

He cupped your face gently in both hands and wiped away your remaining tears with his thumbs. It pained him to know the tears were inflicted by his doing.

“I love you.”

“San,” you whimpered, barely able to get the word out.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe for me. I’m not leaving.”

That was your breaking point. You heaved for air as more tears blurred your vision. A heavy weight lifted off your shoulders as you found solace in his words and San felt his own heart break at your wails. Feeling embarrassed you abruptly stood up and put a hand over your mouth to stop the broken cries. Staying true to his words, San hugged you from behind and pressed you into his embrace. Chin resting against your shoulder as his arms went around your waist. You stood like that until your tears ran dry and cries turned into hiccups.

San whispered words of encouragement in your ear, lips grazing the skin with each pronunciation. Your feet moved with his as he maneuvered you to bed and under the covers. A meteor could hit the earth and he wouldn't leave your side. You laid there in silence with your back to his chest. His arm under your neck and the other curled around your waist, keeping you flushed against his front. Your occasional sniffles filled the gaps letting San know you were awake.

“My love,” he started and you shifted as a reply of acknowledgement, “remember that night at your parents’ house? When your mother said something to upset you and you stormed up to your room?”

You nodded while playing with his fingers spread across your abdomen.

“Do you remember what I told you?”

“That you loved me and nothing would change that.”

He kissed the back of your head. “I still stand by that. I love you. Not what you can or can’t give me. I love you when you cry and I love you when you laugh. I love you through your anger and grief. I love your kindness and selflessness.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, please. You should only apologize when you’ve done something wrong.”

“But I led you on. San, we want different things. You want a child–” your voice cracked and you drew in a sharp breath, “–and that’s not something I’m sure I can give you, ever.”

“That’s not true.” He sat up and leaned over your body, “I wanna cuddle you to sleep and wake you with breakfast in bed. I want us to buy furniture and assemble it together only to give up halfway through. I want us to bake a ridiculous cake that ends up in a flour fight. I want all of that with you!”

San planted a soft kiss against the back of your hand.

“Children or not, it won’t change the fact that I love you and I’ll continue to say it until all the trees are cut down, until the ocean dries out and all the stars go out. I love you. Always have and always will.”

His caring words drew a smile from you and the harsh knot around your heart slowly came undone. His affectionate eyes searched yours and he’d wait an eternity for your answer, but you didn’t need more time to know what you wanted. Your hands caressed the sides of his neck and with a quick pull of his neck, your lips clashed in a passionate kiss.

Reassuring words and mellow touches.

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twice-inamillion · 5 months

Text

Sorrow

Angst (Fear, Sadness, Hate, Anguish, Loss)

Chapter 219

2,070 Words

(Sana’s worst fears comes to pass. Twice tries their best to help Sana process this difficult moment.)

“There’s blood,” says Sana to Nayeon and Jeongyeon with a terrified expression.

Jeongyeon pulls Nayeon to the side, “I think this is serious. She shouldn’t get bleeding like this.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, when you were helping walk to the bathroom, I saw a stain of blood on heels bed.”

“We should let the others know. I’ll stay with her while you wake up the rest.”

Jeongyeon nods, goes towards Jihyo’s room, and nudges her shoulder to wake her up, “Jihyo, wake up.” Jihyo turned over to face Jeongyeon and slowly opened her eyes. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Get up, it's an emergency.”

“Okay, but what’s the emergency?”

“It’s Sana. She woke up saying that her tummy was hurting and started bleeding.”

Hearing what Jeongyeon said, she got up, put on a body pillow to prevent Jisoo from falling, and walked towards Sana. “Go wake up the rest.”

“Okay.” Jeongyeon walks towards the other rooms and knocks on the doors once she notices they are locked.

Jihyo enters the bathroom and sees a crying Sana, “Jihyo, what’s wrong? Why am I bleeding? Is my baby going to be okay?” Jihyo notices the blood stain, tries to cover her expression, and comforts Sana instead, “Don’t worry, we’re going to get help. Stay with Nayeon right here, and I will call the Doctor.”

Sana nods as she holds onto Nayeon’s hands. Jihyo grabs her phone, pulls up the Doctor’s phone number, and calls. The phone rings twice, with the Doctor answering, “Hello, how can i help you?”

“Doctor, this is Park Jihyo. We have someone currently pregnant and is complaining of stomach pains and is bleeding.”

“Okay, tell me this: has she had other symptoms in the past few days?”

“Yes, She had a fever earlier today.”

“Okay, I highly suggest you bring her into the clinic. I will reverse a room for the patient. Would you like me to send over an ambulance?”

“Thank you, but that’s okay. We can take her ourselves. We should be there in amount twenty minutes.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you at the front entrance.”

Jihyo hung up, walked back to the bathroom, and noticed that the rest of the members had woken up. “Everyone, I just called the Doctor, and we’ll be taking Sana to the clinic. I will need some help with putting blankets and bringing her down to the car. I’ll need someone to pack a bag with Sana’s belongings and meet us down there. The rest of you can stay and take care of the kids, maybe bringing them to the living room and setting up the mats for everyone to sleep together. Also, someone must call Oppa and inform him of what’s happening. He’s staying at the office again and needs to meet us at the clinic.”

Everyone nods and goes right to work, following Jihyo’s instructions to the letter. Tzuyu places mats on the floor against the living room couch while Chaeyoung brings blankets. Jeongyeon packs Sana’s bag with clothing and important information before helping Nayeon and Momo bring Sana down to the car. Sana cries in pain as she walks down the stairs, even with the support of Nayeon and Momo.

Eventually, she makes it to the car, and both of them get inside with Jihyo. Okay, the four of us are going to go with Sana to the clinic. The rest of you stay put and call Oppa to let him know. We’ll update you if there are any changes. The rest of the members nod and bring the children down to the living room as the others leave.

“Girls, I’m scared. What if there is something wrong with my baby?” cries Sana.

“Don’t worry, everything is going to be okay.”

“Yeah, like Nayeon said. You’re going to be fine.”

“But, what it's not. What am I going to do? I don’t want anything to happen to my baby.”

“Sana, stay strong. You’re going to make it through this and come out stronger than ever. I know you can,” says Jihyo.”

“Jihyo’s right. Stay strong, Sana.”

Jihyo makes her way down the dirt road and onto the highway to the clinic. She tries to go as fast as possible with the members in mind. It takes about fifteen minutes to arrive at the clinic, but with Jihyo’s driving, she makes it in ten. When she got there, she saw the Doctor and two nurses waiting in a wheelchair at the entrance. Jihyo parks the car before them as Momo opens the door and helps Sana get into the wheelchair.

“We’ll take care of your friend,” the Doctor and one of the nurses say as they take Sana into the clinic.

“I know that all of you are worried about your friend, but I’m going to ask you to fill out some paperwork and sit in the waiting room.” She escorted the rest of the members into the waiting room and gave Jihyo the paperwork for her to fill out.

————-

You’re working at the JYP building and ready to sleep on the couch when you receive a phone call from Tzuyu. You answer the phone, and the first thing you hear is Tzuyu crying on the phone, “Oppa…”

“Tzuyu, what’s wrong?”

“Come home quickly.”

“Tzuyu, why are you crying?”

“It’s Sana, she went to the hospital, and she’s bleeding…”

Suddenly, you hear Dahyun’s voice, “Oppa, it's Dahyun. You need to come home right now; actually, you need to go to the clinic. There’s something wrong with Sana and Jihyo, and some of the members took her to the clinic to get checked out. Jihyo told us to call you, so go there quickly.”

“Okay, let me put on some shoes, and I’ll head to the clinic right now.”

“ Okay, I’ll call Jihyo to tell her you are going there. Stay safe.”

Dahyun hangs up the phone, and you rush to put your shoes on and grab your bag with your car keys. You rush out of the office, down the stairs, and towards your car in the parking lot. The wheels of your car screech as you speed out of the parking lot and onto the street. “Please let it not be anything serious.”

————

“Sana, we will run some tests based on your symptoms.” Sana nods and hears the Doctor tell the nurse to perform some blood tests, a pelvic exam, and an ultrasound.

“Doctor, do you know if my baby will be okay?”

“I can’t give you an answer right now, but after running these tests, it will give us a better idea of what’s going on.”

“Okay, but please make sure my baby is okay.”

————

You arrive at the clinic, see Jihyo’s car in the lot, and park next to hers. You run towards the entrance and knock at her door. Nayeon opens the door, lets you in, and informs you about the situation. Jihyo pulls you to the side and explains the situation from the beginning until you arrive. You curse at yourself for not being there for her and pray that your baby is okay. All of you wait in the waiting room for any news on Sana. It isn’t until a bit over an hour when the nurse comes out and asks, “Has the father arrived yet?”

“Yes, I’m right here.”

“Okay, come with me.”

You follow the nurse into a hallway leading to Sana’s room. You see Sana lying on the bed, but she gets up when she sees you. “Oppa, you’re here,” with a faint smile.

“Yes, sorry for not being here with you from the beginning.”

“It’s okay. The girls have been with me the whole time.”

“How are you doing?”

“A bit better. They gave me some medicine for the pain and took some tests but waiting for the results.”

“That’s good, as long as you’re fine.”

“I’m just nervous about the baby. I don’t want anything to happen to it.”

“Let’s pray that everything goes well.”

An hour goes by, and the Doctor, along with the nurse, come inside and shut the door. They scroll in a monitor, hook it up to the outlet, and turn on the screen.

“We got your results back and noticed a low level of hCG hormones in your system. We also see that your cervix has begun to open.”

Sana, a bit confused about what the Doctor is trying to say, asks, “Can you explain it a bit better? I don’t seem to understand.”

With a heavy sigh, the Doctor says, “I’m sorry, Sana, but your baby does not seem to have a heartbeat.”

Her brain, not being able to process what the Doctor just said, looks at you and the tears falling down your cheek. “No, no, you don’t mean…”

“I’m very sorry; I’ll give you two some time.” She stands up to leave, but Sana grabs her coat, “Doctor, please… my baby can’t be dead. Check again; you’ll see his heartbeat, please, Doctor.”

You grab both her hands and say, “Sana, look at me.” With tears in her eyes she says, “Oppa, he can’t be dead. My baby can’t be dead…”

“It’s going to be okay, we’ll get through this…” As she places her head against your chest, Sana begins to bawl out loud.

In the waiting room, some of the members pace around and wait for any news from the nurse. After an hour of waiting, they see the Doctor come out from Sana’s room, and Jihyo goes up to the nurse and asks, “Is everything alright?”

Then, she hears Sana bawling, she gets her answer on Sana’s condition. The members stopped what they were doing and ran to the door to see a crying Sana. The girls can’t help but cry, seeing their member in this situation, but they want to give the two of them space.

“Poor Sana-chan, she was really looking forward to her baby.”

“We need to be there for her,” says Jeongyeon.

“What are we going to tell the rest?” asks Nayeon.

Jihyo then responds, “I’ll talk to them. Let’s just give them time to process the news.”

Dahyun hears her phone vibrate, notices it is Jihyo, and answers, “Unnie, how's Sana doing? Is everything okay?”

“No. From what I could tell, Sana lost the baby.”

“Wait… No, how?”

“I’m not sure, but let the others know. I don’t think Sana will be able to go home anytime soon. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Dahyun hangs up, and the members ask, “Is Sana and the baby okay?”

“No, Sana lost the baby,” and begins to tear up. She looked at the sleeping Da-eun and couldn’t imagine what Sana was going through.

About an hour passed, and Sana went to sleep after crying the whole time. The members get up when they see you walk into the waiting room. “How is Sana doing?”

“She tired herself from crying and fell asleep.”

Jihyo places her hand on your shoulder, “How are you doing?”

“It doesn’t seem real. I lost my baby, boy.”

They all walk up and hug you, “It’s going to be alright. You’re strong, and you’ll get through this, but you need to make sure that you’re there for Sana, too.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Momo and Jeongyeon ask, “Can we see her?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” and see the two of them go into her room.

The members visit Sana as she is sleeping and stay with her until you shower and come back from the house with some personal belongings. You prepare the pull-up bed but instead sleep alongside her as she cries herself to sleep in the fetal. You holder tightly every time she wakes up from her nightmares throughout the night.

It’s morning, and Sana wakes up with bags under her eyes from crying most of the night. You hold her hand as the nurse lets the two of you know that the Doctor will meet with you both shortly.

“I hope you both had some time to process the news from yesterday. I know it might be too sudden, but I need to talk to you about the next steps that come after a miscarriage." Sana and you hold each other’s hands tightly as the Doctor closes the door.

#twice #twice angst #kpop angst #twice sana #sana angst #sana minatozaki #minatozaki sana #sana #idol angst #g idol angst #TM smut

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colormepurplex2 · 3 months

Text

Now I'm Yours | JJK

🤍Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader 🤍A/B/O, Established Relationship/Mates | angst, smut, fluff 🤍WC: 14,064 🤍Rating: MA 🤍Summary: Jungkook is terrible at feelings. He’s possessive, reckless, and most definitely an Alphahole; you were once his sworn enemy for a reason. But, after he claimed you as his mate during your designation celebration, how do you even begin to navigate the dark waters of such a precarious relationship? Especially when there is darkness creeping over the horizon, threatening to blanket your world in permanent shadow. ⚠️ Vulgar language, semi-hate sex, fingering, knotting, creampie, discussion of violent acts, drinking, fighting/physical altercation, alpha challenge, knife violence/attack, blood, injury, bond sex, dick licking/oral, slick eating, biting/marking, blood/wound licking, surprise pregnancy Each chapter will have specific warnings listed.

Read Make You Mine, the first installment of the series, here!

Chapter 1. Distance Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

Chapter 2. Feel It In Your Soul

This story is complete.

A/N: This story is part of the "New Year, New Me Love" @bangtanwritershq gift exchange, written for the wonderful @hisunshiine! And as always, a special thank you to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for being A+ betas!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

#bts #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bts angst #bts smut #bts non idol au #bts abo #jungkook abo #alpha jungkook #omega reader #abo smut #bts knotting #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts enemies to lovers #alpha jungkook x omega reader #jungkook smut #bangtanwhq #btscreaturescoven

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alphabetboyluvr · 3 months

Text

the curious lifespan of migrating monarchs - jjk

THE CURIOUS LIFESPAN OF MIGRATING MONARCHS (& other aurelian affairs)

pairing: streamer!jk x international student!female oc (s2l)

warnings: strangers to lovers, clubbing, foul language, alcohol, vaping lol, jungkook is kinda famous, the oc is oblivious, the oc is also a foreign student who has very recently arrived in Korea!! (pls note - while i've been in korean uni dorms, i've never been in yonsei dorms specifically so don't shout at me if it isn't supeeeerr accurate), jaykay is speaking in eng for like 90% of this!!, i've also never watched a gaming streamer and had to do so for research lmao so there's a lot of guesswork going awwwn <3, the oc has tattoos, they bond over this, cute nicknames (tokki and nabi <3), one bed trope?? kinda, jaykay lives w/ yoongi and tae (they are streamers too (and dj?? (tae is a bit unhinged))), jungkook wears calvins!, a singular appearance of yoongi in his boxers!!, tipsy hookup, fingering, protected sex (woo!), desk sex, oral (m receiving), girliepop swallows <3, brief mentions of jungkook's starry eyes, lots of kisses, bunny ears, (1) mention of cross-fit

wordcount: 13011

note from holly: this was a commission done for the lovely Michelle over on my kofi page!! i don't open commissions often, but when I do I'm very lucky that the requests are so much fun. this actually ended up being way longer than it was supposed to be lol and is also available on wattpad!! also fun facts for you - I imagine the boys apartment (and jks room!) to be same as jk + jimins place in BD, just a little bigger lmao

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

CLUB SUNDOWN WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 02:24

Time ceases to exist after the sun goes down in Seoul. It could be two, or it could be five. The only thing that really clues you in on the actual time is the DJ schedule that lights up behind the decks: 02:00-03:00, Blu-Tae.

It's some guy you've never heard of. Looks no older than you. Probably a student, just like the rest of the crowd.

His hair is as blue as his namesake, which does make you smile, and his choices aren't bad either (even if somewhat questionable). You've never heard a jazz remix of Darude's Sandstorm before, and you doubt you ever will again.

Club Sundown is just as rogue as the rest of the city after the sun goes down. Hidden in the basement—like all the best places in Seoul are—the small room is packed to the absolute brim.

Who cares for views and sunsets offered by rooftop bars when you could lose yourself in the debauchery of an eternal midnight, instead?

Drinks are spilt on strangers, and dances have lost the grandeur of old-fashioned waltzes. It's not like you could dance properly, even if you wanted to. There's just simply no space.

Like Alice, you're down the rabbit hole—and oh, how you prefer it to being in the real world. In the shadows, you can be anyone you like.

If you were sober, you'd know this is also the case for daily life. You're in a new country with no ties to your former self. Who you are is who you choose to be.

But the shadows aren't all that dark. The red lights of the club bleed into the cracks, painting everyone in the same subtle hue of danger.

They shine a little light on the identifiers of you; the thin black lines of your patchwork tattoos. Trailing up your arm, they're memories of your past selves, and an indicator of who you hope to become.

"Down this," you say to your dormmate, Rae, handing back over the drink you've just ordered from the bar. "Cloakroom, then dance."

Still carrying your winter coats, you'd wanted to check the place out before committing to it. Entry is free, but the cloakroom is the same price as a drink. It would only be worth putting your coats away if you knew you wanted to stay—and given the fact the DJ was playing O-Zone's Dragostea Din Tei as you entered, you know it's a no-brainer. While his stage name might make you roll your eyes a little, Blu-Tae certainly does cater to your tastes. When you're drunk, and music vibrates through you, it's empyrean. No place you'd rather be.

"Oh, Jesus," Rae gags as she sips the drink you've just handed her. Despite her disgust, she's laughing. Head to toe in black, dark hair loose around her shoulders, she's been your ride-or-die since you arrived in Seoul. Both international students in the same dorm, there's no one you'd rather get up to no good with. "Vodka?!"

You beam at her like you're from the heavens above, wrongfully relegated to the depths of sin. Pretend like you love vodka. It's totally not like you panicked when you saw the menu was all in Korean.

Vodka-coke is a universally understood delicacy—the easiest thing for you to order without making a tit of yourself or butchering the pronunciation. When the bartender ignored your botched attempt at ordering in Korean and answered in fluent English, you'd wanted to melt into the floor. So embarrassing.

You're here, like most foreign students, for a language course. Semester is yet to start, and as much as you've studied and practised hard, it's always different when putting it into practice.

"I'm sorry," you laugh. "It's fine—you can order next time!"

But Rae has the exact same predicament as you. If anything, your language skills are better than hers, so you really have no hope. It's vodka-cokes for the evening, or maybe highballs. Once your tipsy brain manages to compute hangul cocktail names, you'll be golden, but that won't be for another few weeks, yet.

You'll look back at this time of your life fondly, realising how simple it all was, even if it feels incredibly overwhelming right now.

Funnily enough, hope is exactly what you have: for the semester ahead, for this new life you're forging, for the opportunities that may come your way.

In fact, by the time you're on your third vodka coke, you've managed to convince yourself you actually like it. You also can't taste it, thanks to the bartender freepouring a 60-40 ratio of vodka to coke in the first drink. Your tastebuds were wiped out pretty much instantly.

Coats in the cloakroom, you're glad to be wearing thin layers. The room is stuffy; your skin sweaty. While meeting new friends had been the goal, you keep to yourself. Dance like nobody is watching. Hold Rae's hands to stay close and ward off weirdos. Quickly realise that clubs back home are slightly different. Pay it no mind. Ignore the intrusions of hands on waists, because men, disappointingly, are no different.

Or at least most of them aren't.

But most of them don't look like the man in the corner booth, laughing with his friends.

Though he is tall, he's eclipsed by his demeanour. Shoulders broad, he's in a dark T-shirt and pair of jeans. Nothing special. Nothing that warrants such a perplexed stare from you - but he's familiar. You can't place him, but he's got the kind of face you swear you've seen before.

Rae doesn't notice the change in your poise, nor how you're desperately trying to work out where you know him from. Perhaps you've seen him around your university? It's only been a couple of weeks, but people are steadily moving in. Maybe he works at the convenience store you constantly find yourself in? Or mans the front desk of the noraebang you and Rae visit pretty much every other evening?

Impossible, you think. If you'd seen him before, you wouldn't have forgotten him, or the way he constantly toys with his lip rings. Plural. There are signs up around the place stating bar rules. NO SMOKING is rule number three. You've seen his friends pass him over a vape a handful of times. Anyone else, and you'd think it was cringe. Embarrassing.

But in the midst of his laughter settling, and a fresh toke being inhaled, his eyes flicker towards yours.

Perhaps it's just because you're drunk, but you don't avert your gaze. Show no shame. The smile on his lips sinks into a smirk as he exhales. An acknowledgement. A 'hello, trouble'.

Again, any other man, you'd find the vape smoke repugnant. Nasty. Now? Watching the way he flicks his tongue against his lip rings?

You wanna know how it tastes.

Black ink weaves an intricate outline of who he is up his arms. Where he's been. Who he's been. A map, if you will, of his soul.

Much like your own tattoos, he's got thick black lines, and little else. Simple, you assume. A man of convenience. Efficiency.

You wonder if he does everything in life with the precision to match his tattoos, and as your lips wrap around the straw of your vodka-coke, you decide you'd quite like to find out.

Interrupted by Rae pulling you deeper into the crowd, your night is spent in and out of shadows. Attempt subtlety. Try not to make your occasional glances to the corner booth noticeable, just checking if his eyes are still on you. More often than not, they aren't—but sometimes they are, and that's enough to fuel your little flirt.

It's not until the sign behind the DJ booth changes from 03:00-04:00, GLOSS into some other guy that you notice your staring contest opponent has slipped into the shadows himself. The booth is void of both him and his friends. Gone.

"GLOSS has a set at another club," Rae all but yells in your ear, and even then, you barely hear her. "All the hotties left when he did. Let's go."

"Where to?!" You laugh, empty cup in hand. Admittedly, the new guy who's stepped into the DJ booth is just not doing it for you. Blu-Tae was just the right amount of unhinged with classics, whereas GLOSS was definitely cooler, but still fun. Had the club yelling curse words over trap remixes just for the fun of it. This new guy, whose name you don't care to remember, takes himself too seriously, you think.

"It's, like, two blocks down," she yells back, tugging on your wrist to drag you to the stairwell that leads you back up to the streets of Seoul. The hustle and bustle of people trying to go in different directions in the tight place forces you apart, but you figure you'll catch up with her, or that she'll be waiting at the top.

You don't know the roads well enough yet to make it to whichever club it's at alone, and quickly realise when you nearly tumble into the side of a waiting taxi that you're far drunker than expected. Knew the bartender was freepouring, but didn't realise just how free those pours really were.

"Woah, easy trouble," a deep voice sounds from behind you as you're steadied to a more stable position.

"I'm good, I'm good!" You insist, shaking off the hands of your 'saviour'. Have no interest in being a damsel in distress, or some sober guy trying to take advantage of you.

Looking down to check your laces are tied properly, you check over your shoulder to make sure the guy isn't creepily waiting for a thank you that he can turn into an intrusive game of 21 questions—'are you open-minded?' or 'do you live alone?'—but when you glance in his direction, you regret it. Notice the tattoos immediately. Recognise the eyes. Want to die.

"Oh."

"Oh," he says back with a smile, imitating you. Suddenly, the confidence you'd had earlier when looking at him from afar dissolves into nothingness, just like the alcohol in your bloodstream. You feel rather sober, but your body would definitely disagree. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, suddenly a little stuck for words, desperately trying to play things cool. "Are you okay?"

The pouting of his lips as his tongue runs along the inside of his cheek only serves to make you internally cringe. Men who look like him have no business being on streets like this. Should be in a museum. Strung up on the walls with the other masterpieces. Admired by everyone who looks his way.

In a way you don't yet realise, he is.

Though he's not in galleries, he's often burning into people's laptop screens. Is the background of a fair few thousand lock screens. Indeed, he is admired by everyone who looks his way, just not in the traditional sense.

"I'm not the one who just fell into a car," he reminds you, as if you could forget your embarrassment so quickly.

"Was just seeing if you'd catch me," you bullshit, the confidence you usually have returning tenfold. Was just a momentary blip. He's just a man, after all.

"Oh?" He chirps, decidedly curious. "So you fell for me?"

"Stumbled."

"Semantics."

His fluency, and the fact he just said 'semantics' so casually in conversation, clues you in on the fact he might be a language student, too.

Could be useful study partners for each other, you think, then mentally berate yourself for already masterminding ways to see him again.

"So, where you going?" He asks, not caring to downplay his curiosity. The bartenders were free-pouring his drinks just as severely as they poured yours. The only difference is that his were on the house—'cause you were right. He does have a recognisable face. "Should probably go with you. Make sure you don't fall into the road."

"Stumble," you insist, a little pleased with the boldness of his suggestion, but not wanting to blindly agree. "My friend," you say glancing around, only to find yourself completely alone. "She wanted to go catch the next GLOSS set. So, I guess that's where we're going."

"Just down the road," he says, knowing the schedule like the back of his hand. Bounces from club to club supporting his friends, just like they would for him. If he wanted, he could get a slot up there, too. He doesn't care for it. "I'll walk with you, if you want? My friends are heading there anyway."

It's not a bad offer.

In fact, it's probably the best offer you'll get all night.

"C'mon," he nods his head to the side, encouraging you to follow him. Checks his phone for the time. "Starts in five."

If there's one thing you've indulged in since moving to Seoul, it's how safe you always feel. Security cameras are on every corner, and you've walked home countless times without any issues, even late into the night. While the place isn't perfect, it's far safer than your home country.

Still, you're not a complete idiot.

"It's not wise to follow strange men down dark alleys," you tell him.

He holds out his hand. Waits for you to shake it. Cocks a brow when you hesitate, so introduces himself.

"Jungkook. Nice to meet you. Now, can we please hurry up? I promised I'd be there."

Narrowing your eyes, you don't shake his hand. Arms folded over your chest, there is ice to your exterior, and given how warm his eyes are, you doubt it'll last for very long. May as well keep up this hard-to-get act while you still can.

Walking on past him, you call back, "Alright then. Lead the way."

In the domed mirror meant for reversing cars at the end of a tight alley, you see him laugh. "Wrong way, idiot."

Pausing, you scrunch your face up. Don't turn to face him for at least a second or so—but when you do, you're surprised to see him walking towards you. Hooking his arm around your waist, he carries on walking in the 'wrong' direction, taking you with him.

"Was just fucking with you," he grins. Nods towards a sign by another basement entrance, listing both Blu-Tae and GLOSS.

By the door, Rae is looking around like a mother duck who's just lost some of her ducklings when crossing the road. Breathes a sigh of relief when she spots you.

"C'mon," she grins, then realises who you're with. Says nothing of it, 'cause she doesn't want to be weird, but she recognises him, too. Decides she's just had a little too much to drink. There's no way it's him. Holds out her hand for you.

Reaching out for her, you're let go from Jungkook's grip, ready to get lost in the lights once more.

HAEJANG24 WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 05:53

Seoul is a city for the nocturnal. The restaurants and bars are open until the last men are standing. Given how much you've had to drink, you're surprised you still are.

Rae had dipped an hour or so ago. Had hit it off with Mr Blu-Tae himself. Seduced him with the suggestion that their couple name would be Blu-Rae. He'd said they should go to a DVD-bang. Would be fitting. See what Blu-rays were on file.

Naturally, you'd looked on with mild disgust and also admiration for how quickly she'd worked her magic. Everyone knows what goes down in DVD-bangs. Small private rooms, often with projector screens and the world's least comfortable futons, they're somewhere you hope to never end up—but also can't wait to hear all the details the next morning when Rae comes to your room for a debrief.

You'd been left under the surveillance of Jungkook.

"Look after her," Rae had instructed, then narrowed her eyes. "Or I'll destroy your reputation with a single twitter thread, Tokki."

It's a threat he's taken seriously. Knows how the internet works, and even though he's never done anything worthy of a cancellation, he also doesn't intend on starting now. The fact you seem to have no idea who he is during the daylight hours intrigues him. It's a rarity on streets like these.

Even when a few people asked for pictures with him on your walk to the hangover soup place, you didn't clock it as weird. Figured they were friends passing by, wanting to document their chance run-in. Just another memory of the night. The way Jungkook had greeted them was full of warmth, and kindness. Why wouldn't you assume they were mates?

You were also still incredibly drunk at the time, so didn't think to question it. Was keen for food, and Jungkook had insisted on hangover soup, and so that's where you are. Dishes nearly empty, far more of it eaten by him than you, you're laughing about nothing and everything all at once.

"Right," Jungkook declares, deciding he cannot hold in a question that's been tickling at his brain for the entire meal. "What the fuck is that?"

Coat left in the cloakroom, long forgotten about, your tattoos are on full display for him, just like his are for you. Up your arm they trail; a patchwork of teeny tiny identifiers. Latin phrases around skulls, birth flowers of the people you hold close, butterflies and stars. There's an ode to your favourite musician and your favourite Shakespeare quote, too. The fabric of you etched into your skin. There's no reinventing yourself, even half the world away from home.

You know precisely which tattoo Jungkook is asking about. You've asked yourself the same question a few times.

"Fuck off," you laugh.

While most of your tattoos are gorgeous, there's one that was done by a rogue artist on a girlie holiday a few years ago. What was supposed to be a seashell now looks like... well, nothing really. It's just a blob, thanks to the artist being absolutely terrible. The only solace you find in it is that your two best friends have an equally awful permanent reminder of that holiday on their bodies, too.

"It doesn't look how it's supposed to," you explain with a little pout. "I got royally screwed over."

He cocks a brow. You still haven't told him what it is. He isn't gonna ask you twice.

With a grumble, you feebly admit, "A shell."

And then he's laughing. Really laughing. Laughing so hard you think he might piss himself—which you'd actually prefer, because then he could be the embarrassed one, instead.

"I'm calling you Shelly from now on," he says with a broad smile. Has had his fair share of tattoo blunders, and knows you must've developed an affection towards how shitty it is. Would have gotten it covered up, otherwise. "That's incredible."

"You're calling me so such thing," you assure him, but you also can't help but laugh.

"I am," he tells you, then really solidifies it. "Shelly."

"Fuck off," you whine, doubling down. Scanning his arms, you try and pick out anything you can use against him, too. "If I'm Shelly, then you're Mike."

"Mike?!" He protests.

"Yeah," you insist, pointing towards the microphone on his forearm. "Mike."

"You are not calling me Mike. Do I look like a Mike?!"

"Do I look like a Shelly?!"

You've got a point. It's not the name he would have first associated with you - but it is cute, he thinks. Cute how mortified you seem. Cute how you can't help but smile.

After a little bit of back and forth, it's decided that neither of you look like your namesakes.

"Y'know, we kinda have matching tattoos," he says, holding out his arm for you to study. "Or at least, the placements."

And sure enough, below his elbow lives the outline of a bunny sitting on a crescent moon. Holding your own arm out next to his, below your elbow is a butterfly. Above it, is a teeny tiny moon.

Like Jungkook's moon, it's a crescent. Was supposed to symbolise new beginnings. You wonder what his means, but don't ask. Instead, you marvel at the coincidence of it all.

He presses his index finger against the butterfly on the inside of your forearm. The echoing chatter of the restaurant fades softly into nothingness as he says, "Nabi."

You nod. Even if you have spoken with him in English this entire time, it's nice to hear him speak in his mother tongue, no matter how minimal - so you reciprocate. Press your index finger against his bunny. Smile. Say, "Tokki."

It further confirms to Jungkook that you have no idea who he is. Has been a while since he's met a girl in a circumstance like this where that's the case. Likes the anonymity of it all. Is hiding his identity from you, and yet hasn't felt such vulnerability for years.

"Daltokki, right?" You continue, not wanting the silence to linger for too long. "The rabbit in the moon?"

You're not wrong, but you're also not entirely right.

"Yeah," he smiles regardless. "That's it."

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 07:12

"Shhh," Jungkook quietly laughs.

His hand is over your mouth and the other is on your hip as he guides you into his apartment. With your back to his chest, you've both been giggling for the entire ride to his place.

He had insisted that he should walk you home, and was surprised by the offense you seemed to have taken by this. You then told him that he absolutely could not seduce you, and that it was very gender-role-conforming for him to think that you were incapable of getting home by yourself.

"Maybe I should be the one to make sure you get home safely," you had said with a false sense of concern, which had made him laugh quite considerably.

In all reality, you didn't mind him offering to get you home. You just hadn't tidied your room. Didn't really expect to be taking a boy back to your place, much less one that looks like him.

Together, you'd caught the early morning bus over to Itaewon instead of a taxi, 'cause you're still on a student budget and Jungkook wasn't quite ready to blow his cover just yet.

You've been teasing him—questioning his status as a potential International Super Spy—ever since he took your hand and guided you into one of the flashiest apartment complexes you've ever been in. There was security. Doormen. A passcode for the elevator—not to mention that he was heading up to the seventh floor once you were in it. Might not sound like much, but when there are only seven floors to the entire building, it makes it the penthouse by default.

"It's not a penthouse," he'd insisted. "Plus, I live with friends. Only pay a third of the rent."

But a third of his rent is more money than you'll probably see in three months of post-grad work. You're drunk, but you're not stupid. You also know that the rental market here differs significantly from your home country. Monthly rent is cheap, but the deposits are extortionate. Sure, he'll get it back when he leaves, but to have the initial money needed for a place like this? He's not a regular student, if one at all, that much is sure.

"Not sure who's home," Jungkook whispers as you both kick your shoes off in the entryway. Given the looks of the other shoes, it's clear that this is a guys-only living situation. You're proven right when he continues, "Betcha Tae's still in that damn DVD-bang, but Yoongi might be back."

"Yoongi?" You question.

"GLOSS," Jungkook says, remembering how oblivious you are to who he is. Reaching down to grab your shoes, he isn't gonna leave them by the door. Will take them to his room. Doesn't want the boys asking questions, if they are in. Knows they'll just use it as an excuse to publicly roast him whenever they're next online together.

Given that a stream is scheduled for Sunday night, he doesn't want to tempt fate.

Their current choice of wind-up, which the viewers have been eating up, is the joke that Jungkook is a virgin. He's not, but he never knows how to defend himself without sounding like a tool, so always gets a little awkward. A lot of their viewers love it. Join in on the joke. Some take it seriously. He doesn't care.

Next month, Taehyung will do something dumb, and he'll become the favourite joke for a while. Maybe Yoongi. But for now, it's Jungkook.

None of them take it to heart. They're just a group of friends who share their gaming hangouts online, and accidentally made it to the top of the ranks.

They aren't particularly good at gaming, but that's part of the charm. Crescent Collective is how they're known: Blu-Tae, GLOSS and Tokki.

After a bet went wrong, and they all lost, they ended up with moon tattoos and their respective 'symbols'. Jungkook's is a rabbit, Tae's is a blu-ray DVD disk (because he really is committed to the bit), and Yoongi's is stars to symbolise the shine of fresh gloss. Jungkook's makes the most sense. Yoongi's is pretty decent. Taehyung's is just... Well, it's very him.

Sliding open the door into the main living area, Jungkook has to cover your mouth again when you gasp at the sheer size of the place.

"I thought butterflies were supposed to be silent?" He teases. "Quiet for me, Nabi."

His place is bigger than your family home, you think. Hushing you again, he's laughing—and then he's cursing at the sight of a half-naked Yoongi by the kitchen counter.

In his boxers, with half a clementine slice hanging from his lips, he's just as shocked to see Jungkook with you. Gets over it pretty quickly.

"Don't mind me," he says, chewing down on the fruit with a smirk. Looks towards you. "Apologies for the lack of clothes."

With your shoes hooked on his fingers, Jungkook's other large hand is still over your mouth. You're not sure you can form any words as it is, but you do notice the crescent moon and stars on Yoongi's ribs.

"Not a word to Tae," is all Jungkook says. Knows that he'll be in for a world of teasing tomorrow if he gets wind of it. "I mean it."

Holding his hands up, Yoongi's still smirking, but he is backing away into a room just off the kitchen. "My lips are sealed."

Watching as he closes the door, you wonder how much truth is in his words. Jungkook knows it's absolute bullshit. Chooses not to dwell on it. Loosens his grip on you and heads towards his own room. Turns back to check you're following him, and can't help but smile when he knows that you are.

Tossing your shoes just inside the door, Jungkook is quick to pick up a pair of jeans he'd left on the floor, before chucking them over his desk chair. He tweaks his bedding. Straightens it out. Looks a little shy as he turns to face you.

"Made it home safe," he says quietly, as you close the door behind you.

You nod. Keep a little distance. Say, "It's dangerous to sleep after drinking. Make sure you build a tower of pillows in the middle of your bed so you don't roll onto your back."

Both of you are far more sober than you were earlier. There's no need to worry about anything like that.

And yet he nods, now. Says, "You're probably right. You can always stay, though. Just to check I don't die in my sleep, or whatever."

"It'd be the responsible thing to do," you nod, wondering if he can tell just how fast your heart is beating. "But I don't have any pyjamas."

Jungkook swallows. The way he looks at you now is entirely different to how he'd looked at you in the club. Back then, he'd been bold. Flirtatious.

Now, he seems vulnerable. Needy.

"I sleep in my underwear," he tells you, unsure if you'll actually be sleeping. While he likes the idea of fucking you, part of him doesn't want to. Fears it'll ruin the magic of the unknown. The way he throbs at the mere thought of it would suggest that his hopes outweigh his fears. "I don't mind, if you don't."

The clothes Jungkook's wearing are baggy. You've seen nothing of his figure.

Reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs on the fabric of his T-shirt. Pulls it over his head and discards it in one swift movement. The sound of it crumpling on the floor is abrasive in how it makes you feel. Raw. Unrefined. You suppose it's just a natural consequence of seeing the toned muscles of his chest. How his waist defies what you thought was possible for masculine builds, and how broad his chest is. The indent of his collarbones, and the lines of his pelvis that draw your eyes downwards.

A pair of Calvins peek just above the waistband of his jeans, and a silver chain rests around his neck. Light from the city filters in, and LED lights around his impressive computer set-up paint him in a hue of violet.

"No," you manage to reply, which is a miracle, you think. "I don't mind."

And then you reciprocate. Reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Seeing him swallow back his nerves, or maybe his desires, makes you feel far bolder than you should.

"It's really uncomfortable to sleep in jeans," you tell him.

He nods. Agrees. Threads the button of his trousers through its loop. Doesn't take them off yet. Waits for you to do the same. Keeps his eyes firmly locked on yours. Doesn't let his gaze wander, no matter how much he has to fight all his instincts not to fully take you in. Is still pretending like he doesn't want you in the most indecent of ways.

The room you're in right now is known worldwide.

People set it as their zoom backgrounds. It's on Pinterest. There are YouTube videos attempting to recreate the set-up. If he were to power up his computer—which, in all fairness, is only on standby—and go live, there'd be a thousand viewers within minutes. Doesn't matter what he plays, or who he's with. He doesn't give it much thought anymore. Is just life.

Sometimes, he regrets not being a faceless streamer, but he also knows that it's part of the appeal. Connection, and the fantasy that comes with this almost dystopian, parasocial idea of it.

After all, the meeting of his eyes with yours across a busy club led you to this point. Human connection in the simplest of ways, that he thinks could culminate in the most complex of ways, too.

"Okay," he says. "So take them off."

"You want me to?" You ask just to tease a little bit, and when a smile flickers onto his seemingly nervous lips, you're glad you did.

"You think we'd be here right now if I didn't?" He says with a tweak of his brows.

"You've got a point."

With that, you push your jeans down and reveal the matching set of black underwear you're in. It's nothing special. In fact, it's not really a set, but it's close enough that it'd fool anyone who didn't know.

Jungkook, in this moment, is indeed a beautiful fool.

There's a lopsided grin on his face as he lets his eyes rake down your body. Is shameless as he indulges in you. Nods, as he bites down on his bottom lip.

"It's cold," you tell him, urging him along a little bit.

"Shit," he says without much thought. "Sorry. Was just... Yeah. Shit."

It's both endearing and wholly confusing how Jungkook flips from confident to cute. A man of duality. It makes you giggle, and then you're the one biting down on your bottom lip. Are both a little bashful. A little shy.

"I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep," you remind him before it goes any further.

Looking at him now, knowing you want him in the worst of ways, it's testing all of your willpower not to just cut to the chase.

Thing is, you liked his company tonight. Want it again. Want to give him a reason to seek you out once more. Want him thinking about you in clubs, and looking for you in crowded bars. Pining. Yearning. Needy.

"It's already gone seven," he tells you, walking towards his bed. Knocks his head to the side. Silently tells you to follow suit. "Will probably only get a couple hours in."

"Better than nothing. Plus, you're actually really irritating," you bullshit as you get into bed with him. Are adamant you won't fuck him, but you do let him pull you in closer.

"Oh, yeah?" He grins.

"Mhmm," you nod, pretending as if you aren't looking at his lips. "You'll be less annoying when you're asleep."

"I'm never gonna sleep again," he assures you. "Will annoy you forever."

"I know where the front door is," you say as you stroke a few of his loose, wavy hairs back behind his ears. They fall freely almost right away, but it just gives you another excuse to play with it "I can just leave. I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep. Pointless if you're awake."

"So I have to be asleep for you to stay?"

"Mhmm," you hum.

He immediately loosens his grip on you and flops into an overdramatic sleeping position. Fake snores. Gets you giggling. Can't hide his smile, either. Laughs through the god-awful noises he's making.

But it is late, and you're both tired. As much as he'd like to stay awake with you, the pull of sleep is just too tempting now that you're beneath his sheets. It's not like he doesn't wanna fuck you. His semi is very much present, but neither of you mention it.

"Y'know what's sad about butterflies?" Jungkook mumbles after the laughter dies down. He carefully begins to trace the lines of your tattoo, eyes entirely focused on the tip of his finger.

You purr a response before you fully vocalise one. "Tell me."

He glances up at you only very momentarily. Looks back down. Is quiet when he says, "How quickly they die. Spend over half their lifespan growing into these beautiful creatures, and then they have, what—A week? Two? Three, tops—and then they're gone. It's like the cherry blossoms in spring. Beautiful, and then—" He clicks his fingers. "—gone."

Stroking back some loose strands of his hair, you wonder if he's thinking about you. About this chance encounter. Beautiful, then gone.

"Just means you have to appreciate them while they're still around," you say softly. "Cherish them, because you know you only have them for a moment."

His gaze lifts to meet yours. The reflection of his LED lights makes it seem like butterflies are floating around in his deep, dark eyes, too.

There are stories he could tell you of ancient folklore; about human souls taking the form of butterflies. Of justice, and peace, and spirits. Of back in time, when tigers still smoked. He could tell you of his favourite butterflies. Of the black butterflies that are as large as his hands in the summer. Of the huge display in a museum downtown that would transfix him as a child.

Instead, he gently presses his lips against the lines of your butterfly tattoo.

The rate at which your heart is beating multiplies. Like a swarm of butterflies chasing through your veins, you've no control over the way you're feeling. He's brought your artwork to life; set the souls inside of your butterfly free, only for it to be apparent that the souls belonged to the both of you, anyway.

You know that this is one of those moments; a butterfly passing on by through your lives. Here, and then gone. Beautiful, but fleeting.

There's a shyness to Jungkook now, as he rolls onto his back. A reluctance to get things wrong. He doesn't look at you, just nibbles on his bottom lip and pretends as if the empty white ceiling ahead of him is the most interesting thing he's seen all night.

It's not.

You are.

You, and those eyes that make him feel like the butterfly on your arm is tickling at his tummy. He finds himself jealous when he faces you again and begins tracing the thin lines of your butterfly once more. Wants to embed himself into you like the ink that's carved out a home in your skin.

"Sorry," he mumbles, seemingly regretful of the tender kiss he'd pressed against your arm just a short moment ago. "Don't know why I did that."

"It's okay," you reply without much thought. Like him, you're letting the way you feel dictate the words you say. Care not for playing coy. "I liked it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Jungkook wants to stop his mouth from letting his desires escape. The issue is, he drank a little too much tonight and his lips are a little too loose. Too bad. Can't help himself from asking, "Can I do it again?"

You're just as bad.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Please."

The way his lashes splay against his cheeks as he presses another kiss to your arm is nothing short of celestial. Like that damn moon on his arm, he's got a beauty about him that's hard to capture in words. Ethereal feels too fantastical, but gorgeous feels too dense. He resides in a realm somewhere between the two. Somewhere you'd like to stay forever.

Forever, sadly, only lasts a few hours. You've brunch plans with new friends you can't bail on yet for fear of running a friendship before it's even begun.

You see yourself out. Jungkook's still asleep. Not quite 10AM, you've a dozen missed calls from Rae, and a cold can of coke waiting for you in your fridge. Funnily enough, though, you don't really feel hungover. Must have gotten it all out of your system the night before.

It's only fitting, when you think about Jungkook on the subway home, and how soberingly drunk the idea of him makes you feel.

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:39

Brunch had, predictably, been a yawn-fest.

The people were perfectly nice, but you spent the entire time thinking about Jungkook; how you'd left him in a pretty slumber, the LEDs behind his computer still glowing, with not even so much as a note to say thank you.

It's not like he had any paper on his desk, and you weren't about to start rummaging around his room. You also didn't want to wake him. Part of it was because you knew you'd be saying goodbye, and the concept of that was one that you didn't like all that much.

And so your subway ride back to your dorm had been spent searching his name. He didn't take long to find.

From the club's Instagram, you found GLOSS and quickly discovered that there was far more to both him and Blu-Tae than just being DJs. Their follower counts were wild. Numbers you know you'll never see on your own account. Verification check marks accented their display names.

Who are you? You'd thought to yourself, incredibly perplexed by it all.

Jungkook was littered all over their pages, and yet it still took a while for you to click through to his account. You're not sure why, but think that perhaps the unknown was a nice place to reside within. Safer.

CR3SC3NT_T0KK1 was his username—and curiously, Tokki was also his display name. Brows furrowed, you'd almost dropped your phone when you saw his follower count. It eclipsed both of his friends.

Filled with gaming set-ups, merch drops, and general life dumps, it was pretty clear that whoever Jungkook had made himself out to be the night before was not who he was in real life.

Equal parts offended and intrigued, you were only more confused when you saw that Rae was already following him—but not following Taehyung.

"What?" she'd beamed when you'd asked her about it after you'd arrived home from brunch, a scoop of hangover ice cream being waved around in the air with her flamboyant gestures. "He's, like, one of the biggest streamers in the country—and if I want to keep Tae obsessed with me, we need as many connections as possible. Jungkook's a frog to me, baby, not a prince. Don't you worry your little cotton socks. I'm not after him."

"I wouldn't care if you were," you'd blatantly lied in response, and then you'd giggled together at how ridiculous you were both being over boys you didn't really know.

Hovering over the bright purple 'JOIN STREAM' button later that evening, part of you holds back. Think it'd be weird. Strange. That he'd somehow know it was you.

Dipping your mouse, you tick the checkbox to join as an anonymous viewer. Take a breath. Think fuck it. Watch with bated breath as the loading wheel turns—and then he's there.

Jeon Jungkook has the kind of beauty that transcends shitty quality streams. Smiling as he jokes with one of his friends through a headset with a pair of black bunny ears affixed to the top of them, you hear a voice you almost recognise. Notice the friend he's streaming with in the top corner. Realise you do know him, too.

Hair as blue as the trees are green, Tae has just as much boyish charm as Jungkook, but also an incredibly large hickey that seems to match the ones on Rae's neck.

"Nah, can we get an L in the chat for Kook," he's teasing. Sure enough, the chat begins to explode with the letter, and Jungkook looks so pretty when he protests.

"It's not an L!"

"It is!" Tae insists. "Should have seen him, guys. Was following this girl around like a lovesick puppy—"

"No, I wasn't!"

"And she didn't even give him her number. Not even her name!"

"That's not true!" Jungkook whines. He switches between Korean and English with ease, sometimes just single words, other times whole sentences. "I have a name."

"What is it?"

"Not telling you."

"Cause you don't have one!"

"No, because you'll all make my life a living hell," Jungkook laughs—and then notices a bright blue comment lighting up in the chat. His eyes widen. "Fuck."

GLOSS: Was calling her Nabi when he got home last night Almost shit his pants when he saw me

"Yoongi, I'm gonna shave your eyebrows off in your sleep," Jungkook growls—only for the chat to start spamming butterfly emojis. Closing his eyes, he leans back in his chair, the still paused video game long forgotten about, now. Thousands of people are in their chat, and even more are watching the stream.

"Guys, get it trending," Taehyung goads. "Tweet, I dunno, bunny and butterfly emojis."

"Don't do that!"

"Hashtag find Jungkook's butterfly."

"Do NOT do that!"

"I'm like a modern-day cupid," Taehyung beams.

"I'm shaving your eyebrows, too."

Closing the stream, you sit for a moment, mouth ajar, unable to process what on earth you've just witnessed. Part of you feels as if it must have an incredibly vivid daydream; a projection of your heart's desire.

And you know you shouldn't, but when you get home from running errands the following day, you join the stream again. Blush when you notice the chat is still teasing Jungkook.

"I'm gonna block you all," he threatens them with a grin, which only encourages them to send even more butterfly emojis.

The next day is no different, nor the day after that.

He is, though. Has been letting it all play on his mind. Doesn't have much of a filter when it comes to streaming.

"What if she didn't even like me, guys," he whines to the chat. "And sees this and is like... mortified. I think I'd punch myself in the face if she ever saw any of this."

You toy with the idea of sending a comment into the chat. Something that only he'd realise was you. Thing is, you feel bad for intruding. As if you shouldn't be prying. As if you're eavesdropping on him chatting with friends, and not on the stream he's broadcasting live around the world.

Typing out a message, you deliberate your choice.

Punch urself in the face pls, tokki x the message reads.

Simple. Effective. To the point.

But everyone calls him that, you stupidly realise, now.

And so you change the name to 'Mike'.

Before you can even really realise what you've done, you've pressed send.

The message flitters into the chat feed. He's about to resume his game. Doesn't notice it at first.

Gives the chat one final glance, and then his eyes widen. He sits up taller. Straighter. "Mike?"

You close the lid of your laptop immediately.

"Fuck."

THE STREETS WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE FRIDAY 23:51

"Tae is on in five," Rae squeals, dragging you down the road at lightning speed.

You'd spent far too long at dinner, and also had far too much to drink with your food, so have been forced to make an undignified sprint to the club in an attempt to make it in before the place reaches capacity.

There's already a queue. You can see it from a mile away.

Realistically, Rae could have gotten Taehyung to add her to the guest list. He'd offered. She didn't wanna look needy, so had played it coy about her plans for the evening.

After a single beer and soju, she'd decided that the idea of him hooking up with anyone but her simply wouldn't do.

"Shit," she sighs in defeat, looking at the queue. The direction you've come from means that you reach the entrance before you reach the queue, but even then, you can tell it goes around the block. "Are there no other clubs these people can go to?!"

There are—but this club is rammed tonight for the same reason Club Sundown was rammed the week before. People want to see the Crescent Collective.

You didn't realise it at the time, but you'd bypassed the queue of the second club last weekend because Jungkook had been with you.

And as if by a stroke of luck, or perhaps a twist of fate, the same tattooed hand that had held you as you slept last weekend is now putting out a cigarette just a few steps away.

Eyes landing on yours, he looks away again, almost immediately. Feels embarrassed. Stupid. For the way you left him, and also for the way he knows you must know who he is, now.

Behind a red rope, he's away from the general crowd. It's sort of obnoxious, you think—but also know Jungkook is anything but.

"They're with me," Jungkook says to the bouncer, not really looking at you, but nodding in your general direction. Is deliberately keeping a little distance. Instead, he says to Rae, "Tae wouldn't want you waiting in line."

Nodding, the security guard makes way for you, stamping the backs of your hands with UV-activated ink as you walk past.

"Thank you!" Rae beams.

"No worries," Jungkook smiles right back. "He's about to start. Was just getting air. You're lucky you arrived when you did."

"Angel," she praises. "I'll get you a drink while we're in there."

You know her well enough now to know that she absolutely will not, but you don't say anything. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest as you walk, suddenly feeling all awkward in Jungkook's presence.

"Nabi," he curtly greets you as you head down the stairs.

"Tokki," you greet him back just as formally. Consider calling him 'Mike' instead, but you chicken out.

Face scrunching up, Jungkook tries his best not to cringe at himself. Doesn't know if you're addressing him by his tattoo moniker, or just calling him Tokki because you know it's his identifier online.

"How have you been?" He asks, not wanting to let it simmer.

"Alright," you say, aware of how awkward this all feels, as you descend the stairs and into the club. The music is getting louder, and soon you won't be able to hear him talk unless you're in each other's ears. "And you?"

"Alright."

Just as quickly as he appeared, Jungkook is lost to the crowd.

He doesn't care to stick around if he's just going to be hung out to dry by you again. He tells himself that he only made sure you got in to keep Rae happy for Taehyung's sake—yet as he rejoins his friends in their booth, he finds himself desperately seeking you out again.

It takes him a while, but he eventually spots you by the bar in conversation with Rae. He can't make out what you're saying, but notices how your eyes are flickering around the room. Seems as if you're hunting for something.

Deep down, even if he pretends like he doesn't, he hopes it's for him.

Pulled away from your search by the bartender passing over drinks to the pair of you, Jungkook feels bad. Knows the drinks are pricey in this place. Also knows, from the conversations you've already had, that you're on a tight budget. Had said that once the semester starts, you'll stop going to parties. Are seemingly unaware of the fact the parties never stop in this city. You'll learn.

When your eyes finally land on his a little while later, you're surprised by his intense gaze—intrigued by his lack of shame for being caught out. He doesn't look away or appear embarrassed. If anything, it's quite the opposite.

Girls are vying for his attention all around him, yet you receive all of it. Half the room away, hundreds of people create a sea between you both. Jungkook thinks he'd swim through it, no matter how choppy the water, if it meant he could have you right now.

You're the one who left, though.

It's up to you to come back.

Part of you doesn't want to, but then you see another girl making advances, and Rae's horror over other girls trying it on with Taehyung seems to have rubbed off on you. The idea of it makes your skin crawl. You're drunk, and a little reactive, but Jungkook likes playing with fire.

As you work your way through the crowd towards him, he tries his best not to grin. Finds himself vindicated in his desire to be close to you, 'cause it seems like you want it, too.

Sliding in between Jungkook and the girl, you turn and apologise.

"Just need to borrow him for a second," you smile, clutching at his shirt and pulling him away from the booth before she even has a chance to protest.

With an ever-so-satisfied smirk, Jungkook shrugs towards the other girl, and lets you drag him wherever you want. He's putty in your hands, a little tipsy and desperately in need of attention from you.

For the past week, he's played scenario over scenario over scenario in his head about this moment, and now that it's happening, he's glad he let you seek him out. Is so pleased that you actively want him just as much as he wants you.

In the middle of the crowd, you're hidden from prying eyes. It's too dark to notice any discerning features of the people around you, yet somehow, Jungkook seems like a vibrant golden light to you. Impossible to miss. Unable to ignore.

You wanna talk. Ask him about who the fuck he is. Explain that you didn't mean to leave so heartlessly.

Taehyung's set is so overwhelmingly loud, though. Can barely even hear yourself think.

As soon as he'd spotted Rae in the crowd, Taehyung had sent the bar coordinator to go and get her. She's sitting pretty up in the DJ booth, incredibly pleased with herself. Notices you and Jungkook almost immediately. Knows it'll be on Twitter in the next few hours, especially if that damn butterfly tattoo of yours is noticed.

Bunnies and butterflies have been trending for days.

Jungkook speaks, but you can't hear him.

"Huh?" You ask, getting on your tippy toes, but it's fruitless. Even as his hand drops to your waist to steady you and keep you in place, you can barely make out his words. "I can't hear you!"

He can't hear jack shit, either. Frowns. Looks around. Spots Yoongi by the booth and gestures towards the side of the room. When Yoongi nods back, it's Jungkook who drags you through the crowd, now. Just beyond the DJ booth is a little black door that Yoongi meets you by. Taps in the code. Nods in your direction.

"A pleasure," he says with a knowing smirk. Miraculously, you can hear him, but ultimately, it's because you're not in the direct line of the speakers now.

You don't get a chance to respond before Jungkook gets you into what can only described as a dark hole as quickly as he can. Romance, you think to yourself, but you also are very aware of the fact Jungkook doesn't let go of your hand, even when he's searching for the light switch. It takes him a second, but he manages to recall the approximate location quickly enough.

Dingy yellow light floods into the room. Small and boxy, it's a 3-in-1 storage room, bathroom, and dressing room for 'talent'. It's why Yoongi had the code, but you can't imagine anyone with any shred of self-respect actually using this place. The walls are the same grey tiles as the floor, and the light bulb hangs from a wire without a shade. The tap on the sink drips, and you're pretty sure there's a leak in the far corner by the mirror.

None of that matters, though. All you can focus on is the man in front of you. Though not soundproof, the room does offer a far more muted version of Taehyung's set. More importantly, it provides you with privacy.

It's been a week since you last saw him, face to face.

Though you have, admittedly, seen him what feels like a million times on low-quality streams from his bedroom.

Realistically, it's been about three times, but you think about it almost constantly.

"You left," is all he says, a little pout on his lips.

It's cute, you think, that he is so outwardly offended by such an act. You would have thought that a man of his position would have a habit of leaving, himself. Then again, you didn't know of his status when you left him in bed that morning.

"And you didn't die," you reply with a teasing smile, trying not to make it sound so severe. "You were fine without me."

"I'm not joking," he says, even if he can't help but smile at the recollection of how stupid the conversation before bed had been. "You left. It was rude."

"I had brunch plans," you tell him, reaching your hands out for his. He wants to resist. Fails. Lets you pull him closer. Incredibly close, in fact. So close that you begin to notice all sorts of things. His freckles. A small scar on his cheek. A tiny fleck of glitter on his skin, no doubt from one of the girls who had been desperate for his attention earlier. "You'd only had a few hours sleep. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Could have left a note," he says, still pouty but far quieter. You can smell the Jack on his breath. Have always hated the taste, but think you could grow to like it. "Your number. Something, at least."

"I could've," you admit, edging even closer. Closing the gap. Nudging your nose against his. But then you smile. Pull back. Tease, "And you could have warned me that I'd become a trending topic on Twitter."

Just like that, Jungkook's pout snaps into the prettiest smile. His face scrunches up, lines creasing on his nose. Beneath his closed eyes reside the sweetest little puffs. He's got the kind of face that is impossible not to like.

"Ah," he cringes.

"Yeah," you laugh at the stupidity of it all. What did he expect? That you wouldn't find out? "Ah."

"In my defence," he holds his hands up, eyes wide and innocent. "You called me Tokki. How was I to know you didn't know?"

"Oh, give over," you laugh, as he reaches for your hands once again. Pulls you closer. "You know I didn't know."

Truthfully, he does know this, but it was nice to be unknown for a little while. Nice to not second guess your intentions. Even now, knowing that you know, he feels like none of it matters.

"Look," he begins, toying with the hem of your cropped shirt. Lets his fingertips graze your bare skin. Tries his best not to think about what you look like half-naked. Fails. "I only came out tonight 'cause I hoped I'd see you. I don't care about staying out till ass-o'clock, again."

"Think I've only just caught up on sleep," you hum, angling your chin up and giving him the perfect opportunity to make a move that goes beyond flirtatious touches.

"Exactly," he smiles, letting his hand squeeze the side of your waist. Pulls you closer. "And I've not drunk half as much tonight, but I think I could do with you making sure I don't die, again."

"Yeah?"

Nodding as he nudges his nose against yours, Jungkook is all smiles. Lets his lips line up against your pout.

"Yeah," he mumbles—then lets the word get lost in your lips.

Sinking into what it feels like to kiss you, Jungkook can't help but feel satisfaction. Has finally caught the damn butterfly he's been after all week.

He's played a lot of games. Won a lot of battles.

And yet victory has never tasted so sweet.

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 02:07

You retrace your steps. Get a taxi to his place, 'cause there's no point pretending like he can't afford it. Not anymore.

You're not giggling like you were the first time you were in his elevator, but it's kind of impossible to do so when your back is to the wall and Jungkook's tongue is in your mouth.

Your hands roam his body—waist, ass. If you can squeeze it, you will. Just makes him deepen the kisses. If his large hands weren't cupping your jaw, keeping you close, they'd be doing the exact same thing as yours.

The ding of the elevator pulls you apart just for a second, and then you're the one pulling him down to the corridor to his place.

He doesn't open the door. Just kisses you again.

Finally understands what it means to get butterflies, 'cause he's got you, now, and he never wants to lose it.

Hooking his hands beneath your ass, he hoists you up. Gets your legs wrapped around him. Could go in, but where's the fun in that? There's a slight danger of getting caught. He knows the hallway security cameras will definitely pick this up. The threat that it could get leaked online, and the simple fact that he couldn't give a shit if it does, is kind of hot.

"I'm not fucking you out here," you tell him through a hushed giggle, when he rests his forehead against yours.

"Woah," he jokes. "Who said anything about fucking?"

"I can literally feel your boner, Jungkook."

"Touché."

He doesn't even attempt to downplay it. He puts you down. Gets you through the threshold of his apartment. Shoes off by the door, there's no need to be quiet. Yoongi and Taehyung are still out, and will be for hours. He could take his time if he really wanted.

But what he wants is you. Doesn't waste time. Gets you in his room. Kinda feels like you never left. Jungkook still wishes you hadn't, but doesn't mind the idea of you making it up to him now.

"So," you hum, trailing your fingertips across his desk. "This is where the magic happens?"

He smiles a little bashfully, head dropping for a moment before his eyes are on yours again. "Yeah. You could say that."

Now that you're back in his space, it's a little embarrassing just how many clues there were. A headset rests on the desk—black, robust, with his signature bunny ears secured on top—and a mic is hooked up by the monitor. The webcam doesn't look special, but the keyboard subtly glows in his darkened room. Violet, like the LEDs behind his screen.

A laptop covered in vinyl stickers is closed next to the set-up. He uses it when he's not streaming on his desktop. At least three of the stickers are of the Crescent Collective's logo.

Turning to fully face him, you rest your palms behind yourself and perch on the edge of the desk.

He gets a little kick out of seeing you so flippantly disregard the domain in which he dominates. Gives him a point to prove. Gets him closing the space between you, hands on your waist, dipping to your ass to leverage further back on his desk. Knows it's sturdy, 'cause he built it himself, but has never tested out quite how strong it really is. Thinks now's as good a time as any to find out.

Your legs wrap around his body with no thought, just the innate understanding that you want him in a way you're sure thousands of people have only dreamt of: in his room, on his desk, that damn 'Go Live' button just a few short clicks away.

Reaching beside you, there's a smirk on your lips as you retrieve his headset. Put it on him. Say, "The ears are cute, Tokki."

He rolls his eyes. Is fighting a smile, and currently losing. He's seen some lewd shit during his time on the internet and is well aware of the fanart that includes the ears and little else. Always found it kinda funny, before.

Now? He's so hard it almost hurts, and he thinks he could grow to like it.

As your arms drape over his shoulders, he takes them off. Puts them on you, instead. Adjusts the sizing. Gets them just right for you. Is attentive, like that. Pulls his head back a little, and then realises what a problem you're gonna be for him.

It's not so much the addition of animal ears that's getting him insatiable, but seeing you adorned with a crown that is so inherently his that does it.

Jungkook's no saint. He's had his fair share of one-nighters. A couple hours of fun never to be spoken of again. Since the group of them signed to their management agency, they've been repeatedly told how important it is to get NDA's signed. Something about it always feels so icky to Jungkook. Cruel, almost. Has only had a couple hook-ups since then, both with flings he's known for a good couple of years, with no fear of them spilling the beans on how prettily he whines when he cums.

You're the first new girl in a long time. He knows he should really pause things before you cut to the chase—but then your hand is trailing down his thick forearm, delicately stroking his rabbit moon with a curious smile. Decides he doesn't care.

"The ears are cute," he replies. Teasingly adds, "Nabi."

The position of your arms over his shoulders ensures the tattoos he'd traced the week before are fully displayed for him. As his eyes drop to your butterfly, you're curiously smitten by the way his lips move to press a kiss against it again.

"Suit me?"

"Mhmm," he hums, eyes flickering back up to yours. "Should also get you a pair of butterfly wings, or something."

"I'd make you wear them," you tell him with a cheeky glint in your eye. "Turn you into a butterfly, yourself. Your girlies in the chat would love that."

Jungkook knows without a shadow of a doubt he'd let you. Not for the girlies in the chat, but for you.

Ghosting his lips against yours, he's waiting for you to press down. Is letting you take the lead.

Your kisses are sweet. Tepid. Reserved.

You're feeling; his hands on your waist, the pressure of his lip rings, the presence of his nose.

And then he's feeling; your bare skin as his large hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, the way your legs wrap around him, the vibration of a small groan against his lips.

The skirt you're in is bunched around your hips, and the positioning is just right for you to feel how hard he is against your underwear. It's a little undignified, you'll admit, but you're impatient, so you take control. Reposition his hand between your legs. Encourage him to take things further.

"Yeah?" He checks.

Nodding into a needy kiss, you mumble, "Please."

It might've been a while, but Jungkook's muscle memory is enviable. He's the best player on the team for that very reason.

As he hooks your underwear to the side, he's pleased to be greeted with indications of your arousal. Smirks into the kisses he's giving you, as his fingertips graze against your clit. Trails his lips to your neck. Wants to hear the way you gasp as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you.

"Fuck," you sigh at the welcome intrusion. Nod, as he curls his finger almost immediately. He's got a lot to thank those damn video games for, that's for sure.

Softly moaning, just how he hoped you would, there's an arch to your back as he picks up a pace. The need to perform, almost.

Head tipping back as Jungkook fucks another finger into you, you're unable to think too cognitively. Can only think about the way he feels. The smell of his hair as he presses kisses against your neck, and how prominent his collarbones are as your nails trail up his toned torso.

"Feels so good," you tell him. Move the hand of yours that's been resting on his shoulder to his hair. Tug on it a little. Elicit the prettiest of whines from him.

There's something to be said for making a man—especially one of such strength, stature, status—so weak. Gets you all giggly. Jungkook can feel the satisfaction ripple through your entire body, and it just makes him groan against your neck even more.

"You're so wet," he praises, pulling back to study your face as he plays with you. Lets his thumb stroke up against your clit ever so gently. Revels in the way you get a little shaky. Twitchy. With those damn bunny ears, you really are like a little rabbit. Jungkook finally understands why the fan artists choose to draw him in such a way. It is hot. "You're making me so fuckin' hard."

And then you're giggling again.

"Is it a joke to you, huh?" He smirks. Looks down at your pussy, all swollen and sopping wet for him, in the hazy violet light of his room. Knows that his throbbing cock is gonna stuff you so fuckin' full that laughing won't be an option. Is desperate for it. "How badly I want you is just a big joke to you, huh, bunny?"

The way he groups you in with his moniker is too damn hot.

"Dunno," you rasp, desperately trying to hold off the orgasm that's building inside you. "Fuck me and find out."

Reaching for the button of his trousers, you're quick as you wrestle his jeans down over his ass. Don't bother pushing them down entirely. Just enough to get his boxers exposed, and in turn, his thick cock. Hard and engorged, his desperation for you is evident. A small patch of precum seeps through the fabric of his boxers. He curses as your thumb strokes against it.

"Condom?" You ask, knowing you've got none on you.

"Hold that thought," he says, regretfully pulling away from you.

Watching on as he pushes down his jeans, and strips himself of his shirt, you're at a loss for words. You've seen him like this before, but it's so much hotter knowing that he's gonna be fucking himself into you as soon as he possibly can.

Jungkook could very easily lead you to his bed. Get you comfy. Reach to his bedside cabinet for a condom. Fuck you how he likes—doggy-style, minimal face-to-face contact—and be done with it all very quickly.

Instead, he says, "Stay here."

Doing as you're told, you watch on as he walks to the cabinet, and retrieves a condom. Admire his back, and his broad shoulders. The valley of his spine, and the hard work he's put into crafting his physique. Smirk to yourself as he dips into his boxers. Strokes himself. Once, twice. Tears the packet open with his teeth, just like you were always taught not to do, and rolls the latex down his thick shaft.

"What?" he smirks as he walks back, realising your eyes are transfixed on his cock.

You say nothing. Smile. Hold your hands out for Jungkook to take, just so you can pull him back even quicker.

Lips pressing into yours as he closes the gap, Jungkook is all smiles. Rubs the head of his cock against your pussy, gathering up your arousal all over his tip. Lines himself up with your entrance. Waits for you to give him the go-ahead.

Hand on his ass, you pull him closer. Edge the crown of his cock into you. Whimper. Beg. "Please."

Sinking into you with a laboured grunt, he's surprised with how much tighter you are around his cock than you were with his fingers. Wet and warm, there's an undeniable pleasure that sparks through his body as he gets familiar with the way you feel.

Slowly, his hips begin to pick up a pace. As his tongue strokes into your mouth, there's no dignity to the way he's taking you. The increased pace means heightened moans, and it's not just you—it's him, too.

"Shit, yeah," he grits. "So fuckin' tight, aren't you?"

Whining, you nod into his kisses. Are at his entire disposal as he grips your waist, proving exactly why Tokki is the perfect nickname for him.

As much as he likes the ears, he's a little worried that he might fuck you so hard they fall off. Doesn't wanna break them, and definitely doesn't wanna think about the story the boys would make up when they go live tomorrow to tease him—but also really wants to fuck you harder.

Which is funny, cause the way he tugs them off with such desperation and tosses them down, you'd be forgiven for thinking he couldn't care less about breaking them. Doesn't give you a chance to say anything, 'cause his big hands are cradling your face, bringing you in for desperate kisses once more.

There's a lewdness to the sounds you make together, but Jungkook knows that if he was an entirely different kind of streamer, you'd make bank together. Wonders about the way it would look on camera. Worries. Pauses.

"You good?" You check a little breathlessly as he reaches behind you, just to tug the wire to his webcam from the plus.

"Yeah," he nods, still fiddling around behind you. Smiles in the hedonistic haze as your lips find a new home on his neck. Strokes your hair gently, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. Quietly says, "Just making sure there's no way in hell I accidentally start streaming."

You hum, all purry and pliant. "People would pay good money to see it."

While he agrees, and has had the same thought process, he doesn't care. "You saying I should be charging you for this?"

"Oh, no," you say all very sweetly. "You should be paying me."

"I'll pay you with orgasms," he promises, knowing that it's a rare currency for one-night strands.

You smirk. Pat the top of his head. "Sure you will."

If there's one thing Jungkook loves, it's a challenge.

Pulling back, he turns you around. Gets you bent over his desk with zero opposition from you. Rubs himself against your soaked cunt, then asks, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smirk, and then settle into a sigh as he pushes into you. The feeling of fullness from Jungkook is one that's hard to compare. So thick, and fat, and heavy, his cock really is just as impressive as he is.

With one hand hooked at the crease of your thigh, the other holds the top of your shoulder. Gets you pushed down onto his cock as far as you possibly can be. There's a slight reflection in his streaming plaque beside the monitor, and you're pleased to see just how intensely focused he is on you, brows furrowed, pretty pink lips resting ajar. The silver of his lip rings and chain catch in the light, and you find you can't look at him for too long. He's too hot.

But then he's reaching down for your clit as he fucks into you. Has your legs shaking. The waves of a familiar sensation begin to lap against the shores of your pleasure.

"Fuck," you whine. "Feels good. Keep it like that."

Jungkook knows better than to ignore your requests. Does as he's told, the pressure of his fingers on your clit only deepening. Rubbing calculated circles against you, he knows just how to work you up. Gets you whining. Mewling. Moaning.

"Gonna cum, aren't you?" he smirks, as his own high builds.

"Fuck—"

"C'mon," he husks, feeling your walls tighten around him. He doesn't stop his relentless chase. Will win your orgasms fair and square. Continues pounding into you. Pace fast, strokes deep, he's everything you could ever want and more—and then he's slowing. Keeping you plugged, nice and deep, but focusing on the way he's toying with your clit. "You know you wanna cream for me. All over my cock, pretty Nabi. C'mon—"

"I'm close," you all but whimper. "So—fuck. So close."

"Yeah, you are," he tells you—and then your legs are shaking, pussy tightly clamping around his cock, one hand tense against his desk while the other grabs at his wrist. Uncontrollable, is the way you whine for him. It's so needy—so desperate and pathetic—that it's almost a sob. Jungkook doesn't ease up. In fact, his hips gain a little pace again as your orgasm shatters around you both. He's breathless, but manages to choke out, "Flithy fuckin' cunt. Feels so fuckin' good. Fuck."

The frail limpness of your body as the orgasm smokes away is cute. Jungkook loves it. You're so weak for him. He fucks into you still, chasing his own high, and your whines only get louder. It's overwhelming, but you never want to lose the feeling.

It doesn't take much. Just a minute or so of your tight cunt, and Jungkook is pulling out. Even though he doesn't ask you to, you get to your knees as he tears the condom off.

"In my mouth," you beg, and who is he to reject such an offer?

Jerking himself to completion, Jungkook is all pretty and pathetic when he cums, too. Looks at you with eyes so starry you'd been forgiven for thinking he was a descendant of the constellations.

He milks the final few spurts of himself onto your wet tongue, and curses when you press dainty kisses to his tip. Stroking your tongue against him, you don't want to waste a drop. Look up at him and find that his eyes are resting shut from the pleasure of it all.

Silence surrounds you both, just your beating hearts and laboured breaths filling to the room. He helps you up. Holds you tight. Hugs you for a little while, then presses a kiss to the side of your head. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," you giggle - and then he's smiling, too. Feels vindicated by his irrational thoughts about you over the last few days. He pays no mind to the fact you're still technically dressed, and he's basically naked.

As he sorts himself out, you perch back up on his desk and languidly swing your legs. Enjoy the thought of memories plaguing him whenever he tried to play his little games over the next few days.

"You wanna grab a shower?" he offers. "Food, too? Dunno about you, but I'm fuckin' starving."

"Same," you nod, biting down on your bottom lip. "I'll go wash up, you sort food? Are places still open for delivery?"

Checking his phone for the time, Jungkook is surprised that it's closer to midnight than it is to his morning alarm. Only a handful of places will offer delivery at this time, but that's enough.

"Works for me," he says with a yawn, then opens what you had assumed was the closet door. Reveals an en-suite and knocks his head to the side. "Get your shower. Gimmie a shout if you need anything."

Tiles large and grey, it's the perfect counterpart to his bedroom. A little dark, but it's only because Jungkook hates using the big light. Always flicks the small light switches instead. There's a window overlooking the city, and even though you're only seven floors up, the hills of Yongsan-gu mean that he's got a view you could only dream of.

You're about to start the shower up when he calls through. "Is pizza good?"

"Pizza's good," you call back with a smile. Look yourself in the mirror and wonder how the fuck you ended up in the bathroom of arguably the most famous person you've ever met. Decide it's better not to question it.

The shower begins to cascade down, even if your sins are washed way, you know you won't be able to forget the feeling of Jungkook so easily.

Truth be told, you won't even try.

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:13

"L in the chat," booms the voice of Taehyung through your laptop speakers. His trademark grin rests on his face as he teases Jungkook.

You've only just opened the stream. Instantly, you focus on the prettily lopsided smirk of Jungkook's lips. You've learned it's an almost permanent fixture on his boyish face. Shaking his head, he's adjusting his headset. Making it a little looser so that it'll fit him properly.

No one is questioning it.

What they are questioning, is where the fuck that pretty purple bruise on his neck has come from.

"Cross-fit," Jungkook just shrugs, knowing that it's the colloquial term for suspicious bruises after some idol used the same excuse. Blatant horseshit. Jungkook doesn't care.

"I've never done cross-fit, but I know you're bullshitting," Taehyung snorts.

The chat seems to agree with him.

"Thought I was a virgin?" Jungkook states a little cheekily, making reference to Taehyung's usual banter. "How else would I get one?"

Taehyung knows better than the retort. Knows that Jungkook could very easily slip something about Rae into the conversation.

Virgin? You type through a message on a private discord chat with Jungkook. He'd set it up the day before. Has already sent you, like, a thousand messages. Is what can only be described as obsessed—but it's mutual. Could have fooled me.

As his eyes glance down to his laptop screen, he fails to hide his smile. Had opened your chat on there, cause he didn't wanna accidentally broadcast the messages onto his stream. Despite this, he doesn't care that there are nearly 10,000 people in his stream merely minutes into it. Is far more interested in his chat thread with you. Replies immediately.

Stop distracting meI'm working</3

Giggling as the message pings through to you, there's a giddy quality to the way Jungkook makes you feel.

He'd spent the day in bed with you after your night together. Had wanted you to stay when he started streaming that evening. Said he'd only be an hour or so, and was incredibly pouty when you did leave.

It had just been him on last night's stream—headset off 'cause he didn't wanna adjust it back yet, hoodie on to hide his neck. The other boys were nursing hangovers, so he could do what he liked.

What he did do had you incredibly curious. Was just chatting. Talking to the comment section. Sleepily reeling off facts he'd recently learned about butterflies. Debating over their lifespan.

You're not naive to the fact that Jungkook does this streaming stuff as a profession, and are aware that the more people talking about his stream on other platforms, the more viewers he'll get.

Made sense for him to add fuel to the butterfly-related fire by talking about them.

Had sent you a message earlier that evening to ask what kind of butterfly you had on your skin.

A Monarch, you'd told him.

"See, the thing is," Jungkook had rambled to his viewers a little later on. "Most butterflies have super short lifespans—Monarch's included."

Eyes all starry, lights in his bedroom purple as per usual, he'd looked cosy. You wished you'd have stayed.

"But there's a specific kind. Migrating Monarchs. They're the last of their generation—the final butterflies of the year," he marvelled at the magic of it all.

His facts were a little hazy, but he knew enough. Had been down a you-shaped rabbit hole all afternoon.

"And they migrate, right? Move away from home—somewhere warmer—and then it just extends their lifespan. 180 days. Not 30. That's six months. Six months. It's a long time. It's not fleeting. Not in the slightest."

It's also, curiously, exactly how long you're scheduled to stay in Korea for.

"I dunno," Jungkook had just sighed, a little forlorn, trying to make sense of his thoughts.

He bit down on his bottom lip, stroking his thumb against the hard plastic ears of his headset, then focused on the camera again. Wondered if you were watching.

He simply shrugged. Said, "Counts for something, though, right?"

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