Mimi

“Good day, Lady Inna.”

“Good day, Lady ___. What a surprise it is to see you.”

Lady Inna does not wear her signature up-do yet, combing her long hair. She is not wearing any make-up either, looking a lot younger without it. Her rope is a bright pink and slightly out of fashion.

“I hope that I am not disturbing you”, you say, closing the door behind you.

“You aren’t. I hope you do not mind my appearance. I haven’t put on powder yet.”

“You are beautiful, Lady Inna.”

“Oh? Oh my, thank you.” She giggles and turns to you fully. “What can I do for you?”

Nervous, you sit down in front of her.

“I don’t know how to say it”, you confess.

“Perhaps I can guess it.”

“Go ahead.”

“You have troubles in your marriage and you need my advice.”

“Ah, no. The very opposite, actually. We get along well and I want to surprise my husband, which is why I need your advice because I do not know how to do it.”

“Tell me.”

“It embarrasses me to talk this way, but uhm…Lady Inna, I wish to learn how to ride my husband.”

Unlike you expected, she does not seem even the slightest bit baffled by your confession. She hums in understanding and nods her head.

“He must be a great husband if you are willing to do something for him.”

“He is. He is so wonderful.”

“Your husband is General Kim, yes?”

Your face heats up and a giddy smile tugs on your lips.

“He is”, you sigh dreamily.

“Mhhm, a handsome man. Strong as well.”

“Really strong. It makes me hot just thinking about it.” You fluster. “Forgive me, that was improper.”

“Nothing you could say is improper. I earn my money telling stories of passion, my dear.”

“That is true now that you mention it.”

She snickers, nodding her head. She is not in the slightest bit ashamed of her profession and she shouldn’t be. Now that you know how fun passion can be, you admire what she does for the women who perhaps do not have good sex in their lives. You could not imagine such a life for yourself and you feel really bad for any wife who does not get pleasured properly.

“Before I can teach you, I must know a few things. Have you ever been on top?” Lady Inna asks, flustering you. She notices, reaching out to calm you. “There is no judgement here. You can talk freely with me.”

“No, uhm, I haven’t been on top. Ever.”

“I see. Have you been on a horse before?”

“What? Why would I do that with a horse???”

“No gods, not like this. Have you ever ridden a horse the normal way?”

“Ah. This makes more sense. Yes, I have.”

“I see. Very good, then I know what to work with. Lie down.”

“Huh?”

“Lie down.”

You follow her order, albeit very confused. You get comfortable on the floor, head propped on a pillow. Lady Inna gathers her dress so that her legs are free then does the unthinkable thing of climbing your lap.

“Wait! What?!” you gasp, sitting up straight.

She puts her hands on your shoulders and pushes you back down. It knocks the air out of you, her weight on you is burning hot.

“First rule: it is terribly arousing for some men when you pin them down”, she says, running her hands along your arms. “Most are very proud of their muscles, so praise his strength as you touch him.”

She grabs your hands and puts them on her hips, lighting up your cheeks in giddiness. She is very soft.

“He will go mad if you do this.”

She begins to move on top of you, hands covering yours and eyes locked onto your face. You do not dare to breathe. Her hair falls so alluringly, her hips are so active between your hands.

“Can you feel how I move my hips back and forth?” she asks.

“Y-yes.”

“This movement is very pleasurable for you, and gives him a moment to breathe. Use it to guide his hands over your body.”

She shows you. You have never in your life felt a woman’s body as intimately as hers and you are a healer. She even makes you cup her breasts, which are very soft. Gods, you are burning up.

She drops your hands to her hips again.

“If you want to make the pleasure about him, you have to bounce on him up and down like this.”

She places her hands on your shoulders for balance and begins bouncing on your lap. You could take your hands off her hips, but you don’t, gawking at her with parted lips.

“You can control the depth in which he enters you and the speed. Another way to ride him is to bend back.”

She arches her back and puts her hands on your shins. She is more on her knees this way, exposing herself. If she was naked, you would have perfect view of her… This is too sinful to put into words. Oh, you are burning up hot.

“He can touch you this way and because you have to tense to support yourself, you are tighter.”

“O-okay.”

She straightens up again, placing her hands on each side of your head. Her hair falls loosely, framing your face. It smells sweetly floral.

“Look into his eyes, kiss him and his neck. Some men like their nipples to be touched. And most importantly, remember to switch it up if you want him to last long. Men tend to be very eager when a woman rides them.”

“Alright”, you whisper, feeling short of breath.

She smiles, “good. Now let us switch places and let me see how you move.”

It is needless to say that you leave Moonbar embarrassingly damp at the very least, properly soaked at the most. This was the most interesting, yet also highly confusing situation you have ever found yourself in. Lady Inna is truly a woman like no other.

Compromised and struggling to walk, you seek out Taehyung once you are back at the palace. He is on the training grounds, wearing nothing more than loose pants and a linen shirt. His arms are exposed, glistening in the sunlight and his hair is tied up loosely. Gods, this man is going to kill you.

He is currently lost in his training, eyes closed in concentration. With the way Lady Inna riled you up, you wish to be the sweat pearls sitting on his face.

“Mistress, hello”, Jimin greets you with a bow. He is equally as sweaty and loosely clothed. His long hair is tied back in four braids.

“Hello, general.”

Taehyung opens his eyes, gaze softening instantly. He drops the weights. The veins in his arms are bulging all the way up to his shoulders because of working his muscles. You will faint if he continues to exist.

“Beloved. What a surprise. You never visit these grounds.” He furrows. “Wait. You never visit these grounds. What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You close the distance to him, pulling him down so you can whisper into his ear. You put your hands on his upper arms unapologetically, considering for a very short moment whether you should lick his ear. Yes, you are very hungry for him.

“I’m aroused. Do you have time?” you whisper, squeezing his arms.

Taehyung steps back, eyes widened. You have never been this bold before.

“Woah. Really?”

You nod your head, staring at his lips and craving the taste of his kiss.

“What’s the matter?” Jimin asks.

“She uh, we uhm.”

“It’s embarrassing, but a very heavy patient fell in my office and I cannot lift him without Taehyung’s help. Please don’t tell anyone, it’s embarrassing.”

“Oh dear, do you need a third pair of hands? I can help.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. If Taehyung has time to help?”

“I do. Oh, you bet I do. Where did you say he was? Your office?”

“Yes, my office.” You grab his hand. “It is urgent so we should hurry.”

“Of course.”

You tug him with you. Jimin lifts his hand in a wave.

“Good luck! Call for me if you need me!”

“We will not call for him, will we?” Taehyung asks you in a whisper.

“Obviously not.”

You pull Taehyung into the office and lock the door.

“Windows.”

“Wait. Here? But I thought you said that you did not want it here in case of patients.”

“I cannot last till home. I need you right now. Close the windows.”

“Alright, wow.”

Taehyung hurries to them to follow your orders obediently. The paper screens let in the sunlight, painting the room in a warm, yellow light. He turns and startles because you are right in front of him. Craze reflects in your eyes like a feral animal, making him gulp.

“We have to be quiet”, you say.

“Okay.”

“Undress me.”

Your orders are clear and urgent. Taehyung obeys happily, albeit very confused. You have never been so boldly aroused before. At least not in public and definitely not with such dominant tones in your voice.

Because it is almost summer, you do not wear as many layers and undressing you is easier than in winter. He unlaces your jacket and helps you take off your pants. Your underwear gets discarded quickly because you joined his hands halfway through it as you could not wait any longer.

Nude and heated up, you face him. This is unbelievable to him. You, fully naked in a semi-public place. He swears that it makes him dizzy.

“Kiss me”, you order, grasping the back of his neck.

“I love your behaviour”, Taehyung says and gladly kisses you.

You moan, pressing yourself against him as close as possible. His body is so hot, increasing the fire in your stomach and the hunger of your touches.

Taehyung has a difficult time matching your rhythm today, swaying slightly because you keep pulling him closer and closer and closer. He finds balance on your butt, eliciting a needy moan from you. Your hips tilt into his touch, your hands glide down his neck and arms.

“Touch me, yes touch me”, you feed him the words, moaning with every new inch he explores.

His muscles are so hard, his skin is glistening. He makes you so fucking wet. You shove your tongue between his lips, allowing him to suck on it rather desperately. His right hand disappears between your legs, fingers parting your folds. You purr, chasing his touch with needy hips. The kiss breaks as a consequence. He did it because he needed to look at you.

“You are soaked. What the fuck happened?”

“I’ll tell you later. Get naked. I’ll do the pants.”

“I really love your attitude.”

Together, you undress him and soon he matches the state of you. The sunlight kisses your bared bodies, warming your skins and illuminating the paths of you. Sunlight on your naked bodies. What a wonderful kind of intimacy to share.

You cannot stop staring, biting your lip.

He is sporting a semi. Thick, bulging veins on his stomach lead your eyes to it. You really have to fuck him more often after a workout. He is so sexy.

Taehyung closes the distance and leans in for a kiss but you stop him.

“Get on the floor.”

“You are really different today. What did you do?” he asks, obeying your orders.

He kneels, palms facing up and eyes like that of a good puppy. His cock grows with each second, a subtle flush lies itself over his skin.

“Just something.”

“Something? Care to enlighten me?”

“Yes. Change positions. Sit.”

Taehyung obeys, looking up at you afterwards. Again, his puppy eyes are to die for. You simply have to reach down and pet his head. He smiles, tilting his head so you can pet him a lot better.

“You listen so well”, you praise, watching his cock twitch in response. Of course he would like that. He is such a lover for praise.

You lower yourself and run your hand to his arm. He inspects it, then your face, brow cocked in question. You let your body do the explaining. With your hand still on his arm, you climb his lap. Taehyung watches, breathing quickening more and more. Your bare cunt is pressing against his naked thigh. You are seriously so soaked, marking him with it.

Tingles run along his spine when you dance your hands down his arms. His neck gets touched as well, his chest next. Taehyung swears that he feels on fire when you explore him this way. The flames flicker when your hands disappear to his stomach and connect with his sensitive skin.

“Such a strong man. So muscular.”

He is heated up, abs tensing as you drag your hands up his torso. Tingles follow, more and more of his body gets covered in goosebumps.

You meet his eyes, talking to him in a sultry voice.

“I want you.”

Taehyung’s breath trembles, eyelids fluttering as he fights his emotions. Only you can manage to arouse him and fluster him at the same time.

You touch him more. His face, because he is beautiful. Taehyung exhales shakily, leaning into your palms. Your kiss on his forehead forces him to squeeze his eyes shut and whimper just a little. You are suddenly so soft with him, it weakens him so much. With a gentle tilt, you have him looking up at you.

Your adoration reflects in his lovedrunk puppy eyes, he is struggling not to absolutely crumble in your hands.

You kiss him. An actual whimper leaves him, his arms close around you tightly. Of course they do. Taehyung could survive in your arms if you let him. He told you so before. His eagerness is no surprise to you so you know exactly how to rein him back.

You let go of his face and push your elbows out, forcing his arms to open this way. The kiss breaks despite his mewl.

“Slow”, you whisper, giving him your hands to hold.

“Slow”, he breathes, nodding his head obediently.

“Good boy.”

You reward him with a chaste kiss, guiding his hands to his sides. He obeys even if it is difficult. Your behaviour is untypical. He cannot predict your actions. The unpredictability should scare him, but it doesn’t. Not with you.

Happy with his obedience, you dance your left hand to his chest. You cradle the back of his head with your other hand and with a firm push, you have him down on the floor.

Taehyung collides in an audible grunt, mouth falling open and eyes widening. His hair is messy, spreading on the bamboo mat. His cheeks flush a soft red.

“What are you doing?” he chokes out.

“You’ll see”, you say and connect your lips with his neck, hands dancing to his arms and shoulders. His taste is intoxicating, his smell alluring.

He inhales sharply, back arching off the floor and pulse fluttering. This goes down as the most amazing sensation ever. Taehyung feels as if he is floating above the clouds. This is the first time he is on his back with you on top of him. Just as it is the first time that you actively pin him down. This isn’t you. At least it shouldn’t be, so why do your movements feel so goddamn natural? You know exactly where to place your lips to make it heavenly or where to put your hands to render him useless. Taehyung swears that when you lift your head again after marking up both sides of his neck, he is dazed.

He can’t even kiss you back properly when you initiate, mewling and licking into your mouth more than he kisses.

“Mhhm, beloved”, you purr, tugging on his lower lip before kissing down his neck and chest.

You set your tongue on his salty skin and lick the sweat right off his nipple. This is heavenly, making Taehyung gasp and tense his pecs.

“You taste so good”, you growl and bite into him. Hard.

“Mistress”, Taehyung gasps in response, bucking his hips. His nipple throbs, skin burning in desire.

“Mhhm so delicious”, you lull, licking him in thick, languid strokes. Again, all of this highly untypical of you.

“A-ah, wow.”

“Mhhm, I know. Such a perfect nipple”, you say and bite into it.

Again, you never talked like this before. Let alone bit him. Taehyung swears that he can feel his heart beat in his cock. He is so hard for you. And whiney. And needy. And wet.

“Mistress, please”, he begs, writhing under you.

You sit up with your hands on his chest and arch your back so your butt sticks out, smiling down at him and fingers playing with his nipples.

“Please what?”

“Can I fuck you?”

“No.” You stub his nose. “No, I do the fucking today.”

“Huuuh???”

Taehyung looks up at you like a starstruck, eternally loyal puppy. So endearing that you would coo at him if you both weren’t so fucking wet in arousal. Cooing can wait.

You lift yourself off his lap to position yourself over his cock and wrap your hand around it, holding it in place. He is so erect, pulse throbbing under your touch.

“Get it?” you ask, rubbing yourself against him. So wet. So messy. So hot.

“Yes.” He mewls and begs with his eyes. “Yes, please. Please, please.” Okay, maybe he also begs with his mouth. He cannot help it. You have him a mess.

“How much do you want it?” you ask, giving him glimpses of heaven each time you grind your soft folds along his tip.

“So much. Please.”

“So much…this is a lot”, you coo and finally lower yourself on him.

He can’t look away, heart close to giving out and head dizzy. You sink him into your warm heaven, he does not want to miss out on anything.

“Slipped right in”, you purr, clenching around him to get the point across. Just for a second, he should get desperate for more.

Taehyung keens, biting his lip afterwards. His toes curl and you haven’t even taken him in completely.

You let go of his cock when you are halfway down, placing both of your hands on his chest. Feeling him fill you will never lose its spark. This is such a new way, which makes it as good as it does. Especially the bottoming out part. Fuck, this has you flying on clouds.

Taehyung grabs your thighs and squeezes. The pressure increases when you lift yourself again only to drop a second later. You fall into a pattern this way: with your hands on his chest and his hands on your thighs. It is a slow rhythm, calculated and meant to build tension. Just as Lady Inna taught you. Make him want more.

You stay quiet for the time being, listening to his ever-changing breathing. He is staring so intensely, mouth changing between hanging agape and pressing closed. His mind must currently be scrambled. You know that you have never done this before, so this must be a complete shock to him. Judging by how hard he is, it is good for him though.

Gods, his heart is beating so fast. How much quicker can he breathe without making a sound? Is he holding back?

You lift your hips and clench, dropping down on him this way.

“A-ah”, Taehyung lets out and throws his hands over his mouth, eyes rolling back as they close. There he is. That is what you wanted.

You repeat the movement. Up, clench, down.

He moans behind his hands, face tensing for a second before absolute bliss relaxes it again.  Up, clench, down.

You swear that his voice trembles as he moans.

Up, clench, down. Circle your hips a little.

Taehyung groans, brows furrowing. They stay this way. Tense and scrunched because you have him showing you his truest face. If only he wasn’t covering so much of it…

Thankfully you know just what to do. You take his wrists and drag his hands away. His eyes open, he is confused, letting you mould him to your wishes.

“Don’t cover your face, darling. Let me look at you.”

You press his hand into the floor on each side of his head, keeping them down by grabbing his wrists. It angles you differently, tightening you naturally and making him go deeper.

His once throaty moans pitch, equalling mewls. You swear that you can watch tears form in his eyes.

“My beautiful husband. I love your face”, you whisper, hips showing him how much you appreciate him.

You pick up speed just as Lady Inna taught you. First work him up then make him see stars. That is what she told you to do, and you are more than willing to put it to the test.

Your name leaves him in a whimper. His eyes close halfway and roll back. This might very well be the most sinful he has ever looked, and you finally get it. You get what he means when he says that you look beautiful when you are in pleasure. You never really believed him, always wondering how you could possibly look good when you are making all these weird faces.

But you get it. You finally get it. This isn’t weird. This is heavenly.

Seeing Taehyung absolutely blissed out changes you as a person.

“Holy fuck, you’re so beautiful”, you press out and lace fingers with him, dragging them up the mat as you drop down for kisses. They are pinned in place above his head, squeezing you back as you kiss his neck sloppily.

He cannot do much more than moan and mewl, everything else is under your spell. He is so much stronger than you, but right now you stole him of any sort of strength.

“You feel so good, Tae”, you moan against his neck, biting it gently afterwards. Over and over again, giving him moments of relaxation where you kiss and adore. If this continues, Taehyung will explode. He swears that it is building up to immeasurable levels.

You guide your kisses to his lips, sighing when his lips try to match your needy rhythm. Although, he does more moaning and whimpering than he does kissing. You don’t mind. It’s beyond endearing. And hot. So hot. You want to taste every one of his sounds. But Taehyung is eager. Too eager.

He thrusts his hips and reminds you of his cock inside you.

You squeak, shooting up.

“No. No moving”, you gasp, “I, I have so much more rehearsed.”

“You rehearsed?” he breathes out.

“Yeah.”

“How?”

You don’t answer him, instead you sit up and get into position so you are on your knees. You put your hands on his thighs and begin your well-practiced dance.

“Fuck”, Taehyung yelps, arching his back. Skin slaps against skin, your connection sounds wet and creamy. He grasps your hips first before his big hands settle on your waist instead. He squeezes you so much that he brings it in a little. The touch is like fire.

“Please don’t slow down”, he begs.

You couldn’t. Your muscles are going to shake so much afterwards, but in this very moment you exist for pleasuring him. In this intimate moment you exist for riding him senseless. Nothing could tire you.

You roll your head back, parting your lips.

“Taehyung”, you moan, writing his name against your g-spot one bounce at a time.

Taehyung finds it difficult to stay present. You move as if you have always done this. He has never been ridden this well before. He swears that he lost all feeling in his legs and that the knot in his stomach has never felt so fiery before.

He is losing himself in you. If you hadn’t fucked him into a non-verbal, moaning mess he would declare his everlasting love for you with every bounce.

But alas he is doomed to moan and whine and whimper, wetting his temples with tears. “I love your cock, Tae. Holy fuck this is amazing.”

Your words do not make it easier to bear. Taehyung feels new flames flicker in his tummy whenever you speak.

He drags his hands to your chest, cupping your breasts. They are so soft in comparison to your pleasure-swollen nipples. He kneads and massages them, needing it to remind himself that he was not going to pass out.

“O-oh. Tae.”

He will never tire of this nickname. He can’t look, feeling you up blindly. So soft. Your nipples are hard in contrast. He plays with them, growing dizzy because his touch makes you tighter.

“___”, he moans because it is the only word he can still manage to say. If you keep bouncing on him in such a rhythm, he will burst. It is like you are jerking him off. Expect that it is a thousand times better, wetter and hotter. And softer. So soft. Oh, your pussy is so soft. Fuck, now he is focusing on how soft you are.

Taehyung whimpers, dropping his hands to your hips to stop their movements.

“Not yet, please. Not yet.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I‘m so close, please slow down”, he is whining, working oh so hard to keep you still.

Your tummy tingles pleasurably, your heart skips a giddy beat. You are making him feel that good. You didn‘t think that this would be possible, after all this is your first time on top of him and there is definitely still room for improvement.

Your instinct is to hide in him and giggle, but you are feeling kind of powerful right now. Powerful and desperate to make him whine.

“Didn’t you tell me not to slow down moments ago?”

Taehyung peels his eyes open, shock lacing his drunken gaze. Your teasing comment was unexpected, entirely scrambling his brain.

You snicker and caress his cheek, shifting on top of him so the penetration is slightly changed again.

“Make up your mind, darling husband”, you coo, rolling your hips back and forth. He is still buried deep inside you, getting hugged by your warm walls.

“What the fuck is happening today?” Taehyung mewls.

“I am feeling like it”, you lower yourself, hands pushing his arms above his head again and breasts squeezing against his chest. Your feet press to the side of his thighs this way, your soft cunt is so tight around him.

“Who are you?” he whispers, staring into your darkened, sultry eyes.

“Your wife”, you coo and kiss his neck. You made him so sensitive and sore with your earlier bites that Taehyung’s only way to handle it is by bending his knees and pressing his feet into the ground. He almost throws you off him, resulting in you squeezing down on him and lifting your lips.

“No.” You slap his chest very softly. “Bad boy. Don’t be a bad boy.”

He drops his knees, eyes filling with tears.

“It’s so difficult to stay still. I’m so sensitive”, he whines, writhing on the floor.

“Try to. Doctor’s orders.”

He gasps, eyes widening.

“You are insane.”

“You tempted me”, you coo and kiss his lips before straightening back up.

You get to your knees properly and pick up the fast rhythm of before. One hand is on his stomach, feeling him up and enjoying his twitches. The other hand is on his knee, keeping it down and supporting yourself. Lady Inna spoke of riding horses and, well, the only thing you are riding today is your husband. And oh you are galloping right now, movements precise and greedy. You are reaching your limit, both physically and as far as your own high is concerned. Your muscles shake each time you lift yourself, your legs tremble whenever you take him back inside and he presses to your sensitive spots.

“Yes Tae, yes. I fucking love this. Your cock’s amazing. So fucking amazing.”

But you cannot stop. Ignore the fatigue, focus on the pleasure. You want to continue until your cunt knows his cock by heart. Or inch by inch in her case.

Gods, you really love having him inside, giving him a good show of it as well. So wet and creamy.

“Holy fuck, holy fuck, ho-holy fuck”, Taehyung is barely breathing, using what little air he has to voice his shock.

“Yeah… so good, your cock’s so fucking good”, you agree, arching your back sensually.

Your breasts bounce, your stomach tenses and your face is glowing in pleasure. The sunlight bounces off your skin and hair, sweat glistens in the crevices. Your cunt is sinful in comparison. Stuffed to the brim with cock, lips swollen and stretched, and juices smearing all over his length.

“Mistress, holy fuck.”

“Good boy. Good boy with the best cock”, you lull, entirely sex drunk and blissed out.

You are insane. A temptress. The very goddess of sex having come down to make his life a pleasurable heaven.

Taehyung throws his arm over his mouth and bites into it. These walls are way too thin. He cannot scream.

He remembers when you made him promise to never ever seduce him in your office. Where did this version of you go? Why can’t you be more like her? Because Taehyung is losing himself. It is building up rapidly and aggressively.

He reaches for your waist, biting down harder at the feeling of you. It is going to happen and it will happen regardless of whether you slow down again or not. He cannot drag it out any longer.

You know that it will happen. You have never seen him bite his own arm before. His muscles are tense, his veins are bulging and his big hand is balled to a fist.

“Do you have to, beloved?”

He nods his head, squeezing your waist.

His cheeks are squished up, flushed and glistening. His eyes are barely there because he squeezes them shut so tightly.

Curious, you lean slightly forward and play with his nipples.

Taehyung squeaks and arches his back. He drops his arm, head rolling to the side so he can lick his own skin. His muscles are bulging, his tongue is so pink in comparison to his honey skin. His pits are exposed like this. All natural and masculine. What a fucking view. This is changing you.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

You want to get him there. Watching his orgasm is the one thing you need to reach your own. You massage and pinch his nipples, tightening around him because you are getting very close yourself.

“Holding out for so long, I’m so proud of you.”

“Mistress please.”

“Don’t stop on my account. Be a good boy.”

Taehyung swears that he blacks out for a second. He takes your left hand and presses it over his mouth, muffling the uncontrollable yelp you force out of him. His thick, hot orgasm shoots up into you. His cock throbs and twitches.

“Good boy, such a good boy. Give me your pinnacle”, you encourage him.

Lead by only one thing, pleasure, Taehyung thrusts up. Hard and rough.

“Beloved, now”, you whimper, dropping your head as your own high hits you. You love sex with him so much.

“Kiss me please”, he drags you down, rutting up into you as you orgasm around him. The kisses you share are sloppy and wet.

You could do this forever.

But alas a human orgasm only lasts this long and your muscles finally give up on you afterwards.

“Ah shit.”

You drop onto him, lying on him in frog position. Your face is pressed to his neck, your heart beats just as quickly as his’.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” He hugs you. “What the fuck?”

This was better than you imagined it. You feel high, drunk and soaked in endorphins.

And also, very tired, spent and sore. Your hips are starting to cramp up.

“I am going to cramp.” You sit up and attempt to climb off his legs. You squeeze his orgasm out of you accidentally, knees shaking so much that you collide with the floor rather clumsily.

“Shit, fuck. Sorry. Ouch.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Just made a mess. O-oh no my legs are weak, I cannot get up.”

Taehyung laughs breathily, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Fuck.” He smiles so bright. “You’re seriously insane.”

You snicker and settle on your elbow, facing him sideways. You love him so much.

“I don’t think I can walk in the near future.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

You rub his stomach, making him drop his arm and look at you. You wipe his past tears, grinning at him proudly.

“What the fuck did you do this for?” he asks.

“Just so. Why?”

“I wanted to scream.”

“Oh? Wow, I had hoped that you would. I’m happy.”

“I’m not, I’m in shock.”

You snicker, “was it really this good?”

“Yes. Where did you learn to move like this?” he asks, barely keeping his eyes open. If he was any less obsessed with your face, he would have already closed them. But alas he does not want to miss out on anything.

“I went to Lady Inna and she showed me.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because I asked her to.”

“Why??”

“Because you always make me feel so good and I wanted to return the favour.”

“Oh.” His face becomes beet red.

The view makes you laugh and cradle his face so you can kiss it everywhere.

“You are adorable. Do I fluster you, beloved?”

“Yeah, so much”, he sighs, heart beating in his giddy chest. He loves being adored. “And you arouse me like no other.”

Your gaze softens, “yeah? What did you like the most?”

“Apart from everything? When you leaned back and arched your back.”

“Lady Inna said that you would like that.” You kiss his shoulder, draping your arm across his chest. “When I ride you again, you could try playing with my clit.”

“Hot. You are so hot. Oh gods, you’re going to make me want to go again.”

You laugh and kiss him.

“Your hunger must wait. If I used my legs right now, they would fall off. Look.” You show him how they shake with the slightest movement.

“You are going to be so sore tomorrow.”

“Most definitely, but it was worth it. I had so much fun.”

“Me too.” He rolls to his side, resting his head on his hand. “I’m so happy that you are so comfortable with sex these days.”

You lie down, facing him in the same position.

“Me too. I feel so free when I’m with you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“But also you have to be less free. What you did right now should be illegal. Wow”, he jokes and pretends to faint, making you laugh loudly.

“Never. You created a monster that is insatiable, so feed me”, you say and snuggle into him, burying him halfway under you

Which is perfectly fine for him. Taehyung is exactly where he wants to be.

“And there is nothing I can do to still the hunger?”

“Nothing. Especially looking like this, you royal banquet you”, you say and bite him playfully.

Taehyung giggles, heart bursting in his chest. He loves being adored.

When Jungkook wakes you, you don't even realize you fell asleep until you hear him calling your name softly. "See, I knew you needed a break."

Your lips curved into a pout, your eyes squinting as you took in your boyfriend standing over you with a smirk. He wasn't wearing headphones anymore, but his monitors were still up, showing a moving background of cherry blossoms falling from a tree. "What time is it?" Your eyes moved to the clock, and you blinked at the time staring back at you. You slept for three hours.

"I ordered some takeout, by the way." Your gaze flickered back to Jungkook, and your lips twitched into a knowing smile.

"Chen's Garden?" It was the local Chinese restaurant nearest to your campus, and also one of your favorites. You were already imagining the fried rice and mandu you could eat as you continued your paper, but it was like Jungkook could read your mind.

"No, no paper - you're taking a break."

"I took a break! I napped. You made me nap!"

Jungkook rolled his eyes, and you followed his actions, crossing your arms defiantly.

"Your body made you nap, not me- don't be stubborn."

"Don't be bossy-"

"I'm not-" You tried to get up, and Jungkook cut himself off to push you back down. "Stay down. Relax, you're working too hard."

"Look, bossy." You huffed, and Jungkook narrowed his eyes, wiggling his nose at you.

"Fine, I'm bossy, but I will tie you down if I need to. Your paper can wait one day." Jungkook didn't even give you the chance to rebut; he simply climbed into bed with you, caging you between him and the mattress. His hands rested on either side of your head, and his hips nestled between your legs, making your cheeks flush as he gave you another smirk. "Don’t be stubborn, be good for me."

That simple little instruction seemed to short-circuit your brain. Any resistance you previously had was replaced with thoughts of the last time your boyfriend told you that you were good for him. You lowkey hated how easily his words could affect you. Your eyelashes fluttered as you gave another pout.

"You know you're going to have to get off me at some point to grab the takeout," you mumbled, and Jungkook huffed a laugh. He could see the color darkening in your cheeks, and that you were no longer meeting his eyes as you moved your gaze just over his shoulder.

"Yeah? I think I still have time to convince you to follow my orders, though."

"Your orders?" You echoed and felt a little pool of warmth begin to form in your lower stomach. You were acutely aware that Jungkook was still crowded over you, his hips keeping your legs open as he looked down at you with a grin.

"Yeah, plus I still haven't rewarded you for behaving earlier-" His face came closer, his eyes flickering to your lips as he hummed. "Do you want your reward?" His lips were so close to yours, you could feel your own lips tingle, the need for more heating you up as you nodded your head dumbly with a soft mumble.

"What's my reward?"

Jungkook doesn't answer you with words; instead, his lips press into yours, and all your thoughts melt as his body sinks into you - keeping you trapped. He kisses you like it's the first time, or like it'll be the last, his head tilting, deepening your kiss until you're clutching onto him as if he might leave. But he would never. Not when your body reacts to him so well, you're already mindlessly tugging on his sweatshirt, your thighs squeezing his hips as he coaxes you to open your mouth with his tongue.

His groan earns a whine from you, and his hips roll forward to grind his hardening cock against your covered pussy, jumbling your thoughts again as he begins to kiss down your neck with slow fervor.

He makes you forget about your paper, about college, about your job, and everything else - you're unable to focus on anything but the hitch in his breath as he grinds into you with slow rolls that make you feel how much you affect him as he does to you.

His lips suck just under your earlobe, his tongue wetting the skin and making you arch prettily for him, just as his hands slide under your shirt to map the way your body curves as his teeth brand a love bite into your skin. “Don’t want to get up now, do you?” He mumbles, and your head falls back into the pillows as he pushes your shirt up, exposing your pretty tits.

If you normally spent the weekend at his, you did so comfortably, foregoing the bra, and usually wearing just one of his old t-shirts unless you two left his dorm. It made it easy access for him to touch, to admire, and most importantly, to kiss whenever he wanted to, and right now? He really wanted to.

His head dips, and his hand sneaks around your waist and up your back to arch you up to his hungry mouth. He groans the same time you gasp as his wet tongue swirls one of your nipples into his warm mouth, sucking on it until you are tingling all the way down to your pussy.

“Jungkook- mmmph!” Your moans get breathier the more his mouth stays on you, making new waves of your arousal seep between your thighs.

He takes his time to suck while his hands slide down your waist and under your thighs, spreading you open while he moves to give your other breast the same attention. When he’s satisfied, he gives you a lazy grin while your eyes gloss over, and he leans back down to give you another sweet kiss.

“Stay in bed with me, and I’ll make it worth your while, Baby.” He murmurs, and you wonder how you got such a hot nerd until you see just how much his ears burn red, reminding you he’s still the same man who stuttered when he first talked to you.

The duality makes your head spin, and you don’t notice that he’s dragging your shorts and panties down your legs until his shoulders rest between your thighs and his eyes sparkle as he takes in your pretty pussy up close.

“JK-“ your words fail the moment his tongue parts your puffy folds with a long stroke, stopping just at your clit to make your brain fog up and your mouth drop. But it’s JK who moans first, hot and heavy as your slick coats his tongue. You’re sweet and addictive, as always, and his eyes roll when your hand finds the back of his head to pull him closer to your drooling cunt.

“Yeah, keep saying my name-“ He mumbled, his voice muffled by the fat of your thighs. He dives his tongue in deeper, spreading your lips to get a better taste of your arousal, and making your head tilt back to face the ceiling.

One of your hands stays curled in his dark hair, keeping him to you, even though you are sure you’ll have to be the one to pull him off you soon enough, and the other clutches the Bakugo plushie you forgot you had been holding in your sleep as the room fills with the sounds of your moans and Jungkook’s sloppy kisses to your cunt.

Jungkook gets drunk off your pussy easily, the feeling of your gummy walls fluttering around his tongue as you whine his name is enough to make his hips press down onto the mattress underneath him. And there had been a few occasions he’d cum untouched, just like this, as your thighs squeezed his head and your hips rolled up to his hungry mouth. But today, he plans to last longer, wanting to keep you in his bed while he makes sure you relax.

Each whimper and whine he pulls out of you has his cock splurting a few gooey wads of his precum onto his boxers, which he ruts against his bed, unwilling to part from your glossy cunt as he suck, slurps, and kisses himself pussydrunk between your thighs. Soon enough, his tongue swirls around your clit, writing out his name while his fingers sink into your entrance, stretching you all the way down to the knuckle with ease.

When his fingertips caress the familiar spongey spot inside your wet channel, your vision whitens, and your moans grow louder - just as Jungkook wants. He focuses on it with a mean precision, working your orgasm faster so that it makes your cries of his name choke off into wet gurgles as your eyes cross lewdly.

"Just like in the hentais," He smirks, and the lower half of his face gleams with your sweet slick like a badge of honor. "C'mon, pretty girl, want you to cum for me." He coos, and he stuffs you with a third finger, reducing you into a blabbering mess as he leans his head back down to flick his tongue on your pulsing clit - matching the pace of his fingers thrusting into you.

And it's all you need to fall apart. Your eyes roll back as your mouth drops open and the warmth in your stomach bursts, gushing your orgasm onto your boyfriend's waiting tongue with a squeal. Your thighs tremble throughout it all, and Jungkook's head gets squished between them as he continues to fuck you. His fingers feel every squeeze of your velvety walls, and your clit gets lapped by his fat tongue until you push on his forehead to get him off your sensitive cunt.

That's when he finally lets you go, grinning like your slick wasn't dripping down his chin as you tried to catch your breath.

With perfect timing, a knock is heard, and Jungkook is licking his lips as he gets off the bed. "That's the takeout. You stay here, I'll grab the food, and we can eat in bed, okay?" Jungkook talks to you as the ringing in your ears slowly subsides, and he flashes you another beaming smile as he squeezes your ankle affectionately. "And then after we eat, I'm going to fuck you- then you really won't be leaving my bed until tomorrow morning."

You don't even have time to respond, only noticing a dark stain blooming on his black sweatpants as he bounds out of the bedroom to grab the food as he planned.

대박 - you made it to the end!

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Is a glass of water half-full or half-empty?

You observe the glass, hoping for a revelation or answer — a good distraction from your miscalculations all evening; well, miscalculations in the duration of meeting Jeon Jungkook. Tucking yourself further into your small couch, the corners of your lips tug at the reminder of the boy. The icy glass cools your hot skin, which still remembers the flames he left you surrounded in on the dancefloor.

And those eyes — his always spoke to you without words. 

Eyes smitten and playful all evening, you can’t forget how they morphed into fear and panic when you finally moved on the pathway he laid out for you. Were you wrong to assume he wanted more with you?

“Ah, so stupid.” You slam your eyes shut at the memory, shame heats your cheeks at his rejection — at another loss you’ll need to process on your own. Loss, after loss, after loss. It wears on your bones, empties your soul just like how you empty the glass of water clutched in your hand.

Didn’t matter whether your glass was ‘half-full or half-empty,’ the water will eventually be consumed. Jungkook had a way of overfilling your glass with an abundance of hope; however, you later found out the glass you shared with Jungkook contained holes and eventually left you empty.

No one leaves you empty like Jungkook does. 

Sitting up higher on your couch, you dig your lower back into your armrest, wanting to feel some form of support.

Maybe you should’ve stayed and taken the water Jungkook offered. Wake you up from that drunken state and snap you out of your innermost desires for your friend. You’d probably go as far as blaming the alcohol and the night would’ve just ended from there.

Probably would’ve been a better alternative than pathetically running away. Then again, there was no way you were going to last another second in the venue — not after the way he pulled away.

You know it’s rude to leave in the middle of the party. Can’t even bear looking at your phone since ordering a cab outside the club, opting to place it on silent afterwards. Now, the phone rests heavily on your kitchen counter, begging to be checked on.

You should text him. Tell him you’re safe and use indigestion as an excuse for your abrupt departure — no one would ever find fault in that reason. Another pang of anxiety holds you back from touching your phone. What if he didn’t bother checking on you? Upset with your bad habit of leaving? 

He has all the rights to.

Setting your feet into your house slippers, you’re thankful for the flat cushion after a night of dancing in heels. Bathroom first, then you’ll text Jungkook. The order of events seemed the most logical and definitely not your way of avoiding the inevitable. It’s a solid plan—

You jolt at the series of knocks against your door. Although your building was relatively safe, living alone had its downsides, especially at this hour. The grip on your glass changes and you ready yourself for self-defense. 

Best case scenario? A ding-dong ditcher. Worst? Nope. You don’t want your mind wandering there. 

One eye closed, you peer through the peephole.

The fisheye effect warps your vision, but you could easily make out the person standing facing away from your doorway. The dangly, silver five-hooped earrings were a dead giveaway to your visitor. Felt them graze the top of your hand every time he tilted his head in your touch. Felt them when you wrapped your hands at the base of his nape. They glimmered prettily under the club lights, but they look nearly dull now under your complex’s standard lightbulbs. 

He’s a few steps away, pacing, looking anywhere but your door as if it was the most offensive piece of object … as if your home was the most deplorable place he could be at right now.

And it should be. He should be at his party celebrating his wins and accomplishments, surrounded by people who love and care for him — not on shame’s breeding grounds. Shame nearly has you running to hide underneath your covers, hoping he’d leave if you refused to answer. Rather than give into shame’s call for isolation, your fingers flick the locks and wrap around the doorknob.

“Jungkook?” 

He’s still turned away from you, pacing back and forth in your building’s hallway. No longer styled how it was in the beginning of the night, his hair looks to be run through … whether it be by him or a stranger. 

Couldn’t be you.

Your mouth parts, words lodged in your throat, but you manage to utter, “What are you doing here?”

He lets out a breath. So unstable, you could feel the restraint in his action but he stops in his tracks, head tilting up at the ceiling to will the words.

“Why do you keep doing that?” His voice raises, back still turned to you.

You frown, looking around to see if there was anyone in the vicinity. Definitely not at this hour. Your neighbors should be asleep, which is why you don’t want to make a scene outside your home.

“Jungkook—”

Suddenly, harshly, his back shifts and his body whips around, “Why do you keep leaving me? Is that all you know how to do?” 

You’re standing face to face with his wide eyes and desperate furrowed brows. The hand raking through his hair only showcasing more of the distress forming on his forehead.

Your mind flashes back to your meeting at the milestone party. There was nothing wrong with your departure at that time. A small, but selfish part of you, doesn’t think you were at total fault for tonight’s departure either. 

“Jungkook … please,” you stammer, eyes drifting down to your feet. 

“I-I don’t fucking get it, Pix. I just–”

“Can you come inside?” You ask, looking around once more. And although Jungkook hasn’t made far enough noises to warrant a complaint, you’d rather talk inside the privacy of your home. “We can talk in here. Please?” You plead in a small whisper.

Jaw clenched as he looks at you and over the threshold of your home, he nods.

Citrus, with no more lingering scent of cigarettes, wafts past you. Even if he was upset with you, he’s still respectful in your home as he toes off his shoes at the entryway. He exhales through his nose, finally turning to face you. His jaw ticks, eyes bloodshot for multiple reasons but he’ll blame the alcohol and not the exhaustion of looking for you. 

You can’t meet his eyes, can’t even bring yourself to speak in the comforts of your home.

“You keep doing this.” His voice cracks.

“I-I,” Your own voice wavers at his statement, you fight the lump in your throat as you lie, “wasn’t feeling well—”

“Cut the bullshit.” 

You frown, having never seen Jungkook speak nor act this way towards you. He extends patience and understanding towards you like an additional limb on his body; perhaps, you’ve tested them enough tonight. Still, your own emotions come out just as unsteady and unreasonable.

“You’re being unfair.” You croak.

“I’ve been anything but that, Pix.” He retracts his head, brows furrowed. “You’re the one that left. Like you always do when things don’t go your way.”

Your brows pull together, unable to mask the hurt at the accusation. “What did you expect me to do? You—” Your bottom lip trembles.

“What?” He takes a step forward and you’re once again engulfed in his overbearing scent. The action stunts your train of thoughts, and for a split second, you think he’s almost just as affected.

You’re tired of going in circles, chasing but also running away from what appears to be your own desires.

“You led me on all night.” Voice small, Jungkook nearly misses what you say. 

His frustration morphs into surprise, then guilt at the sudden forwardness of your words.

“I …” His eyes widen at the realization as he chews on the inside of his cheeks. He shakes his head, denying the allegations. “I didn’t.”

“But you did.” You walk past him, lower back leaning against the kitchen island. Arms crossed, you don’t miss how Jungkook’s eyes drop to your breasts pushed together. His throat bobs, hands twitching on his sides as he tries to rack up an appropriate response.

“We were dancing. Having fun.” He reasons. “That’s all.”

Friends don’t dance the way you both did tonight; their touches don’t burn. They don’t leave the party after being deserted from a dodged kiss on the dance floor. They sure as hell don’t stare at you like you’re made of stardust. 

“Okay.” As if whatever happened in the last couple of hours could be reduced to ‘just dancing.’

His throat emits a low growl, patience once again tested. “Why’d you leave?”

Truthfully? There was no alternate reality where you’d stay after his rejection.

Your crossed arms drop to your sides, throat tightening to keep the contents in your stomach from hurling out. You can’t bear the truth, which seems to point at the fact Jungkook has moved on and there’s no more room for you in his life and heart. 

He’s left you behind.

Jungkook fills in the silence with the same words circling in your head, slipping from his mouth now directed at you with an ache you’ve done your best to forget. “You’ve moved on.”

Your face falls, having spent months trying to forget him through hobbies, friends, and even another person, only to find out … nothing’s worked.

Unable to meet his eyes, you mutter, “I had to.” 

“I know.” He says, “I know that.”

The filter on your fish tank acts as a buffer for the silence stretched in the small distance.

“You’ve moved on, too.” You don’t mention the woman you saw in his apartment lobby, too afraid of the confirmation that he has indeed moved on.

He lets out a shuddering breath, head hung low. “I tried, okay? I really did.”

Something within you shatters at his revelation. It hurts to be right, and it hurts more knowing no one was at fault in the aftermath of a heartbreak. 

He drags his hand down his face, fighting the drunken exhaustion and confusion. “Things got better, I swear. But then I see you and I’m just reminded …”

“Of what?” You ask.

He stays quiet. So different than the man who was just outside your door ready to scorn the world. You wonder how he has kept his composure during the times of your silence when all you want to do right now is shout for an answer, resolution … or ending. What was left after this? Was there another title after being demoted to friends?

… Strangers?

You don’t wait for his answer, choosing to fill the gaps of the conversation with your reality. “You don’t tell me about your life anymore. Like … like, I’m some sort of afterthought learning all these things about you after the fact.” Tears falling freely, you sniff and palm away the moisture on your cheeks.

“Pix–”

“Why did you push me away?” From his life, from the kiss … no clarification needed — it all bleeds together anyway. “Did I misunderstand?”

“Pix.” He repeats, eyes crestfallen and exhausted. “You’re with someone, there’s no way I would do that to you–”

“I’m not with him anymore.”

He pauses, drawing in a sharp breath. “Still doesn’t make it right.” Despite his words, you recognize a faint glint in his eyes.

Of course he becomes the voice of reason when this conversation shouldn’t exist among supposed friends. Now it’s your turn to stay quiet, too ashamed for further humiliation and rejection.

“All I do is remember you, Pix. All I find myself doing is thinking of you. Could never stop even if I wanted to.” He shakes his head. Your stomach sinks, an uncomfortable mass lodged in your throat as you process his words. “And I’m so tired of having to remember you.” He looks at you with so much anguish, wishing and begging for you to end this turmoil. 

“Jungkook …”

“I still think about the night at the hotel.” He continues, jaw clenched to stop the trembles. “And I feel so guilty.”

You shake your head vehemently. “You never once did anything I didn’t want to do.”

“I knew you couldn’t be with me, but I still pushed for more. It was selfish of me and I—”

“I’ve always wanted you, Jungkook,” you sob. “You never gave me the chance to make things work.”

Your hands cover your face as you heave into your palms, moist from your tears and breath. Jungkook tilts his head up at the ceiling, furiously blinking away the stray tears he thought he had swore away on the cab ride over to your place.

The buzzing travels up from your fingers to the back of your head. Your body convulses from your silent sobs, mind numbing from all the fog and confusion. Like a bee, refusing to leave you alone, you want to cower away from the source of noise. The buzzing continues for another fifteen seconds, too loud even when neither of you utter a word. It’s impossible to avoid when the buzzing happens from within. How do you remedy this? How do you run away? How, how, how—

The buzzing stops.

Zapped away by a strong pair of arms, the bees stop swarming in your mind, all honeyed scent — all citrus consuming your senses.

Jungkook holds you and it’s the closest thing to the security of your home. Possibly better. Home shelters you from the brewing storm, and as you cry into the expanse of Jungkook’s chest, he holds you tighter, chin resting on the top of your head.

“What are we even doing?” Jungkook mumbles against your hair, voice hoarse and tired.

You inhale into your hands and answer honestly, “I don’t know.” 

He swallows, breathing you in, “I hate this.”

Your heart crumbles again. Was this it? Has to be. He’s finally done and wants nothing to do with you anymore.

Instead of his warmth departing from your body like you’ve grown used to, he holds you tighter.

“I fucked everything up.” He says. “I messed you up, and I’m trying to do right by you, I swear, but I–”

His words are cut off with your arms around his waist. Face pressed into his chest, your tears became another source of darkness on his grey shirt, but neither of you cared. 

“You didn’t mess anything up.” You heave. Months passed, things changed. Time was a marker for healing and forgetting old wounds; though, there were just some things — some people — you can’t and don’t want to forget. 

“I missed you so much, Pix.”

You pull back a little to look at his face. Hurt and longing never needed a competition and there’s no winner when both of you were wounded in the process. The frame had always been a little unfocused and hard to decipher, but you’re both in view now.

“I never stopped thinking about you.” You confess.

He blinks twice, hand now coming to cup your wet cheek. Ache and remorse stretches over his face at the time lost in the absence of one another. He needs to be honest, barring out the truth if there was even a possibility to start anew. 

“I can’t promise perfection, P.” He admits, scared and worried for this potential dealbreaker. 

“I never asked for perfection.” You shake your head, breath finally coming out even. Pausing, you let the reality of your recent failures sink in, “I just got out of something and I don’t know if I’m any good, but I wanna figure things out with you — do things properly. Please give me time.” Please give us time.

You both loosen your hold on one another, but maintain your gazes as your hands finally intertwine. The hold is weak, full of uncertainty of the future, but you push forward, “Please?” You ask again, heart in your hands — no, heart in his hands. You pray and hope he handles it with care. He has all the power to do the opposite, turning your heart to cold steel for the next poor soul.

He doesn’t, though — can’t imagine anyone but him holding your heart with delicate hands if you allow him to. 

Jungkook’s always wondered when the world would bend for him; yet, he’s got the world in his arms right now willing to bend for his sake. 

He nods and the night bleeds into the morning as you and Jungkook sit on your small couch to catch up, mending lost time with one another. The hours of bitterness leading up to this moment was well worth it after you finally taste the hint of sweetness lodged behind his growing smiles. The catch up bounces back between idle chatters to late night secrets until you both settle into the mundane and content.

“Group work is the worst, P. Avoid it at all costs.” He recounts the number of times his classmates let him down on a project this past semester.

You laugh wholeheartedly. “Why’d you think I run this business alone?”

“Smart girl.” He grins, and your body warms from the small compliment. 

A natural silence fills you both at this time, between the chuckles and stares. You think you could get used to this. A new norm knowing you both want to start over with an agreed upon future. The two glasses of water on your coffee table gets refilled throughout the night, but sits empty now. 

Yet, you’re both so full. 

And you realize no one’s replenishing the glass the way Jungkook does. Around your imaginary glass filled with holes, Jungkook always does his best to cover and mend them.

“I’m sorry for not keeping you posted on my life.” Jungkook says, knees brushing against yours. “I was trying to figure things out on my own.” He leaves out the part where he wanted to reach out for your opinion, opting to struggle by himself.

“Could’ve reached out to me. I wouldn’t have minded.”

He nods, lips pursed debating his next words.

“What?” You ask, eyes heavy from exhaustion, but you don’t want to miss a single second with your special boy.

“Mm, nothing.” His trademark dimples make an appearance when he hides away a playful smile.

“Come on,” you push, “Tell me.”

He laughs softly, lips pulling to an embarrassed smile, “Wanted you to notice me, so I …”

Your eyes narrow, doing your best to piece together the meaning of his words. Something finally clicks as you lean back against your couch. You’d never peg someone like Jeon Jungkook to do things out of spite or attention, but you suppose love has a way of making people do stupid things.

This was love, right?

“I know. Stupid and immature.” He shakes his head.

“It worked.” You shrug, returning his sheepish smile. He interlaces his fingers with you, relaxed knowing you had been trying to keep up with his life in secret. 

He smiles, but shortly after dips a little at his next musing, “Classes have really taken up a lot of my time. I haven’t been able to work as much, but I still take on projects every month or so.”

Your expression falters a little, guilt filling your system as he relays this information. You nod, head leaning to rest on his shoulder.

“Does it bother you?” He asks another forward question. He doesn’t sound as uncertain as he did months ago in the hotel, courage coming as he knows your inevitable answer. 

“A little.” You admit.

You’ll get used to this just as Jungkook needs to get used to this too — that sometimes he will disappoint and hurt. Your acceptance isn’t a form of a bandaid over a reopened wound; instead, allowing the healing process to take on whatever form is needed. Eventually a scar tissue will rise over the persistent lesion, granting you the chance to perform better this time around.

Around 5 a.m. your sleepy eyes fight to stay open as you watch Jungkook put on his shoes. He stands up, eyes heavy but with so much anticipation. Realizes the moment the door shuts behind him, he’ll be left anticipating the next time he’ll be graced with your company again.

He comes close, and with a soft exhale through his nose, he presses his lips to your forehead. Breath fanning over, his voice is low and gravelly on your skin, “See ya, Pix.”

Life with Jungkook, again, is ever soft and changing. The effort is there, the pace of the relationship slow as it should be. Jungkook’s main focus is school now and you’re there to support him along the way. You come over to work while he’s studying or in virtual lectures.

He wants you close. Giving you access to his apartment by creating your personalized finger scan into his home. You also give him a spare key to your place, prompted by a recent out of the city wedding you had to attend and no one else was available to feed Gum and Bubba.

On his large couch, you sit on the opposite end as you answer email inquiries. Wedding season’s peaking again and no matter how busy you may get, you’re never too busy for Jungkook. Nothing stops Jungkook from remaining close to you — not even his overly large couch. He’s never too far, wanting your legs slung over his lap as he listens to his lecture through his headphones. His hands mindlessly massage the bottom of your soles, knowing exactly where you’re most sensitive and tired after a long weekend of being on your feet.

You aren’t quite lovers, but you definitely are not just friends. What you’re building with Jungkook takes time. Lots of failing and hard days, but there are just as many and if more, softer and gentler days where you’re reminded this was all worth it.

Things move as they intend to. Like your slow evening walks, shared hot meals, and camera shutters when Jungkook needs to work on his portfolio or an assignment for class. He tags along with you on a couple of weddings to keep you company, inevitably revealing to you that weddings aren’t his thing. It’s good to be honest with these truths — one less field he’d find himself dipping with in the world of photography. But no matter his contempt, he likes being where you’re at. 

His lecture finishes and he closes his laptop on his table, leaning back as he rests his eyes after realizing how long he’s been on the computer. Sure, school was difficult, but it was structured — no surprises. Just an obligation he willingly signed up for. 

You don’t look up from your laptop, speaking as you type up a response to an inquiry, “What’s on your mind?”

He debates sharing his predicament, hands haven’t stopped his ministrations on your feet as if you were his version of a stress-ball. You breathe through your nose when he hits a particular pressure point.

“I have to go to work next weekend.” He sighs, working on your other foot now. “I’m tired.”

“Can you decline or postpone?” You look up, blue light from your screen bouncing back to your face. 

He shakes his head. “Can’t. I signed a two-parter contract a while back and this is the last installment.”

You close your laptop, feet swinging down to touch his fluffy carpet rug as you scoot closer to him. You were aware contracts and waiver forms existed to protect a business and their clients. In Jungkook’s case, the production he signed with was protecting their assets and securing their future projects. It’s a little demoralizing to view Jungkook as an asset, but that’s how business worked. He had to fulfill his duties to avoid legal penalties.

You lean in and it’s a familiar sight Jungkook’s grown fond of these couple of weeks: cheek squished on his shoulder, you look up with reassuring eyes. ‘It’ll be okay.’

Slowly, you’ve grown to manage the unease of his work, ache returning similar to tides crashing onto land. Sometimes the waves hit stronger than anticipated, but smaller and more manageable tides come ashore.

“Just one day, and it’ll be over soon. Then you’ll be free to focus on your exams afterwards, hm?” You soothe, setting the scenario to make the finish line easier to visualize.

“Yeah.” He grunts, not completely relaxed at the idea of having to do something he doesn’t particularly want to, but a job was a job.

“Hey,” you sit up higher, “is there anything I can do to make it better?”

Shouldn’t have offered that because there’s probably a number of things Jungkook can list off the top of his head. His tongue grows heavy in his mouth at the mere idea of having anything he wanted from you. 

“Something sweet?” You suggest, brows wiggling up and down.

“Right now?” Declining was never in the books when it came to desserts.

You shake your head with a small laugh, “Whenever you’re done with the project. I can bring something after.”

“Okay, Pix. I’d love that.” His hand holds yours. “Surprise me.”

Nights were always spent like this until it was time for one of you to leave. He walks you to your car, waving at the kind receptionist on the way out to the guest parking lot. No longer embraced in summer’s sweltering heat, fall’s brisk air hits your cheeks when you both step out the complex. You never needed an excuse to press your body closer to Jungkook’s side, hand lodged deep in his coat pocket.

“Bye.” You whisper, tippy-toeing as you press a kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger on his cold skin just a little longer.

The grip around your hands tighten as he fights off the intrusive thoughts of wishing for your lips to move over any expanse of his skin. There’s no need to deny the fact of having impure thoughts of you … had always been the case whether or not you were with him. It doesn’t help when you press your body closer to his, testing the boundaries of your new relationship with each other. Though, the test always stops where it is needed. 

Passing the test, he gulps, “Text me when you get home, ‘kay?”

“I will.”

Five hours of work and he’ll be free. Considering the masses need to work on average an eight hour shift and sometimes more, Jungkook is fortunate for his work hours to salary ratio. Still not easy doing what he does especially since he isn’t in the right headspace at the moment and school’s been eating up his time — a love-hate relationship when it comes to being in a new learning environment. 

He’s been reevaluating a lot these days, wondering how he’ll juggle his profession with school. And when he finds himself thinking too much of the possibilities, he forces himself to run from those thoughts of quitting everything all together. 

In those difficult moments, thinking about you helps calm his nerves about the future and he feels himself landing back on reality. Not everything needs an immediate answer or decision; moreover, he’s allowed to make mistakes. Much like your relationship with him, the ambiguity doesn’t make him run for the hills anymore. Although you and Jungkook don’t currently have any labels for what you are now, there isn't any uncertainty in his devotion towards you.

He checks his bathroom mirror one more time, piercings taken out because today’s shoot may be a little more physically demanding and he isn’t keen on risking any additional injuries like he had sustained in the first shoot. He signed up for the project on a whim because … well, at the time the money and deal seemed decent. BDSM isn’t something he dabbled a lot in on both the receiving or giving end. However, around the same time he signed the contract, he was still grieving the relationship with you and in need of a distraction — something to make him feel again no matter how painful or rigorous to the body. 

After the first shoot, he needed at least two weeks of rest … both mentally and physically. He isn’t fond of his co-star — Jungkook still remembers the numbers the man did to his body despite signaling his discomfort. 

Locking his door, he makes his way to the elevator. The doors open to reveal a familiar face: Yoona. 

She smiles at him, the lines around her eyes crease from the action. Jungkook nods and steps into the elevator next to her. Her strong perfume permeates his senses; a little too floral for his liking in comparison to the subtle cucumber and jasmine scent on your skin he’s grown attached to. 

“Work?” He asks, looking at his phone. It’s nearly noon, a little late to be going into the office. Then again, what does he know about the corporate life?

“Hyunbin wanted me to visit.” Ah, her ex-husband — explains her appearance and unusual demeanor. He assumes a revenge outfit underneath her long fur coat. “You working?”

“Yup.” He exhales through his nose.

Even without his explanation of his reluctance, Yoona reads him easily … just like how she read him the first two weeks after his split with you, choosing to end things with him because she wasn’t fond of messing with someone who was in emotional distress. She’s already got a lot going on and the last thing she wants is a fuckbuddy using her as an emotional crutch.

She’d rather be a friend or a … mentor? Maybe just a friendly neighbor until he got his shit together.

Be it her years of wisdom or her innate ability to read the younger man, she catches wind of his unwillingness to go to work.

“Hang in there.” She offers, just as her friends regurgitated on multiple venting sessions during the nasty divorce process. It’s the bare minimum as a friend if they aren’t able to do more for you.

“Thanks, you too.” He returns the encouragement with a toothy grin. One of the advantages of being taller than most is his ability to spy over people’s phones. Yoona types away in her phone, the prior messages included a clear image of a male’s lower half and her own response with an image of her freshly showered body in a towel. 

Even with her sunglasses on (which, by the way, are totally unneeded with this gloomy weather), she rolls her eyes under the elevator’s fluorescent lights.

“He’s been begging to make things work again.” She places her phone in her purse. 

“You gonna let him back in?” Surely would lessen the alimony she has to pay him.

Yoona scowls, “I may be single, but I am not lonely.” The elevator dings and signals their arrival on the ground floor. “I can have my cake and eat it.” She smiles, red blooming with her pearly white teeth.

Jungkook laughs under his breath, a surge of sweetness also embraces him now after realizing he also has his ‘cake’ too. Hasn’t quite eaten you the way he wants to, but he’s content. Loves where you are both at and is willing to wait till things settle more in life for the both of you.

Yoona clears her throat, strong floral scent leaving along with her as she steps out of the elevators first. “Take care, Jungkook.” Her heels click on the marble floors as she runs out to the cab waiting for her. 

Jungkook sighs again, making his way to his car and already programming the job site’s address into his Maps app.

Five hours and he’ll be done. 

As promised, you have a sweet treat ready to reward Jungkook after his shift.

It’s uncharacteristic of Jungkook to not answer your texts after a couple of hours. You push away the worry as you make your way up the elevators, tiny brown bag containing something rich and icy you’d typically save for the summer. 

Though, there were no rules on when to consume ice cream, especially if it was made by scratch — especially when you made it with your own spin. Anticipation brews as your steps near the front entrance of his home.

Your fingers press on the knob’s scanner and the latch clicks, ready for you to turn and enter into his home.

The living room’s dark, save for the small light Jungkook programmed to turn on at a specific time. There’s no greeting like you’re used to. Hanging your coat and scarf on the stand, you peer past the entryway as you toe off your shoes.

“Jungkook?” You call out with an air of uncertainty. 

Still no answer. Your eyes adjust to the dim surroundings, eyes eventually falling onto a figure you’d recognize in any condition. 

Jungkook’s laid down on his couch, one arm over his eyes. He’s in his sweats, showered and asleep. Your shoulders drop, tip-toeing past him to put the sweet treat into the freezer. You come back to the living room, not without picking up the fallen throw blanket on the ground, placing it on his body.

You could crack open your laptop to do some work in his kitchen until he stirs awake or just leave and let him rest. Straightening up from your bent position, a sharp inhale comes from below as Jungkook removes his forearm from his face and lifts his head up to peer around his surroundings. He sees you and drops his head in relief, breathing patterns stabilizing with a drag of his hand down his face.

“What time is it?”

“A little past 8.” You reply, sitting near his knees. 

“Sorry, Pix. I crashed.” His throat cracks from sleep, “Time slipped.”

“‘S okay.” You reply, pinkie hooking onto his. “Would you like to rest some more? I won’t bother you.”

He swallows, unsure if he would rather be left alone or if he needed your company. He’s not sure he would be good company.

“I don’t know.” His other arm comes up again to cover his eyes. Misery also needed company too, and he doesn’t want to be away from you.

You seem to get the hint. Couch, stiff and hard as ever, seems to bend at the weight of you both for this moment of tenderness. 

“Hard day?” You ask.

His throat bobs, and that’s when you notice the red marks near his Adam’s apple and his wrist. Your lips tug down, fingers itching to soothe the pain over his skin. You curl closer to him, hoping your presence would be enough to redirect his thoughts.

“Yeah. Was difficult.” He replies, voice shaky. His breath comes out uneven as he sniffles into his arm. “Ah, sorry, maybe it’s better if I’m alone.”

He hadn’t realized a couple tears had slipped out from the corners of his eyes until one of your hands cups his jaw, thumb rubbing away some of the moisture in your touch. He sucks in another breath, chest stuttering as a small sob tumbles out. He turns, burying his face into your chest as his arms come from underneath to hold you.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes repeatedly. You repeatedly tell him you’re not leaving — that you’re here to stay. Fingers running through his dark locks, your touches force his eyes shut, a relieved sigh exiting as he regulates his breathing. 

“I’m here, you’re okay.” You promise, your nails scratching his head produces a soft whimper as he buries his bigger frame deeper into your body. When you try to pull away to assess his face, he only tugs you in tighter. You chuckle, hand patting and soothing the expanse of his back.

“Kook?”

He grunts, too exhausted to verbalize a reply.

“I’m gonna go make something, okay? You stay here and rest.”

He reluctantly loosens his grip on you, and holds onto the fact you were staying. Accepting your proposal, he goes back into a more dignified position with his arm slung over his eyes.

You move with precision; kitchen layout memorized of where all the seasonings and cooking utensils were located, you come back into the living room with a small pot of ramen in under ten minutes. The wooden heat protector clanks onto his coffee table in your descent to the ground. You wince, apologetic for startling him again.

“Didn’t have to make me food, Pix.” He pushes himself up slowly, face contorting in discomfort as he sits upright.

“Wanted to. Come on, have a bite, please?” You had already started rolling the noodles into the spoon, creating a perfect single bite. You blow on the food a little before Jungkook dips his head halfway to receive the food. 

Unlike the painful expression he previously sported, his brows furrow as he chews on the food — a good sign. Nothing’s more healing than a warm meal; a warm meal made with love. 

“Thanks, P.” He smiles, and the parts of him lost during the hours of the shoot are slowly coming back.

“I’m glad.” Your eyes land on his neck first, then over his wrists where the red rings were most prominent. “Did you want to put on ointment? Tell me where you keep your medicine and I can—”

“It’ll heal on its own.” He declines, ready and rehearsed for your concerns. And because he knows there were a billion other questions in that pretty head of yours, he comes clean on his reasons for tonight’s exhaustion. “Co-star went off script towards the end and it threw me for a loop.” He explains, head rested on the back of the couch.

You nod, arms tightening around him. “That sounds awful. I’m sorry …”

He releases another heavy breath. “I-I don’t know, Pix. It’s usually not this bad.”

“What do you mean?” Frowning, you didn’t think you’d ever witness Jungkook in this state: defeated over the profession he willingly chose and stayed for. 

His blank eyes stare off into the distance, zeroing on the corner of his flat screen television. The corners of his mouth twitch, exhaling a shaky breath before murmuring, “I’m scared to quit.”

And despite his discomfort with the subject, he continues, “I … I’ve been thinking about it and it feels like I can’t focus on other things when I have to think about work.” He also doesn’t want to mention the shame he has in quitting, inevitably proving people right that his line of work was not sustainable in the long-run. He doesn’t want to admit he’s outgrown the field that’s built everything around him: his friends, home, experiences, and … you. If it weren’t for his job, he wouldn’t have found you.

But was gratitude and loyalty needed for a profession that brings him more stress and worries?

Though rare, he’s wrestled with these difficult moments in this field, often wondering how life would be if he didn’t need to endure. What version of him exists outside of the industry? He knows what happiness is, but he’s also familiar with the deep dread and disappointment in staying. 

“It’s scary.” You concede, staring off into the same space Jungkook had fixated. “But I know you’ll figure it out. You’re not alone. I’m here with you no matter what you decide on.”

His eyes well up again. He used to think people were crazy for suffering, crying during and off work hours. Now? He’s no different. Change is scary, but remaining the same is scarier. And he’s remained the same for so long, fighting the norms and societal expectations of him.

All this to realize … he’s also just a boy with dreams and aspirations, hope cupped in his hands waiting to be discovered. The industry may be a part of him, but it was never all he was. While he doesn’t know what the future entails, he knows he needs to do something different — his profession does not define his identity.

“Yes, I know.” He lets you rub gentle circles on his bruised wrist, lets you bring up his wrist and blow a cooling breath over his skin before you lay a gentle kiss. “Thank you.”

You and Jungkook remain like this for a while, just sharing each other’s warmth and company until you perk up about the dessert you brought over. He chuckles as you pry open the container and a peek of light orange reaches his vision. Jungkook relishes in the small notes of cinnamon and persimmons hitting his taste buds.

The container of ice cream gets annihilated within fifteen minutes, cold running down your esophagus and tummy, but there’s always a source of heat in your stomach as you sit close to your biggest source of warmth.

Refusing his offer to walk you to your car, you only allow Jungkook to see you out his door in favor of him resting more.

“Thanks for tonight, P. I really needed this.” He needs you more than ever. Holding your hands, he lets his gaze trail down to your lips before he brings them back up to your eyes. He’s been through this route many times, showing restraint because he knows better than to do something too rushed despite his mind and body screaming at him to disobey the boundary you both set. 

As always, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

It’s enough. Because he feels you through the food you make for him, your touch, and your unwavering care.

As you stare up at him with starry eyes, he also realizes:

Intimacy doesn’t have to be perfect, but it is with you.

Jungkook completed his first semester of courses with flying marks. With a heavy heart, he decided to stop working in adult filming after another week of mulling through his options. In his resolve he tells himself the decision’s indefinite … subject to change. But ever since he let his agent know of his career change, he has not looked back. 

Though the weather remains chilly, spring’s around the corner. The season brings the birds in the early mornings, flowers blossoming around his apartment complex, and the love blooming in his chest whenever he sees you.

Tonight’s a special night for you. Your cohort wanted to do a little social gathering at a club and you invited Jungkook as your plus-one. He wasn’t planning on drinking, opting to be your designated driver for the night. He looks over at you, eyes sparkly with glitter … or perhaps, you glow more under his stares.

Weather’s still cold, but he knows it will warm up at the venue as the night progresses. He lays his brown jacket on your lap as he drives you both to the venue. You’re so pretty in your skin-tight black turtleneck and gold chain necklace. Upon final inspection in your body length mirror, you made a remark how you looked like The Rock minus the fannypack. Jungkook laughed and tugged you along, mumbling how you looked beautiful and how you were going to be late if you did another outfit change. And while the weather is ever turbulent, jumping between hot and cold days, there’s nothing turbulent between you and Jungkook.

Even though you abstained from changing out of your ‘Pre-2012 The Rock’ fit, you were late with how the parking situation worked out. Too many cars, too little parking options when you were deep into the nightlife district of the city. Jungkook parked at an open lot about a twenty minute walking distance. Terrible, you know. But the trip was well worth it with his company. Had you been alone, you probably would have chosen to order a cab, but you’ve never felt safer in Jungkook’s hand as you both walk down the busy streets on a Saturday night. 

“Thanks again for coming with me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Plus,” He squeezes your hand. “You’re coming with me to my friend’s wedding next weekend. So we’re even.”

“Oh no … weddings are so, so, so awful,” you chide with batted lashes. 

He grins, “It is when you gotta be in dress pants.”

You giggle, staring up at the illuminated neon lights around town. “My classmates are excited to meet you, Mr. 9th-Annual-Shutter-Winner.” You grin, the side of your body presses close to him. You look down at his phone where it navigates the leftover walking distance to the club: estimated time of arrival – five minutes.

Jungkook was nervous. Not as a result of meeting your classmates, but he knew a certain someone was going to be there. Kim Taehyung, your best friend and confidant, will also be in attendance. He’s gotten along with him in the past on set. Eccentric guy, a bit of a Namjoon fanatic, but birds of a feather flock together. Namjoon’s creative, kind, and visionary. It’s only natural Taehyung gravitates towards him in this industry.

Regardless, Jungkook’s nervous. He doesn’t voice his concern when you had disclosed that Taehyung was aware of your relationship history with Jungkook. He would never hold you back on talking about your troubles to your friends because it’s important to build that trust and rapport. He hopes his entire persona isn’t completely irreconcilable just yet with the time he’s spent trying to grow and cultivate a healthy relationship with you.

Once in the club, you make your rounds with Jungkook by your side. Lots of new faces, and maybe a select few that were recognizable as a result of the photography competition. 

“Hey Jungkook, heard you were in the photography program,” one of the judges for the past photography competition, Rowoon, smiles, “I know at the end of your photography program they’re going to request for an internship. Let me know if you need help connecting with a photographer.”

“That’d be awesome.” Jungkook smiles.

Jungkook’s appreciative for moments like these, easy conversations blending in with your life. You’ve been surrounded with good people. Well, good enough for you to want to rekindle and meet up every so once in a while.

He watches you from afar now, a mocktail in hand as he lets the ice melt and lessen the syrupy taste of the drink.

You smile into your cup as one of your classmates animate a pose of some sort — probably from a recent project or client. Regardless, he finds himself smiling too, eyes focused on your figure. It’s all tunnel vision, really, how everything around you blurs and this gooey feeling swirls and pools in the pit of his stomach.

He recognizes this, having experienced this similar breakthrough in the past with previous partners. While the hard impact of the realization came far less than this moment, his feelings were undeniable.

He loves you.

An awful realization to have when you guys are out in public and not in privacy, where he can bare his emotions to you freely. His palms sweat, heart accelerating at the welcomed epiphany and rush.

He has been patient and gentle in these last couple of months. That, he’ll give himself credit for. But all the self work he’s done is about to leave as he’s one mocktail sip away from walking over to you and declaring his feelings.

Not the right place nor time. Certainly worse when he can’t drink to distract himself.

“Mind if I join ya?”

Jungkook startles out his thoughts, craning his neck to the side to find Kim Taehyung smiling lazily at him. He simply gestures for the empty stool, all while trying to relocate you after the minor detractor.

Even with the heavy bass of the club music, Jungkook’s eyes still remain on your figure, making sure you’re safe and having fun — as you should always be. 

Taehyung grunts in his descent onto the barstool, gaze following where Jungkook looks at.

“You all socialed out?” Jungkook mindlessly asks — a miracle he’s strung up a coherent sentence. 

Taehyung scoffs at the lack of focus, but replies, “Gets a little tiring explaining my gigs and seeing them react the same way.”

This time, Jungkook stares back at the seated man, completely understanding his sentiment. He knows exactly what Taehyung has experienced being in the industry — their little common ground. 

“You know,” Taehyung begins, “I still don’t get the whole thing with you and her.”

Lips pursed, he drums his fingers on the bar counter, “How so?”

“Friends, but not. Lovers, but not.” Taehyung tips his drink back. “What are you guys even waiting for?”

What was Jungkook waiting for?

“Just want to take our time.” He replies. “Not trying to rush things.”

“Kind of backwards, don’t you think?” He shrugs his shoulders before continuing, “Look man, I’ll be upfront. I’m still on the fence about you.” 

“I know.” Jungkook’s aware he’s far from perfect, knowing his hesitancy in moving forward stems from his insecurities and his fears of hurting you in the process.

“She likes you a lot. And I trust my best friend. If things go sour, well … at least we’ll know how to pick up the pieces this time around.”

Taehyung waves down the bartender for a refill. “I give her a lot of shit for putting herself in a box, but all she does is try. So why don’t you guys try?”

Jungkook’s been so afraid of hurting. In turn, he’s robbing you both of the possibility for something so much more. He loves what he has with you, but was this enough?

You turn, also finding him, and smile.

It’s not enough. He wants more — he needs more.

Taehyung settles back as he watches the scene unfold in front of him with a smug smile. 

Finally.

Jungkook’s on autopilot as he weaves through the crowd. The back of his neck grows sweaty, less from the stuffy venue and more from his nerves and this final act of trying to do the right thing for once. He wants to do right by you, and right now all he wants is to be near you.

He needs to be near you.

You seem to think the same too, placing your empty glass onto the edge of the bar top. There aren’t any remnants of green or cherries, only a sliver of yellow on the bottom he recognizes as his trademark drink.

His heart drums against his chest as you do a quick side hug with the classmate, so eager to get to him in the midst of the hazy, man-made smoke and crowded dance floor.

The path to you was damn near impossible to get to, packed like sardines and people unwilling to move. Though, you both will always find a way to each other. Head tilted, you motion Jungkook to the side of the dance floor. It’s dimly lit, some of the club’s strobing lights don’t touch. Light’s not needed because you’re forever drawn to each other.

“Hi.” You smile up at him, eyes slightly droopy as your hand finds his. “Sorry. Haven’t been able to hang out with you that much tonight.”

He shakes his head, placing your hand behind his neck. Your fingers search for the longer locks he sported in the winter months, but you’ve always preferred his shorter cut. The prickle of the undercut was something you’ve longed for all night long. His silver hooped earrings graze your exposed wrist, the cold metal offering a nice touch on your hot skin.

He shakes his head, “‘S okay, Pix.” You both sway, neither of you really know what song is playing. It all blurs to white noise when you’re with each other. “Did you catch up with everyone?”

“Mhm.” You hum, leaning in to press your face against his chest. There’s a slight drop to your shoulders signifying your exhaustion, but Jungkook reads your demeanor like the back of his hands.

With a hum, he murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”

“Everyone’s in production companies.” You sulk, frown felt on his strong front. 

Your words hold a little bitterness, a hint of dejection at the idea you weren’t exactly doing what everyone was doing. But that’s what made you special. You’re doing what you want to do and you’ve stuck by it.

“You ever think about joining one?” He asks into your hair. 

You lift your head from his chest, chin digging into his sternum. “It’s not for me, but sometimes, I feel like I’m missing out.”

Just like how he thinks he might miss out on something wonderful if he continues as things are, but a club where you’re having a reunion with old classmates isn’t the right time or place for a confession.

Jungkook nods. “Can do whatever you want. The world’s your oyster.”

He doesn’t need any of the strobing lights or a spotlight in the tiny nook you’ve both claimed with the way you smile at him. Not when you stare up at him like he’s the world, ready to be claimed by you. Before he does anything too impulsive, he leads you both closer to the center of the dance floor. Back turned to him, his hands rest on the dips of your hips. Chin tucked in the crook of your neck, he takes in your jasmine and cucumber scent, wondering if you’re just as addicted to his scent. 

“Did you have your usual?” He mumbles into your ear.

You shake your head, shivering from his voice. “Midori sour’s not always on the menu.”

He hums in agreement, thinking back to the arrangements he made at the club he hosted his celebratory party at. Honestly, there was no major issue requesting the addition of the drink; the manager was happy to accommodate. 

“What’d you have earlier?” His voice comes out low, rumbling against you.

You nearly whimper your answer as he circles his arms around your midsection, not wanting to lose any physical contact from you. “Highball.”

His grin stretches across his face, muscle memory as his mouth salivates for the drink. “Did you like it?”

You turn around now, and Jungkook does little to reposition his forehead on yours. This time, another type of restraint courses through his body as his eyes bounce between your hooded stare and pouty lips.

“Mm, I wanted to try what you liked. Not my thing,” you conclude. “Wasn’t sweet at all.” 

Jungkook doesn’t need the additional sweetness in his drinks when he’s surrounded by sweetness in his life. Can do away with sugar because you’re here. 

“What did you have tonight?” You ask back.

“Wild night with some sort of wild berry mocktail.” He teases.

“Lucky, I wish I had that.” Your eyes drop to his lips — he follows your line of vision as you look back up at him.

“Was nice.” He concedes, voice dropping an octave. “Better if it was a highball.”

The music’s loud, but nothing’s louder than the drumming in his ears — the voice in his head yelling at him to close the gap between you two. The same gap you both maintained in these last couple of months. It’s been working so well for you two, reworking your foundation and taking things slow all while hoping it would lead to your desired goal: each other.

Jungkook’s forehead remains on yours, lips parted slightly at your delayed blinks. And although the label had always blurred between the two of you, he had always been yours. Yours, when he entered the establishment with his hand on your hips, guiding you away from rowdy groups at the main point of entrance. Yours, when all you’ve done tonight was match his stares, wanting so badly to be in his company instead of folks you haven’t spoken to in years face to face.

All yours.

“Want a taste?” You ask, making no move to go to the bar. He stays rooted there too, knowing full well he’s not allowed a single drop of alcohol in his system. The entrancement lasts all but a second before a flicker of fear flashes across your features. 

Deja vu.

Was this all a figment of your imagination and it could get ripped from you any moment? If you lean in like you did months ago, would you be punished by rejection again?

Your brows furrow, eyes pleading up at Jungkook to answer your unspoken questions.

And he reads you so easily — remembers you and knows your insecurities before you do sometimes.

He breathes you in, nose now nestled against your own with no intentions of ever leaving.

“Please?” Your warmth fans over to him, a soft plea worthy of ending wars Jungkook would only qualify as his own battles.

He thinks about that night at the club where you had left him, foolishly clutching onto the flimsy cone-shaped cups while the world spun with you nowhere in sight. Thinks about the prospect of you leaving again and how ruined he’d be without you.

Jungkook pleads with you too now, “Please don’t leave me.”

You shake your head. “I’m right here.”

He thinks he deserves a little bit of heaven. Funny, how he thinks the universe could grant him kisses from a million angels, but he’d only want a lifetime of yours. The last thing he sees are two slow blinks from your sparkly-glittered lids, pulling and signaling him into a soft landing: to home — he finally finds his way back home.

He cups your face, delicate in how he holds you because there’s nothing more he’d like to do than to handle you with all the care and tenderness in the world. He sighs into your lips, relieved to finally have you like this. Where you both meet in the middle now.

Highball, in the simplest terms, was bland whiskey. The taste of the drink was probably the furthest thing you can get to the sweetness of your typical midori sour. And yet, you still tried for him. He knows how much you try for him and you’ve done your best to accept him — the work and effort you put into adoring Jungkook never goes unnoticed.

He doesn’t taste the highball, none of the usual remnants of the drink he’s grown to like as he runs his tongue over your plump lips. Perhaps it’s also that he no longer searches for that familiar aftertaste; instead, welcoming something he’s longed for and missed these months. His tongue moves over your lips again, slow and deliberate to savor the sweetness. 

Your mouth parts for him, a tentative push of his tongue and you’re reduced to putty. He trails one hand down your hip, pulling you flush against him. 

It’s all muscle memory, how puzzle pieces fit just for you and Jungkook. He groans against your mouth, the low sound vibrates through your body, sending a shock through your body and heat building in your middle.

Your name is all but a rasp as Jungkook goes straight to your lips again after your small whine. He can’t get enough of you, the background noise and people blurring in his pursuit of you. You kiss him back. Months after months of waiting, slowly rebuilding, knowing exactly where the finish line is … and the kiss now was just one of your many monumental milestones with Jungkook.

He needs to pull away for air, mindful of your own state too despite his unwillingness to stray away. It’s everything he’d expect a kiss from you to be after all this time: sweet, with no hint of the drink he fancied. 

Nose nestled to yours and brazen smiles exchanged, Jungkook does his best to regulate his breathing.

“You’d ever give highball another try, Pix?” He breathes, peppering tinier kisses on your lips, rendering it nearly impossible to properly respond.

“Yeah.” You reply in between kisses. “I’d try it again. It’s worth another chance.”

When he finally pulls away with much reluctance, his heart drums against his chest at your response — at your implication. 

You wanted this with him. 

“You’ll teach me how to properly drink it?” You look at him with the softest gaze.

He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Will drink it with you.”

No one was talking about the drink. Though, much like the drink, love and affection was always better shared and experienced together. 

And it’s so much better savoring those moments with you.

You and Jungkook eventually leave the dance floor to socialize with your other classmates, catching Taehyung with a content smile as he peers down at your interlinked hands. Jungkook’s hand involuntarily tightens around yours and you look up, eyes holding a playful curiosity as to what he wants.

You mouth, ‘You tired?’

He shakes his head no, though, his droopy eyelids and slight sway to his body tells you otherwise. You’re also tired too, wanting nothing more than to be with your desired source of warmth.

You quickly make your rounds, bidding your farewells and blaming your age for not being able to stay longer. Thankfully, a couple of your other classmates left before you, so your attempt to leave didn’t look out of the blue. Your goodbye with Taehyung takes a little longer as he whispers something in your ear, eyes playful as you pull away and lightly smack his arm. 

Jungkook smiles once you’re back by his side, the cold night air hitting you both outside the club. He offered to run to the car while you wait back, but you insisted on coming with him. “Ready for the walk, Miss Rock?” 

With narrowed eyes, you huddle closer, pretty pout on your lips he so wants to kiss. 

“You said I looked great.” You huff, beginning the long trek back to the car. 

“The Rock looked great, and so do you, Pix.” He teases.

Three minutes into your walk, a random downpour starts out of nowhere. 

Jungkook takes off his brown jacket, slinging it over both your bodies as you do your best to run from the rain. Shared incredulous giggles and glances with each other made the trip back even better. Unable to fully avoid the downpour, Jungkook opts to just cover you with his jacket. The theatrics continue once a car passes, wheels producing a splash over your bodies.

Unneeding of the jacket now, you lower the jacket around your shoulder, tugging Jungkook through the rain as you both near the car. He looks at you from behind, catching your stare back while urging him to move quicker. 

But he’s in no rush.

He’s never been in a rush with you.

Steps coming to a halt, you look back again with a questioning expression. His hair’s matted on his forehead, eyes squinting from the rain water, but he can see you so clearly under the yellow of the streetlights.

He says your name, your steps stumble as you land in his embrace. Cold fingers run on your cheek before he admits, “I don’t think I can just be what we’ve been. I want this with you — I want to be with you.” 

He doesn’t ask you if you want the same. Didn’t have the chance as his eyes widened the same moment your lips met his.

Rain beats down on your bodies, hard and punishing. The cold water seeping through your clothing is nothing compared to the heat searing from your bodies. Your fingers run through his hair from behind, urging him closer if it were possible. His hold on you tightens and you unconsciously arch into him, no longer caring how the rain water runs down your face.

Jungkook breaks apart from the kiss, “It’s always been you, P.” Warm breath on your lips as he utters words he's long realized and wanted to tell you, “I … I’m in love with you.”

It’s freeing. Not just his confession, but how the rain continues washing out everything around you both. The good, the bad. The aftermath of a storm allows for rebuilding — for flowers to blossom, for growth and to start anew.

He thinks about all the time spent together and apart — the happiness, trust, and fears … it all inevitably brings him back to you. And as the rain waters continue to fall, he finds himself free falling into your embrace — the easy love.

“I love you,” You profess, brows pulling together tears mixing in with the rain, “So much. You know that, yeah?”

He does. But even so, he still asks, “Please be with me.” He chews on the inside of his mouth, so fearful of rejection as though you could choose any other route. “Please?”

You nod, leaning in for a kiss that could only seal your answer to him. “I’m yours. Always been yours.”

A relieved chuckle stutters from his chest, holding you close. “Home?”

“Home.” You reply.

Jungkook’s home was closer in proximity, so it would only be natural to head over there to change out of your soaked clothes. Even with the seat warmers turned onto the highest setting and his jacket slung over your lap like it was in the beginning of the night, you shiver and shudder in your seat.

“Can use my shower too, P.” He pushes his wet bangs back and reasons, “Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Mmkay,” Your teeth involuntarily chatters, hands tucked in between your thighs underneath his jacket to retain your heat.

His hand naturally finds yours. “We’ll be home soon, ‘kay?”

Back at his home, he gives you a spare t-shirt with some sweatpants, letting you know that he’ll shower at the guest bathroom while you use the master bedroom’s. It’s not your first time in his bedroom, having been there a couple times when he was busy and needed you to retrieve something for him in there. The citrus scent embraces you as you walk in, fingers tightening around his clothes. He’s fumbling around his dresser to get his own clothing, hair dried to a damp mess and coarse at the ends from the washed away hair products. His shirt drags over his large frame, seemingly heavier around the shoulder area from the rainwater.

Back still turned away, he cranes his neck to you and catches your curious stare. “Go on and use the shower, P.”

You nod, clothes feeling unbearingly tight whether it be from the rain or the suffocating dilemma of not wanting to leave Jungkook’s side.

In the shower, he’s still with you through the shampoo and body wash. You run your hands around your body, knowing this is your way of keeping him close. Will you need to go home after this? Does the mirage end here with the suds of soap pooling at your toes?

Does it end with his scent on your body?

All dried and in his clothes, you stare at the mirror, a small smile playing at your lips at the visual of your body drowned in his oversized t-shirt. You roll the bottom of the sweatpants and tug at the drawstrings to secure around your waist.

You peer into his bedroom. “Jungkook?” No response. 

Walking out to the living space, you notice a tuft of hair on the large couch’s armrest. Two glasses of water — all full — just like your heart, rests on the coffee table. Peering over the couch, your lover lays there, eyes closed with a rhythmic breathing pattern nowhere close to being asleep.

You come around and seat yourself on the edge of the couch. An unsuspecting force pulls you down, followed by a small ‘oomph,’ you attempt to sit back up.

“Can we rest a little before I take you home?” He mumbles, breathing into your hair.

Your ear is pressed against his chest, his heart thumping way too fast for rest. Working up your courage, you snuggle into his warmth as you murmur, “It’s late. Don’t want you driving at this hour.” Before he could ask if you’d want him to fetch a cab, you follow up with, “If it’s okay … can I stay over tonight?”

The drumming in his chest speeds up, but his words come out assertive. “Of course, P.”

The guest room sits empty as Jungkook leads you back to his bedroom, a sleepy smile on his face as he catches your yawn and places the glass of water onto the nightstand closest to where you’ll sleep. He hooks his index fingers in the collar of his shirt and yanks it over his head, tossing the article of clothing on the ottoman near the foot of his bed.

You swallow, eyes raking over his toned body you’ve grown so familiar with. His tattoo lines look darker under the warm hues of his nightlight. Underneath his covers, your eyes fight to stay open, only allowing them to blink shut when he encircles his arms around you.

“Night, P.” He mumbles.

“Good night, Kook.”

Around 5 a.m. you wake up with the worst case of dry mouth, having already drank the glass of water in the middle of the night, and another time Jungkook refilled without your knowledge. You pout at the glass sitting pretty and empty on the nightstand.

There’s an unfamiliar weight on your midsection causing you to suck in a breath as you look down. Intricate patterns and faded colors greet you before you turn your head to meet their owner.

Jungkook’s on his front, pouty mouth parted and lashes kissing the top of his cheeks. His rhythmic light snores tell you he’s still in deep slumber if not for the sleep-lines on the side of his face where he buries himself further into his fluffy pillows.

There’s a stillness in waking up next to Jungkook like this — at the realization there’s no need to run or leave. He’s here within a distance you can comfortably reach. 

You think back to last night, between the kisses and confessions, everything seemed like a dream. You’re tempted to reach over to brush away the strand of his bangs. Want to see if he’d stir awake and look at you as he did before you both fell asleep last night.

That’s the funny thing about love — can’t bear the selfishness and greed of your own desires. So instead, you do your best to uncurl from his lazy hold, already missing his warmth as you grab the rims of your glass to fetch some water.

You’ve only been over in the afternoon and evening, never knowing the brisk morning air. Jungkook’s room was warm, temperature maintained by the heat of your bodies, but in the open living space, you shiver a little from cold and the absence of a familiar body.

Glass refilled, you make your way back to Jungkook, but something pulls you to an abrupt stop.

You’ve only seen this view at night, always curious how differing the morning view would be. Orange peeks and greets you on the horizon, begging for your presence even when there is another star you rather be with.

Just a couple more minutes and the sun will rise — a view you’ve never seen from here. Lips nursing on your glass, you smile as you hear another pair of feet shuffle in your direction. Not subtle at all. He makes his presence known with a small yawn, standing behind you, he presses his chest against you from behind and wraps his arms around your abdomen.

“Whatcha doing up so early?” Voice laced with sleep.

“Wanted to get water,” you bring the glass up to his view, “sun’s about to rise now.” You nod at the window. 

His body vibrates against yours at a particularly low chuckle. “‘S nice, isn’t it? Can see everything from here.”

You hum in agreement. You love the view, love his touch, love him. And because you love him, you give him the remainder of your water. Glass now empty again, he sets the cup on a small stand. The surrounding air stifles as a strong pair of arms wrap around you tighter, cluing in a shift in the easy morning conversation.

“P, I meant everything I said last night.” He says, afraid you hadn’t retained any recollection of last night’s event — as though all the magic last night was all but a trick and illusion.

There’s no illusion in your adoration for him, turning away from the sun, you realize you have everything in front of you worth orbiting for.

“I meant everything too.” You reply, feeling the sun warm your back, but even that source of warmth wasn’t enough incentive to have you turning away from Jungkook again. “I love you. Wanna be with you.”

You tip-toe, lips pressing delicately against his only spurs on his tiny moan as he meets you in the middle. His teeth nibble on your bottom lip, causing you to part them with a small gasp. He takes this moment to lick into your mouth, tongue running against yours to savor you. He could blame the morning wood on … well, the morning, and not your soft lips, but he’s wanted you like this for so long and now you’re finally his.

He angles your chin, doing his best to distract you from the bulge pressed against your stomach, to which you also push against. Grunting, he huffs into your mouth, “Pix, please.”

You hum a small ‘what?’

So dangerous of you to push something he’s been suppressing for months. Aching for your touch, but he’s respectful of the change in dynamics. He wants to be respectful now, but was there a need?

“I’m trying to be good.” He mumbles, kissing along your jaw and making his way down your neck. His teeth rake against the expanse of your skin, reveling in your shivers and the way your nails dig into his back.

“You are good.” You sigh prettily. “So good to me.”

And because of this, Jungkook wants to show you other ways he could be good to you. It’s what you deserve — nothing makes him happier than making you feel good. Back pressed against the glass panes, the initial cold morphs and changes with the sun and your combined body heat.

His hand snakes up your shirt, large palm halting at your stomach until you nod for him to move. You moan at the contact of his thumb moving over your hardening bud.

“Feels good, pretty?” He mouths against your neck.

You swallow and nod, “J-Jungkook, can people,” another moan slips as he sucks on a particularly sensitive juncture of your neck, “see us from here?”

Being on the thirty-fourth floor had its perks and advantages. He doesn’t have next door neighbors except for the floor above and below him, which works in his favor. 

“No one can see us, P.” He shakes his head, “You want them to?”

He grips your chest a little harder, urging for an answer before he continues. Head lifted to your face, his hooded eyes draw you in. 

“No,” you place a soft kiss on his jaw, “Want this just between us.”

He also can’t imagine having another person watch you both. Can’t imagine sharing an experience like this with someone other than you. 

“Yeah, it’s just you and me.”

The hand on your hip runs up your front, cupping your cheek first before he slips a soft request while looking at your lips, “Open, please.”

Your mouth parts, and his hand drags over your cheek, his middle and ring finger probing and sliding over your wet muscle. His cock twitches in his sweats at the thought of possibly feeling your mouth again. Those thoughts break the moment you close around his digits, warm and wet around him. Your cheeks hollow without command as you eagerly suck on his fingers. You look at him with determined eyes, fighting to stay open but loses the battle before fluttering shut when his thumb runs over your hard nipple again.

“Gonna make you feel good.” He promises, “‘s that okay?”

You nod, unable to verbalize a response with his fingers in your mouth. Soon his wet fingers slip out of your mouth and he slips them past the waistband of your folded sweats.

“Oh god,” Your hips buck back from the sudden contact of his fingers, ass pushed against the glass. “P-please.” You beg, unsure of what exactly but Jungkook takes it as a request to move. His middle finger slots perfectly between your wet folds, circling around the bundle of nerves. 

“Wanna touch you, too.” You plead, “Can I?”

He tips his forehead against yours, hips pushed against your hand. “Uh-huh, want you to touch me.”

Your hand slips into his sweats, making contact with his bare length. The angle of your bodies makes it difficult to tug or squeeze as you like, but he shudders just by the mere contact of your soft hand.

“P, don’t—” He moves back slightly to peer down at your hand working over his length. “Don’t tease.” 

Lip tucked between his teeth, his own hand speeds up over your clit, wet sounds growing by the second. He hopes you do the same too, but you keep your lazy strokes, watching him with hooded eyes. “Not,” you pause, eyes closing when he nears you, pressing a dainty kiss, “teasing.”

“Tell me what you need.” You murmur against his lips.

“Faster,” He whines, “need you to go faster—fuck—” He groans when you comply, hand picking up the pace.

And be it from the patience and time endured after months of dreaming of being with you … or he was just that easy, he finishes in his sweats in under a minute. Your hand slowly jerks over his length, hand coated in his cum.

“Koo, did you cum?” You breathe, unsure from the sudden liquidy warmth. He moans a small yes, angling his head for your kisses on his neck, teeth dragging over his collarbone as a reward for his confirmation. Your hand glides over the head of his sensitive cock. “Made a mess all for me.”

He kisses you, deft fingers on your clit as he touches away the embarrassment of cumming before he’s gotten to properly take care of you. It’s no give or take situation, but he wants to give back to you.

He removes his hand and you nearly cry out at the loss of his touch. Your cum covered hand gets tugged from his pants at the same time. Doesn’t care you’re unconsciously wiping away your hand on your shirt — everything was going into the wash anyway, ridding any evidence of the sinful acts you’ll both willingly partake in.

How sinful were they if they were embarked by two people in love? 

Fingers hooked on the waistband of your sweats, he drags them down your hips, leaving both your soaked underwear and pants pool at your ankles. His eye contact never wavers as he drops down on his knees, only breaking at the long shirt length covering your bare cunt. With a knowing glance, you hold the bottom of the shirt, while the other one falls on the side of his head for support as nudges your legs apart. 

“So perfect,” he praises, eyes peering up at you, “All mine.” His fingers form a ‘v’ as he spreads your glistening folds, mouth watering at the sight of your twitching clit. He moves in, placing a kiss on the side of your pussy, just shy of your nub. The action has you furrowing your brows, mouth dropping open as you involuntarily push your hips forward.

You mewl, thighs closing when he finally slots his tongue over the self-made opening between his fingers. He licks, sucks, and kisses the tiny nub. And you stand there, taking everything he’s willing to give you. He loves watching you struggle maintaining eye contact, loves the shy smile you give him when you had a moment of realization of how loud you were in the early hours of his home, and loves the small tug from your fingers in his hair when he repeatedly presses his lips to your clit.

You were already so close before this, but now he has you tipping on the edge again. Jungkook’s eyes close, tongue lapping your cunt.

Your thighs shake, breath caught in your throat as he continues the motions. And even though he’s not looking at you, he knows you’re about to let go as you rock your hips into his face. Using one hand, his fingers dig into the back of your thigh as he brings one of them over his shoulder.

“Baby–” You rasp.

“Hm?” He answers, muffled against your core. The vibrations against your cunt have your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your lids slam shut from the sensation.

You whimper, stomach clenching at the first signal of your orgasm. Your fingers clutch pathetically at the end of the shirt, mindful of the other hand interlocked with his locks. But you’re bolder now, know what you like and need … and what you like is Jeon Jungkook moaning against your core, encouraging you to cum. What you need is to extend this feeling for as long as you can, so you push his head closer as you grind your spasming cunt to his face.

“Cumming,” you manage to get out, “Oh fuck, I’m cumming.”

Jungkook can’t answer, wishes he could; though, all his wishes are being fulfilled as he’s head deep between your legs. He pulls away after your hips press back against the glass, signaling your sensitive state. Hooded gaze fixed, he takes in the visual of your cheek pressed onto your shoulder — a habit he’s noticed every time you’ve cummed. Your eyes blink open slowly, blinded by the light coming in from the rising sun.

“I’m sorry, P.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all with his mischievous grin as he kisses your inner thigh — the one he has thrown over his shoulder. “You missed the sunrise.”

You croon, a small playful pout on your lips. “I did.” You release his hair, hand cupping his jaw. You moan in surprise when he latches onto your clit again, lazy sucks as he peers up at you.

He places one last kiss to your nub and suggests, “Should turn around then, take in the current view.” He leaves out the fact that you’ll have plenty of more chances to see the view.

He places your leg down. While wobbly at first, you plant your feet sturdy before complying with his request. He’s right — the city’s beautiful. 

Jungkook also has the best view in the city too. 

You look back at him from your shoulder, eyes catching his, “You’re not watching with me?”

“Perfect view here.” He scoots back a little, ignoring the discomfort and numbness in his knees. You brace against the glass, fist clenched tightly at the anticipation of what your lover wants to do. No one cares about the prospect of a stained glass as you hinge your hips out to him, the underside of your wet pussy entrances him.

He pushes your shirt up over the curves of your hips and the sight before him has his cock hardening in his sweats again. A creamy white sheen trickles down your slit, begging to be licked up before it dribbles onto the floor.

And he does. With a cock to his head, he slots his mouth over your leaky cunt.

You wail, cheek pressed against the glass as you fog up a small section with your warm puffs of air. His tongue laps over your clenched hole, pleased you haven’t pulled away from him. He rewards you with a small probe of his tongue and you surprise him again by pushing back, tongue gliding into your warm cavern with little resistance.

You both moan, caught in the euphoric moment of this new experience. 

He reels his head back, spreading you wide to look at your gaping pussy — all his doing.

“Please,” you beg, greedy for his mouth. Without warning, he dives back in, tongue thrusting in and out of your hole with a new profound hunger. One of his hands comes from under and rubs at your clit. The new feeling has your legs shaking again, your hand coming around to place on top of his to ground yourself.

He pulls away, placing wet kisses alongside your thighs. “You liked that, Pix?”

“Yeah, I loved it.” You reply, looking back at him through your lashes.

“Good.” He chuckles, stomach warm from your confession, “Keep looking at the view though. Sun’s pretty today.”

The sun’s pretty every day, you think to yourself as you look at your source of light. But you turn away, obedient as you look at the rays the rest of the world relies on. 

“Gonna do something new, ‘kay?” He says, strained as he places a small kiss on one of your cheeks. He lets his teeth graze your skin, fingers digging into the meat of your ass to gain your confirmation. “Tell me if you don’t like it.”

You nod, can’t think of anything you won’t like aside from being away from Jeon Jungkook, but you’re sure to vocalize any discomfort for whatever journey he’s about to embark with you.

“Open wider for me.” He husks. You comply, feet shuffling apart as you hinge lower. 

You couldn’t predict what he wanted to try with you, certainly not anything remotely close to how he parts your ass and you feel his breath on your skin before he leans in.

You nearly cry out at the first lick over the tight ring of your asshole. There was an adjusting period, one that involved your breasts pressed hard against the window, mouth hanging open as Jungkook goes in for another lick.

It’s not unpleasant. New, like he mentioned.

“You taking in everything, P?” His finger slips over your cunt, long index finger teasing the entrance. He takes his time running his fingers between your wet folds, watching your bleary eyes struggle to stay open. It’s fine. You’ll have plenty more opportunities to see the view in the future — he’ll make sure of it.

You moan at the feeling of his finger probing the entrance of your pussy, hole clenched around nothing as he continues teasing you.

“Hm? Answer me, pretty.” His tongue teases around your taint. This time, you relax into it, even going as far as pushing back.

“Mhm,” you try, “‘s pretty.”

You have your head turned again, watching him the best you could, completely unfocused from the view beyond the massive curtain wall. A wrecked moan escapes the moment his long digit pushes into your sensitive cunt — just up to the first knuckle, nothing more. At the same moment, his tongue guides itself past the tight ring of your hole.

You don’t know what to focus on: his tongue fucking into your ass or his finger coated in your arousal as he has you plugged up on both holes simultaneously.

Jungkook’s always been an ass man, and he honors the title as he continuously dives his head between your cheeks. The finger inside your other hole stays in place, never pushing another inch until you whine and reach between your legs. Your fingers touch the top of his, pushing at them to sink deeper into your pussy.

He pushes his digit into you, the full length wrapped around your wet walls. “Do what you need to make this feel good.” He says. “Want you to feel good.”

A content sigh leaves your lips as you rub slow circles, pleasure building again in your stomach as each minute slips by. You’ve never been one to cum multiple times … unfortunately, you’re no better than a man. One and done type of girl, but the eagerness to cum again from this new experience has you motivated and greedy for more. Especially when the experience is with someone you love and care for.

“I-I think I’m gonna cum again.” You announce, pushing your ass back to his face as he continues fucking his tongue into your ass. He groans and nods, picking up the pace from behind with fervor at the mention of your orgasm.

His finger gradually speeds up, curling a little before he decides to add another finger in. 

Oh.

“This okay?” He asks as he senses a change in your demeanor at the sudden intrusion.

You whimper, body stiff and rigid during the adjustment period. The stretch has you halting before you’re rubbing feverishly against your clit, babbling and begging for him to move faster. 

Jungkook’s lucky on the thirty-fourth floor. So lucky no one’s able to hear the the sounds you make both from your mouth and wet cunt as he fucks his digits faster as requested. He curls his fingers and your legs start shaking, your hand no longer able to move as you take everything Jungkook gives from behind.

You gasp, his name falls from your lips as you let go. There’s definitely an imprint of your mouth and cheek on his glass window now, memoirs of the acts you both committed. 

The wetness grows between your legs, both holes pulsating as you finally cum around him again. Jungkook groans, letting you ride out your orgasm as you need.

He removes both his fingers and tongue from your holes and parts your ass to marvel at the mess you’ve made. The puffy ring of your ass shines with his spit, while your pussy quivers from the aftermath of your strong orgasm. He thinks about how it would be if you were stuffed full of him right now, but he’s in no rush with you. Knows there’s no time constraint to loving you right this time around. Your shirt drops from the curve of your hips and down to your knees as you stand upright, turning and pressing your back to the glass again. Jungkook stands up, fingers already in his mouth to lick up any remnants of cum. 

His arms wrap around your waist to hold you up, forehead touching yours as it’s meant to. Doesn’t go for a kiss no matter how much he wants to because he’s not sure of your aversion after where his mouth has been. But you don’t care, looping your arms over his neck and slotting your lips over his for a messy kiss, eventually reduced to small pecks.

“You okay, P?” He asks with round eyes. You nod and ask the same in a hushed whisper.

Why wouldn’t he be when he’s got all he’s ever wanted in his arms? He rubs over your back in a soothing motion, “More than okay, P.”

More kisses are shared, until Jungkook murmurs how he’s still tired and wants to go back to bed. You look at the clock and as tempted you are, you hum and shake your head. His eyes widen at your response, about to offer a quick retort, but you beat him to it.

“You said you had registration for the upcoming semester in a couple hours. Didn’t you say you needed to work on a schedule?”

He tips his head back, both grateful and upset at your memory after he mentioned it to you in passing last week. 

Still, these things can be done while in the comforts of his bed and your company. Hand enclosed in his, he tugs you back to his bedroom, no longer omitting the same warmth when you left.

But perhaps, the warmth was anywhere you were with Jungkook.

Saturn takes twenty-nine years to complete its cycle. When you turned twenty-nine, you thought your Saturn was still out there, taking their sweet time with the journey back home.

“Pixie?” 

“Coming!” You call out, finishing the last touch of your dusty-pink blush. Smoothing out your sage-green dress, you do a small once-over in your mirror before properly greeting your boyfriend. 

Your Saturn’s returned, watching you embark on your new adventure, cheering you on through your wins and losses. Jungkook smiles from the doorway, leather dress shoes placed neatly on the side. His hair is styled as he would for all the wedding events he’s gone to with you, but this was a new suit. Usually in black, the light grey suit brings out his dark features even more — boyish charms emulated with his suit jacket off and hooked on his fingers over a shoulder. The brooches on his vest glimmer on the side, adding a nice finishing touch to his wedding guest look for the evening.

He shines either way when his orbs land on your features, taking in your soft curls and dress you’ve chosen. 

“Pretty.” He’s kind enough to not kiss you, seeing you’ve just freshly applied your lipstick, but you’ve never been opposed to reapplying. You tip-toe to plant a soft kiss, not enough to transfer any product, but enough to tempt him for further damage.

“You look very handsome.” You say, hands automatically coming up to fix the angle of his tie. Spring’s weather is ever unpredictable and today’s one of the more warmer days of the week, but the temperatures rise in the small nook of your home as he stares at you.

To avoid any potential deterrence, you move behind him to get to your shoe rack. He presses his back against the wall opposite to you, watching as you crouch down to pick out a strappy nude heel.

“What if we skipped the wedding, Pix?”

You pout, blowing at the random strands of hair in your peripheral. “Your friend would be disappointed. Plus, we both got all done up. Would be a waste if we didn’t go.”

“It’s not a waste,” he replies, “can just have a night in.”

“Also would give me an excuse to get out of these dress pants.” He adds with a scowl. 

You lean away, doing a double take on the slacks he has on. You’ve always fancied a guy in dress pants and Jungkook was no exception. Loves how his thighs fill up the spaces and how his ass looks in them.

“Couple hours and we can have a night in.” You reassure with a soft smile. “I’ve got a watermelon in the fridge waiting for us.”

The wedding was standard, especially with it belonging to someone you don’t know. Technically most, if not all, weddings you’ve gone to have belonged to strangers. But there was something special about this wedding — it’s the first time you attended a wedding with Jungkook where you aren’t working.

Weddings have always felt magical; the usual string of fairy lights and flower arrangements appear even more enchanting tonight. And you realized, the enchantment started months ago at Yoongi and Hoseok’s union.

During cocktail hour, he made sure to get all your favorite finger foods without request. When the ring bearer and flower girl comes into view during the ceremony, he’s quick to move higher on his seat, letting you peer past him to get a better look at the little ones. And when he holds your waist during the reception’s dance, you know weddings are magical because the moment’s shared with him. 

“This was nice. Thanks for having me as your plus-one.” You sigh in content, cheek rested on his chest as you both slow dance to When a Man Loves a Woman. 

He snorts, lighthearted and warm. “I’m glad you enjoyed.” Meant as a sarcastic remark, he also agrees this evening was a lot nicer than he had anticipated in the month leading up to this day. 

“I really love weddings.” You mumble to yourself.

He loves weddings with you. Jungkook presses his cheek on the top of your head, “I know.”

You and Jungkook stay like this for a while through a couple slow songs until the DJ changes up the genre of the music, signaling older couples to evacuate the dance floors for the younger crowd to reminisce on an era where their knees existed for the thrill of it all.

Your bodies move in tandem: his, warming your back, and your bottom pushed against his groin with your preferred pressure, knowing you’d never go overboard at a wedding but just enough for him to have him let out a shy chuckle.

His breath fans over the shell of your ear, “I really hate these dress pants, P.”

You turn your head to him, sultry expression matching his hooded lids. “Why’s that?”

“Shows everything.” He laughs through his nose, “Can’t leave here any time soon now.”

You ease up a little, facing him again while your fingers slide over the brooches resting on the left side of his chest — where his heart resides. He’d argue his heart is in his arms staring up at him.

“I’ve always loved you in dress pants.” You confess. “‘Cause that’s when we’re at weddings together.”

Considering how he leans down, pressing a small kiss to your lips where you reciprocate with another lingering kiss, maybe being in dress pants isn’t that bad.

“Have we met our quota yet, Pix?” He nudges his nose against yours.

For someone who loves weddings, you’re eager to go home, too. You want nothing more than to just spend time with Jungkook in the comforts of your home.

“Quota met.”

Sheltered by the indoor venue, you didn’t realize how humid it got outside in the time spent at the wedding. Your apartment was practically a sauna by the time you and Jungkook arrived back at your place. Opening up your windows, you have a fan running in the background to air out the space.

“Sorry,” You say sheepishly while cutting into the watermelon. Your eyes rake over Jungkook where he unbuttons his grey vest and rolls up his sleeves to reveal his tattooed arm.

He shakes his head, taking two spoons from your drawers, “It’ll cool down.”

Will it? 

Air heavy with both the atmospheric moisture and tension brewing between you and Jungkook all evening, you’re not so sure if the temperatures will drop any time soon. The watermelon center caves as you both dig with the metal spoons. You favored the center; whereas, Jungkook aimed closer to the watermelon rind. 

He peers over at you where you stand. Hair now put up by a claw clip, he counts the baby hairs sticking onto the back of your neck, momentarily forgetting to dig into the watermelon when it’s his turn. 

“Why do you only pick at the sides?” Your brows twitch, digging into the middle again and turning to him with a center piece.

He shrugs, opening his mouth on cue for you to stick your spoon into his mouth. Sure, the middle pieces were sweet, but he thinks they might be sweeter coming from you. He chews and swallows, tilting his head a little to meet your equally sticky lips.

“Sweet either way, Pix.” He wonders if the salty moisture on your skin would pair well with the sweet watermelon.

Well, one way to find out.

No longer following a script, Jungkook moves on his own accord — loving and falling freely as he likes knowing you’ll be there to catch him. He shifts his body, head dipped in the crook of your neck as he licks a thick stripe over your neck. You gasp, spoon dropping onto the counter as your hands fly to grab onto his forearms for support.

He’s right; you do bring out more sweetness.

The half eaten watermelon sits on your counter, long forgotten in the pursuit of Jungkook’s body pressed to yours. His lips slot perfectly on you, a relieved sigh escapes as your bodies move as it’s desired all evening.

He trails kisses down the column of your throat, marking a pathway on your collarbone. Fingers in his hair, your grip on him tightens as you shyly ask, “Bed?”

Knees digging onto your bed, you sit up taller to kiss your still-standing boyfriend. He’s busy trying to unbutton his dress shirt while you race to unbuckle his belt — a race no one formally declared, but it was an unspoken need. And you both needed each other … badly.

You beat him, of course. The black Calvin Klein lettering on the banding greets you first as the front opening flaps of his pants fall to the side. He whimpers as you run your hand over his bulge. 

“Can I …” Your sentence trails off as you kiss along his exposed neck.

He nods unsure of what you exactly want, but the godforsaken dress pants drop and pool at his ankles without a second thought. You kiss your way down his torso, paying extra attention to his chest. With a determined look, you stick your tongue out on his hard nipple for a tentative lick to glean at his response.

Oh, it’s good — so, so, so good. 

He shivers, hand hitting your claw clip as it flies to the back of your neck to hold you in place. Your teeth grazes over the hardened bud, a sliver of pained pleasure courses through as you bite down with a gentle force. He hisses, mouth dropping open to bite back his moans. You remedy the pain with your tongue, silently apologizing without actually feeling sorry. 

You slither lower on all fours as you take his hard cock out of its confinements. Round eyes look up at him for permission to proceed. 

There’s a slight hesitance in your actions as the last time you wanted to give him a blowjob, he made it a goal to stay protected for both your sakes. He’s always for safe sex, but he knows he’s clean and wants to feel your bare lips around him as long as you’ll allow it. You seem to share the same sentiment as you tilt your head up, eyes burning with want and ownership of his bare skin.

Still, you ask, “Do we need a condom for this?” The thin straps of your pretty evening gown cascades loosely on your shoulders.

“No, but only if you want …” Jungkook pants, a harsh exhale when you give him a gentle squeeze. The small, pleased sound you make, paired with another harder tug confirms your answer.

He releases your hair from the clip, watching it cascade down your shoulders. Bunching your hair in a messy ponytail, he uses it as an anchor as you tug on his shaft. 

“Spit on it.” He pleads, groaning when you comply. Your saliva lands on the tip, dripping over the small bead of precum on his slit. So messy how your thumb glides over his slit, mixing the fluids together. Even messier when you place a kiss on his tip, mixed fluids tainting your pretty lips. His stomach contracts, the dips and ridges of his abs are even more defined as a result.

“Missed this with you, Pix.” He melts. It’s even better than how he imagined over the course of time spent with and without you. 

“I missed you, too.” You reply, tongue darting out and wetting your lips before moving in for a small lick over the head of his cock. “I wanna take care of you.” You mumble as you press messy kisses on the underside of his cock. “Is that okay?”

His stomach warms at your sentiment, knowing it’ll never be one-sided as he’ll always do the same for you. He nods, giving you the go ahead to do as you like. The grip on your hair increases and the hand cupped underneath your chin props you upright to take him fully.

He wonders how a place like heaven could ever beat this feeling with you.

Your eyes never stray from his, watching him through your lashes and how he struggles to maintain eye contact with you. It’s only when his cock begins hitting the back of your throat, your lids flutter shut. You gag from the action, pushing past the discomfort each time to hear more of his grunts and praises. Your skin prickles each time his thumb runs across your skin to soothe your aching jaw. 

“Fuck, Pix, if we keep going like — god,” he hisses, “I’m not gonna last long.” He warns.

“Mmhp,” You try to answer even with your mouth fully stuffed. He pulls back and you whine, robbed at the opportunity of having him release all over your tongue.

“Please,” you breathe, hoarse and rough, “wanna taste you.”

Your mouth falls open again. Instead of sliding in again, Jungkook jerks over his length, fast as he needs with the visual of you on your knees so readily to be ruined.

“Baby–I, I’m gonna cum. Fuck,” He tilts his head up to the ceiling.

And when he finally cums, he does so with your name and a string of praises. The first rope of cum lands on the corner of your mouth. Without another thought, you enclose your lips around his tip. His strangled noises spurs you on in your mission to suck and milk him dry.

When he finally slips out of your mouth, the hand underneath your chin guides you up and your knees walk you close to his standing body again. You still haven’t swallowed, unsure what you want to do with the fluid resting on your tongue.

Reading your expression clearly, Jungkook bites down a smile. “You don’t have to swallow, P.” He chuckles, placing a quick peck to your tightly shut mouth, “Want me to get the waste bin?”

He runs his thumb on the corner of your mouth, catching the stray droplet before wrapping his lips around his digit. Honestly, he doesn’t care for the taste and gets your hesitancy, but you hold his gaze and shake your head no, pressing your lips to his. He groans and opens his mouth for you to slip your cum-coated tongue in.

You whimper at his large hands running up and down your backside, ultimately landing on the bottom of your swelled ass. Absolute sin and filth personified when you both exchange and swallow your mixed fluids. 

Your body aches differently for Jungkook these days. Can’t believe he’s in front of you now in your home, surrounded by everything you love.

And you love him.

“I love you.” He says, as though all your internal thoughts and feelings are tethered to him. It’s no secret, and unworthy of hiding. 

You kiss him again, pulling him down with you. He giggles and shrugs off the rest of his clothing as he hovers over you with starry eyes.

Cupping his jaw, you reply, “I love you. Want this with you.”

The relationship. The love. The experience.

His heart — it’s all yours.

The long dimples appear again, disappearing from view once he lowers his head to kiss your neck all while fumbling on the thin straps of your dress and tugging it to expose your bare breasts.

He's said this before and thinks there’s no greater truth than this, “You’re perfect.” Leaning down, he places a wet kiss on your sternum, mouthing, “so beautiful.”

You keen into his touch, back arching when he takes one nipple in his mouth. He does this for a few minutes, teasing your nipples and rotating between them with equal amounts of love and attention.

Again, the ache runs through your entire body, gathering right at your core when his teeth bites down on your sensitive nipple. Your hand detaches from his hair and makes its descent down to his crotch.

He’s only half-hard, still sensitive from his first orgasm. 

Sensing your impatience, he chuckles against your skin. “Gimme some time, P.” Eyes closing as you squeeze around his length again.

You pout, but nod nonetheless, letting go of his shaft because the last thing you want is to do the opposite of keeping him hard.

“But,” he muses, “you could help me.”

And this is how you end up as equally naked as Jungkook on your bed. You’re supported by your numerous pillows as you lay there, watching his eyes jump between your face and closed legs.

His hands are on your knees, soft as he pries them apart to reveal your soaked core. 

You instinctively move to cover your mound, suddenly feeling shy even though Jungkook has seen you bare from below multiple times. His bigger hand covers yours, pressing against it just enough for you to feel the relief it brings. 

“‘S just me, pretty.” He says, eyes never leaving yours. His words and stare makes you sling your free arm over your eyes, blocking the visual of him: kiss-swollen lips, locks no longer in its styled state, red flush on his chest — a stark difference from the dark, solid ink on one of his arms … you can’t bear to look at him in this state. 

Can’t bear him looking at you either.

“I know,” you reply, “I’m just … embarrassed.”

You can’t see him, but you’re sure he’s giving you one of those smiles. One that asks ‘What for? You’re amazing.’

You think about the sheer amount of people who have watched Jungkook — yourself included — and wonder how he isn’t shy. And because of that, you feel yourself growing braver at the thought of giving Jungkook something to watch and appreciate.

Still, you keep your forearm over your eyes, but the other hand covering your pussy nudges Jungkook’s warm hand away. You move up a little. All practiced precision in how your middle finger dips between your slit, rubbing slow circles on your swollen clit.

“Oh, fuck.” He lets out a breathy laugh. Your senses are heightened in this self-visually impaired state; his swallow is heard in the distance.

You think about whether he’s just looking at your hand on your pussy or if he’s watching your covered face — if his eyelids are hooded … if the visual of you playing with yourself is ‘helping’ him. Perhaps it’s these thoughts that also make you grow wetter in between your legs, the wet sounds reach your ears through your staggered breaths.

You feel his lips press on the top of your knee, his breathing also coming out haggard.

“Is this enough?” You whimper, wanting him to take rein of your pleasure.

“A little longer, please?” He begs. “For me?”

He moans at your compliance, noting the speed change in your fingers. The bed shifts too, he nears your body again and you feel his warm breath fanning over your fingers. Suddenly, a dribble of wetness slides on top of your digits and trickles down to the entrance of your pussy, mixing with the rest of your arousal.

The feeling has you removing your arm, finally looking down where he’s at in between your legs. A small playful smile on his lips as he sits back up in his kneeled position. He's more than ready — just wants to see more of you. 

You take note of his hard cock in his hand, a slow stroke up before he thumbs at the slit like he likes to. A twinge of pleasure hits your core again and you’re forced to rub harder circles to relieve yourself of the heavy ache building up at the sight. He laughs again, a mixture of disbelief and horniness as the pace on his cock speeds up too.

“So much better seeing this in person.” His eyes involuntarily shut as he tilts his head to the side.

Huh?

The movement of your hand pauses and so does he with widened eyes. He clears his throat, trying to find the words before you ask, “W-what’s that supposed to mean?”

A sheepish smile stretches across his face and instead of explaining right away, he leans over your body now. Nose against yours, he places a tiny kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Promise you won’t get mad?” He asks, his hand moves yours away from your pussy and slots his cock in between your soaked folds. Meant as a distraction or to ease your worries for his next words, he finds himself breathing heavier at the feel of your bare cunt with his shaft. The head of his cock slips over with ease onto your swollen clit, twitching as he moves his cock side to side now.

“I–fuck–Pix, you’re so wet.” He drops his head to your neck.

You nod, almost distracted as well, but you bring his head back to your eye level. He swallows nervously, wrist slowing the movement with his cock. Jungkook should’ve rephrased his question to ‘promise you won’t get embarrassed,’ because shortly after he slyly recounts the details of Your Video™ popping up in your living room, you lay there surrounded in the flames of humiliation.

“So embarrassing.” You mumble, unable to meet his eyes. 

Jungkook giggles, kissing your cheek, “Hey, I liked it a lot.”

You turn your head, nose touching his now, “Did you?”

“Uh-huh, more than you’ll ever know.” His hips shift, resuming the grind on your cunt again. “But I like this more.”

His movements get you worked up again, forgetting about your mortification just moments ago. You whine, whimper, and mew into his shoulder; the ache comes and goes — reminding you need more than just this.

“Jungkook,” You gasp at the taps of his cock against your folds.

“Hm?” Eyes hooded, he watches you through his lashes, mouth dropped open when your hands run down his torso.

“Need you.” You plead, hip angled up so you can press harder against him.

“I know, I know, pretty. Just–” He shuts his eyes, “I gotta get you nice and ready for me.”

He senses your hesitancy again and he stops to stare down at you.

“I-I’ve had sex already,” You say, teeth worrying on the bottom lip and debating if you should say your next words. “With, um, Mingyu. So, we don’t have to prep.” While both unnecessary to tell him and unreasonable to feel this way, guilt courses through your body at the confession.

“Doesn’t matter to me if you’ve had sex.” Jungkook says, “I always want you to feel good and comfortable.” He kisses you, soft just like the fingers he trails at your entrance gathering your arousal.

You swallow, “Are you upset it happened with someone else?”

He blinks, head tilting in confusion, “Not something for me to get upset over, P.” Studying your face, his brows eventually relax as he asks you, “Are you upset?”

You shrug, looking to the side. “It was … whatever.” That’s all you’re willing to say about the experience and you’re sure Jungkook doesn’t want to hear about another man while he’s just about to get intimate with you. At this point, maybe he’d opt out to stopping in general, but he sighs a small hey to gain your attention.

“The experience will always be yours.” He kisses your forehead. “Nobody can take anything from you.”

You nod, eyes closing at the feel of his finger at your entrance. He keeps his lips at your forehead, feeling it furrow as he sinks one finger into your pussy. It’s a slow and leisure pump, easy to have you forgetting about the prior conversation and putting the focus back on him. Penetration has never been your thing; technically, it’s still not. But there’s some relief as Jungkook curls and massages his finger against your walls, stretching you out as he intended to. He refuses to take his eyes off yours, especially when he decides to add in another finger.

“That’s it, baby. Taking it so well.” He praises, voice cracking at the end of the sentence.

“You make me feel so good.” You sigh, eyes closing as he speeds his fingers inside you. “Always feel so safe with you.”

He curses, mentally prepared to hear your choked whine when he removes his fingers from your sopping hole. He says your name sternly, followed by a thick swallow. You hum in response, hips mindlessly chasing after any part of his body for friction. He slots his hard shaft against your wet folds again, giving you both some form of pleasure in the interim. He looks down, moaning at the sight of his cock coated with your arousal.

“Need you inside me.” Your hands hold his waist in place to stop him from grinding against your clit, head of his cock positioned at your entrance. You bubble with anticipation, wondering how he’d feel inside you.

And as much as he’d like nothing more than to finally sink inside, a small part of his lovesick brain still holds some form of logic and manages to utter, “Birth control?”

You blink, a slight falter in your response as you shake your head shamefully. There wasn’t a medical necessity for you to be on birth control before and you didn’t think far enough when it came to intimacy with Jungkook.

He chuckles, “That’s okay, P. I just wanted to check.” He hops off the bed and fishes for his wallet. Another ten seconds go before he drops his wallet onto the ground with a triumphed smile and brings up the small squared package between his fingers. The smile drops a little at the sight of your tiny pout.

Beating him to his question, you remark, “I wanted to feel you …” 

He exhales hard through his nose. Keeping the condom in between his fingers, he makes his way back to you on your bed. You both seem to fall back into position again. 

“Not sure if either of us are ready for kids, P.” The thought of having kids is scary, but weirdly … he finds the fear lessening at the thought of it with you. Seen how you reacted and smiled around children — he wonders if his future kids would have your smile. Either way, too early for these thoughts.

“Okay, okay,” You let his words simmer a little and he suddenly wants to do away with the little package in his hands when you look up at him. “You’re right.” 

He’s right, knows he is when you blink away those irrational thoughts. The same thoughts get pushed to the side when the foil packaging tears and a sweet scent fills your nostrils. This time, hints of rich chocolate and confectioned goodness. You relax back onto your mattress, watching as he positions himself between your legs.

“Do you only have flavored condoms?” You ask, impish smile lifting the awkward conversation from before.

He grins, “Someone gifted a five hundred flavored pack for my birthday last year.” Hint: it was Hoseok. “So … we’re stuck with this for now. Do you hate it? I could stop using them–”

You shake your head and his eyes soften at your answer. There’s relief in knowing it’ll always remain sweet between you and Jungkook. 

“I wanna feel you, too.” He admits as he lines himself at your entrance. He doesn’t push in just yet, watching how your hole clenches around nothing … for now. “We’ll figure something out.”

The defaulted option is to simply have you go on birth control, but that’s something to discuss and for you to decide. If need be, he isn’t too opposed to a vasectomy. You both have all the time in the world to discuss.

“Okay,” you stutter as he begins pushing the head of his covered cock in. That’s all he does for now, opting to drop onto his forearms to kiss you, praise you — love on you. You do little to hide the sting, face contorting before you let out a couple shallow breaths.

“Too much?” He asks, hips stalling and fingers brushing away your hair.

You shake your head, “Hurts a little, but,” you lift your hips a little, legs parting to accommodate Jungkook's body. “Wanna keep going.”

He doesn’t move. 

Tattooed arm dropped in between your bodies, he rubs practiced circles on your clit. You sigh in content, wiggling your hips to push more of him into you. Eyes fluttering shut, similar to how your pussy flutters and gushes around his length after every little push inside as a reward for taking more of him. He shudders and grunts deeply, mentally counting backwards from a hundred to keep himself distracted by how snug your walls feel around him.

You moan, soft and saccharine at the stretch of his full length inside you.

“You feel so good.” He husks into the shell of your ear. “Feel that, Pix?”

“Yeah …” You keen, unable to verbalize a proper response.

“You gotta tell me how you feel, ‘kay?” He lifts his head up and connects his forehead on yours, but his heavy eyes observe how your lower halves connect.

“M-mhm,” You reply, eyes shutting at the fullness below. “Can we stay like this for a bit? I-It’s … it’s a lot.”

He nods. A part of him is thankful for this pause, allowing his mind to think of other things in the meantime so this experience can be better for you. The other part is worried you’re uncomfortable. He wants to make this good for you — wants you to feel good, so it doesn’t matter how long he needs to stay still inside you. Sex could end right now and he’d be okay with it.

“Kiss me, please?” Your request comes out small, but he feels the harsh drumming of your heart against his chest. Your hands are bunched up on his nape, not relaxed how they usually are when you’re with him. 

What else could he do but comply with your wishes?

Kissing’s good — the belief he’ll die on a hill for. Kissing’s even better with you; he loves your lips, the way you lick the seam of his lips, how you sound when you’re being kissed as you deserve. Could stay like this forever with you. The heavy making out goes on for another two minutes, until he unconsciously bucks his hips which forces you to detach from his lips in a loud gasp.

He immediately searches for your face, eyes swelling with concern. “Sorry, I–”

You shake your head, thighs clamping around to hold him still before he pulls out. “‘s okay,” you reassure, “That felt good. Just, go slow.”

The pace he sets out is controlled — slow, as requested. And god, is it good. Your bed creaks with every movement, but the sounds are overshadowed by your shared breathy moans and praises only heard between each other. His fingers move swiftly over your pussy, so love drunk with your body, he feels his balls tightening — a sign of his forthcoming orgasm.

Call it selfish or greedy, he doesn’t want it to end, pulling out at the last second to delay his orgasm. Typically so well-versed in your body cues of an impending orgasm, his own dilemma clouded his judgment when you let out an involuntary frustrated cry at the loss of contact. 

Your chest stutters, stomach clenching from your heavy breaths. And although you should question why he did that, you can’t think when he guides his cock into your warm cunt once more.

“You were gonna make me cum again, pretty.” He lets out a breathy laugh, hips resuming its pace.

You whine, “Was gonna cum, too.” You look down where he fucks his thick length into you. He makes up for the accidental edging by rocking his hips faster into you, fingers once again finding home on your clit forces a high pitched squeal from your kiss-swollen lips.

“Yeah? I’m sorry.” He truly is. Your pleasure’s always his top priority — you’re his priority. 

“You deserve to cum.” His fingers flatten on your mound, and the wet squelching sounds increase with the fastened movements. “Give it to me, pretty.”

So sensitive and lost in the pleasure, you gasp and arch your body into his, eyes slamming shut at the onset waves of pleasure building below. 

“Jung–” Couldn’t finish your sentence before you’re squeezing tightly around him. He doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers, but he stills himself in you, giving you a couple hard pumps while you ride out your sudden orgasm.

He doesn’t think he ever wants to forget this feeling. 

Finally letting off your clit and pushing himself up again, Jungkook marvels at the thin sheen of sweat in between your chest and the white ring of cum coated at the base of his cock where the condom doesn’t fully reach.

“Please, need you to cum inside me.” You beg.

He can’t, not with the condom on, but the sentiment makes him act like he doesn’t have one on. Parting your thighs wider, he thrusts in slowly, mindful of your oversensitivity. The ring of cum builds and thickens at the base, transferring some of your arousal over his pubic bone in a messy haze. Alas, the visual combination of your chest moving in tandem with his thrusts, your scrunched brows, and hand on his stomach was enough for him to release once more. 

Though, the final blow came from your soft declarations of love while you tell him how good he makes you feel.

“Baby,” He manages, hands dropping your thighs, his front also comes down onto your chest as he lazily pumps inside of you with his cum-filled condom. The pleasure continues in the form of your fingers raking up and down his back, drawing shapes and patterns of love.

You know things will always remain sweet between you and Jungkook — like the giggles, doting questions, and soothing hands as he brings you to the shower. It’s not the hot water you feel on your skin, but Jungkook’s tender kisses and embrace forever etched on your body.

“P, sit still, won’t you?” Jungkook stands behind the tripod, angling the camera.

“You ever consider modeling? You’re a natural.” You say as you sift through the album on the tablet. You’re doing everything to avoid Jungkook’s latest assignment in class. Sure, it’ll be a good headshot update for your business card and website, but you weren’t keen on having your picture taken. It was always better behind the camera.

He rolls his eyes, gentle smile on his lips as he walks over. “Flattery won’t get you out of helping me. You promised you’d be my model for this semester.”

“Camera shy.” You pout. “You know that.”

“I know.” Jungkook chuckles. “I’ll teach you.” Leaning down, he places a soft kiss on your lips.

The thing with teaching is that he inadvertently learns as well. Knows it’s also the same for you too. Skills refined, new ideologies unlocked, and discoveries waiting to be explored. He no longer follows a script anymore — no longer feels like he’s boxed in … life is forever limitless as long as he makes it to be.

A shutter goes off from behind capturing the two of you in the frame.

fin.

ending a/n: beta’d by @takeitawaykenny who sat thru my ridiculousness but also entertained it. prologue wouldn’t have existed without her, yall … she rly was brain behind rkivedshots' beginnings on god love u bookie ;__; and @lovieku who’s been nothing but supportive and rode thru my (many) moments of doubt. she was the angel i needed on my shoulder during the makings of my first series and helped shape so much of itf!! couldn't have done this without your guys unwavering love and support!! oceans of gratitude to my two champions 😭🫂

🧚🏻‍♀️࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

alas, thank YOU all for joining me on this fun ride. i hope you guys got something out of this whether it be a chuckle, life lesson, or soiled panties, i’m lucky yall stuck with me. to my lovelies who have been here since the beginning and cuties we picked up along the way: i appreciate your trust, patience, and overall enthusiasm for this series — you’re my dream!! i told yall i’d guide us to my desired ending with so much love and care. ain’t no way this couple wasn’t gonna be end game … i just had to make the journey difficult. oop. anyway call me #aftercarequeen 💅

with that said … epilogue? send your thanks to lovieku for convincing me bahaha it won’t come any time soon cuz i have other things i wanna work on, but do not fear … i have something planned!

in the meantime, feel free to send in your reaccs/thoughts for our lovely itf!couple. i’m here for ya just as you’ve been here with me xoxo ♡

Is a glass of water half-full or half-empty?

You observe the glass, hoping for a revelation or answer — a good distraction from your miscalculations all evening; well, miscalculations in the duration of meeting Jeon Jungkook. Tucking yourself further into your small couch, the corners of your lips tug at the reminder of the boy. The icy glass cools your hot skin, which still remembers the flames he left you surrounded in on the dancefloor.

And those eyes — his always spoke to you without words. 

Eyes smitten and playful all evening, you can’t forget how they morphed into fear and panic when you finally moved on the pathway he laid out for you. Were you wrong to assume he wanted more with you?

“Ah, so stupid.” You slam your eyes shut at the memory, shame heats your cheeks at his rejection — at another loss you’ll need to process on your own. Loss, after loss, after loss. It wears on your bones, empties your soul just like how you empty the glass of water clutched in your hand.

Didn’t matter whether your glass was ‘half-full or half-empty,’ the water will eventually be consumed. Jungkook had a way of overfilling your glass with an abundance of hope; however, you later found out the glass you shared with Jungkook contained holes and eventually left you empty.

No one leaves you empty like Jungkook does. 

Sitting up higher on your couch, you dig your lower back into your armrest, wanting to feel some form of support.

Maybe you should’ve stayed and taken the water Jungkook offered. Wake you up from that drunken state and snap you out of your innermost desires for your friend. You’d probably go as far as blaming the alcohol and the night would’ve just ended from there.

Probably would’ve been a better alternative than pathetically running away. Then again, there was no way you were going to last another second in the venue — not after the way he pulled away.

You know it’s rude to leave in the middle of the party. Can’t even bear looking at your phone since ordering a cab outside the club, opting to place it on silent afterwards. Now, the phone rests heavily on your kitchen counter, begging to be checked on.

You should text him. Tell him you’re safe and use indigestion as an excuse for your abrupt departure — no one would ever find fault in that reason. Another pang of anxiety holds you back from touching your phone. What if he didn’t bother checking on you? Upset with your bad habit of leaving? 

He has all the rights to.

Setting your feet into your house slippers, you’re thankful for the flat cushion after a night of dancing in heels. Bathroom first, then you’ll text Jungkook. The order of events seemed the most logical and definitely not your way of avoiding the inevitable. It’s a solid plan—

You jolt at the series of knocks against your door. Although your building was relatively safe, living alone had its downsides, especially at this hour. The grip on your glass changes and you ready yourself for self-defense. 

Best case scenario? A ding-dong ditcher. Worst? Nope. You don’t want your mind wandering there. 

One eye closed, you peer through the peephole.

The fisheye effect warps your vision, but you could easily make out the person standing facing away from your doorway. The dangly, silver five-hooped earrings were a dead giveaway to your visitor. Felt them graze the top of your hand every time he tilted his head in your touch. Felt them when you wrapped your hands at the base of his nape. They glimmered prettily under the club lights, but they look nearly dull now under your complex’s standard lightbulbs. 

He’s a few steps away, pacing, looking anywhere but your door as if it was the most offensive piece of object … as if your home was the most deplorable place he could be at right now.

And it should be. He should be at his party celebrating his wins and accomplishments, surrounded by people who love and care for him — not on shame’s breeding grounds. Shame nearly has you running to hide underneath your covers, hoping he’d leave if you refused to answer. Rather than give into shame’s call for isolation, your fingers flick the locks and wrap around the doorknob.

“Jungkook?” 

He’s still turned away from you, pacing back and forth in your building’s hallway. No longer styled how it was in the beginning of the night, his hair looks to be run through … whether it be by him or a stranger. 

Couldn’t be you.

Your mouth parts, words lodged in your throat, but you manage to utter, “What are you doing here?”

He lets out a breath. So unstable, you could feel the restraint in his action but he stops in his tracks, head tilting up at the ceiling to will the words.

“Why do you keep doing that?” His voice raises, back still turned to you.

You frown, looking around to see if there was anyone in the vicinity. Definitely not at this hour. Your neighbors should be asleep, which is why you don’t want to make a scene outside your home.

“Jungkook—”

Suddenly, harshly, his back shifts and his body whips around, “Why do you keep leaving me? Is that all you know how to do?” 

You’re standing face to face with his wide eyes and desperate furrowed brows. The hand raking through his hair only showcasing more of the distress forming on his forehead.

Your mind flashes back to your meeting at the milestone party. There was nothing wrong with your departure at that time. A small, but selfish part of you, doesn’t think you were at total fault for tonight’s departure either. 

“Jungkook … please,” you stammer, eyes drifting down to your feet. 

“I-I don’t fucking get it, Pix. I just–”

“Can you come inside?” You ask, looking around once more. And although Jungkook hasn’t made far enough noises to warrant a complaint, you’d rather talk inside the privacy of your home. “We can talk in here. Please?” You plead in a small whisper.

Jaw clenched as he looks at you and over the threshold of your home, he nods.

Citrus, with no more lingering scent of cigarettes, wafts past you. Even if he was upset with you, he’s still respectful in your home as he toes off his shoes at the entryway. He exhales through his nose, finally turning to face you. His jaw ticks, eyes bloodshot for multiple reasons but he’ll blame the alcohol and not the exhaustion of looking for you. 

You can’t meet his eyes, can’t even bring yourself to speak in the comforts of your home.

“You keep doing this.” His voice cracks.

“I-I,” Your own voice wavers at his statement, you fight the lump in your throat as you lie, “wasn’t feeling well—”

“Cut the bullshit.” 

You frown, having never seen Jungkook speak nor act this way towards you. He extends patience and understanding towards you like an additional limb on his body; perhaps, you’ve tested them enough tonight. Still, your own emotions come out just as unsteady and unreasonable.

“You’re being unfair.” You croak.

“I’ve been anything but that, Pix.” He retracts his head, brows furrowed. “You’re the one that left. Like you always do when things don’t go your way.”

Your brows pull together, unable to mask the hurt at the accusation. “What did you expect me to do? You—” Your bottom lip trembles.

“What?” He takes a step forward and you’re once again engulfed in his overbearing scent. The action stunts your train of thoughts, and for a split second, you think he’s almost just as affected.

You’re tired of going in circles, chasing but also running away from what appears to be your own desires.

“You led me on all night.” Voice small, Jungkook nearly misses what you say. 

His frustration morphs into surprise, then guilt at the sudden forwardness of your words.

“I …” His eyes widen at the realization as he chews on the inside of his cheeks. He shakes his head, denying the allegations. “I didn’t.”

“But you did.” You walk past him, lower back leaning against the kitchen island. Arms crossed, you don’t miss how Jungkook’s eyes drop to your breasts pushed together. His throat bobs, hands twitching on his sides as he tries to rack up an appropriate response.

“We were dancing. Having fun.” He reasons. “That’s all.”

Friends don’t dance the way you both did tonight; their touches don’t burn. They don’t leave the party after being deserted from a dodged kiss on the dance floor. They sure as hell don’t stare at you like you’re made of stardust. 

“Okay.” As if whatever happened in the last couple of hours could be reduced to ‘just dancing.’

His throat emits a low growl, patience once again tested. “Why’d you leave?”

Truthfully? There was no alternate reality where you’d stay after his rejection.

Your crossed arms drop to your sides, throat tightening to keep the contents in your stomach from hurling out. You can’t bear the truth, which seems to point at the fact Jungkook has moved on and there’s no more room for you in his life and heart. 

He’s left you behind.

Jungkook fills in the silence with the same words circling in your head, slipping from his mouth now directed at you with an ache you’ve done your best to forget. “You’ve moved on.”

Your face falls, having spent months trying to forget him through hobbies, friends, and even another person, only to find out … nothing’s worked.

Unable to meet his eyes, you mutter, “I had to.” 

“I know.” He says, “I know that.”

The filter on your fish tank acts as a buffer for the silence stretched in the small distance.

“You’ve moved on, too.” You don’t mention the woman you saw in his apartment lobby, too afraid of the confirmation that he has indeed moved on.

He lets out a shuddering breath, head hung low. “I tried, okay? I really did.”

Something within you shatters at his revelation. It hurts to be right, and it hurts more knowing no one was at fault in the aftermath of a heartbreak. 

He drags his hand down his face, fighting the drunken exhaustion and confusion. “Things got better, I swear. But then I see you and I’m just reminded …”

“Of what?” You ask.

He stays quiet. So different than the man who was just outside your door ready to scorn the world. You wonder how he has kept his composure during the times of your silence when all you want to do right now is shout for an answer, resolution … or ending. What was left after this? Was there another title after being demoted to friends?

… Strangers?

You don’t wait for his answer, choosing to fill the gaps of the conversation with your reality. “You don’t tell me about your life anymore. Like … like, I’m some sort of afterthought learning all these things about you after the fact.” Tears falling freely, you sniff and palm away the moisture on your cheeks.

“Pix–”

“Why did you push me away?” From his life, from the kiss … no clarification needed — it all bleeds together anyway. “Did I misunderstand?”

“Pix.” He repeats, eyes crestfallen and exhausted. “You’re with someone, there’s no way I would do that to you–”

“I’m not with him anymore.”

He pauses, drawing in a sharp breath. “Still doesn’t make it right.” Despite his words, you recognize a faint glint in his eyes.

Of course he becomes the voice of reason when this conversation shouldn’t exist among supposed friends. Now it’s your turn to stay quiet, too ashamed for further humiliation and rejection.

“All I do is remember you, Pix. All I find myself doing is thinking of you. Could never stop even if I wanted to.” He shakes his head. Your stomach sinks, an uncomfortable mass lodged in your throat as you process his words. “And I’m so tired of having to remember you.” He looks at you with so much anguish, wishing and begging for you to end this turmoil. 

“Jungkook …”

“I still think about the night at the hotel.” He continues, jaw clenched to stop the trembles. “And I feel so guilty.”

You shake your head vehemently. “You never once did anything I didn’t want to do.”

“I knew you couldn’t be with me, but I still pushed for more. It was selfish of me and I—”

“I’ve always wanted you, Jungkook,” you sob. “You never gave me the chance to make things work.”

Your hands cover your face as you heave into your palms, moist from your tears and breath. Jungkook tilts his head up at the ceiling, furiously blinking away the stray tears he thought he had swore away on the cab ride over to your place.

The buzzing travels up from your fingers to the back of your head. Your body convulses from your silent sobs, mind numbing from all the fog and confusion. Like a bee, refusing to leave you alone, you want to cower away from the source of noise. The buzzing continues for another fifteen seconds, too loud even when neither of you utter a word. It’s impossible to avoid when the buzzing happens from within. How do you remedy this? How do you run away? How, how, how—

The buzzing stops.

Zapped away by a strong pair of arms, the bees stop swarming in your mind, all honeyed scent — all citrus consuming your senses.

Jungkook holds you and it’s the closest thing to the security of your home. Possibly better. Home shelters you from the brewing storm, and as you cry into the expanse of Jungkook’s chest, he holds you tighter, chin resting on the top of your head.

“What are we even doing?” Jungkook mumbles against your hair, voice hoarse and tired.

You inhale into your hands and answer honestly, “I don’t know.” 

He swallows, breathing you in, “I hate this.”

Your heart crumbles again. Was this it? Has to be. He’s finally done and wants nothing to do with you anymore.

Instead of his warmth departing from your body like you’ve grown used to, he holds you tighter.

“I fucked everything up.” He says. “I messed you up, and I’m trying to do right by you, I swear, but I–”

His words are cut off with your arms around his waist. Face pressed into his chest, your tears became another source of darkness on his grey shirt, but neither of you cared. 

“You didn’t mess anything up.” You heave. Months passed, things changed. Time was a marker for healing and forgetting old wounds; though, there were just some things — some people — you can’t and don’t want to forget. 

“I missed you so much, Pix.”

You pull back a little to look at his face. Hurt and longing never needed a competition and there’s no winner when both of you were wounded in the process. The frame had always been a little unfocused and hard to decipher, but you’re both in view now.

“I never stopped thinking about you.” You confess.

He blinks twice, hand now coming to cup your wet cheek. Ache and remorse stretches over his face at the time lost in the absence of one another. He needs to be honest, barring out the truth if there was even a possibility to start anew. 

“I can’t promise perfection, P.” He admits, scared and worried for this potential dealbreaker. 

“I never asked for perfection.” You shake your head, breath finally coming out even. Pausing, you let the reality of your recent failures sink in, “I just got out of something and I don’t know if I’m any good, but I wanna figure things out with you — do things properly. Please give me time.” Please give us time.

You both loosen your hold on one another, but maintain your gazes as your hands finally intertwine. The hold is weak, full of uncertainty of the future, but you push forward, “Please?” You ask again, heart in your hands — no, heart in his hands. You pray and hope he handles it with care. He has all the power to do the opposite, turning your heart to cold steel for the next poor soul.

He doesn’t, though — can’t imagine anyone but him holding your heart with delicate hands if you allow him to. 

Jungkook’s always wondered when the world would bend for him; yet, he’s got the world in his arms right now willing to bend for his sake. 

He nods and the night bleeds into the morning as you and Jungkook sit on your small couch to catch up, mending lost time with one another. The hours of bitterness leading up to this moment was well worth it after you finally taste the hint of sweetness lodged behind his growing smiles. The catch up bounces back between idle chatters to late night secrets until you both settle into the mundane and content.

“Group work is the worst, P. Avoid it at all costs.” He recounts the number of times his classmates let him down on a project this past semester.

You laugh wholeheartedly. “Why’d you think I run this business alone?”

“Smart girl.” He grins, and your body warms from the small compliment. 

A natural silence fills you both at this time, between the chuckles and stares. You think you could get used to this. A new norm knowing you both want to start over with an agreed upon future. The two glasses of water on your coffee table gets refilled throughout the night, but sits empty now. 

Yet, you’re both so full. 

And you realize no one’s replenishing the glass the way Jungkook does. Around your imaginary glass filled with holes, Jungkook always does his best to cover and mend them.

“I’m sorry for not keeping you posted on my life.” Jungkook says, knees brushing against yours. “I was trying to figure things out on my own.” He leaves out the part where he wanted to reach out for your opinion, opting to struggle by himself.

“Could’ve reached out to me. I wouldn’t have minded.”

He nods, lips pursed debating his next words.

“What?” You ask, eyes heavy from exhaustion, but you don’t want to miss a single second with your special boy.

“Mm, nothing.” His trademark dimples make an appearance when he hides away a playful smile.

“Come on,” you push, “Tell me.”

He laughs softly, lips pulling to an embarrassed smile, “Wanted you to notice me, so I …”

Your eyes narrow, doing your best to piece together the meaning of his words. Something finally clicks as you lean back against your couch. You’d never peg someone like Jeon Jungkook to do things out of spite or attention, but you suppose love has a way of making people do stupid things.

This was love, right?

“I know. Stupid and immature.” He shakes his head.

“It worked.” You shrug, returning his sheepish smile. He interlaces his fingers with you, relaxed knowing you had been trying to keep up with his life in secret. 

He smiles, but shortly after dips a little at his next musing, “Classes have really taken up a lot of my time. I haven’t been able to work as much, but I still take on projects every month or so.”

Your expression falters a little, guilt filling your system as he relays this information. You nod, head leaning to rest on his shoulder.

“Does it bother you?” He asks another forward question. He doesn’t sound as uncertain as he did months ago in the hotel, courage coming as he knows your inevitable answer. 

“A little.” You admit.

You’ll get used to this just as Jungkook needs to get used to this too — that sometimes he will disappoint and hurt. Your acceptance isn’t a form of a bandaid over a reopened wound; instead, allowing the healing process to take on whatever form is needed. Eventually a scar tissue will rise over the persistent lesion, granting you the chance to perform better this time around.

Around 5 a.m. your sleepy eyes fight to stay open as you watch Jungkook put on his shoes. He stands up, eyes heavy but with so much anticipation. Realizes the moment the door shuts behind him, he’ll be left anticipating the next time he’ll be graced with your company again.

He comes close, and with a soft exhale through his nose, he presses his lips to your forehead. Breath fanning over, his voice is low and gravelly on your skin, “See ya, Pix.”

Life with Jungkook, again, is ever soft and changing. The effort is there, the pace of the relationship slow as it should be. Jungkook’s main focus is school now and you’re there to support him along the way. You come over to work while he’s studying or in virtual lectures.

He wants you close. Giving you access to his apartment by creating your personalized finger scan into his home. You also give him a spare key to your place, prompted by a recent out of the city wedding you had to attend and no one else was available to feed Gum and Bubba.

On his large couch, you sit on the opposite end as you answer email inquiries. Wedding season’s peaking again and no matter how busy you may get, you’re never too busy for Jungkook. Nothing stops Jungkook from remaining close to you — not even his overly large couch. He’s never too far, wanting your legs slung over his lap as he listens to his lecture through his headphones. His hands mindlessly massage the bottom of your soles, knowing exactly where you’re most sensitive and tired after a long weekend of being on your feet.

You aren’t quite lovers, but you definitely are not just friends. What you’re building with Jungkook takes time. Lots of failing and hard days, but there are just as many and if more, softer and gentler days where you’re reminded this was all worth it.

Things move as they intend to. Like your slow evening walks, shared hot meals, and camera shutters when Jungkook needs to work on his portfolio or an assignment for class. He tags along with you on a couple of weddings to keep you company, inevitably revealing to you that weddings aren’t his thing. It’s good to be honest with these truths — one less field he’d find himself dipping with in the world of photography. But no matter his contempt, he likes being where you’re at. 

His lecture finishes and he closes his laptop on his table, leaning back as he rests his eyes after realizing how long he’s been on the computer. Sure, school was difficult, but it was structured — no surprises. Just an obligation he willingly signed up for. 

You don’t look up from your laptop, speaking as you type up a response to an inquiry, “What’s on your mind?”

He debates sharing his predicament, hands haven’t stopped his ministrations on your feet as if you were his version of a stress-ball. You breathe through your nose when he hits a particular pressure point.

“I have to go to work next weekend.” He sighs, working on your other foot now. “I’m tired.”

“Can you decline or postpone?” You look up, blue light from your screen bouncing back to your face. 

He shakes his head. “Can’t. I signed a two-parter contract a while back and this is the last installment.”

You close your laptop, feet swinging down to touch his fluffy carpet rug as you scoot closer to him. You were aware contracts and waiver forms existed to protect a business and their clients. In Jungkook’s case, the production he signed with was protecting their assets and securing their future projects. It’s a little demoralizing to view Jungkook as an asset, but that’s how business worked. He had to fulfill his duties to avoid legal penalties.

You lean in and it’s a familiar sight Jungkook’s grown fond of these couple of weeks: cheek squished on his shoulder, you look up with reassuring eyes. ‘It’ll be okay.’

Slowly, you’ve grown to manage the unease of his work, ache returning similar to tides crashing onto land. Sometimes the waves hit stronger than anticipated, but smaller and more manageable tides come ashore.

“Just one day, and it’ll be over soon. Then you’ll be free to focus on your exams afterwards, hm?” You soothe, setting the scenario to make the finish line easier to visualize.

“Yeah.” He grunts, not completely relaxed at the idea of having to do something he doesn’t particularly want to, but a job was a job.

“Hey,” you sit up higher, “is there anything I can do to make it better?”

Shouldn’t have offered that because there’s probably a number of things Jungkook can list off the top of his head. His tongue grows heavy in his mouth at the mere idea of having anything he wanted from you. 

“Something sweet?” You suggest, brows wiggling up and down.

“Right now?” Declining was never in the books when it came to desserts.

You shake your head with a small laugh, “Whenever you’re done with the project. I can bring something after.”

“Okay, Pix. I’d love that.” His hand holds yours. “Surprise me.”

Nights were always spent like this until it was time for one of you to leave. He walks you to your car, waving at the kind receptionist on the way out to the guest parking lot. No longer embraced in summer’s sweltering heat, fall’s brisk air hits your cheeks when you both step out the complex. You never needed an excuse to press your body closer to Jungkook’s side, hand lodged deep in his coat pocket.

“Bye.” You whisper, tippy-toeing as you press a kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger on his cold skin just a little longer.

The grip around your hands tighten as he fights off the intrusive thoughts of wishing for your lips to move over any expanse of his skin. There’s no need to deny the fact of having impure thoughts of you … had always been the case whether or not you were with him. It doesn’t help when you press your body closer to his, testing the boundaries of your new relationship with each other. Though, the test always stops where it is needed. 

Passing the test, he gulps, “Text me when you get home, ‘kay?”

“I will.”

Five hours of work and he’ll be free. Considering the masses need to work on average an eight hour shift and sometimes more, Jungkook is fortunate for his work hours to salary ratio. Still not easy doing what he does especially since he isn’t in the right headspace at the moment and school’s been eating up his time — a love-hate relationship when it comes to being in a new learning environment. 

He’s been reevaluating a lot these days, wondering how he’ll juggle his profession with school. And when he finds himself thinking too much of the possibilities, he forces himself to run from those thoughts of quitting everything all together. 

In those difficult moments, thinking about you helps calm his nerves about the future and he feels himself landing back on reality. Not everything needs an immediate answer or decision; moreover, he’s allowed to make mistakes. Much like your relationship with him, the ambiguity doesn’t make him run for the hills anymore. Although you and Jungkook don’t currently have any labels for what you are now, there isn't any uncertainty in his devotion towards you.

He checks his bathroom mirror one more time, piercings taken out because today’s shoot may be a little more physically demanding and he isn’t keen on risking any additional injuries like he had sustained in the first shoot. He signed up for the project on a whim because … well, at the time the money and deal seemed decent. BDSM isn’t something he dabbled a lot in on both the receiving or giving end. However, around the same time he signed the contract, he was still grieving the relationship with you and in need of a distraction — something to make him feel again no matter how painful or rigorous to the body. 

After the first shoot, he needed at least two weeks of rest … both mentally and physically. He isn’t fond of his co-star — Jungkook still remembers the numbers the man did to his body despite signaling his discomfort. 

Locking his door, he makes his way to the elevator. The doors open to reveal a familiar face: Yoona. 

She smiles at him, the lines around her eyes crease from the action. Jungkook nods and steps into the elevator next to her. Her strong perfume permeates his senses; a little too floral for his liking in comparison to the subtle cucumber and jasmine scent on your skin he’s grown attached to. 

“Work?” He asks, looking at his phone. It’s nearly noon, a little late to be going into the office. Then again, what does he know about the corporate life?

“Hyunbin wanted me to visit.” Ah, her ex-husband — explains her appearance and unusual demeanor. He assumes a revenge outfit underneath her long fur coat. “You working?”

“Yup.” He exhales through his nose.

Even without his explanation of his reluctance, Yoona reads him easily … just like how she read him the first two weeks after his split with you, choosing to end things with him because she wasn’t fond of messing with someone who was in emotional distress. She’s already got a lot going on and the last thing she wants is a fuckbuddy using her as an emotional crutch.

She’d rather be a friend or a … mentor? Maybe just a friendly neighbor until he got his shit together.

Be it her years of wisdom or her innate ability to read the younger man, she catches wind of his unwillingness to go to work.

“Hang in there.” She offers, just as her friends regurgitated on multiple venting sessions during the nasty divorce process. It’s the bare minimum as a friend if they aren’t able to do more for you.

“Thanks, you too.” He returns the encouragement with a toothy grin. One of the advantages of being taller than most is his ability to spy over people’s phones. Yoona types away in her phone, the prior messages included a clear image of a male’s lower half and her own response with an image of her freshly showered body in a towel. 

Even with her sunglasses on (which, by the way, are totally unneeded with this gloomy weather), she rolls her eyes under the elevator’s fluorescent lights.

“He’s been begging to make things work again.” She places her phone in her purse. 

“You gonna let him back in?” Surely would lessen the alimony she has to pay him.

Yoona scowls, “I may be single, but I am not lonely.” The elevator dings and signals their arrival on the ground floor. “I can have my cake and eat it.” She smiles, red blooming with her pearly white teeth.

Jungkook laughs under his breath, a surge of sweetness also embraces him now after realizing he also has his ‘cake’ too. Hasn’t quite eaten you the way he wants to, but he’s content. Loves where you are both at and is willing to wait till things settle more in life for the both of you.

Yoona clears her throat, strong floral scent leaving along with her as she steps out of the elevators first. “Take care, Jungkook.” Her heels click on the marble floors as she runs out to the cab waiting for her. 

Jungkook sighs again, making his way to his car and already programming the job site’s address into his Maps app.

Five hours and he’ll be done. 

As promised, you have a sweet treat ready to reward Jungkook after his shift.

It’s uncharacteristic of Jungkook to not answer your texts after a couple of hours. You push away the worry as you make your way up the elevators, tiny brown bag containing something rich and icy you’d typically save for the summer. 

Though, there were no rules on when to consume ice cream, especially if it was made by scratch — especially when you made it with your own spin. Anticipation brews as your steps near the front entrance of his home.

Your fingers press on the knob’s scanner and the latch clicks, ready for you to turn and enter into his home.

The living room’s dark, save for the small light Jungkook programmed to turn on at a specific time. There’s no greeting like you’re used to. Hanging your coat and scarf on the stand, you peer past the entryway as you toe off your shoes.

“Jungkook?” You call out with an air of uncertainty. 

Still no answer. Your eyes adjust to the dim surroundings, eyes eventually falling onto a figure you’d recognize in any condition. 

Jungkook’s laid down on his couch, one arm over his eyes. He’s in his sweats, showered and asleep. Your shoulders drop, tip-toeing past him to put the sweet treat into the freezer. You come back to the living room, not without picking up the fallen throw blanket on the ground, placing it on his body.

You could crack open your laptop to do some work in his kitchen until he stirs awake or just leave and let him rest. Straightening up from your bent position, a sharp inhale comes from below as Jungkook removes his forearm from his face and lifts his head up to peer around his surroundings. He sees you and drops his head in relief, breathing patterns stabilizing with a drag of his hand down his face.

“What time is it?”

“A little past 8.” You reply, sitting near his knees. 

“Sorry, Pix. I crashed.” His throat cracks from sleep, “Time slipped.”

“‘S okay.” You reply, pinkie hooking onto his. “Would you like to rest some more? I won’t bother you.”

He swallows, unsure if he would rather be left alone or if he needed your company. He’s not sure he would be good company.

“I don’t know.” His other arm comes up again to cover his eyes. Misery also needed company too, and he doesn’t want to be away from you.

You seem to get the hint. Couch, stiff and hard as ever, seems to bend at the weight of you both for this moment of tenderness. 

“Hard day?” You ask.

His throat bobs, and that’s when you notice the red marks near his Adam’s apple and his wrist. Your lips tug down, fingers itching to soothe the pain over his skin. You curl closer to him, hoping your presence would be enough to redirect his thoughts.

“Yeah. Was difficult.” He replies, voice shaky. His breath comes out uneven as he sniffles into his arm. “Ah, sorry, maybe it’s better if I’m alone.”

He hadn’t realized a couple tears had slipped out from the corners of his eyes until one of your hands cups his jaw, thumb rubbing away some of the moisture in your touch. He sucks in another breath, chest stuttering as a small sob tumbles out. He turns, burying his face into your chest as his arms come from underneath to hold you.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes repeatedly. You repeatedly tell him you’re not leaving — that you’re here to stay. Fingers running through his dark locks, your touches force his eyes shut, a relieved sigh exiting as he regulates his breathing. 

“I’m here, you’re okay.” You promise, your nails scratching his head produces a soft whimper as he buries his bigger frame deeper into your body. When you try to pull away to assess his face, he only tugs you in tighter. You chuckle, hand patting and soothing the expanse of his back.

“Kook?”

He grunts, too exhausted to verbalize a reply.

“I’m gonna go make something, okay? You stay here and rest.”

He reluctantly loosens his grip on you, and holds onto the fact you were staying. Accepting your proposal, he goes back into a more dignified position with his arm slung over his eyes.

You move with precision; kitchen layout memorized of where all the seasonings and cooking utensils were located, you come back into the living room with a small pot of ramen in under ten minutes. The wooden heat protector clanks onto his coffee table in your descent to the ground. You wince, apologetic for startling him again.

“Didn’t have to make me food, Pix.” He pushes himself up slowly, face contorting in discomfort as he sits upright.

“Wanted to. Come on, have a bite, please?” You had already started rolling the noodles into the spoon, creating a perfect single bite. You blow on the food a little before Jungkook dips his head halfway to receive the food. 

Unlike the painful expression he previously sported, his brows furrow as he chews on the food — a good sign. Nothing’s more healing than a warm meal; a warm meal made with love. 

“Thanks, P.” He smiles, and the parts of him lost during the hours of the shoot are slowly coming back.

“I’m glad.” Your eyes land on his neck first, then over his wrists where the red rings were most prominent. “Did you want to put on ointment? Tell me where you keep your medicine and I can—”

“It’ll heal on its own.” He declines, ready and rehearsed for your concerns. And because he knows there were a billion other questions in that pretty head of yours, he comes clean on his reasons for tonight’s exhaustion. “Co-star went off script towards the end and it threw me for a loop.” He explains, head rested on the back of the couch.

You nod, arms tightening around him. “That sounds awful. I’m sorry …”

He releases another heavy breath. “I-I don’t know, Pix. It’s usually not this bad.”

“What do you mean?” Frowning, you didn’t think you’d ever witness Jungkook in this state: defeated over the profession he willingly chose and stayed for. 

His blank eyes stare off into the distance, zeroing on the corner of his flat screen television. The corners of his mouth twitch, exhaling a shaky breath before murmuring, “I’m scared to quit.”

And despite his discomfort with the subject, he continues, “I … I’ve been thinking about it and it feels like I can’t focus on other things when I have to think about work.” He also doesn’t want to mention the shame he has in quitting, inevitably proving people right that his line of work was not sustainable in the long-run. He doesn’t want to admit he’s outgrown the field that’s built everything around him: his friends, home, experiences, and … you. If it weren’t for his job, he wouldn’t have found you.

But was gratitude and loyalty needed for a profession that brings him more stress and worries?

Though rare, he’s wrestled with these difficult moments in this field, often wondering how life would be if he didn’t need to endure. What version of him exists outside of the industry? He knows what happiness is, but he’s also familiar with the deep dread and disappointment in staying. 

“It’s scary.” You concede, staring off into the same space Jungkook had fixated. “But I know you’ll figure it out. You’re not alone. I’m here with you no matter what you decide on.”

His eyes well up again. He used to think people were crazy for suffering, crying during and off work hours. Now? He’s no different. Change is scary, but remaining the same is scarier. And he’s remained the same for so long, fighting the norms and societal expectations of him.

All this to realize … he’s also just a boy with dreams and aspirations, hope cupped in his hands waiting to be discovered. The industry may be a part of him, but it was never all he was. While he doesn’t know what the future entails, he knows he needs to do something different — his profession does not define his identity.

“Yes, I know.” He lets you rub gentle circles on his bruised wrist, lets you bring up his wrist and blow a cooling breath over his skin before you lay a gentle kiss. “Thank you.”

You and Jungkook remain like this for a while, just sharing each other’s warmth and company until you perk up about the dessert you brought over. He chuckles as you pry open the container and a peek of light orange reaches his vision. Jungkook relishes in the small notes of cinnamon and persimmons hitting his taste buds.

The container of ice cream gets annihilated within fifteen minutes, cold running down your esophagus and tummy, but there’s always a source of heat in your stomach as you sit close to your biggest source of warmth.

Refusing his offer to walk you to your car, you only allow Jungkook to see you out his door in favor of him resting more.

“Thanks for tonight, P. I really needed this.” He needs you more than ever. Holding your hands, he lets his gaze trail down to your lips before he brings them back up to your eyes. He’s been through this route many times, showing restraint because he knows better than to do something too rushed despite his mind and body screaming at him to disobey the boundary you both set. 

As always, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

It’s enough. Because he feels you through the food you make for him, your touch, and your unwavering care.

As you stare up at him with starry eyes, he also realizes:

Intimacy doesn’t have to be perfect, but it is with you.

Jungkook completed his first semester of courses with flying marks. With a heavy heart, he decided to stop working in adult filming after another week of mulling through his options. In his resolve he tells himself the decision’s indefinite … subject to change. But ever since he let his agent know of his career change, he has not looked back. 

Though the weather remains chilly, spring’s around the corner. The season brings the birds in the early mornings, flowers blossoming around his apartment complex, and the love blooming in his chest whenever he sees you.

Tonight’s a special night for you. Your cohort wanted to do a little social gathering at a club and you invited Jungkook as your plus-one. He wasn’t planning on drinking, opting to be your designated driver for the night. He looks over at you, eyes sparkly with glitter … or perhaps, you glow more under his stares.

Weather’s still cold, but he knows it will warm up at the venue as the night progresses. He lays his brown jacket on your lap as he drives you both to the venue. You’re so pretty in your skin-tight black turtleneck and gold chain necklace. Upon final inspection in your body length mirror, you made a remark how you looked like The Rock minus the fannypack. Jungkook laughed and tugged you along, mumbling how you looked beautiful and how you were going to be late if you did another outfit change. And while the weather is ever turbulent, jumping between hot and cold days, there’s nothing turbulent between you and Jungkook.

Even though you abstained from changing out of your ‘Pre-2012 The Rock’ fit, you were late with how the parking situation worked out. Too many cars, too little parking options when you were deep into the nightlife district of the city. Jungkook parked at an open lot about a twenty minute walking distance. Terrible, you know. But the trip was well worth it with his company. Had you been alone, you probably would have chosen to order a cab, but you’ve never felt safer in Jungkook’s hand as you both walk down the busy streets on a Saturday night. 

“Thanks again for coming with me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Plus,” He squeezes your hand. “You’re coming with me to my friend’s wedding next weekend. So we’re even.”

“Oh no … weddings are so, so, so awful,” you chide with batted lashes. 

He grins, “It is when you gotta be in dress pants.”

You giggle, staring up at the illuminated neon lights around town. “My classmates are excited to meet you, Mr. 9th-Annual-Shutter-Winner.” You grin, the side of your body presses close to him. You look down at his phone where it navigates the leftover walking distance to the club: estimated time of arrival – five minutes.

Jungkook was nervous. Not as a result of meeting your classmates, but he knew a certain someone was going to be there. Kim Taehyung, your best friend and confidant, will also be in attendance. He’s gotten along with him in the past on set. Eccentric guy, a bit of a Namjoon fanatic, but birds of a feather flock together. Namjoon’s creative, kind, and visionary. It’s only natural Taehyung gravitates towards him in this industry.

Regardless, Jungkook’s nervous. He doesn’t voice his concern when you had disclosed that Taehyung was aware of your relationship history with Jungkook. He would never hold you back on talking about your troubles to your friends because it’s important to build that trust and rapport. He hopes his entire persona isn’t completely irreconcilable just yet with the time he’s spent trying to grow and cultivate a healthy relationship with you.

Once in the club, you make your rounds with Jungkook by your side. Lots of new faces, and maybe a select few that were recognizable as a result of the photography competition. 

“Hey Jungkook, heard you were in the photography program,” one of the judges for the past photography competition, Rowoon, smiles, “I know at the end of your photography program they’re going to request for an internship. Let me know if you need help connecting with a photographer.”

“That’d be awesome.” Jungkook smiles.

Jungkook’s appreciative for moments like these, easy conversations blending in with your life. You’ve been surrounded with good people. Well, good enough for you to want to rekindle and meet up every so once in a while.

He watches you from afar now, a mocktail in hand as he lets the ice melt and lessen the syrupy taste of the drink.

You smile into your cup as one of your classmates animate a pose of some sort — probably from a recent project or client. Regardless, he finds himself smiling too, eyes focused on your figure. It’s all tunnel vision, really, how everything around you blurs and this gooey feeling swirls and pools in the pit of his stomach.

He recognizes this, having experienced this similar breakthrough in the past with previous partners. While the hard impact of the realization came far less than this moment, his feelings were undeniable.

He loves you.

An awful realization to have when you guys are out in public and not in privacy, where he can bare his emotions to you freely. His palms sweat, heart accelerating at the welcomed epiphany and rush.

He has been patient and gentle in these last couple of months. That, he’ll give himself credit for. But all the self work he’s done is about to leave as he’s one mocktail sip away from walking over to you and declaring his feelings.

Not the right place nor time. Certainly worse when he can’t drink to distract himself.

“Mind if I join ya?”

Jungkook startles out his thoughts, craning his neck to the side to find Kim Taehyung smiling lazily at him. He simply gestures for the empty stool, all while trying to relocate you after the minor detractor.

Even with the heavy bass of the club music, Jungkook’s eyes still remain on your figure, making sure you’re safe and having fun — as you should always be. 

Taehyung grunts in his descent onto the barstool, gaze following where Jungkook looks at.

“You all socialed out?” Jungkook mindlessly asks — a miracle he’s strung up a coherent sentence. 

Taehyung scoffs at the lack of focus, but replies, “Gets a little tiring explaining my gigs and seeing them react the same way.”

This time, Jungkook stares back at the seated man, completely understanding his sentiment. He knows exactly what Taehyung has experienced being in the industry — their little common ground. 

“You know,” Taehyung begins, “I still don’t get the whole thing with you and her.”

Lips pursed, he drums his fingers on the bar counter, “How so?”

“Friends, but not. Lovers, but not.” Taehyung tips his drink back. “What are you guys even waiting for?”

What was Jungkook waiting for?

“Just want to take our time.” He replies. “Not trying to rush things.”

“Kind of backwards, don’t you think?” He shrugs his shoulders before continuing, “Look man, I’ll be upfront. I’m still on the fence about you.” 

“I know.” Jungkook’s aware he’s far from perfect, knowing his hesitancy in moving forward stems from his insecurities and his fears of hurting you in the process.

“She likes you a lot. And I trust my best friend. If things go sour, well … at least we’ll know how to pick up the pieces this time around.”

Taehyung waves down the bartender for a refill. “I give her a lot of shit for putting herself in a box, but all she does is try. So why don’t you guys try?”

Jungkook’s been so afraid of hurting. In turn, he’s robbing you both of the possibility for something so much more. He loves what he has with you, but was this enough?

You turn, also finding him, and smile.

It’s not enough. He wants more — he needs more.

Taehyung settles back as he watches the scene unfold in front of him with a smug smile. 

Finally.

Jungkook’s on autopilot as he weaves through the crowd. The back of his neck grows sweaty, less from the stuffy venue and more from his nerves and this final act of trying to do the right thing for once. He wants to do right by you, and right now all he wants is to be near you.

He needs to be near you.

You seem to think the same too, placing your empty glass onto the edge of the bar top. There aren’t any remnants of green or cherries, only a sliver of yellow on the bottom he recognizes as his trademark drink.

His heart drums against his chest as you do a quick side hug with the classmate, so eager to get to him in the midst of the hazy, man-made smoke and crowded dance floor.

The path to you was damn near impossible to get to, packed like sardines and people unwilling to move. Though, you both will always find a way to each other. Head tilted, you motion Jungkook to the side of the dance floor. It’s dimly lit, some of the club’s strobing lights don’t touch. Light’s not needed because you’re forever drawn to each other.

“Hi.” You smile up at him, eyes slightly droopy as your hand finds his. “Sorry. Haven’t been able to hang out with you that much tonight.”

He shakes his head, placing your hand behind his neck. Your fingers search for the longer locks he sported in the winter months, but you’ve always preferred his shorter cut. The prickle of the undercut was something you’ve longed for all night long. His silver hooped earrings graze your exposed wrist, the cold metal offering a nice touch on your hot skin.

He shakes his head, “‘S okay, Pix.” You both sway, neither of you really know what song is playing. It all blurs to white noise when you’re with each other. “Did you catch up with everyone?”

“Mhm.” You hum, leaning in to press your face against his chest. There’s a slight drop to your shoulders signifying your exhaustion, but Jungkook reads your demeanor like the back of his hands.

With a hum, he murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”

“Everyone’s in production companies.” You sulk, frown felt on his strong front. 

Your words hold a little bitterness, a hint of dejection at the idea you weren’t exactly doing what everyone was doing. But that’s what made you special. You’re doing what you want to do and you’ve stuck by it.

“You ever think about joining one?” He asks into your hair. 

You lift your head from his chest, chin digging into his sternum. “It’s not for me, but sometimes, I feel like I’m missing out.”

Just like how he thinks he might miss out on something wonderful if he continues as things are, but a club where you’re having a reunion with old classmates isn’t the right time or place for a confession.

Jungkook nods. “Can do whatever you want. The world’s your oyster.”

He doesn’t need any of the strobing lights or a spotlight in the tiny nook you’ve both claimed with the way you smile at him. Not when you stare up at him like he’s the world, ready to be claimed by you. Before he does anything too impulsive, he leads you both closer to the center of the dance floor. Back turned to him, his hands rest on the dips of your hips. Chin tucked in the crook of your neck, he takes in your jasmine and cucumber scent, wondering if you’re just as addicted to his scent. 

“Did you have your usual?” He mumbles into your ear.

You shake your head, shivering from his voice. “Midori sour’s not always on the menu.”

He hums in agreement, thinking back to the arrangements he made at the club he hosted his celebratory party at. Honestly, there was no major issue requesting the addition of the drink; the manager was happy to accommodate. 

“What’d you have earlier?” His voice comes out low, rumbling against you.

You nearly whimper your answer as he circles his arms around your midsection, not wanting to lose any physical contact from you. “Highball.”

His grin stretches across his face, muscle memory as his mouth salivates for the drink. “Did you like it?”

You turn around now, and Jungkook does little to reposition his forehead on yours. This time, another type of restraint courses through his body as his eyes bounce between your hooded stare and pouty lips.

“Mm, I wanted to try what you liked. Not my thing,” you conclude. “Wasn’t sweet at all.” 

Jungkook doesn’t need the additional sweetness in his drinks when he’s surrounded by sweetness in his life. Can do away with sugar because you’re here. 

“What did you have tonight?” You ask back.

“Wild night with some sort of wild berry mocktail.” He teases.

“Lucky, I wish I had that.” Your eyes drop to his lips — he follows your line of vision as you look back up at him.

“Was nice.” He concedes, voice dropping an octave. “Better if it was a highball.”

The music’s loud, but nothing’s louder than the drumming in his ears — the voice in his head yelling at him to close the gap between you two. The same gap you both maintained in these last couple of months. It’s been working so well for you two, reworking your foundation and taking things slow all while hoping it would lead to your desired goal: each other.

Jungkook’s forehead remains on yours, lips parted slightly at your delayed blinks. And although the label had always blurred between the two of you, he had always been yours. Yours, when he entered the establishment with his hand on your hips, guiding you away from rowdy groups at the main point of entrance. Yours, when all you’ve done tonight was match his stares, wanting so badly to be in his company instead of folks you haven’t spoken to in years face to face.

All yours.

“Want a taste?” You ask, making no move to go to the bar. He stays rooted there too, knowing full well he’s not allowed a single drop of alcohol in his system. The entrancement lasts all but a second before a flicker of fear flashes across your features. 

Deja vu.

Was this all a figment of your imagination and it could get ripped from you any moment? If you lean in like you did months ago, would you be punished by rejection again?

Your brows furrow, eyes pleading up at Jungkook to answer your unspoken questions.

And he reads you so easily — remembers you and knows your insecurities before you do sometimes.

He breathes you in, nose now nestled against your own with no intentions of ever leaving.

“Please?” Your warmth fans over to him, a soft plea worthy of ending wars Jungkook would only qualify as his own battles.

He thinks about that night at the club where you had left him, foolishly clutching onto the flimsy cone-shaped cups while the world spun with you nowhere in sight. Thinks about the prospect of you leaving again and how ruined he’d be without you.

Jungkook pleads with you too now, “Please don’t leave me.”

You shake your head. “I’m right here.”

He thinks he deserves a little bit of heaven. Funny, how he thinks the universe could grant him kisses from a million angels, but he’d only want a lifetime of yours. The last thing he sees are two slow blinks from your sparkly-glittered lids, pulling and signaling him into a soft landing: to home — he finally finds his way back home.

He cups your face, delicate in how he holds you because there’s nothing more he’d like to do than to handle you with all the care and tenderness in the world. He sighs into your lips, relieved to finally have you like this. Where you both meet in the middle now.

Highball, in the simplest terms, was bland whiskey. The taste of the drink was probably the furthest thing you can get to the sweetness of your typical midori sour. And yet, you still tried for him. He knows how much you try for him and you’ve done your best to accept him — the work and effort you put into adoring Jungkook never goes unnoticed.

He doesn’t taste the highball, none of the usual remnants of the drink he’s grown to like as he runs his tongue over your plump lips. Perhaps it’s also that he no longer searches for that familiar aftertaste; instead, welcoming something he’s longed for and missed these months. His tongue moves over your lips again, slow and deliberate to savor the sweetness. 

Your mouth parts for him, a tentative push of his tongue and you’re reduced to putty. He trails one hand down your hip, pulling you flush against him. 

It’s all muscle memory, how puzzle pieces fit just for you and Jungkook. He groans against your mouth, the low sound vibrates through your body, sending a shock through your body and heat building in your middle.

Your name is all but a rasp as Jungkook goes straight to your lips again after your small whine. He can’t get enough of you, the background noise and people blurring in his pursuit of you. You kiss him back. Months after months of waiting, slowly rebuilding, knowing exactly where the finish line is … and the kiss now was just one of your many monumental milestones with Jungkook.

He needs to pull away for air, mindful of your own state too despite his unwillingness to stray away. It’s everything he’d expect a kiss from you to be after all this time: sweet, with no hint of the drink he fancied. 

Nose nestled to yours and brazen smiles exchanged, Jungkook does his best to regulate his breathing.

“You’d ever give highball another try, Pix?” He breathes, peppering tinier kisses on your lips, rendering it nearly impossible to properly respond.

“Yeah.” You reply in between kisses. “I’d try it again. It’s worth another chance.”

When he finally pulls away with much reluctance, his heart drums against his chest at your response — at your implication. 

You wanted this with him. 

“You’ll teach me how to properly drink it?” You look at him with the softest gaze.

He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Will drink it with you.”

No one was talking about the drink. Though, much like the drink, love and affection was always better shared and experienced together. 

And it’s so much better savoring those moments with you.

You and Jungkook eventually leave the dance floor to socialize with your other classmates, catching Taehyung with a content smile as he peers down at your interlinked hands. Jungkook’s hand involuntarily tightens around yours and you look up, eyes holding a playful curiosity as to what he wants.

You mouth, ‘You tired?’

He shakes his head no, though, his droopy eyelids and slight sway to his body tells you otherwise. You’re also tired too, wanting nothing more than to be with your desired source of warmth.

You quickly make your rounds, bidding your farewells and blaming your age for not being able to stay longer. Thankfully, a couple of your other classmates left before you, so your attempt to leave didn’t look out of the blue. Your goodbye with Taehyung takes a little longer as he whispers something in your ear, eyes playful as you pull away and lightly smack his arm. 

Jungkook smiles once you’re back by his side, the cold night air hitting you both outside the club. He offered to run to the car while you wait back, but you insisted on coming with him. “Ready for the walk, Miss Rock?” 

With narrowed eyes, you huddle closer, pretty pout on your lips he so wants to kiss. 

“You said I looked great.” You huff, beginning the long trek back to the car. 

“The Rock looked great, and so do you, Pix.” He teases.

Three minutes into your walk, a random downpour starts out of nowhere. 

Jungkook takes off his brown jacket, slinging it over both your bodies as you do your best to run from the rain. Shared incredulous giggles and glances with each other made the trip back even better. Unable to fully avoid the downpour, Jungkook opts to just cover you with his jacket. The theatrics continue once a car passes, wheels producing a splash over your bodies.

Unneeding of the jacket now, you lower the jacket around your shoulder, tugging Jungkook through the rain as you both near the car. He looks at you from behind, catching your stare back while urging him to move quicker. 

But he’s in no rush.

He’s never been in a rush with you.

Steps coming to a halt, you look back again with a questioning expression. His hair’s matted on his forehead, eyes squinting from the rain water, but he can see you so clearly under the yellow of the streetlights.

He says your name, your steps stumble as you land in his embrace. Cold fingers run on your cheek before he admits, “I don’t think I can just be what we’ve been. I want this with you — I want to be with you.” 

He doesn’t ask you if you want the same. Didn’t have the chance as his eyes widened the same moment your lips met his.

Rain beats down on your bodies, hard and punishing. The cold water seeping through your clothing is nothing compared to the heat searing from your bodies. Your fingers run through his hair from behind, urging him closer if it were possible. His hold on you tightens and you unconsciously arch into him, no longer caring how the rain water runs down your face.

Jungkook breaks apart from the kiss, “It’s always been you, P.” Warm breath on your lips as he utters words he's long realized and wanted to tell you, “I … I’m in love with you.”

It’s freeing. Not just his confession, but how the rain continues washing out everything around you both. The good, the bad. The aftermath of a storm allows for rebuilding — for flowers to blossom, for growth and to start anew.

He thinks about all the time spent together and apart — the happiness, trust, and fears … it all inevitably brings him back to you. And as the rain waters continue to fall, he finds himself free falling into your embrace — the easy love.

“I love you,” You profess, brows pulling together tears mixing in with the rain, “So much. You know that, yeah?”

He does. But even so, he still asks, “Please be with me.” He chews on the inside of his mouth, so fearful of rejection as though you could choose any other route. “Please?”

You nod, leaning in for a kiss that could only seal your answer to him. “I’m yours. Always been yours.”

A relieved chuckle stutters from his chest, holding you close. “Home?”

“Home.” You reply.

Jungkook’s home was closer in proximity, so it would only be natural to head over there to change out of your soaked clothes. Even with the seat warmers turned onto the highest setting and his jacket slung over your lap like it was in the beginning of the night, you shiver and shudder in your seat.

“Can use my shower too, P.” He pushes his wet bangs back and reasons, “Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Mmkay,” Your teeth involuntarily chatters, hands tucked in between your thighs underneath his jacket to retain your heat.

His hand naturally finds yours. “We’ll be home soon, ‘kay?”

Back at his home, he gives you a spare t-shirt with some sweatpants, letting you know that he’ll shower at the guest bathroom while you use the master bedroom’s. It’s not your first time in his bedroom, having been there a couple times when he was busy and needed you to retrieve something for him in there. The citrus scent embraces you as you walk in, fingers tightening around his clothes. He’s fumbling around his dresser to get his own clothing, hair dried to a damp mess and coarse at the ends from the washed away hair products. His shirt drags over his large frame, seemingly heavier around the shoulder area from the rainwater.

Back still turned away, he cranes his neck to you and catches your curious stare. “Go on and use the shower, P.”

You nod, clothes feeling unbearingly tight whether it be from the rain or the suffocating dilemma of not wanting to leave Jungkook’s side.

In the shower, he’s still with you through the shampoo and body wash. You run your hands around your body, knowing this is your way of keeping him close. Will you need to go home after this? Does the mirage end here with the suds of soap pooling at your toes?

Does it end with his scent on your body?

All dried and in his clothes, you stare at the mirror, a small smile playing at your lips at the visual of your body drowned in his oversized t-shirt. You roll the bottom of the sweatpants and tug at the drawstrings to secure around your waist.

You peer into his bedroom. “Jungkook?” No response. 

Walking out to the living space, you notice a tuft of hair on the large couch’s armrest. Two glasses of water — all full — just like your heart, rests on the coffee table. Peering over the couch, your lover lays there, eyes closed with a rhythmic breathing pattern nowhere close to being asleep.

You come around and seat yourself on the edge of the couch. An unsuspecting force pulls you down, followed by a small ‘oomph,’ you attempt to sit back up.

“Can we rest a little before I take you home?” He mumbles, breathing into your hair.

Your ear is pressed against his chest, his heart thumping way too fast for rest. Working up your courage, you snuggle into his warmth as you murmur, “It’s late. Don’t want you driving at this hour.” Before he could ask if you’d want him to fetch a cab, you follow up with, “If it’s okay … can I stay over tonight?”

The drumming in his chest speeds up, but his words come out assertive. “Of course, P.”

The guest room sits empty as Jungkook leads you back to his bedroom, a sleepy smile on his face as he catches your yawn and places the glass of water onto the nightstand closest to where you’ll sleep. He hooks his index fingers in the collar of his shirt and yanks it over his head, tossing the article of clothing on the ottoman near the foot of his bed.

You swallow, eyes raking over his toned body you’ve grown so familiar with. His tattoo lines look darker under the warm hues of his nightlight. Underneath his covers, your eyes fight to stay open, only allowing them to blink shut when he encircles his arms around you.

“Night, P.” He mumbles.

“Good night, Kook.”

Around 5 a.m. you wake up with the worst case of dry mouth, having already drank the glass of water in the middle of the night, and another time Jungkook refilled without your knowledge. You pout at the glass sitting pretty and empty on the nightstand.

There’s an unfamiliar weight on your midsection causing you to suck in a breath as you look down. Intricate patterns and faded colors greet you before you turn your head to meet their owner.

Jungkook’s on his front, pouty mouth parted and lashes kissing the top of his cheeks. His rhythmic light snores tell you he’s still in deep slumber if not for the sleep-lines on the side of his face where he buries himself further into his fluffy pillows.

There’s a stillness in waking up next to Jungkook like this — at the realization there’s no need to run or leave. He’s here within a distance you can comfortably reach. 

You think back to last night, between the kisses and confessions, everything seemed like a dream. You’re tempted to reach over to brush away the strand of his bangs. Want to see if he’d stir awake and look at you as he did before you both fell asleep last night.

That’s the funny thing about love — can’t bear the selfishness and greed of your own desires. So instead, you do your best to uncurl from his lazy hold, already missing his warmth as you grab the rims of your glass to fetch some water.

You’ve only been over in the afternoon and evening, never knowing the brisk morning air. Jungkook’s room was warm, temperature maintained by the heat of your bodies, but in the open living space, you shiver a little from cold and the absence of a familiar body.

Glass refilled, you make your way back to Jungkook, but something pulls you to an abrupt stop.

You’ve only seen this view at night, always curious how differing the morning view would be. Orange peeks and greets you on the horizon, begging for your presence even when there is another star you rather be with.

Just a couple more minutes and the sun will rise — a view you’ve never seen from here. Lips nursing on your glass, you smile as you hear another pair of feet shuffle in your direction. Not subtle at all. He makes his presence known with a small yawn, standing behind you, he presses his chest against you from behind and wraps his arms around your abdomen.

“Whatcha doing up so early?” Voice laced with sleep.

“Wanted to get water,” you bring the glass up to his view, “sun’s about to rise now.” You nod at the window. 

His body vibrates against yours at a particularly low chuckle. “‘S nice, isn’t it? Can see everything from here.”

You hum in agreement. You love the view, love his touch, love him. And because you love him, you give him the remainder of your water. Glass now empty again, he sets the cup on a small stand. The surrounding air stifles as a strong pair of arms wrap around you tighter, cluing in a shift in the easy morning conversation.

“P, I meant everything I said last night.” He says, afraid you hadn’t retained any recollection of last night’s event — as though all the magic last night was all but a trick and illusion.

There’s no illusion in your adoration for him, turning away from the sun, you realize you have everything in front of you worth orbiting for.

“I meant everything too.” You reply, feeling the sun warm your back, but even that source of warmth wasn’t enough incentive to have you turning away from Jungkook again. “I love you. Wanna be with you.”

You tip-toe, lips pressing delicately against his only spurs on his tiny moan as he meets you in the middle. His teeth nibble on your bottom lip, causing you to part them with a small gasp. He takes this moment to lick into your mouth, tongue running against yours to savor you. He could blame the morning wood on … well, the morning, and not your soft lips, but he’s wanted you like this for so long and now you’re finally his.

He angles your chin, doing his best to distract you from the bulge pressed against your stomach, to which you also push against. Grunting, he huffs into your mouth, “Pix, please.”

You hum a small ‘what?’

So dangerous of you to push something he’s been suppressing for months. Aching for your touch, but he’s respectful of the change in dynamics. He wants to be respectful now, but was there a need?

“I’m trying to be good.” He mumbles, kissing along your jaw and making his way down your neck. His teeth rake against the expanse of your skin, reveling in your shivers and the way your nails dig into his back.

“You are good.” You sigh prettily. “So good to me.”

And because of this, Jungkook wants to show you other ways he could be good to you. It’s what you deserve — nothing makes him happier than making you feel good. Back pressed against the glass panes, the initial cold morphs and changes with the sun and your combined body heat.

His hand snakes up your shirt, large palm halting at your stomach until you nod for him to move. You moan at the contact of his thumb moving over your hardening bud.

“Feels good, pretty?” He mouths against your neck.

You swallow and nod, “J-Jungkook, can people,” another moan slips as he sucks on a particularly sensitive juncture of your neck, “see us from here?”

Being on the thirty-fourth floor had its perks and advantages. He doesn’t have next door neighbors except for the floor above and below him, which works in his favor. 

“No one can see us, P.” He shakes his head, “You want them to?”

He grips your chest a little harder, urging for an answer before he continues. Head lifted to your face, his hooded eyes draw you in. 

“No,” you place a soft kiss on his jaw, “Want this just between us.”

He also can’t imagine having another person watch you both. Can’t imagine sharing an experience like this with someone other than you. 

“Yeah, it’s just you and me.”

The hand on your hip runs up your front, cupping your cheek first before he slips a soft request while looking at your lips, “Open, please.”

Your mouth parts, and his hand drags over your cheek, his middle and ring finger probing and sliding over your wet muscle. His cock twitches in his sweats at the thought of possibly feeling your mouth again. Those thoughts break the moment you close around his digits, warm and wet around him. Your cheeks hollow without command as you eagerly suck on his fingers. You look at him with determined eyes, fighting to stay open but loses the battle before fluttering shut when his thumb runs over your hard nipple again.

“Gonna make you feel good.” He promises, “‘s that okay?”

You nod, unable to verbalize a response with his fingers in your mouth. Soon his wet fingers slip out of your mouth and he slips them past the waistband of your folded sweats.

“Oh god,” Your hips buck back from the sudden contact of his fingers, ass pushed against the glass. “P-please.” You beg, unsure of what exactly but Jungkook takes it as a request to move. His middle finger slots perfectly between your wet folds, circling around the bundle of nerves. 

“Wanna touch you, too.” You plead, “Can I?”

He tips his forehead against yours, hips pushed against your hand. “Uh-huh, want you to touch me.”

Your hand slips into his sweats, making contact with his bare length. The angle of your bodies makes it difficult to tug or squeeze as you like, but he shudders just by the mere contact of your soft hand.

“P, don’t—” He moves back slightly to peer down at your hand working over his length. “Don’t tease.” 

Lip tucked between his teeth, his own hand speeds up over your clit, wet sounds growing by the second. He hopes you do the same too, but you keep your lazy strokes, watching him with hooded eyes. “Not,” you pause, eyes closing when he nears you, pressing a dainty kiss, “teasing.”

“Tell me what you need.” You murmur against his lips.

“Faster,” He whines, “need you to go faster—fuck—” He groans when you comply, hand picking up the pace.

And be it from the patience and time endured after months of dreaming of being with you … or he was just that easy, he finishes in his sweats in under a minute. Your hand slowly jerks over his length, hand coated in his cum.

“Koo, did you cum?” You breathe, unsure from the sudden liquidy warmth. He moans a small yes, angling his head for your kisses on his neck, teeth dragging over his collarbone as a reward for his confirmation. Your hand glides over the head of his sensitive cock. “Made a mess all for me.”

He kisses you, deft fingers on your clit as he touches away the embarrassment of cumming before he’s gotten to properly take care of you. It’s no give or take situation, but he wants to give back to you.

He removes his hand and you nearly cry out at the loss of his touch. Your cum covered hand gets tugged from his pants at the same time. Doesn’t care you’re unconsciously wiping away your hand on your shirt — everything was going into the wash anyway, ridding any evidence of the sinful acts you’ll both willingly partake in.

How sinful were they if they were embarked by two people in love? 

Fingers hooked on the waistband of your sweats, he drags them down your hips, leaving both your soaked underwear and pants pool at your ankles. His eye contact never wavers as he drops down on his knees, only breaking at the long shirt length covering your bare cunt. With a knowing glance, you hold the bottom of the shirt, while the other one falls on the side of his head for support as nudges your legs apart. 

“So perfect,” he praises, eyes peering up at you, “All mine.” His fingers form a ‘v’ as he spreads your glistening folds, mouth watering at the sight of your twitching clit. He moves in, placing a kiss on the side of your pussy, just shy of your nub. The action has you furrowing your brows, mouth dropping open as you involuntarily push your hips forward.

You mewl, thighs closing when he finally slots his tongue over the self-made opening between his fingers. He licks, sucks, and kisses the tiny nub. And you stand there, taking everything he’s willing to give you. He loves watching you struggle maintaining eye contact, loves the shy smile you give him when you had a moment of realization of how loud you were in the early hours of his home, and loves the small tug from your fingers in his hair when he repeatedly presses his lips to your clit.

You were already so close before this, but now he has you tipping on the edge again. Jungkook’s eyes close, tongue lapping your cunt.

Your thighs shake, breath caught in your throat as he continues the motions. And even though he’s not looking at you, he knows you’re about to let go as you rock your hips into his face. Using one hand, his fingers dig into the back of your thigh as he brings one of them over his shoulder.

“Baby–” You rasp.

“Hm?” He answers, muffled against your core. The vibrations against your cunt have your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your lids slam shut from the sensation.

You whimper, stomach clenching at the first signal of your orgasm. Your fingers clutch pathetically at the end of the shirt, mindful of the other hand interlocked with his locks. But you’re bolder now, know what you like and need … and what you like is Jeon Jungkook moaning against your core, encouraging you to cum. What you need is to extend this feeling for as long as you can, so you push his head closer as you grind your spasming cunt to his face.

“Cumming,” you manage to get out, “Oh fuck, I’m cumming.”

Jungkook can’t answer, wishes he could; though, all his wishes are being fulfilled as he’s head deep between your legs. He pulls away after your hips press back against the glass, signaling your sensitive state. Hooded gaze fixed, he takes in the visual of your cheek pressed onto your shoulder — a habit he’s noticed every time you’ve cummed. Your eyes blink open slowly, blinded by the light coming in from the rising sun.

“I’m sorry, P.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all with his mischievous grin as he kisses your inner thigh — the one he has thrown over his shoulder. “You missed the sunrise.”

You croon, a small playful pout on your lips. “I did.” You release his hair, hand cupping his jaw. You moan in surprise when he latches onto your clit again, lazy sucks as he peers up at you.

He places one last kiss to your nub and suggests, “Should turn around then, take in the current view.” He leaves out the fact that you’ll have plenty of more chances to see the view.

He places your leg down. While wobbly at first, you plant your feet sturdy before complying with his request. He’s right — the city’s beautiful. 

Jungkook also has the best view in the city too. 

You look back at him from your shoulder, eyes catching his, “You’re not watching with me?”

“Perfect view here.” He scoots back a little, ignoring the discomfort and numbness in his knees. You brace against the glass, fist clenched tightly at the anticipation of what your lover wants to do. No one cares about the prospect of a stained glass as you hinge your hips out to him, the underside of your wet pussy entrances him.

He pushes your shirt up over the curves of your hips and the sight before him has his cock hardening in his sweats again. A creamy white sheen trickles down your slit, begging to be licked up before it dribbles onto the floor.

And he does. With a cock to his head, he slots his mouth over your leaky cunt.

You wail, cheek pressed against the glass as you fog up a small section with your warm puffs of air. His tongue laps over your clenched hole, pleased you haven’t pulled away from him. He rewards you with a small probe of his tongue and you surprise him again by pushing back, tongue gliding into your warm cavern with little resistance.

You both moan, caught in the euphoric moment of this new experience. 

He reels his head back, spreading you wide to look at your gaping pussy — all his doing.

“Please,” you beg, greedy for his mouth. Without warning, he dives back in, tongue thrusting in and out of your hole with a new profound hunger. One of his hands comes from under and rubs at your clit. The new feeling has your legs shaking again, your hand coming around to place on top of his to ground yourself.

He pulls away, placing wet kisses alongside your thighs. “You liked that, Pix?”

“Yeah, I loved it.” You reply, looking back at him through your lashes.

“Good.” He chuckles, stomach warm from your confession, “Keep looking at the view though. Sun’s pretty today.”

The sun’s pretty every day, you think to yourself as you look at your source of light. But you turn away, obedient as you look at the rays the rest of the world relies on. 

“Gonna do something new, ‘kay?” He says, strained as he places a small kiss on one of your cheeks. He lets his teeth graze your skin, fingers digging into the meat of your ass to gain your confirmation. “Tell me if you don’t like it.”

You nod, can’t think of anything you won’t like aside from being away from Jeon Jungkook, but you’re sure to vocalize any discomfort for whatever journey he’s about to embark with you.

“Open wider for me.” He husks. You comply, feet shuffling apart as you hinge lower. 

You couldn’t predict what he wanted to try with you, certainly not anything remotely close to how he parts your ass and you feel his breath on your skin before he leans in.

You nearly cry out at the first lick over the tight ring of your asshole. There was an adjusting period, one that involved your breasts pressed hard against the window, mouth hanging open as Jungkook goes in for another lick.

It’s not unpleasant. New, like he mentioned.

“You taking in everything, P?” His finger slips over your cunt, long index finger teasing the entrance. He takes his time running his fingers between your wet folds, watching your bleary eyes struggle to stay open. It’s fine. You’ll have plenty more opportunities to see the view in the future — he’ll make sure of it.

You moan at the feeling of his finger probing the entrance of your pussy, hole clenched around nothing as he continues teasing you.

“Hm? Answer me, pretty.” His tongue teases around your taint. This time, you relax into it, even going as far as pushing back.

“Mhm,” you try, “‘s pretty.”

You have your head turned again, watching him the best you could, completely unfocused from the view beyond the massive curtain wall. A wrecked moan escapes the moment his long digit pushes into your sensitive cunt — just up to the first knuckle, nothing more. At the same moment, his tongue guides itself past the tight ring of your hole.

You don’t know what to focus on: his tongue fucking into your ass or his finger coated in your arousal as he has you plugged up on both holes simultaneously.

Jungkook’s always been an ass man, and he honors the title as he continuously dives his head between your cheeks. The finger inside your other hole stays in place, never pushing another inch until you whine and reach between your legs. Your fingers touch the top of his, pushing at them to sink deeper into your pussy.

He pushes his digit into you, the full length wrapped around your wet walls. “Do what you need to make this feel good.” He says. “Want you to feel good.”

A content sigh leaves your lips as you rub slow circles, pleasure building again in your stomach as each minute slips by. You’ve never been one to cum multiple times … unfortunately, you’re no better than a man. One and done type of girl, but the eagerness to cum again from this new experience has you motivated and greedy for more. Especially when the experience is with someone you love and care for.

“I-I think I’m gonna cum again.” You announce, pushing your ass back to his face as he continues fucking his tongue into your ass. He groans and nods, picking up the pace from behind with fervor at the mention of your orgasm.

His finger gradually speeds up, curling a little before he decides to add another finger in. 

Oh.

“This okay?” He asks as he senses a change in your demeanor at the sudden intrusion.

You whimper, body stiff and rigid during the adjustment period. The stretch has you halting before you’re rubbing feverishly against your clit, babbling and begging for him to move faster. 

Jungkook’s lucky on the thirty-fourth floor. So lucky no one’s able to hear the the sounds you make both from your mouth and wet cunt as he fucks his digits faster as requested. He curls his fingers and your legs start shaking, your hand no longer able to move as you take everything Jungkook gives from behind.

You gasp, his name falls from your lips as you let go. There’s definitely an imprint of your mouth and cheek on his glass window now, memoirs of the acts you both committed. 

The wetness grows between your legs, both holes pulsating as you finally cum around him again. Jungkook groans, letting you ride out your orgasm as you need.

He removes both his fingers and tongue from your holes and parts your ass to marvel at the mess you’ve made. The puffy ring of your ass shines with his spit, while your pussy quivers from the aftermath of your strong orgasm. He thinks about how it would be if you were stuffed full of him right now, but he’s in no rush with you. Knows there’s no time constraint to loving you right this time around. Your shirt drops from the curve of your hips and down to your knees as you stand upright, turning and pressing your back to the glass again. Jungkook stands up, fingers already in his mouth to lick up any remnants of cum. 

His arms wrap around your waist to hold you up, forehead touching yours as it’s meant to. Doesn’t go for a kiss no matter how much he wants to because he’s not sure of your aversion after where his mouth has been. But you don’t care, looping your arms over his neck and slotting your lips over his for a messy kiss, eventually reduced to small pecks.

“You okay, P?” He asks with round eyes. You nod and ask the same in a hushed whisper.

Why wouldn’t he be when he’s got all he’s ever wanted in his arms? He rubs over your back in a soothing motion, “More than okay, P.”

More kisses are shared, until Jungkook murmurs how he’s still tired and wants to go back to bed. You look at the clock and as tempted you are, you hum and shake your head. His eyes widen at your response, about to offer a quick retort, but you beat him to it.

“You said you had registration for the upcoming semester in a couple hours. Didn’t you say you needed to work on a schedule?”

He tips his head back, both grateful and upset at your memory after he mentioned it to you in passing last week. 

Still, these things can be done while in the comforts of his bed and your company. Hand enclosed in his, he tugs you back to his bedroom, no longer omitting the same warmth when you left.

But perhaps, the warmth was anywhere you were with Jungkook.

Saturn takes twenty-nine years to complete its cycle. When you turned twenty-nine, you thought your Saturn was still out there, taking their sweet time with the journey back home.

“Pixie?” 

“Coming!” You call out, finishing the last touch of your dusty-pink blush. Smoothing out your sage-green dress, you do a small once-over in your mirror before properly greeting your boyfriend. 

Your Saturn’s returned, watching you embark on your new adventure, cheering you on through your wins and losses. Jungkook smiles from the doorway, leather dress shoes placed neatly on the side. His hair is styled as he would for all the wedding events he’s gone to with you, but this was a new suit. Usually in black, the light grey suit brings out his dark features even more — boyish charms emulated with his suit jacket off and hooked on his fingers over a shoulder. The brooches on his vest glimmer on the side, adding a nice finishing touch to his wedding guest look for the evening.

He shines either way when his orbs land on your features, taking in your soft curls and dress you’ve chosen. 

“Pretty.” He’s kind enough to not kiss you, seeing you’ve just freshly applied your lipstick, but you’ve never been opposed to reapplying. You tip-toe to plant a soft kiss, not enough to transfer any product, but enough to tempt him for further damage.

“You look very handsome.” You say, hands automatically coming up to fix the angle of his tie. Spring’s weather is ever unpredictable and today’s one of the more warmer days of the week, but the temperatures rise in the small nook of your home as he stares at you.

To avoid any potential deterrence, you move behind him to get to your shoe rack. He presses his back against the wall opposite to you, watching as you crouch down to pick out a strappy nude heel.

“What if we skipped the wedding, Pix?”

You pout, blowing at the random strands of hair in your peripheral. “Your friend would be disappointed. Plus, we both got all done up. Would be a waste if we didn’t go.”

“It’s not a waste,” he replies, “can just have a night in.”

“Also would give me an excuse to get out of these dress pants.” He adds with a scowl. 

You lean away, doing a double take on the slacks he has on. You’ve always fancied a guy in dress pants and Jungkook was no exception. Loves how his thighs fill up the spaces and how his ass looks in them.

“Couple hours and we can have a night in.” You reassure with a soft smile. “I’ve got a watermelon in the fridge waiting for us.”

The wedding was standard, especially with it belonging to someone you don’t know. Technically most, if not all, weddings you’ve gone to have belonged to strangers. But there was something special about this wedding — it’s the first time you attended a wedding with Jungkook where you aren’t working.

Weddings have always felt magical; the usual string of fairy lights and flower arrangements appear even more enchanting tonight. And you realized, the enchantment started months ago at Yoongi and Hoseok’s union.

During cocktail hour, he made sure to get all your favorite finger foods without request. When the ring bearer and flower girl comes into view during the ceremony, he’s quick to move higher on his seat, letting you peer past him to get a better look at the little ones. And when he holds your waist during the reception’s dance, you know weddings are magical because the moment’s shared with him. 

“This was nice. Thanks for having me as your plus-one.” You sigh in content, cheek rested on his chest as you both slow dance to When a Man Loves a Woman. 

He snorts, lighthearted and warm. “I’m glad you enjoyed.” Meant as a sarcastic remark, he also agrees this evening was a lot nicer than he had anticipated in the month leading up to this day. 

“I really love weddings.” You mumble to yourself.

He loves weddings with you. Jungkook presses his cheek on the top of your head, “I know.”

You and Jungkook stay like this for a while through a couple slow songs until the DJ changes up the genre of the music, signaling older couples to evacuate the dance floors for the younger crowd to reminisce on an era where their knees existed for the thrill of it all.

Your bodies move in tandem: his, warming your back, and your bottom pushed against his groin with your preferred pressure, knowing you’d never go overboard at a wedding but just enough for him to have him let out a shy chuckle.

His breath fans over the shell of your ear, “I really hate these dress pants, P.”

You turn your head to him, sultry expression matching his hooded lids. “Why’s that?”

“Shows everything.” He laughs through his nose, “Can’t leave here any time soon now.”

You ease up a little, facing him again while your fingers slide over the brooches resting on the left side of his chest — where his heart resides. He’d argue his heart is in his arms staring up at him.

“I’ve always loved you in dress pants.” You confess. “‘Cause that’s when we’re at weddings together.”

Considering how he leans down, pressing a small kiss to your lips where you reciprocate with another lingering kiss, maybe being in dress pants isn’t that bad.

“Have we met our quota yet, Pix?” He nudges his nose against yours.

For someone who loves weddings, you’re eager to go home, too. You want nothing more than to just spend time with Jungkook in the comforts of your home.

“Quota met.”

Sheltered by the indoor venue, you didn’t realize how humid it got outside in the time spent at the wedding. Your apartment was practically a sauna by the time you and Jungkook arrived back at your place. Opening up your windows, you have a fan running in the background to air out the space.

“Sorry,” You say sheepishly while cutting into the watermelon. Your eyes rake over Jungkook where he unbuttons his grey vest and rolls up his sleeves to reveal his tattooed arm.

He shakes his head, taking two spoons from your drawers, “It’ll cool down.”

Will it? 

Air heavy with both the atmospheric moisture and tension brewing between you and Jungkook all evening, you’re not so sure if the temperatures will drop any time soon. The watermelon center caves as you both dig with the metal spoons. You favored the center; whereas, Jungkook aimed closer to the watermelon rind. 

He peers over at you where you stand. Hair now put up by a claw clip, he counts the baby hairs sticking onto the back of your neck, momentarily forgetting to dig into the watermelon when it’s his turn. 

“Why do you only pick at the sides?” Your brows twitch, digging into the middle again and turning to him with a center piece.

He shrugs, opening his mouth on cue for you to stick your spoon into his mouth. Sure, the middle pieces were sweet, but he thinks they might be sweeter coming from you. He chews and swallows, tilting his head a little to meet your equally sticky lips.

“Sweet either way, Pix.” He wonders if the salty moisture on your skin would pair well with the sweet watermelon.

Well, one way to find out.

No longer following a script, Jungkook moves on his own accord — loving and falling freely as he likes knowing you’ll be there to catch him. He shifts his body, head dipped in the crook of your neck as he licks a thick stripe over your neck. You gasp, spoon dropping onto the counter as your hands fly to grab onto his forearms for support.

He’s right; you do bring out more sweetness.

The half eaten watermelon sits on your counter, long forgotten in the pursuit of Jungkook’s body pressed to yours. His lips slot perfectly on you, a relieved sigh escapes as your bodies move as it’s desired all evening.

He trails kisses down the column of your throat, marking a pathway on your collarbone. Fingers in his hair, your grip on him tightens as you shyly ask, “Bed?”

Knees digging onto your bed, you sit up taller to kiss your still-standing boyfriend. He’s busy trying to unbutton his dress shirt while you race to unbuckle his belt — a race no one formally declared, but it was an unspoken need. And you both needed each other … badly.

You beat him, of course. The black Calvin Klein lettering on the banding greets you first as the front opening flaps of his pants fall to the side. He whimpers as you run your hand over his bulge. 

“Can I …” Your sentence trails off as you kiss along his exposed neck.

He nods unsure of what you exactly want, but the godforsaken dress pants drop and pool at his ankles without a second thought. You kiss your way down his torso, paying extra attention to his chest. With a determined look, you stick your tongue out on his hard nipple for a tentative lick to glean at his response.

Oh, it’s good — so, so, so good. 

He shivers, hand hitting your claw clip as it flies to the back of your neck to hold you in place. Your teeth grazes over the hardened bud, a sliver of pained pleasure courses through as you bite down with a gentle force. He hisses, mouth dropping open to bite back his moans. You remedy the pain with your tongue, silently apologizing without actually feeling sorry. 

You slither lower on all fours as you take his hard cock out of its confinements. Round eyes look up at him for permission to proceed. 

There’s a slight hesitance in your actions as the last time you wanted to give him a blowjob, he made it a goal to stay protected for both your sakes. He’s always for safe sex, but he knows he’s clean and wants to feel your bare lips around him as long as you’ll allow it. You seem to share the same sentiment as you tilt your head up, eyes burning with want and ownership of his bare skin.

Still, you ask, “Do we need a condom for this?” The thin straps of your pretty evening gown cascades loosely on your shoulders.

“No, but only if you want …” Jungkook pants, a harsh exhale when you give him a gentle squeeze. The small, pleased sound you make, paired with another harder tug confirms your answer.

He releases your hair from the clip, watching it cascade down your shoulders. Bunching your hair in a messy ponytail, he uses it as an anchor as you tug on his shaft. 

“Spit on it.” He pleads, groaning when you comply. Your saliva lands on the tip, dripping over the small bead of precum on his slit. So messy how your thumb glides over his slit, mixing the fluids together. Even messier when you place a kiss on his tip, mixed fluids tainting your pretty lips. His stomach contracts, the dips and ridges of his abs are even more defined as a result.

“Missed this with you, Pix.” He melts. It’s even better than how he imagined over the course of time spent with and without you. 

“I missed you, too.” You reply, tongue darting out and wetting your lips before moving in for a small lick over the head of his cock. “I wanna take care of you.” You mumble as you press messy kisses on the underside of his cock. “Is that okay?”

His stomach warms at your sentiment, knowing it’ll never be one-sided as he’ll always do the same for you. He nods, giving you the go ahead to do as you like. The grip on your hair increases and the hand cupped underneath your chin props you upright to take him fully.

He wonders how a place like heaven could ever beat this feeling with you.

Your eyes never stray from his, watching him through your lashes and how he struggles to maintain eye contact with you. It’s only when his cock begins hitting the back of your throat, your lids flutter shut. You gag from the action, pushing past the discomfort each time to hear more of his grunts and praises. Your skin prickles each time his thumb runs across your skin to soothe your aching jaw. 

“Fuck, Pix, if we keep going like — god,” he hisses, “I’m not gonna last long.” He warns.

“Mmhp,” You try to answer even with your mouth fully stuffed. He pulls back and you whine, robbed at the opportunity of having him release all over your tongue.

“Please,” you breathe, hoarse and rough, “wanna taste you.”

Your mouth falls open again. Instead of sliding in again, Jungkook jerks over his length, fast as he needs with the visual of you on your knees so readily to be ruined.

“Baby–I, I’m gonna cum. Fuck,” He tilts his head up to the ceiling.

And when he finally cums, he does so with your name and a string of praises. The first rope of cum lands on the corner of your mouth. Without another thought, you enclose your lips around his tip. His strangled noises spurs you on in your mission to suck and milk him dry.

When he finally slips out of your mouth, the hand underneath your chin guides you up and your knees walk you close to his standing body again. You still haven’t swallowed, unsure what you want to do with the fluid resting on your tongue.

Reading your expression clearly, Jungkook bites down a smile. “You don’t have to swallow, P.” He chuckles, placing a quick peck to your tightly shut mouth, “Want me to get the waste bin?”

He runs his thumb on the corner of your mouth, catching the stray droplet before wrapping his lips around his digit. Honestly, he doesn’t care for the taste and gets your hesitancy, but you hold his gaze and shake your head no, pressing your lips to his. He groans and opens his mouth for you to slip your cum-coated tongue in.

You whimper at his large hands running up and down your backside, ultimately landing on the bottom of your swelled ass. Absolute sin and filth personified when you both exchange and swallow your mixed fluids. 

Your body aches differently for Jungkook these days. Can’t believe he’s in front of you now in your home, surrounded by everything you love.

And you love him.

“I love you.” He says, as though all your internal thoughts and feelings are tethered to him. It’s no secret, and unworthy of hiding. 

You kiss him again, pulling him down with you. He giggles and shrugs off the rest of his clothing as he hovers over you with starry eyes.

Cupping his jaw, you reply, “I love you. Want this with you.”

The relationship. The love. The experience.

His heart — it’s all yours.

The long dimples appear again, disappearing from view once he lowers his head to kiss your neck all while fumbling on the thin straps of your dress and tugging it to expose your bare breasts.

He's said this before and thinks there’s no greater truth than this, “You’re perfect.” Leaning down, he places a wet kiss on your sternum, mouthing, “so beautiful.”

You keen into his touch, back arching when he takes one nipple in his mouth. He does this for a few minutes, teasing your nipples and rotating between them with equal amounts of love and attention.

Again, the ache runs through your entire body, gathering right at your core when his teeth bites down on your sensitive nipple. Your hand detaches from his hair and makes its descent down to his crotch.

He’s only half-hard, still sensitive from his first orgasm. 

Sensing your impatience, he chuckles against your skin. “Gimme some time, P.” Eyes closing as you squeeze around his length again.

You pout, but nod nonetheless, letting go of his shaft because the last thing you want is to do the opposite of keeping him hard.

“But,” he muses, “you could help me.”

And this is how you end up as equally naked as Jungkook on your bed. You’re supported by your numerous pillows as you lay there, watching his eyes jump between your face and closed legs.

His hands are on your knees, soft as he pries them apart to reveal your soaked core. 

You instinctively move to cover your mound, suddenly feeling shy even though Jungkook has seen you bare from below multiple times. His bigger hand covers yours, pressing against it just enough for you to feel the relief it brings. 

“‘S just me, pretty.” He says, eyes never leaving yours. His words and stare makes you sling your free arm over your eyes, blocking the visual of him: kiss-swollen lips, locks no longer in its styled state, red flush on his chest — a stark difference from the dark, solid ink on one of his arms … you can’t bear to look at him in this state. 

Can’t bear him looking at you either.

“I know,” you reply, “I’m just … embarrassed.”

You can’t see him, but you’re sure he’s giving you one of those smiles. One that asks ‘What for? You’re amazing.’

You think about the sheer amount of people who have watched Jungkook — yourself included — and wonder how he isn’t shy. And because of that, you feel yourself growing braver at the thought of giving Jungkook something to watch and appreciate.

Still, you keep your forearm over your eyes, but the other hand covering your pussy nudges Jungkook’s warm hand away. You move up a little. All practiced precision in how your middle finger dips between your slit, rubbing slow circles on your swollen clit.

“Oh, fuck.” He lets out a breathy laugh. Your senses are heightened in this self-visually impaired state; his swallow is heard in the distance.

You think about whether he’s just looking at your hand on your pussy or if he’s watching your covered face — if his eyelids are hooded … if the visual of you playing with yourself is ‘helping’ him. Perhaps it’s these thoughts that also make you grow wetter in between your legs, the wet sounds reach your ears through your staggered breaths.

You feel his lips press on the top of your knee, his breathing also coming out haggard.

“Is this enough?” You whimper, wanting him to take rein of your pleasure.

“A little longer, please?” He begs. “For me?”

He moans at your compliance, noting the speed change in your fingers. The bed shifts too, he nears your body again and you feel his warm breath fanning over your fingers. Suddenly, a dribble of wetness slides on top of your digits and trickles down to the entrance of your pussy, mixing with the rest of your arousal.

The feeling has you removing your arm, finally looking down where he’s at in between your legs. A small playful smile on his lips as he sits back up in his kneeled position. He's more than ready — just wants to see more of you. 

You take note of his hard cock in his hand, a slow stroke up before he thumbs at the slit like he likes to. A twinge of pleasure hits your core again and you’re forced to rub harder circles to relieve yourself of the heavy ache building up at the sight. He laughs again, a mixture of disbelief and horniness as the pace on his cock speeds up too.

“So much better seeing this in person.” His eyes involuntarily shut as he tilts his head to the side.

Huh?

The movement of your hand pauses and so does he with widened eyes. He clears his throat, trying to find the words before you ask, “W-what’s that supposed to mean?”

A sheepish smile stretches across his face and instead of explaining right away, he leans over your body now. Nose against yours, he places a tiny kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Promise you won’t get mad?” He asks, his hand moves yours away from your pussy and slots his cock in between your soaked folds. Meant as a distraction or to ease your worries for his next words, he finds himself breathing heavier at the feel of your bare cunt with his shaft. The head of his cock slips over with ease onto your swollen clit, twitching as he moves his cock side to side now.

“I–fuck–Pix, you’re so wet.” He drops his head to your neck.

You nod, almost distracted as well, but you bring his head back to your eye level. He swallows nervously, wrist slowing the movement with his cock. Jungkook should’ve rephrased his question to ‘promise you won’t get embarrassed,’ because shortly after he slyly recounts the details of Your Video™ popping up in your living room, you lay there surrounded in the flames of humiliation.

“So embarrassing.” You mumble, unable to meet his eyes. 

Jungkook giggles, kissing your cheek, “Hey, I liked it a lot.”

You turn your head, nose touching his now, “Did you?”

“Uh-huh, more than you’ll ever know.” His hips shift, resuming the grind on your cunt again. “But I like this more.”

His movements get you worked up again, forgetting about your mortification just moments ago. You whine, whimper, and mew into his shoulder; the ache comes and goes — reminding you need more than just this.

“Jungkook,” You gasp at the taps of his cock against your folds.

“Hm?” Eyes hooded, he watches you through his lashes, mouth dropped open when your hands run down his torso.

“Need you.” You plead, hip angled up so you can press harder against him.

“I know, I know, pretty. Just–” He shuts his eyes, “I gotta get you nice and ready for me.”

He senses your hesitancy again and he stops to stare down at you.

“I-I’ve had sex already,” You say, teeth worrying on the bottom lip and debating if you should say your next words. “With, um, Mingyu. So, we don’t have to prep.” While both unnecessary to tell him and unreasonable to feel this way, guilt courses through your body at the confession.

“Doesn’t matter to me if you’ve had sex.” Jungkook says, “I always want you to feel good and comfortable.” He kisses you, soft just like the fingers he trails at your entrance gathering your arousal.

You swallow, “Are you upset it happened with someone else?”

He blinks, head tilting in confusion, “Not something for me to get upset over, P.” Studying your face, his brows eventually relax as he asks you, “Are you upset?”

You shrug, looking to the side. “It was … whatever.” That’s all you’re willing to say about the experience and you’re sure Jungkook doesn’t want to hear about another man while he’s just about to get intimate with you. At this point, maybe he’d opt out to stopping in general, but he sighs a small hey to gain your attention.

“The experience will always be yours.” He kisses your forehead. “Nobody can take anything from you.”

You nod, eyes closing at the feel of his finger at your entrance. He keeps his lips at your forehead, feeling it furrow as he sinks one finger into your pussy. It’s a slow and leisure pump, easy to have you forgetting about the prior conversation and putting the focus back on him. Penetration has never been your thing; technically, it’s still not. But there’s some relief as Jungkook curls and massages his finger against your walls, stretching you out as he intended to. He refuses to take his eyes off yours, especially when he decides to add in another finger.

“That’s it, baby. Taking it so well.” He praises, voice cracking at the end of the sentence.

“You make me feel so good.” You sigh, eyes closing as he speeds his fingers inside you. “Always feel so safe with you.”

He curses, mentally prepared to hear your choked whine when he removes his fingers from your sopping hole. He says your name sternly, followed by a thick swallow. You hum in response, hips mindlessly chasing after any part of his body for friction. He slots his hard shaft against your wet folds again, giving you both some form of pleasure in the interim. He looks down, moaning at the sight of his cock coated with your arousal.

“Need you inside me.” Your hands hold his waist in place to stop him from grinding against your clit, head of his cock positioned at your entrance. You bubble with anticipation, wondering how he’d feel inside you.

And as much as he’d like nothing more than to finally sink inside, a small part of his lovesick brain still holds some form of logic and manages to utter, “Birth control?”

You blink, a slight falter in your response as you shake your head shamefully. There wasn’t a medical necessity for you to be on birth control before and you didn’t think far enough when it came to intimacy with Jungkook.

He chuckles, “That’s okay, P. I just wanted to check.” He hops off the bed and fishes for his wallet. Another ten seconds go before he drops his wallet onto the ground with a triumphed smile and brings up the small squared package between his fingers. The smile drops a little at the sight of your tiny pout.

Beating him to his question, you remark, “I wanted to feel you …” 

He exhales hard through his nose. Keeping the condom in between his fingers, he makes his way back to you on your bed. You both seem to fall back into position again. 

“Not sure if either of us are ready for kids, P.” The thought of having kids is scary, but weirdly … he finds the fear lessening at the thought of it with you. Seen how you reacted and smiled around children — he wonders if his future kids would have your smile. Either way, too early for these thoughts.

“Okay, okay,” You let his words simmer a little and he suddenly wants to do away with the little package in his hands when you look up at him. “You’re right.” 

He’s right, knows he is when you blink away those irrational thoughts. The same thoughts get pushed to the side when the foil packaging tears and a sweet scent fills your nostrils. This time, hints of rich chocolate and confectioned goodness. You relax back onto your mattress, watching as he positions himself between your legs.

“Do you only have flavored condoms?” You ask, impish smile lifting the awkward conversation from before.

He grins, “Someone gifted a five hundred flavored pack for my birthday last year.” Hint: it was Hoseok. “So … we’re stuck with this for now. Do you hate it? I could stop using them–”

You shake your head and his eyes soften at your answer. There’s relief in knowing it’ll always remain sweet between you and Jungkook. 

“I wanna feel you, too.” He admits as he lines himself at your entrance. He doesn’t push in just yet, watching how your hole clenches around nothing … for now. “We’ll figure something out.”

The defaulted option is to simply have you go on birth control, but that’s something to discuss and for you to decide. If need be, he isn’t too opposed to a vasectomy. You both have all the time in the world to discuss.

“Okay,” you stutter as he begins pushing the head of his covered cock in. That’s all he does for now, opting to drop onto his forearms to kiss you, praise you — love on you. You do little to hide the sting, face contorting before you let out a couple shallow breaths.

“Too much?” He asks, hips stalling and fingers brushing away your hair.

You shake your head, “Hurts a little, but,” you lift your hips a little, legs parting to accommodate Jungkook's body. “Wanna keep going.”

He doesn’t move. 

Tattooed arm dropped in between your bodies, he rubs practiced circles on your clit. You sigh in content, wiggling your hips to push more of him into you. Eyes fluttering shut, similar to how your pussy flutters and gushes around his length after every little push inside as a reward for taking more of him. He shudders and grunts deeply, mentally counting backwards from a hundred to keep himself distracted by how snug your walls feel around him.

You moan, soft and saccharine at the stretch of his full length inside you.

“You feel so good.” He husks into the shell of your ear. “Feel that, Pix?”

“Yeah …” You keen, unable to verbalize a proper response.

“You gotta tell me how you feel, ‘kay?” He lifts his head up and connects his forehead on yours, but his heavy eyes observe how your lower halves connect.

“M-mhm,” You reply, eyes shutting at the fullness below. “Can we stay like this for a bit? I-It’s … it’s a lot.”

He nods. A part of him is thankful for this pause, allowing his mind to think of other things in the meantime so this experience can be better for you. The other part is worried you’re uncomfortable. He wants to make this good for you — wants you to feel good, so it doesn’t matter how long he needs to stay still inside you. Sex could end right now and he’d be okay with it.

“Kiss me, please?” Your request comes out small, but he feels the harsh drumming of your heart against his chest. Your hands are bunched up on his nape, not relaxed how they usually are when you’re with him. 

What else could he do but comply with your wishes?

Kissing’s good — the belief he’ll die on a hill for. Kissing’s even better with you; he loves your lips, the way you lick the seam of his lips, how you sound when you’re being kissed as you deserve. Could stay like this forever with you. The heavy making out goes on for another two minutes, until he unconsciously bucks his hips which forces you to detach from his lips in a loud gasp.

He immediately searches for your face, eyes swelling with concern. “Sorry, I–”

You shake your head, thighs clamping around to hold him still before he pulls out. “‘s okay,” you reassure, “That felt good. Just, go slow.”

The pace he sets out is controlled — slow, as requested. And god, is it good. Your bed creaks with every movement, but the sounds are overshadowed by your shared breathy moans and praises only heard between each other. His fingers move swiftly over your pussy, so love drunk with your body, he feels his balls tightening — a sign of his forthcoming orgasm.

Call it selfish or greedy, he doesn’t want it to end, pulling out at the last second to delay his orgasm. Typically so well-versed in your body cues of an impending orgasm, his own dilemma clouded his judgment when you let out an involuntary frustrated cry at the loss of contact. 

Your chest stutters, stomach clenching from your heavy breaths. And although you should question why he did that, you can’t think when he guides his cock into your warm cunt once more.

“You were gonna make me cum again, pretty.” He lets out a breathy laugh, hips resuming its pace.

You whine, “Was gonna cum, too.” You look down where he fucks his thick length into you. He makes up for the accidental edging by rocking his hips faster into you, fingers once again finding home on your clit forces a high pitched squeal from your kiss-swollen lips.

“Yeah? I’m sorry.” He truly is. Your pleasure’s always his top priority — you’re his priority. 

“You deserve to cum.” His fingers flatten on your mound, and the wet squelching sounds increase with the fastened movements. “Give it to me, pretty.”

So sensitive and lost in the pleasure, you gasp and arch your body into his, eyes slamming shut at the onset waves of pleasure building below. 

“Jung–” Couldn’t finish your sentence before you’re squeezing tightly around him. He doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers, but he stills himself in you, giving you a couple hard pumps while you ride out your sudden orgasm.

He doesn’t think he ever wants to forget this feeling. 

Finally letting off your clit and pushing himself up again, Jungkook marvels at the thin sheen of sweat in between your chest and the white ring of cum coated at the base of his cock where the condom doesn’t fully reach.

“Please, need you to cum inside me.” You beg.

He can’t, not with the condom on, but the sentiment makes him act like he doesn’t have one on. Parting your thighs wider, he thrusts in slowly, mindful of your oversensitivity. The ring of cum builds and thickens at the base, transferring some of your arousal over his pubic bone in a messy haze. Alas, the visual combination of your chest moving in tandem with his thrusts, your scrunched brows, and hand on his stomach was enough for him to release once more. 

Though, the final blow came from your soft declarations of love while you tell him how good he makes you feel.

“Baby,” He manages, hands dropping your thighs, his front also comes down onto your chest as he lazily pumps inside of you with his cum-filled condom. The pleasure continues in the form of your fingers raking up and down his back, drawing shapes and patterns of love.

You know things will always remain sweet between you and Jungkook — like the giggles, doting questions, and soothing hands as he brings you to the shower. It’s not the hot water you feel on your skin, but Jungkook’s tender kisses and embrace forever etched on your body.

“P, sit still, won’t you?” Jungkook stands behind the tripod, angling the camera.

“You ever consider modeling? You’re a natural.” You say as you sift through the album on the tablet. You’re doing everything to avoid Jungkook’s latest assignment in class. Sure, it’ll be a good headshot update for your business card and website, but you weren’t keen on having your picture taken. It was always better behind the camera.

He rolls his eyes, gentle smile on his lips as he walks over. “Flattery won’t get you out of helping me. You promised you’d be my model for this semester.”

“Camera shy.” You pout. “You know that.”

“I know.” Jungkook chuckles. “I’ll teach you.” Leaning down, he places a soft kiss on your lips.

The thing with teaching is that he inadvertently learns as well. Knows it’s also the same for you too. Skills refined, new ideologies unlocked, and discoveries waiting to be explored. He no longer follows a script anymore — no longer feels like he’s boxed in … life is forever limitless as long as he makes it to be.

A shutter goes off from behind capturing the two of you in the frame.

fin.

ending a/n: beta’d by @takeitawaykenny who sat thru my ridiculousness but also entertained it. prologue wouldn’t have existed without her, yall … she rly was brain behind rkivedshots' beginnings on god love u bookie ;__; and @lovieku who’s been nothing but supportive and rode thru my (many) moments of doubt. she was the angel i needed on my shoulder during the makings of my first series and helped shape so much of itf!! couldn't have done this without your guys unwavering love and support!! oceans of gratitude to my two champions 😭🫂

🧚🏻‍♀️࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

alas, thank YOU all for joining me on this fun ride. i hope you guys got something out of this whether it be a chuckle, life lesson, or soiled panties, i’m lucky yall stuck with me. to my lovelies who have been here since the beginning and cuties we picked up along the way: i appreciate your trust, patience, and overall enthusiasm for this series — you’re my dream!! i told yall i’d guide us to my desired ending with so much love and care. ain’t no way this couple wasn’t gonna be end game … i just had to make the journey difficult. oop. anyway call me #aftercarequeen 💅

with that said … epilogue? send your thanks to lovieku for convincing me bahaha it won’t come any time soon cuz i have other things i wanna work on, but do not fear … i have something planned!

in the meantime, feel free to send in your reaccs/thoughts for our lovely itf!couple. i’m here for ya just as you’ve been here with me xoxo ♡

Not in an actual you’re-going-to-jail way but in that very specific, very personal way where your brain keeps repeating this is a bad idea while your body just keeps moving anyway. The house was quiet, thankfully, the quiet that meant your parents and great grandparents were already asleep, lights off, everything still, and for a moment you just stood there by the door with Jungkook behind you, both of you listening like you were about to get caught doing something criminal.

“…Why are we being so quiet?” he whispered.

“I told you to shut up,” you whispered back immediately. “If they know I’m sneaking someone they’ll kill me.” You shook your head. “And my sister will literally jump out on you.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together for a second. “She’s a big fun, huh.”

“Big is an understatement.”

“Really?”

“Just shut up and keep walking.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond, just turned and started heading down the hallway, barefoot, careful, trying to remember which floorboard made noise and which didn’t, like you had suddenly lived there your whole life. He followed close behind, surprisingly quiet for someone who had spent the last few hours doing too much.

When you reached your room, you pushed the door open slowly and slipped inside, gesturing for him to do the same before closing it behind you with a soft click.

There was a silence, a real weird silence. You both just stood there for a second, looking at each other.

“Okay,” you said finally, turning the light on. “This is my room while I stay here.”

He looked around, taking it in with quiet curiosity— the bed, your stuff thrown in a big suitcase, the slightly old bed and furniture. He could tell it wasn’t your place but your family house. He wondered for a second how your real home would look like.

“Nice,” he said.

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

“I’m definitely not.”

You rolled your eyes, already moving toward the closet and pulling out extra blankets, tossing them onto the floor next to your bed without much ceremony. “You’re sleeping there.”

He looked down. “…On the floor.”

“Yes.”

He glanced at the bed then back at you. “…There’s space.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Worth a try,” he smiled innocently.

“Was it?”

“No.” You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. He caught it easily, looking mildly impressed. “Stop being so aggressive.”

“You’re welcome,” you ignored his comment.

“Yeah, thanks a lot.” He said sarcastically.

You crouched down, fixing the blankets into something that vaguely resembled a bed, your movements slower now that the exhaustion was finally catching up with you. Your head still hurt, not sharply anymore, just a dull reminder that the night had been real and not some weird fever dream.

Behind you, he cleared his throat slightly.

“Hey.”

You didn’t look up. “What.”

“Do you have anything I can wear tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… something to cover my face,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “So I don’t get recognized.”

You looked up at him slowly. “Are you serious?”

“Very.”

You stared at him for a second longer before standing up, walking over to the drawer and pulling it open, digging around for a moment before grabbing something and tossing it at him.

He caught it, looked at it for a second and then looked back at you. “A pink hat.”

You crossed your arms. “Now you owe me one thousand… and five dollars.”

He let out a small laugh, turning the hat in his hands. “It’s… very pink. And it says ‘flop’.”

You had bought it back in your country in a drunk thrift shopping night. A long story you didn’t want to share with him.

“You want a purple one?”

“I’m not sure about that,” he smirked. “Purple is a very us colour.”

Of course.

You looked at him with boredom. “Great. Stay with the pink one then.”

He sighed. “Okay...”

There was a brief pause as he put it on, then glanced toward the door, like he could somehow see through it.

“Is this all necessary?” you asked, leaning back against the drawer. “The whole hiding thing.”

He looked at you like the answer should’ve been obvious. “Yes.” You raised an eyebrow. “They’re everywhere.”

“Paranoid,” you sang mockingly.

“Whatever,” he shook his head slightly, sitting down on the makeshift bed on the floor. “You wouldn’t get it.”

You didn’t even hesitate. “You’re right. I wouldn’t. I’m not a superstar.”

That shut him up for a second, your voice being so mean made him rolled his eyes. The energy in the room shifted a little but you didn’t notice.

Probably you didn’t care either.

You changed into something more comfortable, not bothering to hide, just turning your back and pulling off your hoodie, swapping it for a loose t-shirt, kicking off your socks and climbing into bed like the night had finally decided to end. He stayed quiet while you did, adjusting the blanket around himself and pretending he wasn’t looking your naked skin the second you took off your hoodie. It wasn’t like you were showing him your tits anyway, he didn’t feel guilty to have a look at your naked back.

The room settled into something softer, calmer, the chaos of everything before slowly fading into something that almost felt normal when you both got comfortable into each of your blankets.

“Hey,” he said after a moment.

You didn’t bother to look at him “What?”

“Thanks— You know… for not leaving me outside.”

You shrugged lightly, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m doing it for the money.”

“That’s not why you did it,” he chuckled, knowing it wasn’t true. “I haven’t pay you yet.”

“I trust a person who has the money to pay me will pay me,” you sighed. “I still have faith in humanity.”

He smiled a little at that, even if you weren’t looking. “I will.”

You didn’t say anything back. Silence filled the room again but this time it didn’t feel awkward.

He didn’t fall asleep immediately. You noticed it because you didn’t either.

At first you thought he had, he was quiet, lying on his back on the floor, one arm tucked under his head, the other resting over his stomach like he didn’t really know what to do with himself. The blanket you gave him barely covered anything, and the pink hat was still on his head, slightly tilted, which should have looked ridiculous, but somehow didn’t. You were facing the ceiling too, hands folded over your stomach, eyes open in the dark.

It was quiet in a way that felt almost staged. Like if either of you moved too much, the whole thing would break.

A few seconds passed. Then minutes and minutes. You decided to turn around after what it felt like a long hour, looking if he finally found some sleep that you couldn’t. You found him in a weird position that made you snort quietly. He was lying on his back with his hands in his shoulders like a damn corpse.

“Do you always sleep like that?”

Your voice came out quieter than you expected.

There was a small pause before he answered, like he was checking if you were actually talking to him. He looked up at you.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re in a hospital bed.”

There was pause. You watched the faint shift of fabric while he moved his hands more comfortably, now watching you. Only half of your face was he able to see. “I didn’t realize I was that stiff.”

“You are,” you mumbled. “It was a little concerning.”

He let out a small breath that almost turned into a laugh, but not fully. “Do you always comment on how people sleep?”

“Only when they look like they were about to be pronounced dead.”

That time, he did laugh, a little quiet and short.

Silence settled again, but it was different now, less sharp, less forced and awkward.

You turned your body slightly to the corner of the bed, just enough to look at him better. He was back staring at the ceiling. “Were you actually comfortable?” you asked after a moment.

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Like?”

“Cars, waiting rooms, practice rooms, airports…”

“Airports sound miserable.”

“They were… they are.”

There was something in the way he said it, not dramatic, not complaining, just factual. You shifted a little on your bed, pulling the blanket closer around yourself.

“Airports I get. Cars?” you frowned slightly. “Why?”

“Schedules. Filming runs late, you go somewhere else early. It’s not worth going home.”

“That sounds… horrible.”

“It’s not great.”

“Do you at least get like— actual sleep sometimes?”

“Sometimes,” he said. “When I don’t have anything the next day.”

“So…”

“So pretty much never,” he laughed quietly.

You smiled a little to yourself, eyes still on him. “Ever get used to your sleep schedule?”

“Weirdly yes. Now that we’ll start tour soon it might get a little difficult but we’ll handle it,” he said with confidence.

You found it really… endearing the way he was talking in plural. The group clearly had a good relationship, you couldn’t argue about that. Not that you have tried much after they proved you wrong by doing their comeback— when you spent years telling your sister they were going to pull a one direction stunt— they clearly got along very well.

You only hummed at that, not really interested in that subject since you already knew too much about that tour because of your sister.

Another small silence filled the room.

“What about you?” he suddenly asked.

You frowned slightly. “What about me?”

“Do you have a good sleep schedule?”

You snorted slightly at that. Was he trying to make conversation? Because it was pretty bad. You didn’t want to be more mean so you just answered naturally.

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “I’m a senior in college so sometimes I don’t sleep at all. Probably not as bad as yours.”

He hummed, thoughtful. “What are you studying?.”

“Film.”

“Do you like it?”

The question was simple, but it landed heavier than expected. “…Yeah,” you said, but slower this time. “I do.”

“Just ‘yeah’?”

You hesitated, then shifted onto your other side, facing the wall and not him. “I mean— it’s not like I have some big dramatic passion speech or anything,” you said. “I just… like it. I like stories, I like how things are put together. I like noticing things people don’t usually notice.” You paused, then added quieter, “It makes sense to me.”

There was a beat. “That sounds like more than just ‘yeah.’”

You huffed softly. “Don’t make it deep.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“I was really not.” You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “Okay, maybe a little.” He shifted slightly on the floor, turning his head toward your back. “What kind of films do you like?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“On my mood. On the day. On whether I wanted to feel something or not feel anything at all.”

“That’s very specific.”

“It’s true.”

He hummed softly, like he was actually thinking about it. “Do you make them too? Or just study?”

“I do both.” You paused. “Well… try to.”

“Try?”

“Turns out making films is harder than sitting in a classroom talking about them.”

“I can imagine.”

“And people are annoying,” you added. “Group projects are a nightmare.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “That I can definitely imagine.”

You smiled a little without meaning to. “What about you?” you asked after a second. “Do you still like it?”

“Music?”

“Yeah.”

There was a small pause again, but not uncomfortable. “Yeah,” he said, echoing your tone from before, “I do.”

“Just ‘yeah’?”

You heard the faintest hint of a smile in his voice. “Don’t make it deep.”

You huffed. “God, you are annoying.”

“I’ve been told.”

A small silence stretched between you, softer this time, almost… comfortable. “No, but seriously,” you said after a moment. “Do you?”

He exhaled slowly. “I do,” he repeated, a little quieter. “It’s just… different now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. It’s just is,” he didn’t explain much. “But I still love it.”

You nodded slightly, even though he couldn’t see. “When you were singing earlier,” you said, before you could overthink it, “I think everyone could tell you love it.” There was a pause. You immediately regretted saying it. You stared at the ceiling now, suddenly very aware of your own words. “I mean— not in a weird way,” you added quickly. “Just— like… you looked normal— Like it’s your thing, you know?. Not like… this whole different thing.”

Smooth. Really smooth.

You squeezed your eyes shut briefly, waiting for him to make fun of you, but Jungkook didn’t laugh.

“That was when it felt normal,” he said instead. “I like it when is my thing.” You opened your eyes again. “When I sing or work on something related to music.” He took a small pause, thinking about his words. “That is the only time it doesn’t feel… loud.”

You didn’t fully understand what he meant, but you got it enough. “That makes sense.”

Silence again.

“…Do you want to direct?”

“Oh, we’re back to me?.”

Jungkook snorted. “I’m just curious,” he said softly.

You huffed. “Eventually,” you admitted. “Or write. Or both. I don’t know yet.”

“You will.”

You moved around to glanced down at him. “That sounded very confident.”

“It is.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“You sound like you know what you like,” he said simply. “That’s already more than most people.”

You didn’t answer right away. “Maybe,” you said eventually. “What about you?” you asked. “Did you always want to do this?”

There was a small pause before he answered. “No.”

You raised an eyebrow slightly, a little surprised, even though he couldn’t see. “No?”

“No.” He shifted a little on the floor. “I like music, but I didn’t think it would be… this. There was a time I just wanted to quit and become a dancer.”

“What did you think it would be?”

“I didn’t think that far,” he admitted. “It just kind of happened, I was a kid when I joined the company.”

“That’s insane.”

“Why?”

“Because people spend their whole lives planning things and you just— fell into it?”

“I didn’t just fall into it,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice. “There was a lot of work involved.”

“Okay, fair. But still.” You paused. “…Do you ever wish it didn’t get this big?”

The question came out more casual than it felt. Jungkook didn’t answer immediately.

“Sometimes,” he said.

You nodded slightly. “That makes sense.”

“But,” he added after a second, “I wouldn’t undo it.”

You glanced at him again. “Not even a little?”

“Maybe a little,” he said, and you could hear the smile now. “But not enough to actually change it.”

You huffed softly. “That’s such a PR answer.”

“It’s my answer.”

You wondered how many times he practiced that answer. Or if you had ever judge him thinking he was just lying for the public. You didn’t know the real answer, but because there was no cameras and he was sleeping on your bedroom’s floor, you decided to believe it was his answer for the first time.

“Okay then.” There was the silence again. This time it stretched longer, but it didn’t feel awkward, just normal. You adjusted your pillow slightly. “Do you always talk this much to strangers?” you asked.

“Do you?”

“I asked first.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “No, I don’t,” he said after a second. “I don’t usually sleep on stranger’s floor either.”

“Yeah, I don’t usually let famous guys sleep on my floor either..”

“So this is weird.”

“A little.”

“Okay, good. We’re finally on the same page. It only took like nine hours of forced proximity.”

You smiled faintly. He was funny for that. “I think it’s the concussion,” you added, joining to the joke.

“You don’t have a concussion.”

“Allegedly.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually.”

“Are you a doctor now?”

“I’ve been around enough to know basic things.”

You let out a small laugh, softer this time. “Yeah? Like your friends?”

He pressed his lip together, trying not to laugh. “I’m sure they tried their best.”

“Oh, I’m sure too.”

He finally let a chuckle out.

Silence followed again, slower now. Sleepier. The night was already becoming dawn. You couldn’t help the feeling of being about to pass out of tiredness. But, surprisingly, you still wanted to talk to him.

“What do you even do when you’re not working?” you asked, voice quieter.

“Nothing exciting.”

“Define that.”

“Stay home. Watch stuff, cook, play video-games, sleep.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“That’s so boring.”

“It’s peaceful.”

“Okay, yeah, fair. Maybe with a life like yours.” You shifted slightly, trying not to close your eyes. “What do you watch?”

“Anything, really.”

“Bad answer,” you muttered. “I’m a film major, come on. Do better.”

“It’s true.”

“Give me something specific.”

He exhaled softly, thinking. “Movies, mostly. Sometimes documentaries.”

You perked up slightly. “Documentaries about what?”

“Random things,” he said. “I watched one about deep sea creatures last week.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “They looked weird.”

“That’s your reasoning to watch documentaries?”

“They were interesting.”

You shook your head lightly. “That’s such a guy answer.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“No, explain.”

“I won’t.”

“Coward.” You smiled into your pillow. Silence settled again, heavier now. Your eyes were starting to close between sentences. “You’re gonna fall asleep,” he said quietly.

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m literally talking.”

“Barely.”

You huffed softly. “You too,” you mumbled.

“Probably.” He paused for a second. “…Hey,” he said after a moment.

“Mm?”

“Thanks.”

You frowned slightly, eyes still closed. “For what?”

“For not making this weird.”

You let out a quiet breath. “It is weird.”

“Yeah, but… not in a bad way.”

You thought about that for a second. “I guess,” you admitted.

There was another pause.

“…And for the hat,” he finally added.

That made you smile, even with your eyes closed. “That’s $1005, dude.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Right, I forgot.”

“Inflation. I need that money.”

“Obviously.”

You shifted slightly under your blanket, suddenly more aware of how late it was. How weird this whole situation was but how it didn’t feel as weird as it should.

“Don’t snore,” you whispered almost faintly.

“I don’t snore.”

“You look like you snore.”

“That’s rude.”

“…Goodnight, Jungkook.”

Silence settled one last time. Neither of you spoke again. And somewhere between one slow breath, the conversation faded out, and you both fell asleep. You didn’t realize you were ending the night with the guy you didn’t want to see even in pictures not long that fifteen hours ago.

——————————

The next morning didn’t start very calm.

It started with banging. Loud, aggressive, completely unnecessary banging that echoed through your door like someone was trying to break it down, followed immediately by your sister’s voice, already way too awake for the hour.

“Wake up!”

You groaned into your pillow, barely even conscious, one arm thrown over your head as if that would somehow block both the noise and her existence. “Go away,” you mumbled, your voice muffled and thick with sleep, not even bothering to open your eyes. “It’s too early.”

More banging.

“It’s eleven in the morning. Get up! We need to talk!”

“We don’t,” you muttered, turning your face further into the pillow. “Go away.”

“I have the key!”

“Uhm”

There was a pause, it was brief, but suspiciously quiet— and then you heard the doorknob.

Your eyes snapped open.

Wait…

Oh my god, Jungkook.

You shot up halfway in bed, heart jumping straight into your throat. “Wait! Don’t—” you started, already turning toward the floor, toward where he had been…

But there was nothing there.

The blanket was folded— badly, but still folded— and the space where he had slept was empty. You blinked slowly. He was gone. He had actually left. Just like he said he would.

Thank God.

“…What are you doing?” your sister asked, already halfway inside your room, looking at you like you’d just sat up from a nightmare.

You stared at the empty spot for a second longer before letting yourself drop back over the bed, exhaling slowly, the tension leaving your body all at once in a way that almost made you feel ridiculous. Relief settled in instead. You were glad he left before everyone woke up. You didn’t have to sneak him out there, you didn’t need your sister screaming your house down because Jeon Jungkook had been sleeping on your floor.

That was great.

“Nothing,” you said, running a hand through your hair, trying to make yourself look less like you’d just been caught hiding something. “Why are you breaking my door?”

“I’ve been calling you for like ten minutes!” She shot back, walking fully into the room now, hands on her hips. “And you weren’t answering your phone, and you weren’t in the living room, and you weren’t anywhere—”

“I was sleeping,” you cut in, sitting down. “Crazy concept.”

She ignored that completely. “You left me yesterday,” she said instead, narrowing her eyes. “At the concert. Alone.”

“I didn’t leave you,” you said, already dragging a hand over your face. “You went inside. I stayed outside. That was the plan.”

“The plan was for you to wait!”

“I did wait.”

“For how long?”

“Long enough.”

She stared at you. You stared back. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying,” you said, which was technically not entirely true, but close enough to survive the conversation. “I got bored, I went to eat, and then—” you paused, touching your forehead instinctively, “—I had a small accident.”

Her expression changed immediately. “Oh, it was true?”

“It was a small accident,” you repeated. “Very small. Almost impressively small.”

She stepped closer without even thinking, grabbing your chin lightly to tilt your face toward the light. “What did you do?”

“I walked into something.”

“You walked into something?”

“It came out of nowhere.”

“A wall doesn’t come out of nowhere.”

“It wasn’t a wall,” you said. “It was… more like a pole situation.”

She blinked at you. “A pole?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you hit a pole?”

“I don’t know, it just happened.”

She squinted, clearly not believing a single word of it, but her attention shifted when she noticed the small bandage on your forehead, her fingers hovering near it before gently pressing around the area. “Did you go to a hospital?”

“Yeah, just a small one,” you said. “I got dizzy, they checked me, I’m fine. No concussion, unfortunately.”

She frowned slightly, still inspecting you like you might fall apart if she looked away for too long. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Am I ever?.”

“Girl,” she gave you a look.

“I’m okay,” you said, a little softer this time. “Really.”

She studied you for another second before finally stepping back, her shoulders relaxing just a little.

“You’re so stupid,” she muttered, but there was no real bite behind it now.

“That’s why you know we’re related.”

A small pause settled between you, and then, like a switch flipping, her entire expression shifted.

“…I got in yesterday,” she said. You closed your eyes briefly. Of course. “I got in,” she repeated, louder this time, like you hadn’t heard her the first time. “Like, inside-inside. Front area.”

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “We had a deal.”

“I know, I know,” she waved it off, already pacing a little as she spoke. “I’m just saying, just one thing—”

“No.”

“Just one—”

“No.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“It was a deal.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically, but that didn’t stop her. “I didn’t see them that much up close,” she continued anyway, clearly incapable of stopping herself. “Only the last song, because security was— whatever— but still, like, they were right there. And Jungkook—” You gave her a look. She ignored you. “God, he was just so amazing,” she said quickly, holding up her hands when you groaned. “I’m just— making an observation.”

“No observations.”

“He sounds insane,” she added anyway.

You opened your mouth to make your usual mean comment about him but suddenly stop. You pressed your lips together. Because you realized that the annoying part was… She wasn’t wrong.

You didn’t say anything, but your expression shifted just slightly, something small and involuntary, and she caught it immediately.

“…What?,” she narrowed her eyes.

“I’m choosing peace,” you said. “I’m not fighting anymore.”

“That’s suspicious.”

“It’s giving up.”

“That’s even more suspicious.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself off the bed. “Can we not do this right now? I just woke up, I have a head injury, and you’re being loud.”

“You don’t have a head injury, you walked into a pole.”

“That’s still an injury.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, a voice echoed from down the hall.

“Breakfast!”

Both of you look at each other.

“We should go before she comes here,” your sister said quickly.

“Agreed.”

You followed her out of the room, still half asleep, your body moving on autopilot as you made your way to the kitchen, the smell of food waking you up just enough to function. You barely had time to enter the living room and your sister was already reaching for the remote, turning on the TV like it was part of her morning routine. Hearing news for breakfast.

You didn’t pay attention at first, too focused on what would be for breakfast, but then—

“Oh my God.”

You looked up. She was frozen, staring at the screen.

“What?” you asked, frowning.

You followed her gaze and immediately felt your stomach drop.

On the screen, a reporter stood in front of a building you recognized instantly, the HYBE logo visible behind them as she spoke animatedly, a headline flashing across the bottom.

“…last night after the event, member of global group BTS, Jungkook, was reportedly seen leaving the after-party accompanied by an unidentified girl…”

You froze for a second.

“What?” your sister said, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume.

“…sources claim the two exited together and got into the same vehicle, sparking speculation among fans…”

“That’s insane,” you said quickly, reaching for the remote. “This is obviously fake. Turn it off.”

“What are you doing?” she pulled it away from you. “Wait. I want to listen!”

“It’s not real,” you insisted, trying to grab it again. “They literally make things up all the time—”

“Let me hear!”

“Give it—”

You both struggled for the remote, hands pushing, pulling, then falling into the sofa while the volume going up and down randomly as the reporter kept talking in the background.

“Girls,” your great grandmother’s voice cut through the chaos. You both froze. She stood next to the doorway, arms crossed, looking at the two of you like she’d seen this exact scene a hundred times before. “Sit,” she said simply. “And eat.”

You slowly let go of the remote. Your sister did the same, though much more reluctantly, her eyes still glued to the screen like it might disappear if she looked away too long.

“What’s wrong with you?,” she whispered

“What do you mean?”

“You’re acting weird.”

You huffed and walked to the kitchen. “No, I’m not,” you muttered.

You didn’t look at the TV again.

——————————

The next three days passed in a way that almost made you forget you were soon to be over with your little break.

Almost.

Your sister, surprisingly and suspiciously, kept her promise. No random BTS facts, no sudden “did you know—” interruptions, no videos shoved in your face at full volume. It was quiet. Peaceful, even. Which should have felt like a victory, but instead felt more like the calm before something very specific and very annoying.

Still, you didn’t question it. You enjoyed it as much as you could.

You spent those days the way you were supposed to, like a normal family visit. Long lunches that stretched into late afternoons, your great-grandmother telling stories you were only half listening to but still somehow enjoying, your parents relaxing in a way you didn’t usually see back home. You walked around the neighborhood, helped in the kitchen once or twice (badly), and even let your sister drag you out at night to some club, which turned into one of those chaotic, slightly messy outings where you both ended up too drunk and with new friends. It was… nice. Fun. Something you had been wanting to do for so long with her that actually didn’t feel real.

Which was exactly why you didn’t notice what she was doing.

At least, not at first. It started small, with casual mentions, perfectly timed, almost strategic.

“Busan is really pretty this time of year,” she had said at breakfast one morning, not even looking up from her phone.

No one reacted.

Later that day, while your great-grandmother was sitting in the living room, she brought it up again. “Didn’t you say you had a friend there? Near the beach?”

That got a reaction. Your great-grandmother looked up, thoughtful, and just like that, your sister had her opening.

By the second day, it wasn’t subtle anymore.

“Have we ever been there? I don’t remember,” she added over dinner, sighing dramatically. “It would be so nice to go, even just for the weekend.”

You glanced at her. She didn’t look back. You narrowed your eyes slightly.

Oh, she was working.

And she was good at it.

Your parents, on the other hand, were not convinced. You could see it in the way they exchanged looks, in the hesitant answers, in the classic “we’ll think about it” that really meant probably not. It should’ve ended there.

But then your great-grandmother stepped in.

“Well,” she said casually, as if she hadn’t been listening to the entire thing unfold, “there’s no harm in a short trip. They’re not children.” Your sister didn’t even try to hide the way she straightened slightly, like she’d just won something. “They’ll be fine,” your great-grandmother continued. “And I can call my friend, she still has that cabin near the beach. It’s small, but perfect for a couple of days.”

Your parents hesitated. Your sister held her breath and then the decision was final.

“Okay,” your mom said, slowly. “But you both be careful.”

That was it. That was all it took.

You didn’t even have time to process it before your sister turned to you, eyes practically shining. “We’re going to Busan.”

You stared at her. “We… we?”

“Yes, we.”

You leaned back in your chair slightly, crossing your arms. “You didn’t even ask me before this.”

“I’m asking you now.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“It is when the answer is obviously yes.”

You scoffed. “You’re very confident.”

“It’s a beach trip,” she said. “Cabin, ocean, weekend away from everything. You’re not saying no to that.”

You opened your mouth to argue and immediately paused. She wasn’t wrong. How could you say not to that?

“Fine,” you muttered. “But I’m not driving.”

“I am driving,” she said immediately and obviously. “You don’t even have a license here.”

“Oh, right.”

She grinned. And just like that, the weekend was decided.

Friday morning came too early.

You were barely awake when she dragged you out of bed, already dressed, already moving, already running on a level of energy that should not exist before sunrise. You, on the other hand, moved like someone who had been personally wronged by the concept of mornings, throwing clothes into a bag half-blind and hoping for the best.

“You’re taking forever,” she complained from the doorway.

“I’m functioning at the speed of my will to live,” you muttered, zipping your bag.

“Hurry the fuck up!.”

“Let me be.”

The car was packed quickly and before you fully registered what was happening, you were on the road, the early morning quiet stretching out in front of you. Your sister took the driver’s seat like she was ready to get there as fast as she could, hands steady on the wheel, music playing softly in the background.

The first hour was quiet. The second less so. By the third, you had stopped twice, once for coffee, once because she insisted she was “getting bored” and needed a break, which made no sense considering she was the one driving.

“You’re the one who wanted this trip,” you pointed out, leaning against the car as she stretched dramatically.

“I still do,” she said. “I just don’t want to fall asleep at the wheel.”

“You’ve had three coffees.”

“That’s barely anything.”

“That’s concerning.”

She ignored you.

The rest of the drive blurred together, long stretches of road, occasional conversations that started and died without much effort, music playing, silence filling the gaps in a way that didn’t feel awkward. At some point, you rested your head against the window, watching the scenery change slowly, the air shifting, the feeling of the city fading the further you got.

By the time you arrived, you felt it

That difference of weather and vibe.

The cabin was exactly what your great-grandmother had promised. Small, simple, but beautiful in a quiet, effortless way. It sat a little away from everything, surrounded by greenery, the sound of the ocean faint but present in the distance.

An older woman greeted you at the door, her smile warm and familiar in a way that made it clear she already knew exactly who you were. “You must be her granddaughters,” she said, stepping aside to let you in. “She told me you might come.”

Your sister immediately switched into polite mode, smiling brightly, introducing both of you like she hadn’t spent the last five hours complaining about the drive. You followed along, quieter, taking in the space, the details, the way everything felt lived in, cared for.

It didn’t take long before you were settled. Bags dropped, shoes off, windows opened.

“We should go to the beach,” your sister said, already halfway out the door again.

“We just got here.”

“Exactly. Perfect timing.”

You stared at her and she stared back.

“…You’re not going to sit down, are you?”

“No.”

You sighed. “Give me five minutes.”

——————————

The beach wasn’t far.

A short drive, a small parking area, barely any people around. It was quieter than you expected, the kind of place that didn’t attract crowds, just a few scattered figures in the distance, the sound of waves steady and constant. Summer wasn’t yet there so the place wasn’t crowded at all.

You stepped out of the car, stretching slightly, taking in the view, the air different there, cleaner, lighter.

“Okay,” you admitted. “This is nice.”

“I told you,” she said, already grabbing her bag.

You walked a few steps forward, eyes on the water, the horizon stretching out endlessly, and for a second, everything felt exactly like it was supposed to.

Peaceful, simple…

“Wait.”

You paused. Something in your sister’s tone made you turn. You knew that specific tone, the one she used for them. She was looking at her phone. Not just looking, staring.

“What?” you asked slowly, already regretting it. She didn’t answer immediately which was your first warning. “…What?” you repeated, sharper this time. She looked up. And the expression on her face…

“Oh my God,” she said.

You blinked. “No.” She turned the screen toward you. “No,” you repeated, already feeling the irritation creeping up before you even saw it.

“I knew it,” she said, like she had just proven something. “I knew it.”

You looked. And there it was, some random article, headline bold and unnecessary, talking about how Jungkook had been spotted in Busan, taking a short break with friends before his tour, photos blurry but enough to make it believable, enough to make it real.

You stared at the screen deadpan and then at her. “You’re kidding.”

“I didn’t know for sure!” she said quickly, already defensive. “I just saw something about it and thought— what if— and then the cabin thing and—”

“You planned this.”

“I didn’t plan it,” she insisted. “I just… aligned circumstances.”

You let out a short, disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand down your face. “Aligned circumstances.”

“Yes.”

“You dragged me four hours away because of a maybe.”

“It’s not a maybe anymore.”

“That’s not the point!”

She frowned. “Why are you so mad?”

“Because you lied.”

“I didn’t lie!”

“You just conveniently left out a very important detail.”

“I didn’t think it mattered!”

“You didn’t think it mattered that the entire reason you wanted to come here was because of a guy?”

She hesitated. “…When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”

“Because it is bad.”

You stepped away slightly, shaking your head, frustration settling in properly now, heavier, sharper, cutting through whatever calm the place had given you just minutes before.

“I thought you actually wanted to spend time together,” you said.

“I do!” she said quickly. “I do, that’s not— this is just—”

“This is exactly what I didn’t want,” you cut in.

Silence fell between you. The waves kept moving. The air stayed the same. But the moment shifted completely.

You stood there in the parking lot, arms crossed, jaw tight, staring anywhere but at her, the irritation sitting firmly in your chest now, impossible to ignore. And just like that the trip didn’t feel so peaceful or yours anymore.

She didn’t look as guilty as she should have. That was the problem. Instead of apologizing, or at least pretending to understand why you were annoyed, your sister just let out a small sigh, like you were the one making things unnecessarily complicated, and shifted her weight from one foot to the other before gesturing vaguely toward the beach like that alone should fix everything.

“Okay, but we’re already here,” she said, tone softening just enough to sound reasonable, which somehow made you angrier. “So can we not waste the whole day being mad? Just… enjoy it… Please?”

You stared at her for a minute. Not because you didn’t hear her, but because you did, and that made it more irritating. There was something about the way she said it— so casual, so quick to move on, that made it feel like your reaction didn’t really matter, like this was already over for her while you were still standing there, stuck in it.

“Right,” you said flatly. “Because that’s how that works.”

She frowned slightly. “I’m not saying you can’t be mad, I’m just saying—”

“No, you’re saying we should just pretend you didn’t drag me here for that,” you cut in, nodding toward her phone still in her hand. “And go sit on the beach like this is some random, normal trip.”

“It is a normal trip,” she insisted. “We came here together. We’re staying in that cute cabin, we have the whole weekend… Why are you acting like that it’s a bad plan?”

You let out a short breath through your nose, looking away for a second, because arguing in circles with her was exhausting in a very specific way. “Because that’s not why you planned it,” you muttered. “You just used me to see if you could meet this guy who doesn’t even know about your existence.”

“Well… It’s part of why,” she corrected, stepping a little closer. “Not all of it.”

You didn’t answer. Her honesty was also more irritating

A beat passed, the tension sitting there, heavy but not explosive, and then she exhaled, clearly deciding she wasn’t going to win this right now. “I’m going to the beach,” she said, grabbing her bag again before giving you the car keys. “You can stay here or in the car and be dramatic or you can come and enjoy this beautiful sunny day with me. Your choice. It’s still our trip… just with other outcomes.”

You watched her for a second as she turned and started walking toward the sand without waiting for your answer, her steps quick, purposeful, like she was physically removing herself from the conversation.

You didn’t follow immediately.

Instead, you stayed where you were, putting the keys in your pocket, shoulders slightly tense, letting out a slow breath as you looked out toward the water, the sound of the waves steady and grounding in a way that forced your thoughts to slow down whether you wanted them to or not. The beach was still quiet, only a few people scattered around, some sitting, some walking along the shore, nothing loud, nothing overwhelming.

You stood there longer than you planned to. Long enough for the initial irritation to settle into something less sharp, less immediate, even if it didn’t disappear completely.

“Bitch,” you muttered to yourself finally, dragging a hand through your hair.

You could admit, the place was too beautiful to be mad. So you could pretend for a few hours you didn’t want to beat the shit out of your sister.

You started walking toward the beach, slower than your sister had, your gaze drifting without much focus until something, someone, caught your attention. A group of guys, a little farther from the rest of the people, not close enough to draw attention but not completely isolated either, their voices faint, carried slightly by the wind. You didn’t think much of it at first, just another group, nothing special, but then…

You froze slightly. Because one of them had a hat you recognize immediately. A pink hat.

Your pink hat.

You stared for a second longer, squinting slightly like that might somehow make more sense of it, and then a small, disbelieving laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” you muttered under your breath.

There was no way.

No, it seemed it was. There was a way.

You shook your head lightly, almost amused, almost annoyed again, but in a different way now, something sharper, more specific, and started walking again, this time toward your sister, who had already claimed a spot on the sand and was in the process of setting everything up like she hadn’t just caused a minor argument ten minutes ago.

You dropped your bag next to her without a word, letting it fall into the sand as you sat down, brushing your hands together absentmindedly.

She glanced at you briefly. “So you decided to join me in this relaxing place?.”

“I decided I didn’t feel like standing in a parking lot all day.”

“I’ll take it.”

You didn’t respond, just leaned back slightly, watching her as she immediately reached for her headphones, slipping them on like she was entering her own separate world, scrolling through her phone, adjusting angles, already taking pictures of the beach, of herself, of everything.

You let your gaze drift again, slower this time, more intentional, until it landed back on the group.

They weren’t there anymore, well most of them. Because now, almost all of them were in the water, voices louder, movements easier to follow as they swam further out, leaving only one person behind, stretched out on the sand, hat still on, pulled low enough to cover most of his face.

You stared for a second. Then another. And then, before you could overthink it you stood up.

Your sister didn’t even notice. You brushed the sand off your hands, grabbed your bag and walked past a couple of scattered towels, your steps casual enough not to draw attention but direct enough that you didn’t lose momentum, your focus fixed on the figure lying there, unmoving.

Up close, it was even more obvious. Same hat, same tattoos, same moles.

You stopped right next to him, looking down for a second, watching the way he very clearly try to not react, which only made it more obvious that he was pretending to be asleep.

You tilted your head slightly. “…Is this seat taken?” you asked casually, already lowering yourself onto the sand beside him without waiting for an answer. “Because if it is, that’s really unfortunate.” No response. You glanced at him, then out at the water. “Wow,” you continued, resting your hands behind you. “What a beautiful day, huh? Beach, sun, people minding their business… very peaceful.” Still nothing. “…Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up?” you asked, leaning slightly toward him, he gave you a slight shrug. “Oh— wait, no, you’re definitely awake.” He shifted. You smiled slightly. “Since you’re awake,” you went on, completely unbothered, “maybe you can help me with something. I can’t reach my back properly and I really need to put some sunscreen on, maybe you can give me a hand?”

He moved his hand, pushing the brim of the hat up just enough to reveal his eyes and then he looked at you. Recognition hit immediately, his shoulders relaxed immediately and he let out a small huffed laugh.

“How did you know it was me?” Jungkook asked, his voice low.

You shrugged, like it was obvious. “The hat.”

He blinked once, then let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh, dropping his hand back against his chest. “Of course it was the hat.”

“I mean, you could’ve at least tried a different disguise,” you said. “This is just lazy.”

“I wasn’t trying to disguise myself.”

“Right. You just happened to wear the same very recognizable hat in public.”

He tilted his head slightly toward you. “You’re the only one who knows about the hat.”

“Fair point.”

A small silence settled, not awkward, just normal.

You looked out at the water again. “…So,” you said after a second. “What are you doing in Busan?”

“Taking a break,” he answered simply. “A couple of days before things get busy again.”

Of course he wasn’t going to tell you his manager had sent him to have a little week off there after watching the news that he had been seen with a new girl and how the CEO of Se-seil didn’t like that at all. What a better way to stay out of the rumours than going on a low profile trip with some friends that weren’t girls and that couldn’t spark heteronormative rumours, right?

“With them?” you nodded slightly toward the group in the water.

“Yeah,” he pointed out. “The one who looks like he’s drowning is the one who you own ten thousand worth of shoes.”

You frowned immediately. “It was your fault I threw up so that’s on you.”

Jungkook smiled slightly. “Fair.”

You followed his gaze for a moment before speaking again. “This is weird,” you admitted.

“A little,” he glanced at you.

“Out of all the beaches.”

“I know.”

You glanced at him again. “My sister drove here because she saw an article about you probably taking time off here.”

“That’s commitment.”

“That’s stalking,” you corrected. “Do you know how annoying is the fact that she was actually right?”

He looked at you. “Does she know you met me?.”

“Are you insane?” you shook your head. “If I tell her I would never not hear about this.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I also don’t want to risk… my life,” he added, nodding vaguely, clearly referring to your sister being a little inane without saying it.

“Good call.”

“I figured.”

Another quiet stretch settled between you, the sound of the waves filling it naturally, neither of you rushing to say anything else.

It felt… normal. Weirdly. Too normal. And that, more than anything, was what made it feel a little unreal. He was a celebrity, probably nothing about him was normal or quiet like that.

Jungkook stayed quiet for a moment after that, like he was still adjusting to the fact that this was happening again— same girl, different place, somehow even less explainable than before— before he turned his head slightly toward you, resting it back against the sand.

“So,” he said after a beat, voice calmer now, almost casual. “How’s Busan treating you?”

You shrugged, dragging your fingers absently through the sand beside you. “It’s alright.”

There was a pause. Then he turned his head fully this time, looking at you like you had just personally offended him.

“Alright?”

You blinked. “Yeah?”

“Alright?” he repeated, sitting up slightly now, brows pulling together. “That’s what you’re going with?”

You frowned a little, caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. “What’s wrong with ‘alright’?”

“It’s my hometown,” he said, like that explained everything.

“Okay?”

“And you’re describing it as alright.”

You let out a small, incredulous laugh. “I’ve been here for like two hours.”

“That’s enough time to form a better opinion than that.”