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clubdionysus · 3 months

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[BAD DECISION #43] Circles

warnings: subby koo <3, begging, handjobs, semi-public ig, jk calling himself a slut <3, edging, fingering, pussy eating, finger sucking, reader on top yeehaw, jk calling reader a slut (nicely i promise), titty sucking, vvv messy finish lawl, cum swapping, confessions??, feelings??, communication???, the moon????, some v cute moments actually!

notes: my fave thing about bd chapters is the doodles that went with them bc they're lil time capsules and u just know how the release of seven influenced me/bd hehhehe

wc: 11.8K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"You've got so much sand in your hair," you muse softly, resting your head on Jeongguk's shoulder. Legs are wrapped around his waist, your chest is to his broad back as he carries you through from the kitchen to the living room.

It's just you and him, now, the main house quiet, save for your giggles and his reciprocation. The sand is residual from your chat on the beach, but you're still not really sure how he managed it—but it's sort of like your glitter. Gets everywhere even when you don't mean for it to.

The noraebang session you had returned to had died a brutal death. Jimin and Taehyung blessed your eyes and ears with a theatrical rendition of Bop to the Top from High School Musical, which scored them a mere 28.

Jimin threatened legal action. Taehyung begged Danbi for reassurance that his version of Sharpay's lines were flawless.

Too drunk for their own good, the rest of your friends had trundled back to their bedrooms. You and Jeongguk insisted that you wanted to clean up. Get the kitchen and sitting room fresh for the morning.

Really, you had just wanted an excuse to spend more time together. After an evening of ignoring him, you're desperate to fill your heart with his energy.

So far? So good.

The kitchen is spotless, as if the sitting room. You could go to bed now, if you wanted to.

But you don't.

As you reach the sofa, Jeongguk continues to keep you wrapped around his body, sitting you both down together. The scent of his aftershave is a little subdued, worn away throughout the evening, but it still drives you wild. Gets you pressing a silly little kiss into the curve of his neck.

He's pretty sure if you do it again, he'll die.

You're only in this position 'cause you'd started yawning, and Jeongguk didn't want you to fall asleep. Wanted you to stay awake with him into the early hours. You'd gladly obliged, his broad back the perfect place for you to get cosy.

Easing your position, your legs loosen, hands dropping to his waist.

The scent of his fabric conditioner steals the show as you press a kiss into his shoulder.

Apparently you've lost your Goddamn mind, and are ignorant to the boundaries of platonic friendship. You don't behave like this with 'friends'—but it's nothing new, you suppose.

And you and Jeongguk most definitely aren't just 'friends'.

He's your favourite of all your friends, yes, but you care for him like a lover. Comfort him like it was your soul's purpose in a lifetime before this one. Find his gaze in crowded rooms as if you've spent millennia looking for him. Rest your head on his shoulder as if the crook of his neck was carved just for you.

He thinks it was.

"Like a little koala," Jeongguk fondly muses, one of his large hands stroking down your ankle while the other uses the remote to flick through the television options. He doesn't care much for shows nor movies these days, but just doesn't want to say goodbye to this day just yet. Wants to spend more time with you. "Watcha wanna watch?"

"Not fussy," you hum. In all honesty, your eyes are a little heavy. Whatever he puts on, you're gonna end up falling asleep. It's just a lame ass excuse to snuggle up with him in the most domesticated of ways. "Whatever you want."

Squeezing at your ankle, he says, "So you won't complain if I put Boss Baby on? WWE? Teleshopping? Porn channels?"

Shaking your head against his back, you smile. "You won't put Boss Baby on 'cause you've spent all weekend with Jimin."

"True."

"And teleshopping is a bad idea because you're weak," you tell him with absolute certainty. "They'll trick you into buying things"—

"Will not."

"Will too," you insist, knowing that he's just as bad as you when it comes to ridiculous, unnecessary purchases. "Porn channels are redundant 'cause I'm the only thing that gives you a boner these days"—

"Fair."

"So it looks like wrestling is your only option," you deduce, ignoring the way he just confirmed your joke about his boner situation.

In all fairness, Jeongguk hasn't even tried getting hard thinking about anything other than you lately. You're the only thing he desires. Only person, only body, only heart. Why waste time thinking of anything else? Wouldn't make him cum half as hard.

"I know your tricks," Jeongguk hums with a jovial air of nonchalance, opening up Netflix. "Get us watching WWE, learn a few tricks, then tackle me in a bid to seduce me. I wasn't born yesterday, Byeol. Can't fool me."

The way your body gently moves behind him when you laugh is nothing short of euphoria for Jeongguk. He loves this. Loves being with you.

For all the jokes that could be made about the validity of your claims of platonic friendship, you really are his best friend.

There's nobody else he'd ever wanna hang out with like this. Enjoys his space, yet seems to hate space when you're around. Wants to be close, close, close; always, always, always. Will stick to you like glue, if you'll let him.

"Don't need to tackle you to seduce you," you assure him. It's proven by the way his breath hitches as your hands sink to the top edge of his leather belt. You don't do anything. Just toy with the material a little. Tease. Say, "I barely have to touch you, do I? I bet you're getting hard now, aren't you?"

Suddenly, you don't feel so tired, anymore.

Sleep can wait. Getting Jeongguk off can't.

There are two options for Jeongguk in this situation: denial, or acceptance.

He's pretty sure both of them will end in his dick getting wet.

May as well have a little fun with it.

"Nope," he lies.

The truth of the matter is that Jeongguk gets stiff at the drop of a pin when it comes to you. The mere mention of sex sends blood flooding to his cock. The implication that you might want to fuck him? Oh, he may as well have been going at it for half an hour with how much it makes him throb.

"Don't believe you," you whisper.

Jeongguk is still flicking through Netflix, but doesn't choose anything to put on. Is too distracted by the way you delicately stroke his belt. You could find out for yourself, if you really wanted to. He wouldn't object.

In fact, he encourages it, when the hand that had been holding your ankle comes to rest over one of your hands. Pushes it down. Rests your palm over his crotch, and pushes his hips upwards. Grunts.

"Yeah," he says, slowly pulsing his hips, building a firm pattern, the bulge of his cock fitting perfectly into the shape of your hand. "You're right to not believe it."

The Netflix search is abandoned as soon as you purr, "Let me get you off, Gguk."

The position you're in is kept, Jeongguk's belt threaded through its buckle, trousers unbuttoned, zip yanked down in a desperate bid to get your hands around his cock as quickly as you can.

Jeongguk tips his head back, breaths laboured. His crown rests upon your shoulder, as he hums into the satisfaction of the feeling your hands provide him with. "Tighter, baby. Grip it tighter."

You can't see what you're doing. Are relying on the feeling alone. Know his cock well enough by this point that it's no issue.

He gets a little pouty when you pull one of your hands away—but gets so incredibly vocal when you spit on your fingers and wrap them back around his thick shaft. Tells you how good you feel. How pretty your hands are. How much he wants to cum all over them.

God, he'd defile you right now, if he could. Sully your skin with his sex. Get those slender fingers of yours, and pretty nails, and just cover them in his cum.

Thing is, he wants to last. Has to push thoughts of finishing to the side. Can't embarrass himself like that, even as he whines into your touch like a little bitch.

Pushing his hips up into your slippery palms, Jeongguk is utterly obsessed with the way you feel.

"Oh, fuck, baby," he whimpers when you pick up the pace, his breathing all out of sync and so terribly cute. "You're so good to me," he praises. "So good."

Handjobs are typically fleeting whenever you fuck Jeongguk. A means to an end. This is different. Your hands are moving with purpose. He's jerking himself up into your palms 'cause he needs it. Needs you.

So you tease him—"So needy, aren't you?"—and are ever so pleased when he confirms your accusation. He nods. Grunts. Bites down on his bottom lip to stifle his noises.

And it's cute. So cute how much he likes even the simplest of sexual endeavours with you. Kind of feels like he never knew how good it could be—to fuck and be fucked in return—before he met you.

There's something about Jeongguk when he's like this— pathetic —that just really gets you going. You know you're soaked in your panties. Dress pooling around your hips, you wonder if he can feel your arousal. It's sort of unintentional, the way you grind your hips up against him. You're just turned on. Want him as badly as he wants you.

"You're fucking yourself into my hand like a desperate little slut, aren't you?" you giggle into his ear, nibbling on his lobe. You know it will drive him mad.

"Shit," he curses, leaning his head to the side to give you more access to his neck. Whimpers when your lips latch right onto his sweet spot. "Such a slut for you, B. God, baby, you're gonna make me cum. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard."

Every single word he utters is laced with a heavy, lustful breath. He's losing his mind. Forgot the simple pleasure of a pair of pretty hands.

"Beg for it."

"Byeol," he whines.

"Beg for it," you repeat. "Tell me why you deserve to cum, huh?"

"Cause you fuckin' want it," he grunts, shuddering a little as his torso twitches from the pleasure he's fighting. "You wanna see me cum. I know you do."

"That's not begging," you say as you press a light kiss to his neck. "Do better."

And against all odds, he does.

"Let me cum," he breathlessly whispers. "Byeol, please let me cum. I'll do anything."

The power trip is unbelievable. Too good to give up.

But the tortured, laboured whimper he mewls as you release your hand? The way his body doubles over? The hushed curses under his breath?

Makes it so incredibly worth it.

"I'm on the verge of death," he pants when he realises what you've done. Squirms beneath the pressure of his undelivered pleasure. "Oh God, I'm gonna fuckin' die. You're gonna kill me."

He's being dramatic. All you've done is withheld an orgasm. Edged him a little.

All weak and limp, Jeongguk's hips are still involuntarily pulsing, cock desperate for release. Balls so tight he really does think he might die.

And so he pulls away.

Decides that if you're gonna be a brat, then he's gonna be even fuckin' worse.

He gets to his knees. Rids himself of his dress shirt. Positions himself right between your spread legs. Is gonna give you a taste of your own fuckin' medicine.

Jeongguk hooks his arms under your thighs and yanks you forward, for no purpose other than to plant kisses all over the soaked lace of your underwear as quickly as he possibly can.

Dress pooled by your hips, the access is easy. He's already deduced that you're only wearing the bra and panties of the three piece set, but he doesn't give a fuck.

Truthfully, when it comes to having sex with you, none of that matters.

Skin on skin is what he wants. Closeness. Togetherness.

"Oh, fuck me," he chokes out when he's sees how badly you want him, dark eyes tracing over the lines of your slick core.

He slips his index finger beneath the strip of fabric that covers your pussy, and pulls it to the side. Has never felt hunger quite like it. Brings his middle finger to your already soaked hole and gently pushes inside. Sinks down to kitten lick against your clit, utterly obsessed with the taste, the scent.

"God," he barely pulls away. Brushes his lips against you as he speaks. "I could just fuckin' die in this cunt."

"Then do it. Die for me," you tease, hand coming to tangle in his hair, encouraging his lips to suction around your clit. His finger continues to fuck itself into you, quick in its pace. He pulls back. Spits. Reattaches himself to you, as if he can't bear to be apart.

The sensation of Jeongguk is almost too much to bear. Almost .

Toying and teasing, he's manipulating your pussy with his hands all in a bid to get your body writhing.

There's something to be said for the way his touch just absolutely controls you. Domineers. Dictates. How he can be as soft as his silky hair in one moment, then as hard as his sharp jaw the next.

He hums in approval as he sucks on your pussy, palm to the sky as he begins to pick up the pace of his fingers. There's a lewdness to the sounds that you make together; a harmony that's so disgustingly human it almost makes him forget that you're not of this world.

Brighter than any of the stars shining in through the window, you're beaming. Alive with the feeling of Jeongguk laying claim to you, as if he's just discovered one of those scam name-a-star websites. Card data already input into the checkout, he'd waste all his resources on you.

His tongue is flat as he delves between your folds. Flat, and firm and fucking divine— until it's pointed, and precise and overwhelmingly perfect. Heat travels through your entire body, from the tip of your toes to the tops of your fingers. It's bliss. He's bliss.

The thing about stars is that they burn. Are red hot in a way that Jeongguk failed to realise when he first became acquainted with you. Every touch of your body has rewritten the fabric of his. There are constellations in his fingerprints; cosmic entities where your lips have pressed your adoration into his skin.

Jeongguk is not the same man he was before he knew you, and he'll never be the same again. The scars you leave are promises. I'm yours. Invisible to the naked eye, yet entirely obvious to anyone who spends time in his company. You're mine.

His mouth is a little too preoccupied to make any silly declarations right now, mind you. Lapping at your pussy, Jeongguk eats you out like he hasn't had a good meal all week. He'd starve for seven days if knew he'd have the luxury of your taste by the time Sunday arrives.

"Nicest pussy ever," he promises when he finally takes a second to breathe. Looks up at you, eyes glossy. Starry. The tip of his nose shines in the haze of your hedonism, lips wet. "Nicest pussy in the whole world."

"Oh yeah?" you giggle, a little amused with how sweet his compliments are. Sweet, and stupid, and simply impossible for him to test the validity of.

Not that he ever wants to. Only wants you.

You scratch behind his ear, and Jeongguk's puppy-dog tendencies return as he leans into your touch. Smiles. Hums in complete contentment.

"Mhmm," he says, leaning back down to press kisses all over your slick lips, fingers thick as they continue working your pussy for his viewing pleasure—and for your pleasure, full stop. Punctuated with pretty kisses in the place of full stops, he says, "And it's mine . I get to have it. So lucky, baby. So lucky."

There's no luck to this. None whatsoever.

A little fate, maybe. Destiny.

"Yours?" You raise a brow.

He doesn't give you a verbalised response.

Just wraps his lips around your clit, and keeps his eyes open this time. Looks up at you, dark eyes twinkling, dewy nose pressed into your skin, his desperation to devour you evident. Lets his fingers scissor inside you. Gets your toes pointing. Has you looking to the sky. Your back arches, fingers tight in his hair.

"Gguk," you whine, as if he's in any position to respond to you—but he does .

He hums, and— fuck —the vibration around your clit sends you orbiting.

"That's it," you breathe out, looking back down as a familiar sensation begins to take control. He doesn't ease up. Keeps stroking at your sweet spot. Keeps sucking on your clit. Keeps doing what he's doing 'cause he loves what's about to happen.

Ever the gentleman, and incredibly unlike you ten minutes ago, Jeongguk decides to let you ride the wave of the orgasm crashing over you. Doesn't wanna deprive you. Wants you to feel good. Knows it won't be the last time it happens tonight.

"Shit," you choke out as your shoulders press down into the sofa, one of your hands instinctively cupping your chest. The dress you're wearing is still covering most of your body, but it doesn't matter. Jeongguk'll get you out of it eventually. "That's it. That's it— fuck ."

The way your walls begin to tighten, legs hooking around the back of his head as your entire body shudders, is almost enough to make him finish, too.

He thinks it's the hottest thing he's ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Doesn't understand how he can find such pleasure in someone else's orgasm, but knows if it came down to him or you, he'd sacrifice all of his for one of yours.

Moaning as he drags you to a height of pleasure reserved only for the brightest of stars, Jeongguk smiles through it all. Reluctantly pulls away from you with laboured breath, chest heaving from the fact he kinda forgot how to breathe. Was busy. Thinks your pussy is more important than his survival.

"You good?" he checks, resting his pretty head on your thigh. Keeps his fingers plugged inside you, but slows the movements to a halt. Just keeps you full, 'cause he can. 'Cause he wants to. 'Cause he's lowkey obsessed with you.

With a nod, you let your body relax into the plush pillows of the sofa. Giggle. Keep your legs over his shoulders, but hold your face in your hands, as if you're embarrassed by how hard you came for him.

But then a kiss is pressed to your inner thigh, pretty and soft, accented by the hardness of his lip ring.

"You came so well for me, baby," he praises. Thinks it's cute how shy you get whenever you cum. So pretty and perfect and his. A shallow laugh gets caught in his throat, before he shakes his head and sits up a little straighter. "So gorgeous when you cum. Pretty, baby."

Jeongguk has never been more in love.

Slowly, he pulls his fingers from you. The tepid movement makes your back arch ever so gently, pussy still sensitive from your climax. Eyes on his, you know him well enough to get a read on his intentions. His desires.

So you just smirk. Let your lips part. Hold your tongue out ever so slightly, eyes wide, expression playful. He follows your lead. Brings his messy fingers to your lips. Sinks them into your mouth, and is met with the most glorious sight.

The expression on your face changes . Darkens .

While, yes, your eyes are still wide, it's your cheeks that really get him, now.

Your typically sweet cheeks are hollowed, your bone structure exclusively on show for him. It gets him throbbing. Gets him wrapping his spare hand around his cock—not that it needs any encouragement. He's still rock-hard for you. Still wants you.

Is proven, when he begs once more. "Let me fuck you, babe."

A smirk settles on your lips as he pulls his fingers back. You shuffle in your seat. Readjust. Keep your legs spread and encourage him to squeeze onto the sofa with you.

The angle is a little off, and it definitely isn't gonna be how you fuck him, but it brings him closer to you. Close enough to kiss. Close enough to smell your arousal on him. Close enough to let him sink his tongue between your lips and get lost in you once more.

All you ever seem to want these days is to be close to Jeongguk, and even then, close is never close enough. His lips are on yours, your tongue in his mouth, his hands all over your body—and still it's not enough.

There's something missing; words that would fuse you to him. Words that you know damn well if uttered right now would end in disaster—so you bite back the desperate, hungry, declarations that are dancing in your throat. Reach for Jeongguk's hand. Force him to wrap his fingers around the base of your throat, just so you can keep those pesky words at bay.

The squeeze of his wide hand around your neck is welcome. Not too harsh, just strong enough to let you know that no other necklace would suit you half as well as Jeongguk's pretty, tattooed hand does.

It's force of habit, more than anything, that makes his spare hand drop to your pussy. Fingers flat, he rubs over your clit at the speed of lightning, not for any grand purpose other than to make you shake a little. Smirks, when you do exactly as he thought you would.

"Look at how easy you are for me," he husks, pressing his lips across your cheek, down your jaw. Squeeze your throat a little tighter. "You gonna let me fuck you, huh?"

The tables have turned.

You're the pathetic one, now.

"Uh-huh," you whine when he sinks his middle finger back into your pussy. He's quick. Repeats it a couple times. Loves how needy you are; how noisy your pussy is. So fucking wet for him.

As he pulls his hand from your cunt and wanks himself a little, he revels in how your slick juices feel against his shaft. Doesn't know how the fuck he found pleasure in anything before he knew you. Knows he'll never find pleasure in anything else. You've corrupted him. Completely and utterly. Ruined.

His lips trail to your ear, hands roaming your body. Squeezing. Appreciating. Devouring.

He's quiet, when he husks, "Want you to ride me."

"Say please," you quip back without missing a beat.

It's not like you're gonna say no—but you are gonna make him beg a little.

"Please, B," he says so daintily it's as if his cock isn't all red and engorged and leaky at the tip for you. He's got the body of an angel, but all it makes you wanna do is sin. "Be a good girl for me. You know you want to. Fuck me how you want to fuck me."

He does know how to ask nicely, you'll give him that much credit.

Jeongguk pulls away and sinks into the sofa beside you, certain you'll do as you're told.

His arrogance will catch up with him one day, but you're too eager to please him right now. All you wanna do is fuck him right, 'cause you know he'll fuck you right in return.

There's no objection as he pulls you onto his lap. No time wasted as he rubs the tip of his cock between your soaked folds. No bodies more connected than yours when he finally pushes up inside of you.

He groans. Throws his head back. Holds your waist and is reminded of your dress. Decides that it absolutely needs to go.

The way he rids you of the silky fabric is barbaric. You don't know where he throws it. Don't know if it's still in one piece. All you know is that his lips are on your skin as soon as they can be, his hips rutting up into you, cock nudging so deep inside of your cunt you can feel him in your fucking throat.

Okay, so maybe that's dramatic, but he just fills you so fucking well. Is so big. So nice.

His hand wraps around your back to release the clasp of your bra with little to no effort. He sheds you of your clothes and has you exactly how he wants you: naked, whiney and ever so beautiful as you take his full cock inside you.

Jeongguk's not small. Not by any stretch of the imagination. He's easily got the biggest cock you've ever taken, yet your body adapts to him effortlessly. You're tight, yeah, but not painfully so. It's all pleasure. You're made for him, and him for you.

The thickness of his cock is amplified when he grabs your waist and begins to bounce you at a faster pace.

"Oh, shit," he curses. "God. Taking me so well, aren't you, B? Taking this fat cock so easily. Oh, fuck yeah. Pretty, pretty slut."

It's been a while since he got vulgar with the name-calling. Was reminded of how much he likes it when you'd done it earlier.

You'd forgotten how much you like it too; how much you like the acknowledgement that you'll slut yourself out for him, and him alone.

"Whose slut are you? Huh?" he asks, never caring for a response. Just gets a little loose with his lips when your pussy gets tight. "Who does this cunt belong to?"

"Oh, God," you mewl, unable to form anything coherent.

He almost fuckin' snorts as he laughs. "Don't think this cunt does belong to God."

"Fuck off," you laugh. Find it so endearing that he still finds the time to joke with you. "Gguk"— his hips thrust up harder, and you have to curse him out a little before you can continue —"It's yours, you prick."

He smirks. Tips his head back, the clamminess of his body making this all so much filthier. There's a sheen to his skin, sweat dappling him. His tattoos seem even more vibrant now, your hand holding onto his arm for dear life as he rams his cock into you.Slows his hips a little. Rolls them now. Husks, "Mine."

"So big, Koo," you mumble into his lips, as if he doesn't know. It's so much more satisfying hearing your stay. Your words are stuttered. Slurred. Fucked out. "Baby, you're so big."

"Don't call me that," he husks. Grabs your tits. Plays with them just 'cause he can. Teases your nipples. Pinches. Makes you mewl. "Call me that, and you'll make me fuckin' nut."

It's not just 'Koo' getting him needy today. It's 'baby', too.

Jeongguk has always been the one more naturally inclined to call you baby—but just because you don't say it as often doesn't mean you don't think it.

God, you wanna call him baby all the time these days. When you're lazing around together, when you greet him, when you're giggling with him in the sanctuary of his bedroom, birds looking on with a fond curiosity. Baby would just roll off your tongue so naturally, if you let it.

And so, in this moment, you do.

"Hmm, baby?" you torment him.

"B," he stays sternly as he pulls you down onto his dick. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix, as deep as it can possibly go. You mewl. Gasp. Whine. And he loves it. Loves the way you sound; loves that the sounds are all involuntary and that it's his size making it happen. "Don't wanna cum yet. Wanna fuck you for hours."

It already feels like it's been hours, but it also feels like it's been no time at all.

Sex with Jeongguk alters the time-space continuum. It has to. There is no way that fucking Jeongguk doesn't transform the world in some way, shape or form.

Or maybe it's just your world that it alters. Your life. Your heart.

Taking back a little control, you rake your fingers in his hair, and pull them taut. He gasps. Stutters out a moan. Eases his grip on your waist to let your hips roll at a slower pace. He puts you in control, 'cause it's what you want.

He'll give you anything you ask for. Everything.

"Shit," you curse, grinding against him. The friction of your clit rubbing up against the neatly trimmed pubic hair is nothing short of euphoric—and when his lips latch around one of your tits? Sucks on it softly? Is tender with his touch instead of the slightly aggressive, domineering Jeongguk you were expecting? Oh, you won't last long at all. "Feels so good, Gguk."

"Mhm?" he hums, vibrating around your nipple, his thumb coming to rub at your neglected bud on the other side. God, he loves your tits. Wants them in his mouth all the time. Quite the change since your first meeting. Doesn't know how he lived without them before.

"Mhhm," you nod, pressing your lips to the top of his head.

The way your bodies are moving together is anachronistic; of a time before casual fucking and the conventions of modern dating. It's primal. Lethargic in the way you want to experience one another; eager in your yearning.

It's as if you knew him in another life. As if the stars have always intended on you merging. As if you've been a black hole waiting to happen, but now in the abyss you find abundance: Love, acceptance, contentment by the bucket load.

Eventually, the pace builds like you knew it would. Jeongguk's grunts get loftier. Your moans get shorter. Sharp. They hitch at the back of your throat, and Jeongguk kisses you until they dissolve onto his tongue.

It's as he's playing with your clit that a second, far stronger, orgasm is drawn from you. You think you see stars. Jeongguk knows for a fact he sees stars.

He also takes it as confirmation that you're getting worn out; that he doesn't need to hold off finishing.

His hand grips your ass, working you up and down his shaft in a desperate bid to coax an orgasm out of his cock, even if you're a little fucked out. It really doesn't take much to get him there; to have him cursing your name and kiss your neck.

"Oh, shit, babe," he pants. "Where"—

"Tits."

" Fuck ."

Neither of you care for the awkward clambering as you get between his legs once more, nor the dizzy disposition of your knees after your orgasm.

All you care about is Jeongguk. His pleasure. Making him cum.

You want to be the reason. Want him looking at you.

And he does.

It's delicate, how violently his body unloads itself for you. His lips are parted, brows furrowed as he wanks himself for you. You've always loved him like this. It reminds you of the early days—a little too scared to touch one another, but desperately wanting to.

It's different now. Touching Jeongguk is a natural inclination that's reciprocated. If he couldn't touch you— innocently as well as intimately —then he'd probably die.

"Cum for me," you beg, holding your tits together for him.

He shudders, legs twitching as the sensation boils over, and he shoots thick spurts of semen all over your chest. You gasp as he does so, and regret not asking for it in your mouth—so you lay your tongue flat for him. He gets the memo. Rests the tip of his cock on your tongue as massages the final spurts of his load into your mouth.

"Shit," he curses, then drags you back up to his lap. Clasps either side of your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss so desperately that he doesn't even wait for you to swallow. Licks into your mouth. Whines when he tastes himself. Drops a hand to squeeze at one of your tits, and ends up just rubbing his cum into your skin.

It's filth. Real fucking dirty.

And yet it's pure.

Unadulterated desire shared between you both. Reserved only for one another.

Eventually, as the kisses begin to ease into teeny tiny pecks, Jeongguk laughs to himself. Shakes his head. Beams as he cups your jaw and presses one final, deliberate kiss into your lips.

"If you keep fucking me like that, you're gonna get me saying all kinds of dumb shit," he promises.

"Oh yeah?" You giggle, reaching across the sofa, still in his lap, to retrieve his shirt. Thread it over your arms, you don't bother to do it up - you just know that dawn is brewing on the horizon, and fear a rogue friend of you both strolling over to the main house for some reason. Your back is to the large windows, but wouldn't take a genius to work out what's occurring. "What kinda dumb shit?"

"Dunno. Shit about how you ride me so well," he praises, eyes darting around your face, 'cause he's obsessed with every single part of you. Eyes, nose, lips. Wants them all. Settles for a nudge of noses. "So good at making me feel good, baby. So good. God, I can't believe I get to fuck you."

There's a genuine look of relief on his pretty, smiley features, as if there'd be a reality in which you'd ever turn him down.

"Can't believe I get to fuck you," you giggle right back, as Jeongguk begins to preen you. He smooths your hair. Studies the glitter on your cheeks, but doesn't change it. Loves it just as it is.

"Shut up," he says, a little bashfully—as if he wasn't the one to start this whole complimenting one another bullshit.

Jeon Jeongguk always looks so pretty in the afterglow; skin made of stardust, a smile that shines. The clamminess of his skin always makes him seem a little rounder, a little softer. It's cute—and right now? It's just for you .

You half think Jeongguk is gonna throw some sort of childish remark your way, until his demeanour sort of stiffens a little. His teeth press down on his bottom lip, and the ring, of course, does the thing. He seems perplexed. Concerned.

You're about to ask, but then Jeongguk decides that you shouldn't have to.

He should just tell you. What he thinks, how he feels.

And so he says, once more, "Byeol, I don't wanna keep going around in circles."

Pulling away a little, you snuggle down into the couch beside him. Giving him the space to pull his Calvins back up, there's a comfort to the serenity you're basking in.

Anyone who saw you now—you naked save for his shirt, traces of his sex glistening on your skin, and him in his underwear—would be forgiven for thinking you were a pair of newlyweds after their big day. Snuggling into another, it's a dangerous place to get too comfy. You really should go back over to the side-house that you're supposed to be sleeping in.

"Then start going in a straight line," you counter, childish in your tiredness.

He hums out a small laugh, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. "I mean it, B. What I said earlier."

"Which part?"

"The part where I told you I wanted you," he says quietly. Squeezes you tightly. Needs you to know he's telling the truth. "No one else. It's just as true now as it was when I first said it."

"You don't know what it's like to 'have' me. I'm not easy to handle," you say candidly.

Jeongguk thinks you're incredibly easy to handle. It's your asshole ex-partners that have been difficult.

"Nor am I," he says softly instead, not fighting back against the perception you presented. Knows how you work. Knows you'd never believe him regardless. Will just have to prove it to you over time. "I don't want easy. Don't want anyone else. Just want you."

Feels like a moot point, now.

You know how Jeongguk feels. It's been established.

But it's late, and you're both a little tired and probably a bit cranky from the alcohol. Need to sleep.

And so when Jeongguk cuts the conversation, chucks you his shirt and offers you a piggyback ride to the house, you accept it.

Just like you accept it when he drops you off in your room, and never leaves.

His own bedroom is rendered useless, for there's nowhere else he'd rather dream than right next to you.

Jeongguk doesn't fight sleep when it comes. Falls into it willingly, arm still looped over your waist to keep you close. He doesn't mind the heat. Doesn't mind your hair in his face, or the inability to move freely. Would far rather sleep with you like this than alone.

Typically, you'd find it easy to fall asleep in such a position. Not with anyone else—you'd be frustrated with their warmth, and imposing touch—but with Jeongguk, it's always welcome.

Tonight, you stare at the ceiling.

Grey in the light of the bay that seeps in through the window, the emptiness feels as calming as the boy beside you. There's no reason why you shouldn't be able to sleep, but your mind seems to be racing at a mile a minute, filtering between the security of time spent with Jeongguk, and the instability of exactly what you are.

The conversations had today have shined a little light on Jeongguk's feelings, but it's still nothing solid. You're still just friends. An attempt had been made at changing that, but it was a fruitless endeavour. Just feels like Jeongguk was right—you are going round in circles.

People can be fickle, and you know that Jeongguk has been holding out his heart from hurt recently. You doubt he'll be willing to venture down the path he's already travelled with Hayun. Why make the same mistakes twice? You're both supposed to be growing. Learning.

Falling into something with you is the opposite of what he should be doing.

Yet his arm is looped around your waist, bare skin sticking to yours in the heat of your embrace. He clearly finds comfort in you, but isn't confident enough in his feelings to actually commit to you.

And you shouldn't compare—you know this—but you've been made to feel like this before.

So you adjust. Shakes out of his shackles. Can't leave, 'cause it's your room, but you consider it - where would you go? To his room? To the beach?

Anywhere but here.

There's not really much thought put into it when you eventually slip out from the duvet, and quietly head down the stairs. Are childish as you stick your middle finger up in the direction of Hayun's room, just 'cause you're sick of her and her impact on your life, but aren't willing to actually argue with her. Unseen passive aggression is your new best friend.

Sliding the front door open, you're met by the chill of the cold spring air. All you're wearing is Jeongguk's button-up - the same one he'd taken off you before bed with little care for seducing you.

That being said, he did frown when you went to change into pyjamas. Insisted that you didn't need them. Had you naked beneath the sheets with no intention of fucking you - which felt like a headfuck within itself.

You don't mean to be this way; to be so suspicious of innocence.

Your insecurities are deep-rooted. They'd been so well conditioned into the fabric of your being that they now sit flush against your previous expectations of relationships. They're impossible to pick away. They need to be excavated, then re-filled with a new understanding of what it's like to be loved.

Jeongguk's been trying.

It's hard work, though. Laboursome. Strenuous. Stressful. Takes far more time than it really should.

He thinks it's the easiest job in the world.

The reward is so much greater than the investment. There's no sunk cost fallacy with you; even if it doesn't work out between the pair of you, he's hoping he'll at least heal the wounds left by someone else. Wants you happy and healthy, only. Always. Endlessly.

The sea that stretches in the distance and far beyond your eye-line is in a state of the rest. The moon has calmed the tides or so it seems. As you crouch down, feet flat to the floor on the lawn, you hope she'll do the same for you.

There's a crunch of gravel in the distance, and you know exactly where it's coming from. Who's stepping across it in search of stars.

Part of you hates that he's awake so suddenly.

Most of you loves it.

Coming to crouch behind you, Jeongguks knees spread to either side of your body. Chin resting on your shoulder, he restrains from holding you—but only because he's aware of the fact you left. Doesn't want to trap you.

"Watcha doin," he mumbles, voice croaky, the heat of his body warming you up. "Fuckin' freezing, B. You've no trousers on."

Nor does he. In fact, he's dressed even more poorly than you are, in just a pair of boxers. Though summer is approaching, the nights here are still worthy of a padded jacket. Jeongguk's temperature is running warm, like it usually does when he sleeps. If he were to hug you—which he won't until he's certain you even want that—you'd realise this.

"S'not too bad," you say of the temperature, even though you know your nose must be ever so blushed.

"Is too," he counters quietly, the movement of his jaw as he talks forcing his chin to dig a little into your shoulder. It doesn't hurt, though. Never hurts. Jeongguk will never hurt you, not really. You do that all by yourself. "And you didn't answer me. What are you doing out here?"

"Couldn't sleep," you reply without giving him space to breathe, because honesty feels too daunting.

"Did you try?"

"To sleep?"

"Mhmm," he sleepily mumbles.

The truth of the matter is that no, you didn't. Imaginary sheep remain uncounted.

Turning your head to face him, you are pleased to see him in this state: hair fluffy, eyes puffy. He's never cuter than he is in times like these.

The moon reflects on his lip ring, specks of glitter still on his skin.

"Pretty," you say, 'cause you think he deserves to know exactly what he is.

"Pretty," he just repeats back. Is soft in his tone. Gentle. Calming.

Maybe it wasn't the moon you needed after all.

Jeongguk's lips are feathery as they brush with yours, closing down slowly. The application and removal of pressure works like clockwork, just like it always does, and the subtle swipe of his tongue against your lips is welcome. You reciprocate. Swipe your tongue against his, and encourage him to intrude—but he doesn't. Not really.

While yes, on a technicality, his tongue is in your mouth, it's not how it usually is. It's slow. Lamblike. A soft reminder of how tender he can be.

"Come back to bed," he says quietly, barely pulling away. "Wanna sleep with you." He clutches your jaw. Kisses you again, but this time lets his tongue stroke against yours a little more deliberately. "Want you to stay with me, B."

He's so much needier when he's sleepy. So much cuter. Daintier.

"Don't want you to ever leave," he whispers. Kisses you again, so that you can't reject his request.

Leave what? His bed? His life? His embrace?

He doesn't clarify, and you don't ask for it, either.

Instead, nose resting against his, eyes closed, a serene smile on your lips, you say, "Ever? I have to stay forever?"

Jeongguk nods. Kisses you quickly. "That'd be preferable."

But there's an all too large awareness looming on Jeongguk that you left .

History is repeating itself, and it's so much more bitter the second time around.

There's an embarrassment that comes with this acknowledgement.

Perhaps it's his own fault. Perhaps he hasn't really given you enough time to process everything. Hayun has always been a sticking point, and her being here has shifted the mood completely, but Jeongguk really thought progress had been made. That maybe you and him were starting to figure things out.

But you've both got experiences that taint this stage of falling for someone else. Your defences have been up ever since you came to realise that maybe you've been lying to yourself about your true feelings for Jeongguk.

So to look across dining tables and be confronted with the woman he once thought he'd marry?

It sorta killed you, a little—or at least it kills the idea of longevity with Jeongguk. A pact was made, after all, and Jeongguk is a man of his word.

It's all you can think about whenever you look at her, so fuck knows what he must be thinking about when he does.

He loved her once. Her, with her cherry red lips and feline smile. Her, with her ambition and her wit. Her, with everything that you're not.

Confusion comes with the confrontation of the girls once loved by the man you adore.

"Is it not strange?" you ask, turning to face away from him. "Having to be around Hayun all the time? Is it not awful for you? Don't you"—

"No," he interrupts your final question. Doesn't care to hear it. Knows you're in your head again over stupid shit. "B, how many times"—

"You were in love with her," you stress the words softly. A fight isn't what you're looking for. Not in the slightest. You're just trying to understand . "When I first met you, Gguk, you were in love with her."

Knowing what he knows now, feeling how he feels now, he isn't so sure.

"Was I?"

Ignorant to the fact that Jeongguk thinks you're incomparable to her, you don't fully trust his questioning.

"Yes."

Jeongguk takes a second. Knows that whatever he says next will dictate the rest of the conversation.

There's something about Hayun that just gets under your skin. No matter how much reassurance you get from him, there always will be. It's his own fault, he thinks. Knows that he's the one who informed your opinion, but fails to realise that you wouldn't have liked her regardless. She's just not your kind of person. Too critical in her gaze. Too stand-offish. It's really not hard to understand why she caused Jeongguk to develop a myriad of complexes.

"Well, what about Seokjin?" He questions now, not looking for a fight either, but definitely a little agitated in his tone. "If you're so over him, why were you comparing me to him earlier?"

"You know that's"—

"Different?" He scoffs, but still holds you. Holds you tighter, actually. "How? How am I meant to hear a comparison to your ex and not think you still have feelings for him?"

Funny, how similarly you view one another's exes.

Jeongguk is sick of Seokjin. Has met the fucker fewer than a handful of times, yet he has to bear the weight of his bad behaviour as if he's responsible for it. It's not fucking fair.

And yeah, maybe he's just tried, and a little cranky, and perhaps he should have just let you leave like you apparently so desperately wanted to—but that's the difference between him and Seokjin.

Jeongguk never wanted you to leave.

The gravity of his questioning is too sharp of a blow even for him. He lets you go. Pulls away from the embrace he's been keeping you safe in.

"I don't lie to you, B," he says, getting to his feet. The closeness he was begging for feels tainted, now. Forced. Uncomfortable. "I tell you everything ."

Everything except the part where I'm in love with you.

"I never said you didn't," you insist quietly, resentful of your brain for turning this into an argument. You don't want to argue with him. Not in the slightest. You don't understand why you are. "Don't go. Please."

"I don't get it," he stresses, his voice quiet, too. "You're pushing me away and yet you still want me close. I don't understand. B, I just... What am I supposed to do?"

The defeat in your sloped shoulders and furrowed brows when you get to your feet and turn to face him is evident. All you can do is shrug.

"Gguk, I'm scared."

He nods. Knows this. Is scared, too.

When you first met, you were both scared of what it could mean to get over your exes.

This is different. Seokjin is a fracture in time; a notch in your bedpost.

Jeongguk is so much more than Seokjin could ever be. Sure, he doesn't have his life figured out yet, and maybe you've both got room to grow—but you can grow with him. Together.

"Okay, so tell me," he encourages. Holds his hand out, and when you take it, he draws you closer. Strokes your arms. Presses a kiss to your forehead. "Tell me what you're scared of."

You're not very good with anatomy. If anyone was to ever ask you about the location of your heart, you're not sure you'd choose the correct side of your chest.

What you are sure of, is that if anyone was to ever peer inside it, the chambers of your heart would be full to the brim with the very essence of him.

They'd hear his laughter echo, and the way his hushed moans vibrate into nothingness. They'd find glitter, and gold; evidence of you and him coexisting just like you're supposed to.

They'd find origami birds, and tiny folded stars, too. Chess pieces and purple starfuckers; lip rings and lace bras hidden beneath pillows. They'd marvel at how such a small organ could be so flooded with evidence of another person—and if they were to see him the way in which you see him, then maybe they'd love him, too.

There's no denying it now.

To him, yes, but not to yourself.

You're in love with Jeon Jeongguk.

And it terrifies you.

"Hmm?" he implores you to open up to him.

"I wasn't supposed to like you this much," you feebly admit, because there's no chance in hell you're baring your soul just like that, but know that you at least have to give him something. Give him the chance to reject you. "But now I do, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

He's silent for what feels like a lifetime. In reality, it's maybe three, four seconds. No more than five. Just enough time for him to digest your words. They go above the territorial need of not wanting to share. They're an indication that maybe he isn't totally insane. That maybe he could love someone and be loved in return.

But he's leaping. Knows that there's a far stretch between 'like' and 'love'. A bridge needs to be crossed, and he doesn't know if you're willing to do that.

"Guess it depends," he says, trying to remain calm even if his heart is crashing against his ribs like the waves against the shore in the distance. Wants to kiss you. Thinks it's the only thing that will get his head straight. Swears you must be a fucking drug. He's having withdrawals. Needs you in his system.

"On?"

"Are you happy?"

A simple question without a simple answer.

Yes, you're happy. Happy with your life, with your friends, with your blooming potential within the local gallerist network. Happy when you're with Jeongguk, and happy whenever you think of him, too.

But you're delicate in such a way that happiness feels underserved. As if it will be stolen from you. You're unable to ever fully revel in it for fear of losing it.

Your hesitation is noticed, so Jeongguk meets you halfway. Pulls you close, and wraps his arms around you. Holds you tight. Says, "I think I'm happiest when I'm with you, B."

"You're just saying that," you mumble against his bare chest, and then realise how bloody cold he must be, even if he radiates nothing but warmth. Feel bad for dragging him away from comfort. "Look, let's just go to bed. We're both too tired for this shit. We can talk about it in the morning."

He just nods. Agrees. Follows your lead.

While his body is tired, Jeongguk's mind is not.

When you finally settle into sleep—in his room, this time—he's the one who can't drift off. Just sort of stares at you, and wonders how the fuck something so straightforward is so complicated.

He fails to realise that just because he knows he likes you too doesn't mean you know it.

It's not like he told you. Told you all sorts of lewd shit about your pussy, but never actually told you just how much he adores the way your body rocks a little when you laugh, nor how much he likes the almond-shape that you file your nails into. Has never told you how much he cherishes the fact you challenged him in the way you did on that first Dionysus night. Isn't even sure you remember it.

But he does.

Keeps the memories stored away in his mind where only the fondest of thoughts are allowed to go.

He's never given it much thought, but memories of Hayun go elsewhere. Somewhere between the sections reserved for painful and passive moments. Those sections self-delete the files. It's why he doesn't realise. Doesn't hold onto them.

But he holds on to you when he eventually sleeps.

And when you wake?

Holds you even tighter .

Stretching out a little, you curl back into comfort with him. "Morning."

"Morning, baby."

Oh, god . You're going to die .

He presses a kiss to your head. Hooks his leg over you so that you can't leave.

Yep. Death imminent.

"Sleep okay?" he asks, as if you weren't both outside at ass o'clock debating the very nature of you... 'friendship.'

Surprisingly, you did actually manage to sleep fairly well after it all. Had worn yourself out with all those mental gymnastics of yours.

Adjusting your head to look at him, you hum a confirmation. Spend a moment or so just taking him in.

Eyes shut, his dark lashes splay over the tops of his cheeks. The curves of his face contrast with the harshness of his angles; full cheeks, sharp jaw. Soft lips, hard lip ring. Delicate cupids bow, defined childhood scar along his cheekbone, indented on his freckled skin. A man of complexities, Jeongguk will always confuse you to a certain degree.

"Had a dream about you," he mumbles quietly. Is still half asleep.

"Oh yeah?" You smile, toying with some of his hair.

"Mhmm," he nods, the side of his face rubbing against the soft cotton on the pillowcases. Squeezes you even tighter. God, he loves being with you. "You said you like me."

And suddenly your cheeks flame. You try and squirm away, but he doesn't let you. Just laughs.

Knowing you as intimately as he does, Jeongguk knows you were bullshitting when you said you'd talk about it in the morning. Knows that he has to be the one to mention it, but knows that anything other than jokes about it will make you get all defensive.

"So cute, B," he teases, grip tight around you as you flounder.

"Fuck off!"

"You like me soooo much," he teases, because it's sweet, and it is cute, and it makes him feel all fuzzy inside. The way you're wriggling and trying to get out of his embrace confirms one thing: yes, he would still love you as a worm.

"I like it when you shut up," you scowl, accepting your fate of being trapped in his arms. You kinda hate yourself for admitting it. Kinda feel awful for the fact he's not said it back.

You fail to realise that it's because he's a boy, and is stupid.

But then again, so are you - how could you not know the poor boy is beside himself with giddy excitement over the fact you finally gave him an inclination as to how you feel.

"No," he grins, eyes still closed, arms still tight. "You like me."

"I think you're a tit."

He opens just a single eye. Pulls his head back, and sticks out his bottom lip. "Okay? We both know you like tits"—

" God ."

" Jeongguk , not God, baby," he corrects you. Calls you baby as if there's a ring around your finger and both of your names on a joint lease. "Sex God, yes, but just a mere mortal man unfortunately."

"You're so fuckin' annoying," you grumble—yet when he loosens his grip, your arm slinks around his waist instead.

"Gotta get up," he says. Forces you up with him. Sees your naked body for 0.1 seconds and drags you back to bed with him. Decides, "Breakfast can wait."

Though on a technicality, it could be argued that breakfast is exactly what he has before you eventually surface from his room half an hour later.

Hair half up in a claw clip, one of Jeongguk's shirts french-tucked into your jeans, there's a glow about you as you walk side by side up to the main house. He's talking nonsense about a film you've never seen, and you're just enjoying listening to him. You encourage his enthusiastic points, and promise that you'll watch it and compare notes with him.

By the time you approach the kitchen, everyone else is already there.

"What time do you call this?" Yoongi scolds, but Jeongguk just shrugs. Sort of positions himself in front of you. Reaches behind himself to tuck you a little further out of any judgemental eyes.

"Time you got a watch," Jeongguk deadpans.

Yoongi smiles. Doesn't actually give a shit. Is just teasing. "I've got a watch. It says it's about time you got a new joke."

"Oh, shit," Jeongguk gasps, then reaches into the pocket of his loose-fit jeans. Paired with a white vest and baggy sweatshirt, he's every bit the nineties heartthrob. The chain he always wears is on show, and it drives you a little wild. Rummaging around in his pocket —"I could have sworn I had a new joke in here"— everyone knows what he's gonna do.

They're proven correct when he pulls his hand out of his pocket, his middle finger pointing to the sky.

"You're a child," Namjoon grins.

Jeongguk doesn't deny it. Just beams as he sinks into the sofa, leaving a you-sized space next to him.

You glance over to Danbi, who outstretches her legs to fill the space beside her. Rids you of your options. Smirks in your direction. You're welcome.

Narrowing your eyes in her direction as you take your seat, Jeongguk seemingly abandons all previous restraints he had. Tucks his hand between your legs and holds your knee.

From across the room, Hayun's gaze burns into you.

And yet the soft stroke of Jeongguk's thumb against your legs soothes the scorching arrows she's firing at you.

The rest of the group are embroiled in conversations, the TV also on, so no one notices when you lean over to speak quietly, just loud enough for Jeongguk to hear you.

"Hayun's staring," you tell him, 'cause you've decided that playing it cool has done no one any favours so far.

You're a little bit insane, but Jeongguk already knows this. Likes it. There's no point trying to pretend like you're not just to one-up Hayun. Pretending like you don't care will only serve to hurt you in the long-run.

Jeongguk tilts his head to look at you. Lets a slightly lopsided grin settle on his lips as says, "Well, yeah." His eyes drop to your body, then back up to your lips. Linger for a moment. Finally reach your eyes again. "You look fit as fuck. I'd be staring, too."

"I don't think that's why she's staring."

"Okay," Jeongguk accepts, knowing that even if the conversation is unserious, you've mentioned it for a reason. His hand comes to tuck a little strand of hair behind your ear, then clasps your chin and tilts your head upwards. Gets you looking at him with narrowed eyes and a curious smile. His fingers drop to your collar, tweaking it a little, as he says, "I've had this shirt for years. She probably knows it isn't yours."

"Possession is, like, ninety percent of the law," you assure him, a little pouty, and it takes everything in him not to kiss you.

But you're with friends, and shit is still up in the air, and Jeongguk doesn't understand what the fuck is happening between the pair of you. He thinks you're a thing, but, like, he isn't sure and that makes this whole situation so incredibly messy.

What he does know is that Hayun could be screaming blue murder and he wouldn't give a shit. The more he comes to realise how nice it is to be with someone who actually treats him with an ounce of respect, the more he distances himself from his former feelings.

"Sounds like you're trying to exploit a legal loophole," he counters right back.

"So what if I do?" You say, shamelessly flirting in your quiet corner, friends ignorant. Your stomach is full of butterflies, charging around, wings tickling your insides. "Maybe I'll break the law on purpose."

The way you hold your wrists together and present them to Jeongguk—knowing full well he kinda has this weird thing for wrists—is nothing short of cruel.

He knows exactly what you're insinuating. Knows he'd die to get you in a pair of cuffs. Instead, says, "Behave yourself."

It's no use. He's already got a semi.

Hayun is, at least, now in conversation with Taehyung. Something about the interview she had. You're not listening in.

There's also no need for Jeongguk to drag the flirt out. The primary purpose of it was to distract you. Keep your mind on him. Jeongguks secret weapon to ease your mind is to keep you locked on him.

Works every single time.

"You're trouble, B," he smiles fondly, before getting to his feet.

There's no discussion of where he's going—just through to the kitchen. Wants to adjust his trousers, and could also do with some water. You let him go, not really caring to stop him. Autonomy is a wonderful thing.

Instead, you just join in the conversation at hand: A debate over who won the Jilympics, for it was never declared the day before. You come to Seoyeon's defence. Insist your team won. Know full well you didn't.

When Jeongguk returns, you quickly say, "Right Gguk? You agree with me?"

He's got no fuckin' idea what you're on about. Says, "Yeah. Of course. You're right."

The smugness of your smile lets him know what a grave mistake he just made.

"Gguk!" Namjoon groans.

Jimin just smirks. Keeps the taunt of 'pussy-whipped bitch' to himself.

"What?!"

"His word is final," you assert before any clarification can be given. "Power in numbers. More people think our team won"—

"Wait, what?!"

"Shhh, Gguk, I'm doing important business," you hush him—but suddenly your mouth is covered by his palm.

"Don't listen to her!" He wails. "She's a fraud!"

Naturally, the only thing you can do in this situation is bite his finger.

"Ah— shit . Mother fucker!"

"What Jeongguk means to say is Team Seoyeon won," you smile with such nonchalance that your friends can't help but laugh at how ridiculous and petty both you and Jeongguk are.

Match made in heaven, some would say.

When he sits back down, he just sits straight on you. Is deliberately annoying. Not a single person bats an eyelash. It's expected of him. They've known him long enough to know what he's like. In fact, there are only a few laps in the room that haven't been sat on by Jeongguk and his need to be a petulant brat.

Nobody sees—'cause Jeongguk's obscuring you—but you bite him again. Just the shoulder blade. He's sitting in such a position that you can't move your hands, so it's your only real offensive weapon.

It's cute, Jeongguk thinks. Cute that you think you're strong enough to hurt, and cute that you've chosen to bite him. He turns his head over his shoulder. Mumbles, "Careful. I'm into that."

In all honesty, he's passive when it comes to using teeth in the bedroom. Likes a little bite on occasion, but by no means needs it. Just knows that you'll recoil in disgust, and it'll make him laugh.

You do just as he expects.

And like clockwork, he giggles to himself. Slides off your lap, but remains a little sprawled over you, just 'cause he can be.

Again, no one really pays it much notice.

Instead, the morning crawls on by. There's no attempt to hurry it up. In all honesty, the constant activities have worn everyone out.

If Jeongguk and Hoseok hadn't planned such a chill afternoon, then they would have been tempted to cancel it in favour of chucking a movie on the TV.

Much like your birthday—and actually inspired by it—they get everyone crafting. In this case, it's painting. A couple dozen canvases have been purchased, and the rest of the supplies were sneakily stolen from your place of work by Hoseok. You recognise it all—the brushes, the paints, the aprons—and find yourself laughing.

So often watching other people paint, you never really get the chance to do it yourself. It's a shame, considering how much you enjoy it. You're no Picasso, but you're not bad.

The rules are simple for the activity, so much as the fact that there are no rules. Knowing that their activity would fall towards the end of a busy weekend, the boys had settled on something of a little slower pace.

A playlist of chill songs curated by Jeongguk hums from the speaker in the kitchen, the large glass doors open, turning the lawn and house into a hybrid space. The supplies are kept inside, but you all opt to paint outside.

Laying flat on your tummy, you're painting the view ahead of you. It's all shades of blue and little else, an uninterrupted horizon that extends for miles upon miles.

In a small cluster with Danbi and Hoseok, it's nice to be with your people.

Yoongi and Seoyeon are in their own little world, doing portraits of one another, and Taehyung has roped the rest of the boys into posing for him in human pyramid formation. Jeongguk and Namjoon are stable as the bottom pillars, with Jimin taking the top spot.

You're not really sure what Nabi and Hayun are doing. Choose not to glance their way. It's a shame, because you really do like Nabi.

The awkwardness is beginning to grate on you. All you want is an easy life.

Regardless of the current state of affairs, once upon a time, Hayun had been liked by everyone here. She was a fundamental part of the friendship group. It sort of makes you think that maybe you should make an effort with her.

Not in some lame-ass attempt to be a 'cool' girl. You've already decided that you don't care to be one. Moreso as a white flag. You intend on sticking around, and so you're gonna have to learn to live with one another.

"I'm not saying I want to be besties with her," you tell Danbi. "But it wouldn't hurt to at least try and find some common ground, would it?"

Danbi mulls it over. Isn't so sure. Doesn't really think you should have to make an effort at all.

"Look, I won't lie," you add on when Danbi doesn't respond quickly enough. "She irritates me, but what else am I supposed to do? Can't go through life acting as if she doesn't exist."

"You can," Danbi assures you. "I would."

As much as you know this to be absolutely true, you're just not wired in the same way as Danbi.

The very first night you met Hayun, you were unable to keep your cool. Argued with her over the dumbest shit just because you were so incensed that she had the audacity to question your presence in Jeongguk's life.

Things are different, now.

You're secure in your place. He's made it that way. Made it clear that he puts you above Hayun.

He's trying.

It's only fair that you try, too.

When Jeongguk finally comes to join you, also laying flat on his tummy, but opposite you on the other side of your canvas, you choose against raising the topic. Decide not to tarnish the simplicity of him choosing to be with you now with any negative thoughts.

Not looking at him as you mumble nonsense about nothing, you continue to add hues of blue to the canvas, and don't object when he picks up a thin brush and starts to add pretty little stars in your sky.

Painting has always been a group activity for the pair of you. He can put it in the living room next to your tits.

The afternoon dissolves into an easy state of being. Mindless chatter is paired with the act of quite literally watching paint dry, but no one finds it boring. Respite had been needed, and you're quietly smitten with the fact that Jeongguk is one of the masterminds behind it. So big brain of him. So sexy.

Lazing next to you, paint smeared on his cheeks by your messy fingers earlier that afternoon, Jeongguk really can't be bothered to shower before dinner. Moans and groans, until you say you'll shower with him.

He's up and on his feet, holding a towel by his door within no time at all.

"Chop chop," he tells you, pretty face ever so pleasant. Eyes wide and round, there's something about him—hair dishevelled, skin covered in paint—that just takes you back to the early days. Gets you grinning from ear to ear.

Holding out his hand as you stand, Jeongguk pulls you closer. Presses a teeny tiny kiss to your lips, 'cause he can't ever seem to stop now that the boundary has been broken down.

"We're a mess," you smile against his lips.

Literally and figuratively.

And as you step out of his room, hand in hand with lovesick smiles on your lips, only to find Nabi and Hayun doing their makeup for the evening ahead in the communal sitting room, you realise things are about to get a whole lot messier.

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