Expensive Taste (M)

Expensive Taste (M)

Summary: Jimin? Bound to a bed you say? Wet and naked you say? An opportunity you'll probably never see again you say? Then you better fucking take it.

Pairing: Jimin x Y/N

Genre: Pwp, smut (and nothing else), subJimin

Warnings: Bondage, sensory deprivation, face riding, shoe fucking (yes, he fucks a Loubiton), edging, use of sex toys, masturbation, swearing, alcohol consumption ... a lot goes on for 3.5k

Word Count: 3.5k

Fuck, if this isn’t the hottest shit you’ve ever seen in your life. You didn’t realise just looking at something could make your pussy throb and make you want to suck dick like you truly enjoyed it.

Park Jimin spread out on his bed, blindfolded, soaking wet from his shower, naked, is that sight.

Getting him to sub was a task, but how can a boy refuse when you’re wearing the Chanel lingerie and Loubs he bought with you last month. Like hell were you normally a sub yourself but when Jimin first took you home from that £250 candlelit meal to his penthouse with the intent to ruin you, a girl had to oblige. It wasn’t exactly a task to complain about when he’s forcing your fourth orgasm out of you. 

But now into the third month of the mega fancy dates, the introductions as his ‘girlfriend’ at the executive functions and balls and the intense, but totally satisfactory sex life you two had partaken in, it was finally time for the biggest step in the relationship. Sub Jimin.

“Baby if you’ve left I swear to fuck you’re on sex toys and your fingers for a month.”

Tied up and blindfolded and still running his filthy mouth like his dick isn’t hard and at my mercy.

“I’m here.”

His abs untense a fraction as his body slumps back into the bed realising the proximity is close enough that you’re either on or at the end of the bed. 

His body glistens, with sweat or still wet from the shower, you don’t know - also don’t care, because, the way the red hues of the mood lighting carve against his abs and chest is a god-like display for the eyes. The sheets are slightly ruffled around his from when you’d made work of lowering and tying him down to the bed, but the sight is just poetic in front of you all the same. 

His lips part with an apprehensive sigh as you continue to leave him hanging on his own thought and imagination. You know sensory deprivation. Fuck, he’s played that card on you more time than he’s fucked you from behind, so you can just sense the way his entire body tingles with the want for touch, sound, sight, anything to clue him in on how you’ll play him. But just like tasting your own medicine goes, this is going to be a dirty game.

He feels the bed sink below one of his feet first, then it’s the slightest touch on the base of his feet, normally ticklish for him, but like a fire lit and vibrating up his body at this moment. 

You want to string this out a little, play with soft touches up his body like he’s made of strings, but the awaiting dick in your sights calls to another, much more feral part of your brain.

You’re back off the bed and walking to the bedside table where your wine, vibrator, buttplug and lube lay in an organised display. You hear him shift on the bed, and see the way his bottom lip is now caught in a tight clench between teeth - whether to suppress the urge to speak or for him to feel, something, anything, at this point, you can’t quite tell. 

It’s the wine you take. White. And cold. Cold enough that perspiration trickles down the glass and onto your finger, so your press the cold liquid that gathers onto one of his nipples. You earn a grunt in return as he releases his lip, head perking forwards as if he thinks he’ll be able to see what you’re doing. 

Continuing with the task at hand, you ungraciously and unceremoniously pour half the contents of the glass onto his naked and bearing skin. This time, he gasps, swears under his breath probably at the cold, maybe at the sensation the cold brings, and your mouth twitches at his reaction - you almost think you see his cock twitch too in your peripherals. 

You finish the rest of the glass yourself, making the sound of the cold alcohol trickling down your throat as apparent as possible.

“What is it?” He’s not asking because he cares, he’s asking because he needs to hear you speak, needs something to grasp onto so he’s not in this debilitating limbo of silence.

“Taste for yourself.” You lean over the bed and place your mouth against his stomach, licking, sucking and slurping up the liquid that had come to settle between the silk smooth skin at the lines of his abs and the pit of his bellybutton. Then, you find your way up to his mouth and latch onto the thick lips that lay open and waiting for you. 

But you are off him before he can get any further into the action. And he pants, clamping his lips together after swirling his tongue around his mouth to pick up the leftover wine that spilt.

He smirks at the same time you do and you know he’s got it, the rich prick. 

“The Montrachet… 2016.” 

Of course, he’s right. You figured the most with that smirk and the way he’d been drilling into you how he was gonna buy that same wine company that cultivates the wine so glamorously spread across his body.

“And who told you, you could raid my wine. That’s three grand a fuckin- shit.” You want to laugh at his stutter, but opening your mouth to it causes a moan to spill instead as you mount his cold, wet abdomen, and instantly get to the task of rolling you naked lower half against him. You’d undressed everything but the Loubitons as soon as the blindfold hit his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He’s breathless now that he finally has you warm and skin to skin on him.

“Thought you wanted another taste baby. Didn’t want it to go to waste since it was so expensivee-ah.” You lift yourself off, pussy throbbing, before the sensation spreading dangerously down to your toes is too hard to turn away from.

You work your way, on hands and knees up to his mouth, placing a chaste kiss against him before hovering just out of reach, so close his breathing that he’s trying so hard to keep at bay, dries your lips.

“Isn’t that what you wanted, baby.”

“Yeh,” his voice, still low, still heavy with apprehension is cut off as you push up on your knees and then lower yourself onto his unsuspecting lips.

He smells wine and wetness before he is greeted by the warmth of it, and his lips pucker with tongue instantly finding its way into you. He hums and you moan, sensations of pleasure spiking your body instantly despite you already knowing your every move.

“Taste good huh?” And his hum in affirmation, drawn out longer than the first, spikes into you more than you were ready for, so your hand seeks the headboard and your hips begin to move, fucking that sweet mouth of his.

Wet tongue darts out into your cunt, pressing flat and firm and then delving deep inside so that you can move your hips up and down on it. Your clit goes unattended until you shift yourself forward so it presses to his nose and despite your moans and the way he is practically airless underneath you, you’re sure you hear him inhale your scent.

And, you can’t seem to let up, fucking yourself in circles and then up and down as his tongue, and tongue only drives you into a frenzy.

“Fuck Jimin. So good, so so good, baby.” The rambling commences at the same speed that he now moves his head side to side, making every use of his mouth without the aid of his hands to get you off. You didn’t think you’d cum from this, it was merely going to be a pass by, but when he bites down on your clit and then tongue fucks you whilst shaking his head, you nails scrape into his scalp and almost cum right then and there.

So, pulling yourself off just as you feel the knot almost snap and pull at his hair, you look down to see his tongue still darting out to taste your remnants of you that plaster his face and the smirk that he wears after.

“You almost made me cum, you bitch.” And it fuels the fire of his ego, smirk growing into a deep laugh. He’s bound, blindfolded and completely in your hands yet you’re the one who’s like putty. 

You almost say fuck the whole thing and abandon, but when you turn to see his dick is harder than before and leaking, it’s too good of an opportunity to miss.

Climbing off him, you round the bed, watching the smirk falter as he realises he no longer has the upper hand, no longer has a fucking idea where you are and what you’re doing. You grab the vibrator and lube as you go, quietly though, it’s all a bunch of surprises from here. 

“Y/N.” He’s calling out to you, but you reply with the first touch of your heel, hard and cold to his thigh. He shivers, not really understanding the sensation.

You’re sat, ass at the end of the bed, in nothing but your Loubs with legs spread as you begin to trail one, then the other heel up his thigh. He feels the smooth of you calf brush him and swears lowly as he realises what you’re doing - torturing him with his present.

You pull one leg in just before it reaches his crotch and pour the lube, bottle ready and waiting at your side onto the bottom face of the shoe. You realised hygiene was a bitch during sex, even despite the shoes being £800 fresh out of the box, so washed them earlier. You’ve always wanted to make a guy cum from a pair of Loubs - living the dream some would say.

The next time cold heel hits skin is directly on his dick, shaft spiking up when the wet of the lube sinks into him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He sounds angry. Horny and angry at the fact he is turned on by getting shoe fucked.

You press your left leg into his thigh, the heel digging hard into flesh so he hisses - call you petty but you didn’t like his tone - whilst the other tests the water on his shaft, running up and close to the tip, but not close enough. The proximity to pleasure causes him to buck up.

“You wanna cum?” 

“Not with your fucking shoe I don’t.”

The foot tending to his dick pushes harder, heel dangerously close to his balls and he knows it.

“Watch it, or I’ll make you cum with my foot instead.” Feet. He hates them.

“Bitch.” He whispers it and you almost see him settle back, lips releasing their tight hold as he tries to find the pleasure in the smooth and cold sensation of your shoe.

You press harder this time as you run it up and down his dick, his tip getting attention garnering a hiss from him. You find a rhythm, as does he with the way he begins to fuck up into the feeling, chasing the sensation of when it presses hard against his tip, he also begins low groans and the occasion ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“That’s it, baby. You think you can cum like this?”

“No,” another harsh press that this time finds his balls too. He doesn’t seem to mind though. “Fuck-ah, maybe, I don’t know. Just keep going, harder.”

His words, breathless and low cause a new wave of tension in your crotch, blood rushing everywhere and that pit needing release starts reeling in. Your hand finds its way to your exposed pussy, two fingers sliding straight in like light work - Jimin sure did a job on you with his mouth earlier. Fuck you miss his mouth, but seeing him splayed and fucking himself up into you is just as spank bank worthy.

“You look so hot.” 

Either he hears the way your words falter or he hears the rhythmic pumping of your fingers in your core.

“Are you fucking yourself right now?” He sounds both disbelieving and turned on beyond belief. His words are also accompanied by his pelvis stuttering, trying to find more pleasure.

“Mmm.”

“Let me see, fuck, please Y/N.”

You speed up your movement and much to your enjoyment find that spot deep within you - the way you’re spread certainly helps.

“Mmm,” is all he’s met with again and he throws his head back further into the pillow in frustration. It somehow spawns a new sense of vigour in him, the pent up anger and tension as he fucks into your foot harder, grunting as he does so, and you barely have to do the work anymore and the slick of the bottom of your shoe slides from base to tip, hard and fast. No way can he cum from this, surely.

“Fuck.” You both utter at the same time, yours high and breathless and his a growl.

You fuck you fingers at the same speed he lifts his hips and when your palm finds your clit it’s game over for you. You string moans and curses in a random order as you body jolts, your stomach contracts and the throb burns into a frenzy.

It’s the hottest thing in the world he thinks, hearing the moans you sputter when you bring yourself to your end.

“Shit, I think I might cum.” It’s a whine that turns you on all over again despite the thrum of your pussy and the way everything burns.

It’s as he begins to stutter you draw your foot away.

He draws his whine out for longer this time, his dick pulsing and his breathing tenfold.

And it’s with hell to foot fucking, there’s a rock hard cock to be used

“Cum inside me.” It’s a statement, not a question, spoken equally breathless as he is, the orgasm still tingling through you.

“Urgh, fuck yeh.” His head perks up at the thought and his mouth draws open in excitement. 

With his chest glistening more than before, his lips bruised from sunken teeth, you say ‘fuck you’ to the gods that you don’t have a camera at this moment, because like hell are you forgetting this. Your core throbs, maybe in the post-orgasm bliss but the sight is also doing wonders for making your blood pump and your skin burn.

You can’t prologue it anymore, the desire to be filled stronger than the want to hear another whine - only just.

Stradling his sides you experimentally run yourself up and down his dick, pressed against his stomach between your folds, mixing lube with arousal and heat with heat. It draws moans from the both of you.

“Baby, let me touch you, please. At least let me see.” You lean back and take the vibrator that has sat patiently at the back of the bed, bringing it instantly to his balls.

The hum of it and the sensation hit all at once before he realises what you’ve done, and his cheeks blow out - with his eyes behind the silk you imagine - as he jolts against the restraints.

You know it’s sensitive and if you hold it too long he’ll blow his load, so you ease it from his balls to in between where the two of you are connected.

“Y/N, please baby, too much, just let me fuck you. I need it,” he’s whining and your smirking into a moan as the vibration hits your clit. It must hit the right spot of him with the way he growls and the restraints pull taught against the headboard. “Please, fuckkk.”

It’s the way he says it that has you going, vibrator chucked aside but still fizzling away somewhere, and before he can say ‘pussy’ you’re on him, sinking and moaning.

“Oh shit that’s good.” He fills you so fucking well that the position gets him right into your stomach - one hand even goes to that spot where he touches your cervix and pushes as you start moving - his dick is everywhere and it feels so good.

The slow pace has him frantic against the silk that binds his hands away from you.

“Y/N let me feel you.” 

But he’s your personal fuck toy at this point as you sink two fingers into his mouth below you. Instantly, he bites around them with a grunt and the other hand fumbles for the vibrator, still on and now pressed into his balls again, shutting him the fuck up.

You’re faster now as the vibrations sink into you too, him reaching everywhere inside of you and with teeth, baring into fingers harshly but just right that it garners a moan.

“Fuck, so good Jimin, so good.” You repeat it like a mantra.

He moans into your fingers when the vibrations against his balls get turned up by you. 

And you feel him tighten slightly, so pent up, edged when he’s never been edged in his life and his chest heaving with the need to get normal airflow. You only push harder with the vibrator and your fingers in his throat, the control of it all compelling you to almost find your release.

“You gonna come baby?” Fuck, you’re gonna come all inside me yeah? Fill me up good?” You don’t if you’re talking for his or for you, hell you barely even knew you were talking. He’s moaning loud now in affirmation of the impending orgasm.

“Fuck please come for me Jimin.” His feet must have planted at some point because suddenly he’s pistoning into you to find his end, and it throws you forward. Your fingers dislodge from his mouth and find his throat, balancing yourself on his windpipe.

With a strained ‘fuckkk’ and a harsh press of vibrator to his emptying balls, he’s cumming hard into you. His neck muscles pulse in your grip as he keeps fucking into you with pace, and knowing he’s reached his end you bring the vibrator round to your clit, the instant, harsh contact making you cum and pulse around him, head thrumming and eyes rolled.

“Shit. Fuck. Baby, baby,” you keep cumming as you feel him fall limp, body jerking still even once you’ve turned the vibrations off. 

“Holy shit,” you continue to pant to yourself, releasing your grip from his throat that must have wound tight in your orgasm because the man is red-faced and bruising at the seems.

“You good?” 

He licks his lips, mouth dry, throat hoarse. “So good, just get this shit off me.”

Fuck, he’s still tied. You were planning on letting him watch, maybe touch at some point but you’d fucked him and both cum (you, twice) without him laying a finger. You half-laugh at the thought.

“Shit, sorry baby.” 

The ties on his wrist are off first, and they’ve left bruises in their wake that you almost feel bad for. His hands find the blindfold and it’s off in a second before he takes in your form - hair down and falling amongst the beads of sweat of your chest and neck, pussy still around his dick and black Loubitons still decorating your feet.

He’s an equal feast for the eyes, but it’s him who brings a hand to your face to tuck the wild hairs behind ringing ears. 

He pulls it back and covers his eyes as he begins to laugh.

“Your fucking shoes. I cannot believe.” You laugh with him, leaning into his chest as the night’s events catch up to you and him.

“It was kinky as fuck. You legit almost came as well.”

“Shut upp,” he groans in your ear as you press you naked chest into his.

“Never living it down, Park, this is one for the grandchildren.”

He lifts your chin with one hand and furrows eyebrows despite the look of amusement still evident on his features.

“Thank god I’ll make sure our kids aren’t near you when they have their own. No sex stories from the mad granny over here.”

You kiss him briefly because his lips still were glistening and fight a smile at the topic of the future - you lose the battle.

“Kids huh? We’re having kids?”

He shrugs against the hold you have on his cheek with the other running loosely in his dishevelled locks, “You mentioned the grandkids thing not me.”

“Well the way we’re going at it, grandchildren are on the agenda very fucking soon bubs.” You wince as you ease him out of you - he groans at the cold hitting him, nothing like a bit of cock warming, he thinks.

“You’re legit on birth control.”

He says it loudly as you begin to make yourself across to the bathroom because no one likes an inner thigh with dried cum to sleep in.

Still with your back to him, parading your hips as you go, you say, “99% effective, Park, 99%.”

For all he knew you could’ve said, ‘already pregnant, Park’. But, he stopped listening as soon as he got a sight of bare ass and high heels.

How to Make Him Cum 101 (M)

Summary: You’ll love each other in sickness and health, hungover or hangry, sexless or… well, it’s becoming a little harder for the pants to stay on despite the calls of ‘let’s take this slow’ on the first date.

Pairing: Jungkook x Y/N

Genre: University AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst (tiny bit), Crack

Warnings: (Plenty my friend) Handjob, Fingering, Squirting, Sex without protection, Tongue fucking, Jungkook being whipped, Chocking (brief), Dry Humping, Jungkook cumming in his pants, lots of swearing, lots of alcohol consumption, consumption of weed

Word Count: 15k (it was meant to be 10k, but I fucked it)

A/N: I love Jungkook in this, he’s a sweetheart who has no fucking idea what he’s doing. Took me way too long to write this and I’m sorry if it drags, but I split it into little scenes to make it more manageable. It’s also pretty casual - no real storyline. Enjoy and suggestions always welcome x

“I swear to fuck, if he throws up my £2000 bourbon...” 

And by some miracle, neither the end of Taehyung’s sentence nor the £150 shot Namjoon halfheartedly threw back makes an appearance.

“Nah big man can handle his shit right Joon,” is the mere drunken support offered by Jimin. It’s also accompanied by an all-too heavy hand to the back that has the elder spluttering on air, the shot well and truly burning a hole in his stomach by now.

You observe from the distance of the kitchen, fortunately barricaded from the testosterone fest by the island and several misplaced sofas. It was Jimin’s idea to upgrade the sofa scheme to one that was more ‘drinking and smoking friendly’ so he liked to call it, taking a sufficient 30 minutes just to manoeuvre several pieces of furniture into a circle that centred around all too expensive liquors and cheap weed - the irony of the contrast had most certainly dawned on you. 

Your unexpected appearance to the gathering was on the account of boyfriends hazy state. He was all ‘come save me’ and ‘i’m dying’ over your texted conversation but upon arrival, the boy was all over that tequila bottle like he was downing chocolate milk. 

Despite your best intentions of remaining inconspicuous and merely Jungkook’s driver for the night went to shit when Jimin, unapologetic and somewhere between happily stoned and confident drunk demanded you join their escapades. 

“Booze or bud but not neither Y/N.” Nothing like a typical Taehyung to welcome you to the action.

“Well you didn’t say I couldn’t have both,” is your reply that’s laced with a brazen tone and paired with a smirk.

You’re met with Taehyung tonguing his cheek.

“That’s my girl,” Jungkook shouts mid-laugh and gives you a smack to the ass for good measure. You find comfort in the gesture, so following his drifting hand to the point that you settle in his lap.  

Jungkook must have drunk his weight in alcohol because it’s all touches from behind you, cold hands finding their way under cloth and onto warm skin, lips clamping down on your neck and teeth unforgiving on your ear lobe. Your boyfriend’s a modest guy even at worst, so his provoking actions are met with raised eyebrows on your behalf.

Slowly but surely, with the burn of smoke in your lungs and the even harsher burn of rich whiskey (because £2000 bourbon is a harsh no), Jungkook’s hands roam freely.

“Jesus mate, if you’d have fucked her the second time you would’ve had that pussy on hold, swear down.” Somewhere between your silent touches and unauthorized smoking of all of Namjoon’s weed, the conversation had delved into the topic of Jimin’s overly privileged sex life.

“That’s exactly what I said but the bitch pussied out,” Hobi pipes up from the corner where he’d faded away from being too legit faded - boy never could handle his smoke.

“Fuck off did I pussy ou-”

“Nahhh she had you whipped babe, that second shag wasn’t even on the cards,” you mouth speaks for you. Or more like your high speaks for you at this point.

You feel Kook smile into your shoulder from where his head was perched.

“This’ll be good,” it’s under Taehyung’s breath but not inaudible.

“Fuck do you mean, ‘she had me whipped’, she was all over me that night at Joon’s...” Jimin swigs mid-sentence, flushed from the buzz of liquor and his overly defensive tone, “had her wrapped around my little finger.”

… the opportunity was too good to miss.

“What little finger?” You refrain from laughing at your own remark for dramatic effect but Jungkook’s squeezing your sides and the lightness of your head betrays you. 

Jimin’s eye contact with your falters as if his ego broken, and the others pass around comments along the lines of ‘fucking brilliant’ and ‘unlucky mate’. 

You take a final drag before passing it behind you to the already seeking hand of your boyfriend who’s still amused by your smart-mouth.

“Jimin, I’m just saying,” you elaborate in hopes of restoring his cracked masculinity somewhat, “from what Stephanie told me, Mina had four guys on hold at that party and wasn’t inclined to let any of them stick in on her cos she’s got a full-on guy waiting for her away from uni.”

He huffs, throwing himself and his bottle backwards onto the sofa, causing it to slosh around and out. You peer over at Taehyung, waiting for the boy to morph into an expression of disgust because god knows, this sofa cover costs more than your rent, but he never does - eyes glazed and a small smile instead.

“Fucking brilliant, I was fifth on a girls ‘need to shag’ list.” You almost feel bad for the sod, but one thing Jimin could never do was keep his mouth shut when it needed to be. “At least I’m doing better than you, Y/N, you can’t even get a fuck off your boyfriend and you’ve been together for months.” 

Taehyung’s smile drifts, Hobi shifts in his seat and Jungkook stiffens from behind you - the air dries up.

“Jimin, mate, come on,” Joon tries to reason, but as per usual Jimin keeps his mouth moving.

“I said what I said.”

Yeh, he sure fucking did. And if one thing was known to be uncharted conversation between the lot of you, then that was your and Jungkook’s abstinence. But in true style, Jimin just had to pry.

----------------------------------------

“Fuck it, maybe we should just have sex,” he finally says as you stall over wiping off your eyeliner to laugh at his exasperation. Jungkook wasn’t insecure but he was easily influenced when something hurt his pride - and you could tell, from Jimin’s comment, throughout the awkward air that lingered in the car, to just now, that he had been stewing on the dent to his ego from the moment it was spoken. 

You want to tell him with all the sarcasm in the world how ‘romantic’ he’s being about it all, but you refrain to save further damage.

“Kook-”

“Nah, seriously Y/N, I’m tired of this shit…” you want to diffuse his state, but he persists, “and- I don’t really know what I’m waiting on now.”

“Baby,” you finally get a grip on his attention as he lets out a huff and welcomes you onto his lap. “You’ve had your reasons to wait on this, I’ve always respected that. But…” he groans and you lean into him as a warning to let you finish, “buttt, I’m not gonna respect any shit when you’re letting Jimin decide for you. Just cos the boy can’t get his dick wet doesn’t mean you have to.”

You feel him snicker against your shoulder as he lowers his head in frustration.

“You do this on your own time. Not mine,” you weave your fingers through his locks and anchor him to you, “not Jimin’s, not anyone but yours,” and finalise your sentiment by situating your lips on his temple.

With eyes fluttering shut into your touch and a heavy breath out he indulges in his insecurity. “I just can’t afford to lose you.” And you know it takes his booze-filled conscience to let you in.

You have to admit that there was some level of hurt you managed to hide at this point. That even after relishing in one another's company for 5 months, Jungkook still couldn’t find it in himself to trust you in that way. It was a mental thing, an emotional instinct of too many failed relationships where he was a victim to being cheated on, left after being used for sex and prayed on for good looks and unfortunate vulnerability. You knew within yourself you would never and could never do what so many have done before you. Fuck, you couldn’t even see yourself being sane and capable without him, ever, period. For that, you respected his decision - whilst frustratingly prolonged - because you knew he was worth the wait.

“I need you just as much as you need me.” You sense the slump in his shoulders, the heaviness of too many pressures and burdens weighing them down. That and his drug-induced state causing unwanted fatigue. “Hmm?” So you lift his chin and search his eyes till they meet yours, passing on a reassurance that he finally accepts with a curt nod.

“Yeh, I know.” 

You press a kiss, or two to his lips and lean back to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Now are you gonna keep sulking to yourself like a bitch or let me make you cum?” His instant response is his eyes blowing out in shock of your statement before laughing into your chest. You know him well enough that he is using your chest to hide the blush in his cheeks but you don’t mention it. 

Instead, you wiggle your hips with no subtlety into the twitch of his groin that seeks your mouth so desperately, laughing when he grabs you at the cheeks and pulls you away to say, “You’re fucking mental.” But against his lips you can’t help the, “-Nd you love me for it,” that is mumbled.

Yeah, this boy was definitely worth the wait.

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Weekends seem to roll around at a quickening pace when you have a needy boyfriend and even more demanding party schedule to fill the gaps. And by some freak of nature, you hadn’t managed to drop your education off a cliff in the meantime - in fact, you had begun to make a living off having beer in one hand and highlighter in the other.

University wasn’t a walk in the park, but you’d been enough of a devoted intellect in your first two years of it to allow yourself to drop off the map a little. So, after becoming a co-captain of the swim team somewhere into your second year, it was only a natural, human instinct kind of reaction that your fellow captain, the hunk of abs who graced poolside, would slip a few too many flirty remarks at you before you called him your boyfriend. He’d pined and you’d fallen - simple as.

He came with baggage though. Six boys and a whole lot of booze and weed. You were no saint before Jungkook, hell, you almost weren’t allowed swim captain because you’d slept in one too many of the guys beds. But as soon as you’d said ‘yes’ to the going out for drinks invitation he offered, you had also said ‘yes’ to the party on Saturday at Hoseok’s, and the one on Sunday down at the river, and for every weekend for the next 5 months. And slowly but surely, it was no longer, ‘this is my girlfriend’ as an introduction, but you asking the familiar face around the party with all urgency where the nearest bottle of tequila was.

It’s also how you’d landed yourself filthily hungover in your Monday lecture, listening to Professor Snape (nah, it’s his real name and all) with a noticeable shake in your hand and last nights mascara somewhere down your face. 

“If you look that shit, then what the hell does Kook look like.” Mina, the best friend, the only one allowed to hold back your hair whilst you would throw up in a second-floor bathroom, and the roommate who made student life just a bit more bearable than the shit show it was.

She takes the seat next to you, her question probably rhetorical but you make the effort to reply, all the same.

“Still asleep in the bathtub I reckon.” Ah, yes, the boyfriend. At somewhere between 1 in the morning and blackout drunk you, Jungkook and your infamous competitiveness called for beer pong - minus the beer, add the vodka. So it was only gonna be a certain amount of time before both you and him were pushed into a cab on top of one another and drafted back to his flat so he could throw up in his bathtub. 

“Jesus,” Mina mutters with a laugh, probably just relieved someone ordered your taxi to go to his and not your shared apartment - like hell was she listening to Jungkook throw up at 5 in the morning.

“Honestly, why does Yoongi host that shit on Sunday,” you groan into your laptop, turning down the brightness because you can already feel the afternoon hangover headache arising. 

“He doesn’t have a 9am like the rest of us.”

“Fucker.” 

Good host though, Yoongi. A postgrad, with his own two-storey apartment and too much time on his hands. You’d known him before the boyfriend too, working shifts with him in your first year at a music production company, both in the catering section because you had time to fill and tuition to pay and he was hoping to find his break into the industry. He fucked it though and has ended up with some crazy paid apprenticeship at a financial branch in the city centre. 

“Oi, Bob’s this weekend?” Mina poses the question as the lights brighten in the lecture room and everyone starts shutting laptops - yours was shut ten minutes ago when you stopped listening and started wallowing in self-pity.

“Bob’s?” Bermuda Bobs. A club in the centre of town, and somewhat of a regular for Friday nights, when Hoseok had had just about enough of hosting. “Yeh. Yeh, I can do Bobs.”

Mina’s up and off before you can even open the zip on your bag, something about she’ll miss her lift to training, but you mumble that you’ll see her at the apartment later before you can see the back of her head. 

All you can think as you conquer the steps to the exit of the hall is how much of a blessing a shower and a cup of tea would be - ‘so easily pleased’ Mina would say. So, when you look up from your phone to see Jungkook opposite where you walk out, a cup of tea in hand, you might just believe in fate.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he says, throat hoarse as he takes you bag from your shoulder and places the coffee into your welcoming hands. You laugh at him, a snort because it’s ironic considering the bloodshot eyes and beer-stained hair he sports.

“You were passed out in the bath legit an hour ago,” his hand finds yours despite your teasing and when you finally take the first sip of tea as you walk, anyone would think the noise you made was nothing short of an orgasm - Jungkook certainly takes notice. “Did you bring the car?” 

He snorts, “Like fuck did I bring the car, I’m still drunk.”

“Babbbyy,” it’s a whine as you throw your head back and pull his hand to make your point into a tantrum. 

“It’s literally a 5 minute walk babe, suck it up.” He continues ahead, but you go full 5 year old tactics on him, stopping in your tracks and whacking on your face the biggest pout your lips will allow.

He merely rolls his eyes and kisses it away before presenting his back to you, arms out, legs bent and you hop onto him like the spoilt girlfriend you are.

“You’re a brat, you know that.” Is all he says as he starts the walk out of the building and towards his, so you kiss behind his ear. 

“Mmm, call me that again, it kinda turns me on.”

“Fucking filty,” but you see the crinkle in his eyes that lets you know that he loves you for it.

----------------------------------------

Friday nights roll around quicker than you know when Bob’s is calling. They start earlier than most nights as well - lecture leads to swim training, swim training calls for afternoon drinks at Warehouse and then Warehouse blurs into Pre’s that blurs into Bob’s. 

So with beer curdling in your stomach, trying to flick the wing of your eyeliner and failing for the fifteenth time is as funny as Jimin’s pinkie to you and Mina. 

She is, of course, ready. Has been for almost 2 hours, so whilst you struggle to slip into your dress, she finishes your eyeliner for you.

The buzz of your phone has both of you looking to the vibrating device in confusion, having to double-take with each other because the taxi isn’t supposed to be here until Jungkook is and he isn’t supposed to be here for another half an hour. 

Your fumbling with a zip so it’s Mina who reaches for it, and when the screen lights her face, her features go from confused to ‘for fucks sake’ in less than a second. She turns it and that god awful photo of Jungkook and his swimming goggles on lights up the display. 

“I’ll get the door.” She’s exasperated. He’s early and she can’t stand that - all it took was him showing up at the wrong time on a Wednesday whilst she was naked on the sofa with a girl between her legs that caused the ‘come when you’re fucking asked to come’ attitude - poor boy didn’t even know she was gay.

You do a once over in the mirror before the door swings open, Mina has a scowl but your boyfriend has a lime in one hand and tequila in the other, so you don’t care.

“Shit, you look hot,” Fuck, so does he, but he’s pressing a kiss to your lips before you can drink him in fully, “s’that dress new?”

“I did the makeup, thank me.” Mina was always loud, and speaking at the wrong places and in the wrong conversations. 

“Kindly fuck off, you did the eyeliner and shit all else.” You turn back to Kook, now leaning against your wall, eyes still trained on you, or at least, your legs, and he looks fucking thirsty that’s for sure. “And yeh, got it when I went in the city the other week.” He replies with a nod and a smirk. Those damn bedroom eyes, they hold your gaze, as you fiddle with the clasp on the side of your dress. 

Mine pipes up from the sidelines, “God, it’s like I’m watching a fucking mating ritual or something.” Jungkook scoffs and his shoulders ease as though he’s calming himself down, “Well, I’m ready so shots it is.” She grabs the bottle of tequila from Jungkook’s hand and is off into the kitchen without looking back.

“Who put a foot up her ass then?” He only says it once the door is closed, knowing he’ll get a whacking if Mina heard him, so you scowl at him, albeit through a smile.

“Oi, watch it,” you’re in front of him now, leaning into the arm he stretched out to embrace you in.

“Sorry,” and he means it. He genuinely likes Mina, you’re sure of it, but they go at each other like cats in an alley when you’re not there to referee it.

He’s warm around you, his shirt with buttons undone at the top so that the cologne he’s wearing goes right to your head - and to your core - either one. The proximity does the same to him as he takes a handful of your ass, groping so that when you gasp and try to pull away, he administers a slap. 

You can’t deny you’re horny for him, and the way his trousers frame his bulge perfectly - you lick your lips subconsciously at the thought - but you can almost hear the sadness of Mina pouring and downing Tequila shots by herself.

“Fucker,” you whisper and lean out of his hold almost, only to see that fire in his eyes. 

“I love this ass,” hands now sneaking underneath the fabric of your dress - like it was covering much anyway, but that doesn’t change the way his cold fingers spread across your behind and almost make you moan out. It’s when he takes your bottom lip in his teeth and pulls back agonizing slowly until it pops back into place that the moan you were stifling releases, slowly, seductively, and his crotch stirs at the thought of you making the same noise around his dick. 

But if Kook can restrain himself enough into denying you a fuck for 5 months, then you can be just as disciplined now - whether the wetness on your thighs tells you something different or not.

You toy with him though.

At a pace nothing short of tormenting, you lean your leg into the space between his, drag your lips across his cheek to his ear and let your fingers draw a line from the gap in his shirt, underneath and across his chest, “But you know what’s better than this ass, baby?” You play the seductress with you voice, and you know it does bits to him. 

Your question was rhetoric, but when he doesn’t reply, you can’t help but grab at his belt with a hand and tug his crotch into your leg. He sputters out breathily into your neck, “W-what?”

You lean back, wait for his eyes to open and gage the lust and excitement brewing within them before opening your mouth against his…

“...Tequila shots.” You smack his thigh, turn and are out the door before his erection can say ‘shit’.

Two can play at his game of denial. 

Your all kinds of worked up despite your best efforts, but Mina’s got lime in her mouth and her face crinkled into an expression of disgust as you eye the empty shot glass on the counter, so it’s not like she’s gonna be sniffing out your hormones any time soon. 

“Fucking shit, rancid, I hate it, don’t wanna drink ever, absolutely not,” you laugh at her outburst as you refill her shot glass for yourself. 

“Lightweight,” you tease her as you throw it all back, wincing internally as you feel the hole burn in your throat, but suck it up for the sake of your competitive streak. She merely scoffs at you as the bedroom door swings open, Jungkook - still a fine piece of ass right now - tucking his shirt into his trousers. No way did he just finish himself off in that time, but your eyes travel down to his hard on that is very much still there. You can’t help the smirk.

“Kook, get your shot down you then we’re off,” Mina announces.

“Taxi here already?” he questions but she shakes her head as she now sports a wine bottle in her hand, and clearly a mouth full of wine as she fails to verbalise. 

Shots are down, wine is drunk, and heads are well and truly dizzy when you reach the club. The cab was early much to Mina’s dismay, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing the tequila bottle from Jungkook and downing a healthy portion of the liquid before collapsing in instant regret - ‘we’ve all been there Min’ was your only advice. As for Jungkook. Well, the boy never showed when he was drunk until he would take his shirt off and shout he was wasted, so the only way you could gauge his state was by the way his fingers dug into your thigh the entire journey - you just couldn’t work out whether it was the alcohol or his dick talking.

“Y/NNN!” you hear before see Jimin, despite the music that reverberates through the floor and up your body. As always, he has bottle in hand and a girl in the other, but he releases her to embrace you.

It’s a love, hate with Jimin, but he was Jungkook’s best friend, so there was and could not be bad blood between the two of you - much the same to Jungkook and Mina. Jimin swam as well, so you were no strangers to sharing situations that required great comfort with one alone - such as you in a swimming costume and him in his damn speedos. There was only one thing better than Jimin in speedos though, and that was Jungkook in speedos.

“Where’s your boyfriend, he owes me a fucking drink,” and you point to the bar, where he leans over the counter in all his glory and much to the fortune of your eyes. Jimin escorts himself and the girl he’s with over to the bar before you can catch her name - she’s pretty, though, which is no surprise with Jimin’s taste. 

It takes the next 30 minutes, or possibly longer because alcohol tends to blur hours to minutes before you’ve made conversation with everyone there. It’s almost admin now, having to do the rounds when all the people from swimming go out - a swim captain apparently has certain obligations of seeing everyone had a drink in hand and a ride to go home in. Kook was doing the same too, across the club, slowly but surely making his way towards you as he talked to some of the guys. He’d winked one too many times at you for it to be coincidence, and the alcohol you’d been consuming was screaming out to you now to fuck the pointless conversation and grind on your damn fit boyfriend.

“Fuck Josh, Mel, the boy can’t even get it up, and you’re too much of a hot piece of ass to waste on him,” Mina’s on one of her motivational talks with the social sec, Mel - absolute sweetheart, heart of gold and awful taste in men. Also the subject of Mina’s subconscious flirting for the last hour or so, but you don’t have the heart to tell Mina to stop - she’s drunk and probably horny knowing her.

“Y/N,” you’re face first in your vodka red bull (double), to hear Mina, having zoned out from her pining after she started getting emotional. “Y/N!” You finally ease up on the drink when you hear her this time. 

“Hmm?” mouth half full.

“Have you ever seen someone get eye fucked?” Her eyes flicker from you to something else, but you’re too caught up in the absurdity of her question to notice.

“The fuck?”

“Because I’m watching it happen right now,” and it’s a nod that finally directs your questioning gaze away from your best friend and to a figure at the bar, elbows tucked behind him, a bottle of beer at his side, legs to die for and eyes boring right into yours. He’s playing dirty tonight, is all you think. So despite the way your core tightens and the hair on your neck unknowingly rises, you feed into his game, the cat and mouse kind of thing he seems to be grabbing at, and put up your facade.

You're slow to get to him, but it’s deliberate. And instead of giving in to his gaze or his touch, you place your feet right beside his, leaning towards the bar and into the sight of the bartender. 

It’s the raise of her eyebrows at you and the curt smile that prompts you to talk, “two shots of tequila please,” she begins to spin but you stop her, “oh, and plenty of salt and lime.” 

It takes physical energy not to give in to human instinct - to touch and to grab him, to let go of the role play. 

“Anyone would think you’re ordering for two,” his voice is gravely, and fuck if it doesn’t shoot straight down you. But his comment makes you smile, smirk actually.

“You say that as if I can’t handle my alcohol,” you raise an eyebrow to yourself, still feigning your confidence by not looking his way.

Two shots are lined up in front of you, limes perched on top, and a generously filled salt shaker to the left of them. 

“Well tequila is a dangerous game to play,” you pick up either shot in your hand, and fight the urge to shiver as his words that are breathed against your ear. You round from the side of him, eyes finally lifting to his and filling some void that was there, but by no means lifting any tension between the two of you.

“Then let’s play dangerously,” you say, eyes sultry and him waiting on your every move, “the first one to have their salt, their shot and their lime gone first is the winner..” 

“And what does the winning get?” Damn, he’s eager.

You lean in, but still don’t touch. “That’s for the winner to know, and the loser to find out.” 

You can see a vague pick up in his breathing, a sheen of sweat forming against his brow and a vague smirk pulling at the edges of his mouth. Lifting the lime off your shot, he almost proceeds to do the same, about to take the shot to his lips but you stop him, instead pushing your shot into his vacant hand. The only explanation offered is when you take your lime down the column of your throat and down to your cleavage, before reaching to the salt that’s behind him. You pour a small mound of it onto your finger and follow the path that the lime drew. He eyes you like artwork, and doesn’t lift his gaze from your cleavage where you nestle the lime. 

You pour more salt onto your forefinger, and his eyes finally lift in an expression of confusion, but words evade him - hell, he hasn’t taken a solid breath for the past minute. Slowly, tourturningly, you lean into him, carefully avoiding his shot, and catch his breath hitching as you press the point of your tongue into the base of his neck, dragging it upwards until you meet his jaw. You almost couldn’t stop yourself from proceeding further, drinking in the salty taste of him and eating away at his sanity with your tongue - but you refrain, all in the name of dramatic effect.

“Fuck,” is all he says as he keeps his breath hitched, and you push your finger down the line your tongue drew, spreading salt southwards.

He almost looks tapped out when you take his lime from between you, eyes completely glazed, and fortunately for you they blow out even further when you tug the belt of his trousers and place your lime in the waistband - like his erection wouldn’t have held it up anyways.

Retrieving one of the shots from his grasp, where his knuckles had turned white against the glass, you hold his gaze.

“I think you should go ahead,” you’re more breathy than you realised, even despite it being your game.

“I-I thought,” he has to clear his throat, “it’s who can do it the fastest,” it’s barely even a question with how quiet he mumbled the words - you’re not even sure he knew what he was saying.

“Who said I wanted to win, baby?” And he lets out a moan, a full blown moan before he encases your throat with his mouth, and he’s almost animalistic in the way he growls against your skin at the taste. He bites down when he reaches just above the lime and your eyes roll back unconsciously before opening to see him throw his head back with the shot, not a single wince in his eyes because they are so driven by desire. The shot glass is slammed behind him before he dives into your cleavage to retrieve the lime, and in some display of masculinity that almost has you keening he rips the lime from his mouth and tosses it behind you, juice rolling down his face and onto his jaw to linger with the line of salt that glistens there.

You don’t even realise you're on his throat until the overly salty taste pricks your mouth and you can feel his jaw tense beneath you. You're almost in a haze when the tequila sets your throat ablaze but you become fully conscious of the way he grabs a fistful of your hair, pushes you to the floor until your dress bunches and has you sucking at the lime that rests mockingly above his hard cock. 

By some miracle you find yourself back up at eye level, chests heaving to the point of almost touching, and if you didn’t have a lime in your mouth right now you’d either be swearing obscenely in some gesture of saying ‘your so fucking hot’ or your lips would be around his dick.

With a gulp and a tilt of his head backwards, he gains a level of composure that allows him to ease the lime from your lips with his fingers, letting them brush at your skin to have you shivering.

It’s almost comical the way you both pant, eyes ablaze in each others, and completely oblivious to the outside world and how many, way too many people have seen your display. But there is nothing but the burn in your bodies right now as he grabs your hand wordlessly and drags you as fast as your heels will allow. 

It’s like a switch had flipped in him somewhere back there. Even if this whole thing was roleplay, at least you knew how to play it with your boyfriend back there, knew the way he ticks and what would make his cock twitch - Jungkook’s normally easy to read like that. But when he almost breaks the disabled toilet door down with his hand, there is no game left to play - the restraints are off and the fire of lustful rage is fueled.

“You-” he slams you back against the door before its even swung shut and you can get a single word in. It’s carnal the way he’s latching onto your mouth, grabbing your hands that try to clasp at his neck and throw them up next to your head, and shoves a knee between your sopping thighs.

“I almost fucking came in my trousers back there when you got on your knees,” you don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice so low and rough before but it courses through you more than the heavy bass of the club music. “You had me stood there ready to fuck your mouth open, but you thought you’d fucking tease your way through it.”  

He’s domineering and your completely and utterly keening for it. Even more so when the grip he has on your wrist tightens and brings it down to his crotch, forcing your latch onto the erection that strains sinfully, painfully in his trousers and you feel intimidated enough at his display that you don’t palm him, don’t give him a pleasureful squeeze like you normally would when you had more control of your emotions. But you're shocked and fucked out - beyond that even.

“You feel that shit. Fuck, I’ve never been this hard before,” you moan out lowly, finding it increasingly difficult to control your breathing, the nature of the lust in your body calling out for some friction on your body. But he stands there, eyes ablaze, panting his taunting remarks into your agape mouth. “You’re making it so damn hard not to fuck you.”

“Do it,” you whisper without even knowing and neither does Jungkook because the ringing in both of your ears is deafening.

“I’ve always wanted to see you fall apart around my cock… lose it as I fuck you,” his crotch starts riveting into your hand and you know he’s imaging what it would feel like with his dick nestled deep in your walls right now, “God I want to pound into you.”

“Fuck.”

Fuck, because never have his words been so dirty before.

“You’re so damn hot I actually can’t control myself right now,” and his dick follows his words. Your hand now acts as your pussy - in his head anyway - as the friction of his trousers begins sending him neck deep in pleasure. 

You actually think you could come from watching it. How his head now bows into your neck and his teeth set into your skin because he can’t even control how slack his jaw has become. The way he’s getting harder and harder against your hand and his movements are constantly seeking more. Fucking hell, you’re both fully clothed, his dicks rock hard in his pants but he’s so pent up on you and the desire you’ve caused that he’s chasing an orgasm basically untouched. 

“I- oh fuck.”

“Come on baby,” you feed him, words moaned against his ear and hand flattening more purposefully against him, “fuck me harder.”

“Argh- fuc-fucking hell,” he’s spurred on by the illusion you offer. His eyes rolled back in his head as he imagines the feeling of being balls deep in you. 

“Think how good I’d feel. Fuck, you’d be so deep uhh,” you moan out at the end as the harshness of the way his hips snap into yours causes your hand nestled between you to deliciously rub on your clit. 

You hadn’t realised that your dress had ridden up in the commotion of you sex driven states, that your ass was pressed up against the cool surface and gave you goosebumps despite the way you body oozes heat, that you panties were so wrecked by your arousal that your hand might as well be rubbing you raw. And with Jungkook’s quickening pace, the friction against your clit makes you all too driven to seek your end as well as his. It’s filthy.

“Ko-uh. Fuck, Kook, I need you fingers- ah,” your walls are throbbing at the thought, but his teeth remain deep set in the junction between your neck and shoulder, his hips still thrusting up and into your hand, so you think you’re desire has gone unheard.

But all too quickly, he forgets the end he was chasing. 

Suddenly, he backs away from you, leaving you untouched and leaning forward into the air, whilst his cock screams in the confines of his trousers. He growls at the way he had to stop himself from cumming too soon.

“Baby,” it’s a whine from the back of your throat that you had no plan to release. But the way your chest heaves and your thighs cross one another for friction just spells to you and him just how inflamed your body is. 

His eyes move away from your desperate ones, and his neck reclines back as he swallows - trying with all his strength to keep it together, to not cum from merely watching your cleavage, drenched in his and your sweat, rise and fall with the way your breathing staggers. Watching him is torture for yourself, but you don’t want to miss the way his cock throbs. 

You have no idea how long you’re there, him grappling at his sanity and you watching him.

“Baby, I-”

“Fuck, don’t talk,” his face almost contorts in pain and his head lowers into his chest to halt his urge to look at you. 

But, you’re horny and you're a brat, so you persist.

“Jungkook, I need you right now.”

Silence falls for a mere second.

Like a man possessed he lunges back towards your body, and before you can react he’s on his knees violently pushing the thin fabric of your dress up and ripping your panties down your legs.

“What don’t you understand about shut the fuck up.” And with that he’s on your clit, hands shoving your legs in opposite directions and over his shoulders so you lose your balance and end up speared on his tongue.

“Kook!” It’s a cry that’s shouted into the air when your head is thrown back - a reaction to both the immense feeling that tightens at your core and a warning to the man below you that you might just crush him.

But he’s devouring your pussy whole. He’s no longer tending to your clit, but lapping his tongue up and down the entire expanse of your slit, letting the muscle of his tongue slip into your entrance making your stomach drop every time. He’s hellbent on making you cum that’s for sure, because no matter the tug of your hands at his scalp to let up even just a little, he’s growling into you and plunging deeper. 

You want to pull away, to finally take a break from the intense pressure on your core or maybe to breathe for the first time since he decided to drop to his knees. But you’re feet don’t touch the ground, literally, and he’s suspending you on his tongue. 

His hands push you down further onto him and he growls into you, vibrations coursing through you that almost makes you cum then and there. But he breaks away.

“Fuck,” he sounds fucked out himself, taking in all the air he can, because god knows he was eating your pussy like it was oxygen. “Baby, you gotta cum on my tongue, please.” 

He was the one eating you out, yet you had him pleading. Boy always did submit in the end, whether he liked it or not.

“Fingers then. Use your fingers,” and he obeys, releasing your thigh in favour of thrusting two of his digits deep into you. All your weight goes onto his shoulders and the two fingers set so far into your womb that you were crying out in pleasure. It wasn’t until his mouth resumed sucking on your clit that you lost all control of your tongue and rambled into the air like a mad woman. 

“F-Fuckkk Kook. I want ah- fuck I want your cum inside me. I want your dick so bad,” he’s moaning with you and with your words, being spurred on by the image you paint. He curls his fingers deep inside you, and you lose yourself on the feeling - being so stimulated that you miss the fact you’re grinding on his face, thrusting up as if his fingers were really his cock. He’s moaning at it, at the way your pace picks up on his tongue and you’re seeking your end.

“Don’t stop, oh fuck, oh fuck, please- don’t stop.”

You’re driving yourself deeper and deeper into him and fuckkk if the pleasure hasn’t taken over your senses beyond belief. Your stomach pulls so tight with the need to release that you’re grappling at the strands of hair on the back of your boyfriend’s head and using them to anchor yourself. He’s purely a mouth and two fingers to fuck yourself on at this moment and you couldn’t stop yourself even if you tried.

“Shit, fuckk,” his fingers start going at a rate, not even your hips can keep up with, and he’s so deep you almost choke like the pressure inside you has reached up into your throat.

“Come on baby, fuck,” his gravelly voice seeks out for you to come all over him.

“Holy fuckin-” the feeling comes on so intense inside of you that you struggle to warn him, your breathing constricted almost into nothingness. You feel like you’re about to cum with such strength that you might die.

“I can’t Kook- oh fuckk.”

“Give it to me.”

His teeth clamp down on your clit at the same time as his fingers curl against that spot inside you that suddenly has everything spiralling at once. 

“Don’t stoppp, don’t stop, oh fuck,” you sputter into the air as a band snaps in your lower stomach, blood pumping everywhere and anywhere in your body so that your hips begin spasming and convulsing on top of his mouth. 

He whines into you as his mouth keep fastening all too strongly against your bud. It’s when the pressure that keeps falling in your stomach and Kook is forced to pull his fingers out of you that you feel your juices spill and keep spilling all over you and him.

“Holy fuck baby… Y/N shit.”

You tumble further and further and miss the noises that are pushed from your throat. In the intensity of the pleasure you also miss the way Jungkook’s body, his tongue on your clit, his fingers on your thigh and the ones lodged deep inside you, all tense up. 

Shit.

You wonder if you’ve blacked out when the slump of your body takes over, the eventual air you take in in one large breath making your senses begin to come back all too strong. You’re broken from the waist down, legs numb to the point you can barely feel Jungkook’s teeth tight on your thigh and breath glazing the skin strongly. Shit, you can’t even feel how wet you are yet.

You know the weight he’s bearing on his shoulders, but you can’t muster the strength to move, merely loosening your hands from how tight they were wound in his locks and instead soothing down to his neck with your trembling fingers. 

Finally, the spin in your head stops and your eyes are open enough so that you can look down at the sight below you.

He’s breathless and wet. Wet from sweat and the way you’d just squirted all over his tongue, fingers and trousers - well that’s what you figure anyways. His eyes are sewn shut though in the aftermath of it all, and your thoughts begin to piece together.

“Baby, you good?” you’re scared he has too much literal weight on his shoulders. You’re also scared he’s still painfully hard. “Kook?” and finally a coherent mumble of ‘yeh’ against your thigh tells you, no, you didn’t just kill your boyfriend by cumming on his face.

It’s a slow process the way he lets your legs down, and you wince as he does so because you swear his fingers just split you open. You also forgot about the heels practically taped to your feet, stumbling a little one foot at a time as he lowers you off his shoulders.

His eyelids still hang low, and he makes no move to join you at eye level, instead, pressing his face into your thigh and running his ragged breath there for too long. 

“Fuck, seriously, you good baby?” your pussy still throbs, but your boyfriend is too still for you to take notice.

And suddenly he’s laughing. Wholeheartedly laughing into your skin, back, that’s slicked with sweat, raising up and down as he does so.

“Shit,” is all he says when his eyes, crinkled in laughter and exhaustion finally meet yours, peering up from his squat. It’s infectious and has you laughing too, albeit half heartedly because your throat hurts and you’re not sure if your lungs can take much more unnatural breathing.

“You literally just made me cum in my pants.”

Fuck. You’re eyes bulge and pass between the look of disbelief of his face, to the, now, very noticeable stain on his crotch, and back again. Boy literally just came untouched because you can still feel the imprint of one hand on your thigh and you’re pretty sure the other hand was occupied if you remember correctly.

“What the fuck!” Is all you can say.

“Yeh, I know ‘what the fuck!’ Sorry but since when could you squirt.” His legs are still shaking beneath him. “It made me just fucking shoot my load on sight.”

You’re laughing, bending at the waist to help the poor boy up to his feet, and he accepts the help as he finally towers over you and meets your eyes - both looking at each other with warmth and a vague emotion of disbelief, because as if he just came in his pants!

“Seriously, don’t know what the hell you just did to me, but I don’t think I’ll ever be that turned on ever in my life again,” he’s sputtering out now like a boy charged on drained hormones and ageing drunkness. 

You laugh at his state and the way his eyes still bulge, grabbing the skin of his neck that’s thick with sweat and push a kiss to his lips. It doesn’t linger because you’re too spent and oxygen is like gold dust to you right now.

“So you enjoyed yourself I’m guessing?”

“Fucking hell did I!” You both can’t stop the way your laughter spills at the situation. 

You see his shoulders eventually relax, his breathing less frequent and the look in his eyes turns soft. 

“Fuck, I’m so in love with you.” Despite your heart still beating like it’s on steroids, you feel it skip a beat, equal to the way you can’t help the tug on the corners of your mouth. 

“Cringy bastard,” you whisper next to his lips, a whole new warmth spreading through you at the way his eyes are filled with adoration.

“Only for you.”

“You make me sick.” But in your head, you’re saying the opposite, because you can’t fight the blush despite how generic his cringe worthy compliments hit.

With clothes vaguely realigned, you’re ready to join society once again, albeit hobbling, but your boyfriend refuses to break the bubble you’re in for just a second longer.

“Say it back.” And when you turn from the door to him, he’s actually pouting, eyes a little less bright as though you’re unspoken words have hit harder than you realised. “Please.”

Your relationship with Kook was built off backhanded compliments and competitive sarcasm, both equally easy-going people with a knack for not taking anything seriously. It was how you two worked. But there’s some things you can’t feign, and the way he said “I love you” with deliberate sadness was one of those things, because hell, you sure loved him too.

His cheeks nestled in both of your palms now as your soft eyes met his ones, vulnerable with the way he’d bared himself and pleaded after you, you spoke softly.

“I love you.”

---------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck you, Kook. Stop acting like you own me.”

“Then don’t try to sleep with the whole swim team.”

Dick.

This shit is rare. Fighting Jungkook is rare. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Because whilst you’re both too easy going for your own good and take most things on the chin, jealousy hurts like a bitch. 

“Jesus you’re fucking testing my patience.” You settle yourself deep in his kitchen, long strides over there because his presence alone is making you want to rip hairs out of your skull. But he’s there soon after, leaning to try to get into your line of sight as you busy yourself with a glass and fuck, where’s that bottle of wine.

“Nah, don’t act like I’m pushing you. I asked you why Jimin’s asking to meet you, and you can’t come up with a damn straight answer or show me your phone.” You find the wine in the fridge, pretending Jungkook is background noise like the petty bitch you are, but his words are ringing in your head louder than you care for. “Don’t treat me like I’m delusional.” 

You slam the bottle down a little too hard on the counter and his eyes jump to the sound. But your expression is dead set, angry, persistent, but he’d say stubborn.

“You’re actually dumb. The whole fucking issue is that I shouldn’t have to tell you why someone texts me or not.” His mouth opens to argue but you’re off on one, “Whether it’s Jimin, whether it’s my mum, whether it was your fucking maintenance guy, it’s my phone, don’t check it, and don’t pretend you’re entitled to.” 

His eyes narrow and you almost think there’s something in him contemplating your words, maybe, just maybe trying to hear you out and understand where you’re coming from. But if you were stubborn, then Jungkook was competitive - he wouldn't stop until you thought he was right.

“Why the fuck did he text you.”

You want to scream. You want to smash his glass against the floor and scream fucking murder. But instead you find your body tensing and you face heating up with the need to cry. He’s getting in your head and you hate it, because he’s never like this. He’s easy. He’s such good company and probably your best friend but why is he making it so hard to like, let alone love him right now.

“Fuck it. Here,” you fish in your pocket, eyes still on his despite the feeling of them heating up and the wetness pooling. You unlock your phone and push it to his chest. “God knows, we were just trying to arrange something for your birthday without you finding out, but you and your fucking jealousy can’t take that, can they Kook?”

You have so much more to say. Your head is spinning with the need to empty your gut of all the words you want to throw at him. About how jealousy is certainly not a virtue in this case, about how you can’t bear that he doesn’t trust you despite all you’ve given up for him, about how damn unfair he is being right now. But you hit his shoulder with yours and are half walking half running to his bathroom before you can contemplate what you’re doing.

“Y/N, fuck,” and of course now he’s apologetic. Calling after you in a tone that screams innocence but to you, he is anything but that right now.

You close the door with haste and push your back against it even faster. 

The worst part is you’re not even that angry anymore. The tears fall in sadness. 

“Baby,” his knock rattles the door but only gently in an attempt to be sensitive with you. He’s fucked up and he knows that, but there’s a combination of not wanting him to see you cry and the need to be away from him for a minute that has you still sitting by the door, not making any attempt to open it.

“Baby, I didn’t know- I wouldn’t have.”

“Jungkook can you give it a rest for one minute,” you sound pained. You feel it as well. Maybe you’re overreacting, you think, as you hear him sigh and mumble an ‘okay’ before his footsteps peter out into another room. 

You cry more and continue to do so as you begin to run the bath, and then more tears flow when you watch yourself in the mirror as you tug at your stained cheeks with a cloth. Your tears are still wet on your cheeks when you lower yourself into the warm water and become absorbed in the feeling of it, melting away until you fall into the slumber of sleep. It’s the same slumber that doesn’t cause you to be startled when the door creaks open, your boyfriend pausing to take in your state before he strips himself down to join you.

You know he’s there when he gently sinks into the water behind you, but you make no attempt to move out of the way his knees encase you. His touch is apprehensive and careful, and you can practically hear the thoughts in his head move at a thousand miles an hour.

You know Jungkook. You know all too well that right now, he’s cut up inside, thinking of every way possible to take back time and to undo the stupid shit he was spouting earlier. He’s thinking about how fucked up he was to let jealousy do that to him, to get the better of his, and he’s thinking of every which way to make it right to you. You know, because you’re the same. We’re all in the wrong at some point, and everyone is more than the worst thing they’ve ever done.

So you grab at his hands that still hover in the air with unspoken uncertainty and you pull them to yourself, tight, and on your neck there is a desperate sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry,” his tone is so apologetic you almost start crying all over again, but exhaustion and the need to forgive are all too strong. “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I-”

You know there are more words he wants to say, maybe to show you how bad he feels, maybe he’ll try and justify himself, but either way, you’re pushover ass forgave him before the argument even happened. You also simply like the boy too goddamn much to see him splutter in your neck because he’s scared he’ll lose you.

With your lips pressed to the back of his hands that you’ve encased in yours, you mutter, “Shhh, I know you are.” 

The water sloshes in the distance somewhere as he pulls you tighter to him like you’re an anchor and if he lets you go he’ll be lost. Kisses are placed down your neck gently and you let your eyes flutter shut again because you can’t lie in that he is the most comforting place to you right now.

Silence falls but not uncomfortably, fingers brushing skin like its china and breathing soft as you both give into each others touch.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

Maybe you are too forgiving Your mother always told you you were - ‘people won’t be so kind to your patience one day Y/N.’ - that’s what she’d told you. And she’s probably right that one day you’ll come to find that you’ve been used and abused for all the ‘it's okay’s’ and ‘I forgive you’s’ you’d uttered. But you didn’t use forgiveness as an easy way out, you used it when it was deserved. And Jungkook’s jealousy, whilst fucking annoying, was a human instinct - possibly more of a male instinct than female, you think - but it’s a natural reaction all the same. Compromise instead of conclusion.

“You have to start trusting me, you know.”

“I know,” a hasty response, maybe because he actually has realised he needs to trust you or maybe he just doesn’t want to prolong discussion. You hope and believe the first,

“You can’t keep this jealousy thing up. Particularly not with Jimin, I don’t want to be the reason your shit is ruined, it’s too good.”

The two of them best friends from the womb. But boys apparently will be boys and think any dick that goes near their girlfriend is aiming for one place and one place only, whether 21 years into friendship or not.

“I know.” The repeat of words makes you think he’s not listening to you, but then he sighs. “It’s just- I can’t- Fuck! He drives me up the wall, says all kinds of shit behind your back and mine about how fit you are because he knows it grills me.” This is new. “And then he sends you texts when I didn’t even know you had each others number and you won’t tell me what they are. It just fucked with my head and when you end up picturing the worst it’s hard to get that picture out of your head.”

It made sense, and he was getting angry with himself by the way his tone spiked, so you diffuse the tension.

“Hmm but if you weren’t so jealous your birthday wouldn’t have been ruined,” you feel his head slump and then he laughs, and you laugh, and then he’s squeezing you and forcing your eyes to his.

“You make me mental that’s why,” you’re close but he makes no move to kiss you, “and I’m sorry that I got like that when I had no reason to do so. I’ll change that I promise,”  he sounded sincere, looked sincere, and you’re a sucker for the way he’s naked and so close his breath hits your smile that you’re kissing him before you can feign trust. 

-------------------------------------------------------------

“You know you almost got me in big shit the other day,” the bell rings above your head as you and Jimin leave the cold in favour of the warmth of the bar. Thursday nights didn’t call for many people, so you found a seat easily at a booth, casual wear on and smile dancing across that idiots face.

“Kook told me.” Of course he did, “As if he got his dick caught between his legs because I sent you a text. Like does he really think I’d shag you.”

You scoff, “Cheers for that.”

“You know what I mean. If I got the chance I’d fucking take it, but Kook’s my brother,” and to be fair you did know what he meant. In fact it was a miracle Jungkook had been all calm and breezy when you’d told him you were meeting Jimin for drinks - maybe it was this new thing he was trying called ‘play it cool and let her do her own thing’ - even so, you liked it. 

You end up ordering beers, after all, it is only a Thursday so that means no hard spirits, but it’s also the afternoon so that means alcohol.

“I’m glad to hear you’re not gonna pounce Jim.” He laughs, you laugh, thank god, because ever since you and Jungkook had shouted about the texting and Jimin issue, you were scared you’d have to keep a distance from the boy to prevent awkwardness. “How you been anyways?”

“Is that another way of saying who’ve I fucked since we last spoke,” his eyebrows wiggle like he’s got something to be proud about.

“Jesus, you only do think with your dick don’t you?” 

“Come onn, ask me who I took home the other night,” he’s leaning forward with a smile that you want to smother, but you humour him for the sake of conversation.

“Which unlucky bird shared your bed the other night then?” You say it with a downward tone to express your distaste for the way your conversation has headed. You also nod a thank you to the waiter who’d brought beers over, pint on either side of the table.

“Well, maybe you should ask your roommate.”

Beer must fly out of your nose, mouth and ears with the way you choke. Literally, you’re spluttering everywhere and he’s laughing and you’re sure it’s a sick joke, but his smile says otherwise.

“She’s fucking gay!” That’s all you come up with. You know your roommate like the back of your hand, or so you think, and every part of you is wracking every part of your brain right now for some conversation where she said she’d shag Jimin, or shag a guy in fact. Nope, nothing.

“I thought so too, clearly she didn’t.” You’re angry at him by the way you scoff and take another long sip of your beer but you don’t even know why. Maybe you’re angry at her, but that also kind of feels invalid.

“As if she didn’t tell me.” He just shrugs. “... nah what the fuck man!” 

“Listen, talk to her about it. I’m pretty sure I was mad drunk, so was she, and she left before I woke up so…” The last bit sounds about right, Mia was never one for sticking around for morning cuddles, but it’s all just wrong and it’s stewing in your head like a bad memory. 

You're still questioning your entire existence it seems like when the conversation moves onto why you’re really here, or as Jimin says it, “So if the fucker knows we’re doing something for his birthday now, does that mean we actually have to do it?” 

God, he’s hard to talk to. You find yourself for half your conversations with Jimin either saying ‘fuck off’ or your scoffing. You do the latter now.

“We were doing something anyway, don’t act like you don’t care. But yeh, he knows, so why don’t we just fucking put in money for alcohol and bud and hit up the beach or something at Hobi’s. Simples.”

Jimin downs his pint - it’s a Thursday and you don’t know why - and then nods, “Yeh, sounds like I can fuck with that. But let’s tell Taehyung cos he’s rich and loves weed more than the next person.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Like hell was there booze and weed. Taehyung had done the most, with Namjoon, and there was enough for 200 people to get fucked 10 times over, which with the 70 people that were apparently already at the beach, seemed like a mass death wish.

Hoseok, poor Hoseok, was hosting. You’d asked and he’d accepted like the selfless man he is and also because he loves Jungkook like a mother loves her child. It wasn’t his uni place, but his parent's beach house on the part of the coast where the beach stretched 20 yards deep and the water felt like the arctic on your skin, but even so, the parties out there were sick. 

You can just tell by the boyish grin on your boyfriends face he knows exactly the way this route takes you, the taxi driver, however, keeps giving you evils through the mirror probably because this journey is long and you’re not even on a real road at this point. But the vodka already in your system means you don’t care and you hold Jungkook’s hand in full-fledged excitement.

You swear you’re not corny.

He keeps his hand in yours even when you pay the driver, and tightens it further when everyone around the back of the cabin rings out in a chorus of ‘surprise’. He even holds your hand when he’s handed both a beer and a joint, somehow juggling them both in his free one.

Somewhere along the line between sharing conversations and drinking yourself silly, he whispers a ‘thank you’ in your ear, and presses a grateful kiss onto your lips.

The sun had been low for a while, with the expanded horizon offering the perfect view to watch it set. 

Still not corny, you promise.

But the smoke flowing through your system and the light hum of alcohol to accompany it just doesn’t allow for you to leave his side. Even through conversation after conversation, ‘happy birthday’ handshakes that made him switch which hand he was holding you with just so he didn’t let go, and even when the boys attempted a birthday bumps, you were there, glued tight.

“Fuck it, I wanna skinny dip!” Oh Jimin, oh that poor poor boy and his utterly delusional brain.

“Mate, that’s the high talking, leave it out.” You’re glad your boyfriend speaks sense when intoxicated because Tae’s there behind him clapping his back, encouraging him.

“Jim, legit 5 degrees right now, your dick’ll fall off if you go anywhere close to the sea.” And Namjoon, also ever with the straight head. Ah, you say that, but when you turn to the geez he chucks the small end of a lit blunt in his mouth and then swallows it down with beer - I guess his head will be going sideways now, in T-minus 5 seconds.

“You guys are pussys, my dick’ll just shrivel a bit…” 

“Fucking rancid, don’t wanna hear it.” Throwing your half empty beer can also seems to do the trick of shutting him up about his dick as he hangs his jaw that’s dripping with beer, warm from being half finished.

“Bitch.”

“Oi! None of that, Park.” Jungkook’s tone is serious but he’s smiling all the same, content in the setting he’s in, not despite of but because of the deluded conversation, the weird dynamic you guys all have, the way he’s just himself, and the fact you’re there too, with a vice grip on his hand.

It’s all breathy laughs and the occasional pressing of lips on your neck from where you’re sat on your boyfriend’s lap, as the conversation delves from somewhere between Jimin’s sex life (surprise surprise) to what Hoseok would look like on steroids - the mutual group decision, so, so, wrong. 

“Baby, I wanna get going.” 

“Hm?” You were caught in laughter and didn’t think you heard him right, so you turn in his lap to throw an arm around his shoulder, all eyes and ears for your man.

“I kind of wanna get going home.”

You’re surprised, looking through the glaze in his eyes to see if he’s too stoned or not having a good time, but you just see him content gaze, boring adoration into yours. Leaving now would also make you the first to leave, and it was his party.

“You wanna go like right now, right now?”

“Mmm,” and there’s something you can't pinpoint in his expression, apprehension maybe.

“Okay, should I be worried? You’re good right?” 

And his head drops to make you think ‘shit’, but then he’s laughing, shoulders shaking under your tense arms before he grabs at your face and places a kiss on either cheek. The blush creeps up on you before you can hide your face in his shoulder.

“I’m fine, so good.”  It’s almost a shout of a confession as he throws his head back to demonstrate the emotion behind the words, but the way his smile lifts to his eyes tells you all you need to know. You’re still not quite getting why the happy boy you’re perching on wants to ditch his own surprise party, but each to their own, you think.

“Okay? You’re sure you don’t want to stay?”

Affirming you’re correct with a head shake, he leans in once again, squeezing at your sides ungraciously tight before smashing his lips to yours in a rough, open mouthed kiss that is neither something you were ready for or something you’re about to do with Jimin and Namjoon next to you.

So, you’re both laughing, him attempting to plaster his lips to your face and you swatting as his arm that fixes you in place to him.

“Kook fu- baby,” you begin to scramble away and he lets you, laughing out at the way you flatten your hair and fumble at you jeans as a means to compose yourself, “Time and a place, you dick.”

Stares and smiles are all you give each other as the ambient sounds of others continue around you. It’s like that with him - the world keeps buzzing around you but you’re not in that world, you’re somewhere too deep in his.

Please believe me, you’re not cringy!

“Come back,” hand out, legs spread wide to make room for you and you cannot help the way your feet appease his every word.

You’re eyes down on him, and his up at you, blown full with love, lust and everything in between and you settle in the warmth of his proximity and in the heat of his gaze.

“I love you.”

So you kiss him, because, “I love you too Kook.”

“Now order that fucking taxi, I wanted to go all of two hours ago.” And there he is, earning himself another smack to the arm.

“You bastard, you’re lucky I’m whipped.”

“Yeh you fucking are Y/N!” Jimin can suck a dick, the wanker. Throwing a final middle finger up to the offending boy and holding the other hand out for your boyfriend, you get onto the route home.

Silence is not always a bad thing. You’d told yourself that the whole way home. You especially knew how car journeys when inconceivably high and drunk could make the head spin and the voice mute, but neither of you were inconceivably high or drunk. His hand was still there on yours from beach to taxi, taxi to apartment, apartment to bedroom, but the smile was gone. 

“Baby, what’s wrong, talk to me.”

“Mmm?” Playing it off, yet he still won’t look at you - the boy never could do confrontation or telling you what he wants.

He’s across the room, carrying the tea he’d made you to your side of the bed when you told him you’d felt a headache coming on. And you’re there just watching, the moping, the shrug and the way he now stops as you reach out your hand to tug at his shirt. 

“Oi, look at me.” Eventually, and what looks like with effort, he does. “You gonna talk to me now, or what?” And you begin to worry at the way his gaze digs into your face, eyes pouring emotion that is scattered in so many different directions you can’t keep up. Is he sad? Nervous? Why would he be nervous?

“I love you.” There’s more to be said just in the way those three words come out, and it scares you.

“Okayy…”

“Like I really love you. So much sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing with you.”

“Koo-” He grabs at your neck and finally takes control of his voice, no longer apprehensive and filled with mixed signals, but so affirmative that it takes every word from your mouth.

“You’ve waited for me Y/N. So fucking long. I’ve been shit to you as well recently. I just can’t fathom that you’re here and you’re mine and it fucking scares me, you have to get that.” Eyes well on both his and your side, as words unspoken, are finally spilt. Maybe it’s the occasion or the alcohol but you don’t care. “Everything about you is everything I ever want and what happens if I fuck it up and lose it. I can’t lose you.”

“I can’t lose you.” It’s a mantra spoken by him on so many occasions, like if he says it, it’ll never happen.

“And what if I feel the same, Kook.” Forehead to forehead now and so deep into the caverns of his eyes, you’d give him your whole soul if he asked. 

“You do?.. Feel the same?” You’re sure he knows you do. You’re sure he hasn’t been deaf to the thousands of ‘I love you’s’ and wholehearted confessions made by you. But he’s fragile to the extent that he needs to hear it. Needs to hear you say that you’re willing to lose everything here.

In a passing breath you whisper your confession, “yes,” and he squeezes at the hairs at the back of your neck that stand on end with every goosebump in your body. 

The tears fall just as he puts his lips to yours and oxygen becomes gold dust with the way you’re so breath taken. But it’s the happy kind of breath taken, that feeling right before christmas as a kid when you know everything’s waiting for you on the other side of sleep, that feeling where the sinking dries up in your stomach and every fibre of you body buzzes uncontrollably, the kind of breath taken where you smile and laugh in full-fledged giddiness.

Pulling away, you do just that, laugh against his mouth, smile without thought, and despite the tears that drip onto your lips you keep kissing at him, peck after peck because he’s laughing and crying with you.

Fuck, this was the moment you were converted to cringe. You didn’t give two shits about it either.

“I thought you were about to fucking break up with me, you absolute knob!” He thumb scoops up the tears as he laughs at you, sniffling to himself in the emotion of the moment that you two were still somewhere swept up in.

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Maybe.” 

Before the last tear is swept away at the motion of his thumb on your cheek, Kook ducks down and sweeps you up, over his shoulder and then with a not so forgiving thump to your back, you hit the bed - looks like he forgot his bed was made of fucking rocks, great for sex though, no squeak. And suddenly it dawns on you as hard as you just hit that mattress. That look in his eyes, now, earlier at the beach, the entire strung out fucking monologue he just gave you. All in the name of sex. 

“Can we- you want to- do it.” 

Fuck, it’s actually happening.

You suppress the butterflies with a laugh that surfaces from the way he stutters. 

“Well, what the fuck dyou want me to say. We’ve waited 5 months and you want me to just say, ‘oi Y/N, let me fuck you’.” 

But the laughing doesn’t seize. 

“I’m sure fucking not saying I want to make love to you, because imagine that gettin relayed to the boys. Instantly my dick goes from a 7 on hard to a 5.”

“Aw babe, give yourself credit, you’re at least a 5 and a half.”

“Bitch.” 

And with that he presses his full weight into you, smiling into the kiss that sucks deep into your lips, harsh but tender in all the right places. It turns you on the way he goes slow with you, maps outlines on your skin with his touches, and it makes you even hornier when his boner slowly grows into the meat of your thigh. 

It’s a moan in response to him biting your lip that has him off you and flipping the position so you straddle him. But tight jeans don’t accommodate for being on top, the fucking inconvenient bitch, so it’s with the slow teasing pace, that he seems to be going for, that you take as the jeans come off. 

“Fuck,” is whispered somewhere between you purchasing yourself right on his crotch and the way you raise you crop top over naked breasts. 

This is not uncharted territory. The two of you aren’t nuns who have abstained from everything and anything in your relationship. No, you’re far from holy. But the way your boyfriend gapes, eyes blown and breathing sharp, he’s like a virgin on steroids.

When you lean into his body, claiming his lips once again you notice the shaking, the way his body uncontrollable shivers underneath you despite the perspiration that soaks through his shirt.

“Baby, you’re shaking,” you whisper into his mouth, and he simply nods a frantic ‘yes’ against you. “Kook, calm down, relax, baby,” and after grasping gently at his chin to pry his lips off yours, you find his gaze, eyes blown in lust and fear. 

“Okay? I’m all yours,” you take his hand and lead it to your breast, then ushering it towards the steady beat of your heart, felt beneath trembling fingertips. “All yours.”

Running your hands over the tension in his biceps, you attempt to put him at ease with the roll of your hips. His bulge hadn’t gone unnoticed for a second and it was perfectly place with the tip resting on your clit, that you could probably both go to town like that - who said romance was dead! 

“Fuck Y/N.” 

“There you go,” you push him on, sucking into the rift between his neck and his shoulders and strong arms now scoop over and round to your ass. The squeeze is convincing, hard enough that you don’t fight back the moan and hard enough that your hips move that little bit harsher. 

Breaths are heavy in your ear as you find yourself slipping deeper into the pleasure of the moment, but you know he’ll never take the initiative and make the first move.

“You’re so hard Kook.”

A groan in all he responds as you hit that spot just on his tip that he loves so much.

“I want you so bad.”

“Fuck, me too,” and desperation for more than the slow grind you opted for overcomes him. Lips latch onto yours in a harsh display as he flips you once again. 

You can’t help but smirk to yourself, pure filthy excitement taking over the fibres of your body as he stares down at you now, hungry and horny.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted this so bad for so long Y/N you have no idea.” 

“Off,” and he gets the message with how his shirt is off and somewhere across the room without his dick leaving its place nestled in your crotch.

“I’ve been dying to have you, all of you.” His teeth are clawing at the skin of your neck as he pants out his dirty confession to the rhythm of his hips. 

“You’ve been dying to fuck me, Kook?” It’s a teasing tone, but there’s no hiding the breathiness behind your voice.

“Fuck yeh.”

“Then go ahead and fuck me.”

When his gaze meets yours, his eyes are wide and disbelieving. But you’re more focused on the stain of his lips from sunken teeth and the way his hair sticks to his face from sweat. You also haven’t failed to miss the bare, toned torso pressed neatly onto your chest - abs to die for and v lines that leave the eyes wandering an unholy amount of southward.

“You want me to go in raw?” You feign laughter at how giddy he looks at the prospect.

“Birth controls a saint innit.”

“Fuck, I’m scared I’ll come in two seconds.” Great turn on. You think, you don’t say.

His trousers are off fast but when it comes to your panties, he’s calculated in the way he lowers himself to eyes level with your core, breathing haphazardly in his lust induced state into the material that he proceeds to run down the length of your leg and off at your feet.

Eyes trail up your body as he crawls his way back to your now exposed core, “Jesus, you’re so sexy.” 

“Jungkook! What would God say if he heard you talk about his son that way!”

His head literally drops and he groans, as if the turn off button hadn’t already been switched when he told you he’d blow his load as soon as dick met pussy.

“I literally have no words Y/N.” 

“Well, you better put that mouth to better use then baby.”

“Bitch.”

But his tongue is darted out and into your folds, no matter the reluctance, and he soon finds that same taste, bitter and sweet all at once that draws him in every fucking time.

“Fuck Kook.” The reaction is instant, spine arched away from the mattress as his tongue sets to work inside you, darting in and out so fast that your hips couldn’t keep up if they tried. It’s when he flattens it against your clit and the hand once pinning down a thigh pushes two fingers in so fucking deep that the moans spill. 

“Shit that’s tight,” he mutters to himself more than anyone as his delving fingers reach that spot that has you stringing his name and curses into an aimless sentence. And the scene below you is even hotter than the feeling at your core, Jungkook, nestled between your legs with lips to clit, hand to pussy, and hips rutting desperately into the mattress. He’s a whole fucking view and it has you keening with your hands rooted in his hair that are telling him wordlessly not to let up.

When his eyes meet yours, you knows its game over, smirk overtaking his features as his fingers piston and fuck you open, thumb taking over the role his lips had on your clit just so he gets to watch you fall apart under him.

“That’s it baby, cum for me.”

“Holy fuc- shitt. Jungkook.” And your moans are the hottest things he’s ever heard as you tumble into a hell of a fucking orgasm. Shocks ripple through your body with the rate of his fingers and everything pulses as you cum, and keep fucking cumming.

Kook can barely help the way his cock seeks better friction against the mattress because of the bliss written on your face. And he almost forgets to let up on the frantic way his fingers still fuck you because your glistening chest lifting up and down in the light has his focus completely elsewhere. 

“Kook, I can’t.”

“Sorry baby,” he lets up with one final kiss to your clit, the jolt of pain and pleasure causing you to whine briefly. His cock twitches at the sound.

“Y/N I’m so hard, please.” 

You drag him up with the hand still woven deep in his locks so he’s eye level, and dick level with the place he wants it most. Wordlessly and still driven by the buzz from your orgasm, your hand guides him into you and fuck if the moan against your mouth isn’t the best thing you’ve ever heard.

“Holy fuck.” Nestling his head into the crook of your neck with deep breaths to accompany it, you can tell he’s trying to hold back the feeling of his balls tightening and ignore the way you still pulse from your orgasm. It’s tight and it’s so fucking bare because he’s never gone raw before. Fuck, neither of you have had sex in six months so the feeling might just make you both combust on the spot.

“Slowly baby, it’s been a while.” You’d known he’d reach your stomach just from the way he fucked your throat every other day - his girth is nothing far from impressive and it’s stretching you without even moving.

Light kisses press their way from neck to jaw to mouth as he pulls out to the hilt and then back in, slowly, tantalising slowly so that you both moan into the other's mouths, breathy and completely consumed by the feeling of each other.

“Fuck I’m never gonna get enough of this now.”

“Mmm,” you really hoped he wouldn’t.

“God I love you so much, your pussy is actual heaven.” And you hate to say the way the praise goes straight to your core, but your boyfriend can most certainly tell from the clench you hold his dick in. “Fuckkk, so good.”

It’s slow and it’s deep and he’s hitting your g-spot and clit with every roll of his hips. Throughout the murmurs of affection and sex filled admissions, you grasp at each other's skin, his hands pulling your hair so your mouth meets his and your hands across the muscles in his back that flex under your fingers with each thrust. 

It’s when he drags one hand to your throat and grips at it to balance his sped-up movements that you’re finding yourself teetering towards the edge again, spilling words never spoken and sounds never heard but he’s saving every one of them to memory.

“Faster baby please,” and he obliges instantly as he dives into you hard and fast, “babyy oh shit.”

“Y/N you’re clenching so fucking hard right now,” but he’s left you breathless to the point of no reply.

Several punishing slams that also attack your clit have eyes rolling and you biting down into his shoulder, suppressing the scream that surfaced without your consent.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He keeps pounding away, forcing you deeper and deeper into a spiral of pleasure, until his lips are on yours and he ruts a final few times, grunting and moaning into your mouth. “So good, so good,” and he repeats this until he’s still above you and finally the hand wound into your neck lessens it’s pressure so the throb in your body and up to your head dies into a tingle. 

It’s the most content and blissful silence, post orgasm, wrapped in the warm and wet body of your boyfriend. That is until he begins mumbling inconceivable words into the shoulder he decided to rest on.

“What baby?”

“I said,” lifting himself to eye level, and he’s a fucking sight for sore eyes. “Worth the fucking wait.” 

And with a tired, fucked out smile, light kiss to his lips, you can most certainly agree. 

Worth the fucking wait.

your fics are so good... literally i love them so much

AHH THE LOVE IS REAL <3 Thank ya x

6:02am

Where husband Jungkook wakes you up in the morning with your daughter.

No warnings, just fluff

Enjoy x

------------------

You sleep had started to stir something like five minutes ago when you felt small movements underneath you, but it wasn’t until Jungkook returned back to bed, paired with the weight of your daughter in his arms that the bed dipped too far for your sleep deprived eyes to remain shut.

And even before you have time to open your eyes at your own accord and take in your surrounds, a weight presses over you, limbs digging into your flesh and small hands pulling at the hair that messily weaves its way down your shoulders.

You can’t tell if you groan inwardly or if you actually made a sound, but your husband seems to notice your discomfort immediately.

“Bubs, careful with mummy please.” 

You open your eyes finally when another knee digs in, this time hard, to your abdomen, and you groan out your daughter's name in a half sleeping mumble.

“In fact come here you.” 

Finally, two hands snake around her waist and pry her wriggling form off of you, his fingers lacing under her arms, appearing so large compared to her small frame. Her messy black hair flips about as she continues to move under his grip.

“You’re being a rascal this morning aren’t you, Min.”

You stretch out, humming in agreement with the man next to you as your limbs finally begin to wave up.

Turning onto your side and slightly curling up towards Jungkook’s warmth, you see him sitting you daughter on top of his lap, both perched above the covers, and he is running his long fingers through her tousled hair as she repeatedly yawns.

He is sat up against the headboard, his own hair falling down over his face and into his eyes a little and his upper body completely exposed out of the covers, abs and all, glistening a golden colour when the light from the blinds that he must have opened intensifies.

As he continues to play with your daughter who babbles some statements about wanting milk and her blankey, her father nodding with a smile to try and calm her down, you reach your hand up and weave it through his fringe, pushing the soft locks back so his eyes are exposed in their full glory.

“Minnie, baby, calm down, it’s early and mummy’s still sleepy,” he says to the wriggling bundle on his lap, but he averts his attention from her, gently grabbing your wrist that threads through his hair and pulls it so he kisses the skin of your knuckles.

“Hey,” is all he says as his eyes meet with you, far more tired ones. 

“Kook, what time is it?” You question hazily, moving your hand away but using it to pull your body close to him so you can nuzzle into his side.

“Mumma,” and once again there are limbs pressing into you all too sharply, so you intervene this time.

“Come here then,” you say rolling back onto your tummy allowing her to climb over into you outstretched arms. “Where’s blankey bubs, did you bring him in?” You sit up slightly to try and look for the one thing that will calm her from any situation in an attempt to speak to your husband with little distraction for a few minutes. 

“6,” is all Jungkook says as he simultaneously slings the ragged material known as ‘blankey’ over to your two bodies that have now intertwined into one - her arms grasping at the hair around the back of your neck, head in the crook on your shoulder and legs shifting about over your stomach.

It only registers how early it is, when you finally look back over to your husband's form, body twisted now to watch you and his hand stretched out to continue to massage the now sleepy girl's hair as her movement subsides on top of you.

You groan at him when you think how much more sleep you could have had.

“Kook, just let her sleep in,” early mornings like this becoming way too much of a regular now that she was about to turn 3. We’d manage to get through the two’s without as much trouble as everyone made out, but you’re starting to fear it was a delayed reaction.

“Yeh, that’d be great if she was actually asleep. She woke me up at like half five and I could just hear her stirring.” Your eyes fix together now and you can see the sleep in his that must mirror yours. 

“You give in too easily,” you huff out with a slight pout and turn away to nuzzle the bundle on you. Jungkook from the very get go was the dad that wanted to give Mincha the whole world and nothing less, would do anything to make her smile or to make her happy. The first time she cried in his arms, he cried as well, saying ‘she’s breaking my heart’. He was always so soft for her, as soon as he saw her, and whilst you also definitely weren’t the type for strict discipline, he really did give in way too easily.

“She out again?” He ignores your comment because of course, he knew he was too soft for her, but his question brings you to realise that your daughter had drifted back into sleep - her breath was heavier against your neck and her limbs had seized all movement. She might wake up easily, but she slept even easier.

“Yeh,” you return, now rubbing small circles into her clothed back that you had shifted under the covers when she had climbed onto you.

“Thank god,” and you turn to now see your husband’s figure climb underneath the sprawled out sheets, and shuffle himself so he is pressed with his lips on your arm and his legs interwoven with yours, eyes closed.

“Jungkook, what the hell.” And all he does is grumble into your skins, hair tickling your shoulder as he tries to get impossibly closer to the heat of your body.

“You can’t wake me up, throw her at me and then go back to sleep, you dick,”

“Oi” he says as he jolts up to shoot you a scowl at the choice of your name for him around your daughter.

“Well sometimes I think I’m taking care of two toddlers, not one,” you say in an exasperated tone, trying to close your eyes to seek some kind of relaxed resolve.

And as your body begins to sink further into the mattress as you calm, Jungkook presses a light kiss into the skin of your arm where his face is pressed, snaking his arms further around you waist under you daughter and pulling you both close to him.

“Love you too, baby.” 

I fookin gasped... I’m still shook and I read this 3 hours ago. You never make your series easy on us haha. Much luv for your writing tho it’s insane <3

Crimson Park (Chapter 9)

Return to Chapter 8.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Desperado Series.

Return to Jungkook Fanfictions.

Return to Masterlist.

Chapter 9

You stepped backwards slowly, quietly – to try to prevent Carter from noticing you, but just as you were about to round the corner, he looked up an your eyes locked.

“There she is,” Carter’s voice bellowed. “There’s the bitch of the hour.”

“What are you doing here?” you crossed your arms over your chest and straightened your shoulders.

“I came for a drink,” he lifted a bottle of rye into the air. “I’ll pour you one.”

“No, I’m good,” you replied, eyeing him carefully. He didn’t look at you, nor did he say anything. He just maneuvered himself to the counter and began to pour two tumblers of the dark liquor. He then lifted one of the glasses to his lips and took a long, burning swing.

Crash!

The sound of crystal glass shattering over tile made you jump as Carter threw the tumbler onto your floor. He looked up to you, red in the face, his eyes searing.

“What are you doing?!” you screeched.

“You, cunt, are the reason for this!” he raised his bandaged fingers in the air. “You just couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut!”

“Carter, whatever happened, happened because of your own doing.”

“I thought you had my back.”

“Your back?” you patronized him. “Why the fuck would I protect you? You’re the one who swindled me into this place!”

“And fucking look at you now, huh?” he reached into the booze pantry again and pulled out and expensive bottle of whiskey. “Living the life.”

With one swoop he smashed the bottle on the counter, leaving the floor a slippery, glass covered mess while he held tight to the jagged neck of the bottle. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t want to show him any fear. He stared back at you, waving the bottle in his hand as he searched for any sign that you were intimidated by him. But he didn’t find it.

“I did my job, and you kept your life, Carter. Why don’t you just accept it and move on?”

A wicked grin spread across his face and something about it knotted your throat. “Oh, sweetie, you would like that if I moved on… wouldn’t you?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Carter picked up the second tumbler and took a sip, trying his best to build your anticipation… it worked.

“I did a little digging, Y/N. I found something really, really interesting. You’ve been doing a little skimming of your own.”

Fuck! What did he find?

“Someone has been charging an extra dollar off the heads of each of the prostitutes. Sound familiar?”

He did find it.

“And I followed your man… what did you say his name was? Jookook? Junghuk? Anyways – turns out he’s been dropping a little something off each month to the recruitment centre… Remember? The one I found you in?”

Recruitment Centre? What an asshole.

“It’s a shelter, Carter.”

“But it is Dongnam’s recruitment centre. What would he think if he found out that you were not only taking his money, but also blocking his business? I think he’d have more than just your fingernails, Y/N.”

You sighed deeply and raised your chin.

“I thought I’d want to kill you myself,” he continued. “But I also think whatever he does to you would be far more satisfying.”

“What do you want?” you asked.

“I want a cut. Take two dollars off every head and I get 75%. You cover it up, and I keep my mouth shut.”

You stared blankly at him. You were surprised, honestly. You thought tonight was going to end with your life, but instead it was going to end in negotiation. It was too risky, though. Carter was a liability and couldn’t be trusted. But what other option did you have?

“Deal,” you said.

“Deal?” he gawked at you, bemused but how easy it all was.

“That’s what I said. Two dollars. 75%. It’s a deal,” you stuck out your hand to him to shake on it. He eyed you suspiciously at first, but then reached out his hand and took yours.

“Alright, partner,” he said, but then his bewildered eyes shifted into a look you hadn’t seen on him in a least a decade, and you felt bile rise in your throat. “Now,” he said as he raised his hand to your cheek. “How about we celebrate – the way we used to. For old time sake?”

You swatted his hand away from your face. “Absolutely not!” you turned to walk away from him, but he grabbed roughly on your wrist to stop you. “Let me go!” you tried to shake free, but he only squeezed you tighter.

“C’mon, sweetie. Don’t you think you owe me for what happened?”

“You have a family,” you tried to appeal to him.

“That never stopped you before?”

“I was a fucking kid!” your blood pressure raised – either from the anger you felt at his implication or the fear you felt as he held you tight. “Let me go!”

Carter stared down at you as you struggled against his strength. It pierced right through you and you could hear your heartbeats in your ears. You searched the room frantically for something you could use as a weapon – but then, he let you go. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off…

“Y/N?” you heard Jungkook’s voice come through the front door.

Thank, God!

“You should go,” you said quietly to Carter. He nodded – despite being thick in the skull, he knew enough to not hang around right now. With that, he strode passed you, out of the kitchen and, presumably, out of the apartment.

Moments later, Jungkook came striding into the kitchen. He looked to you, still in your slip, and then to the glass covered floor. You could tell he was worried, panicked as he tried to piece everything together.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” he said as he turned and charged towards the door.

“No!” you yelled after him as you chased him down.

“Don’t stop me,” he called back as you grabbed a hold of his arm.

“Nothing happened, Jungkook, please!”

“Then why the hell was that piece of shit here?”

You beat him to the door and flung yourself across it, blocking his way. His eyes were washed in rage and his breathing was laboured, but he stopped and placed his hands anxiously on his hips.

“Why are you here?” you asked. “I thought you left.”

“I told you I wasn’t leaving you behind,” he snapped back at you. You furrowed your brow – once again annoyed by his insistence, but you missed him too much to go through this fight again.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you replied after a moment. “But I don’t want to fight about this anymore.”

His face softened into one of defeat. “I don’t want to either,” he replied after a pause.

“Can we just… go back to normal? For a while?” you bit your lip then confessed “I’ve missed you.”

He closed his eyes and his features became anguished. He rubbed his forehead then he too admitted “I missed you too.”

You couldn’t stop the smile from creeping across your lips – even though Jungkook, the always optimistic Jungkook, wasn’t smiling back at you. But you had weathered him down enough. You stepped forward, closing the gap between you, and he watched you closely as you did. You placed your hands around his waist and pulled yourself flush against him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as you peered up at him through your lashes.

“I’m sorry too,” he sighed as he pulled you into him and surrendered.

That night you two made love like the world was ending. There was something desperate and needy about the way you clung to each other, the way you kissed each other, the way he rolled himself into you, and the way you watched each other – as if you were trying to commit every detail to memory.

When it was over, Jungkook pulled you tight into him, and held you over his chest as if he was afraid you’d disappear while he slept. You, however, couldn’t sleep. You feared, after today, you wouldn’t be able to stave off the nightmares. Not only that, you had a lot on your mind: Jungkook; Taesub; Joohyuk; Carter; things you’d needed to do; and, things you needed to find the courage to do.

When the grey light of dawn poured in through the windows, you threw in the towel on getting any sleep. You peeled yourself from under Jungkook’s arm and crawled softly out of bed. You went to your dresser and pulled yourself into a pair of black pants and a black hooded sweater, then you crept out into the rising sun.

Later, Jungkook awoke to find a note on the pillow beside him.

Meet me tonight – 7:00 pm – at the square.

That evening, you were exhausted, but you still found the wind to make it out to meet Jungkook. You pulled your hair into a simple ponytail, wore denim jeans along with your black peacoat and black scarf and gloves. Today, your lips weren’t crimson. Today, they were bare, the way Jungkook liked them the most. The way he liked you the most.

The square was a little quieter than usual, given the chilly winter weather that was starting to make an appearance. You arrived on time and found Jungkook standing by the outdoor fire pit waiting patiently for you. He too was dress casually and looked handsome in his long grey jacked and leather gloves. He was lost in thought, entranced by the flickering flames of the fire. He didn’t notice you until you took his hand and laced your fingers between his. He smiled faintly when he saw you. It hurt a little to not have him beam at you the way he usually did, but you were willing to take the loss until you could rebuild the trust between you again.

“What are we doing here?” he asked you.

“Let’s call it a date.”

“Isn’t that a little too formal?” he mocked the words you had said to him so long ago.

“Sure… but things can change,” you smirked. He sniffed out a chuckle. You then led him, hand-in-hand, through the square. He was quiet for the most part. Even after last night, something was still weighing on his mind. He was still unsure about you and him – and, rightfully so. You hadn’t reciprocated his feelings, in fact, you had thrown them back in his face. But now was the time to make it right. You finally arrived too the place you wanted to be. Jungkook looked bewilderedly back at you when he realized you had stopped.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

You took in a deep breath. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?” he smiled slightly, intrigued by the surprise. You then reached into your pocket and pulled out a key and handed it to him. He looked down at the key, then confused look back to you. “What is this?”

“It’s a key,” you said.

“I can see that.”

“It’s a key for a locker. Over there,” you nodded towards the public lockers. “Locker B-21.”

“What’s in locker B-21?”

“A duffle bag.”

“What’s in the bag?”

“Some money. Passports. IDs. And a deed to a house.”

“A contingency plan,” he sighed. “Y/N I told you I don’t want one.”

“It’s not just for you, Jungkook.” His head snapped up to look at you. You had his full attention now. “It’s for both of us.”

His mouth dropped open, and all he could do was stare back at you. Since he could say nothing, you continued. “We can go whenever you want, if you need to think about it. Or, we can go tonight, if that’s what you want. I’m ready to take the risk if you are.”

He looked back down to the key as he rolled it over and over again in his hands. He was still speechless.

You took in a sharp breath. “I love you, Jungkook.”

He looked back up to you and you could see his eyes had become glassy.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it before,” you continued. “It’s just – I’ve never said that to anyone before. I’ve never had anyone say it to me before – or at least mean it when they said it. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook reached out and wrapped his hand behind your neck and pulled you into him. He inhaled you deeply when his lips met yours, and you smiled, unable to stop yourself for the happiness his kiss and confirmation brought you.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he whispered. “So much.” He kissed you again, this time more firm, more desperate, he held you closer and tighter. The kiss began to sear, and you moaned a little into his mouth. He pulled back and pressed his forehead against yours.

“I love you - you know that, right?” he said. You nodded. “Don’t ever forget that. No matter what happens.” You furrowed your brow at his odd proclamation but were distracted again by his lips on yours.

He pulled back and you noticed him peer over your shoulder to something behind you. You turned your face to look but he grabbed your chin.

“You have to trust me, Y/N. We are going to figure this out.”

“Figure what out?” Something was wrong, but you couldn’t pinpoint what.

He kissed you again.

“I love you. I’m sorry.” He kissed you again. Then again. Then again. Chanting those five words over as if it were a mantra, until he wasn’t chanting them anymore. He wasn’t kissing you anymore. He stepped back, out of your reach as he pocketed the key. You looked back at him, confused about what was happening. Then you felt strong hands wrap around each of your elbows.

“Ms. Park,” you heard from your right. You looked towards the voice to see a man you’d never seen before. He was waving a badge in front of your face. “You are under arrest.”

You looked to the other side of you to see a second stranger, in casual clothing gripping your arm as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.

Then you looked back to Jungkook. His hand on his hips and head bowed… he was staring at the ground. You heard the officer to your right begin to read your Miranda rights, but you couldn’t hear them over the blood pumping through your head.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, but he wouldn’t look up at you. “Look at me!” you screeched at him. He did, and you didn’t know if you liked what you saw. His eyes were filled with guilt and full of tears. He then turned his back to you and began to walk away, but before he was out of ear reach, one of the officers called to him.

“Thank-you, Detective Jeon.

Hi you’re so talented! I hope you’re having a wonderful day 🦋

ahhh thank you bubs. All the best to you too xx