Snowy Hills

Snowy Hills

Surgeon!Jungkook x Surgeon!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Summary: it was supposed to be a normal night, so you could only imagine Jungkook’s surprise when he saw you being wheeled in on a stretcher.

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: mention of death? idek 

A/N: This is literally so ass🤣idk why I’m posting this tbh lmao. Unedited as always. Ummmm if you didn’t know, I’m a pretty big fan of greys anatomy so this id kinda based off the episode where Meredith almost drowns? It’s literally so bad I hate this🤣anyways, if you read it…….i hope you enjoy? idk have fun with it. I’m about to start writing another tiktok drabble lmaooo so stay tuned for that.

Jungkook walked down the hallway of the hospital. It was a normal night for him. The occasional drunkies who come into the ER after hurting themselves and multiple people coming in for a stomach ache. Jungkook just changed into some clean scrubs after taking out an appendix for a 23-year-old male which went surprisingly smooth for an operation with this particular night staff. He pulled his phone out of his pocket when he heard the sound of an emergency page. He hastily shoved his phone back into his pocket as he began to run in the direction of the westward where he was paged a code blue for his earlier cardio patient. 

By the time he got there, nurses were walking out of the room, pushing out the crash cart followed by the attending doctor that was on the case. The look he gave Jungkook told him how that code ended. His body slouched in disbelief. He was the lead surgeon during the surgery. Was it something he had done? It couldn’t have been. If he did something that would’ve caused this, the attending standing beside him throughout the whole surgery would’ve said something right? Dr. Park, the Cardio god of the hospital laid a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“He was old Jungkook. This was a highly expected outcome. He knew this going into the operation. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Park Jimin. The same Park Jimin that lived in the house beside him since he was five. The same Park Jimin that helped him with medical school even while working late hours at the hospital as a resident. How he end up working at the same hospital as his childhood friend was beyond him but he would never complain about it. 

Jimin’s words calmed Jungkook down a little. But really, how calm could you be when one of your patients just died. 

“Go down to the pit. See if Namjoon has anything for you to do,” Jungkook offered a weak smile before nodding and walking off. 

It wasn’t the first patient he had lost. That didn’t make a difference though. Just another thing he would come to tell you tomorrow when he got home. 

You. You were the love of his life. The sunlight in his dull world. His only source of happiness on the tough days. You could light up the room with your smile. Heal him with your laugh. Everything about you was just simply perfect in Jungkooks eyes. The two of you met through one of the nurses Jungkook befriended during his intern years. You were an OBGYN on the 5th floor of the hospital. You were only one year younger than him but an attending in the OB world. And a very good one at that. People came from around the country to seek your help sometimes. 

Usually, when something disheartening happened, he would make his way to the 5th floor to find you, but today was one of your off days. “Off days” meaning you were on call but not needed at the hospital tonight. When he left your shared apartment earlier in the evening, he left you laying on the couch watching Modern Family. He assumed you would’ve put yourself to sleep a little after he left so you could only imagine his surprise when he walked into the pit to see you being rolled in on a stretcher, unconscious. 

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Lay Waste to Me | One

Description: Lead theoretical physicist and Professor, Jeon Jeongguk takes an alarming interest in you.

Ship: Broke Graduate Student Reader x Wealthy Professor JK!

Genre: Yandere Behavior, Obsession/Stalking, SMUT, Angst

Disclaimer/Note: I do not condone Yandere behavior, read at your risk as this mini-series will contain murder, gore, and obsessive stalking of the reader. This is part one of a mini-series with ONLY 3-6 chapters.

wc: 7.5k

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You

It’s 9:30 P.M., you’re deep in the evening shift, hauling platters of wings and six-pound burgers when Jeon Jeongguk sits down at one of your tables.

You almost drop your tray of cocktails.

Jeongguk cuts such a striking figure that almost everyone at the sidewalk tables stares at him. Women within a hundred-yard radius are suddenly compelled to smoothen their hair and check their lipstick. Even your boss, Jim, squints and frowns, asking the hostess if someone famous just sat down.

Jeongguk has that effortless off-duty model look. He’s tall, muscular, and elegantly dressed in clothes you know cost well over five figures. But what really tops it off is his careless arrogance. You’ve convinced yourself that if you were hit by a semi-truck going ninety on a sidewalk, he wouldn’t even notice.

He sees you long before you see him. He’s already smirking, his dark eyes glittering with malice under the dimmed light of the restaurant. He’s so stunning that it increases your distrust of him. Nobody that beautiful could be good, it’s impossible, you've seen enough movies to differentiate between good and evil.

“Bring me one of those sparkly cocktails,” he orders.

You think you hate him. A wave of anger surges inside of you at the sight of his godly face. Jeongguk’s expression doesn’t change as you turn your attention to him.

“You’re supposed to wait for the hostess to seat you,” you mutter, resisting every possible urge to not roll your eyes.

“I’m sure you can handle one more table,” Jeongguk says, looking around the surprisingly empty bar to push you just one button further.

You might as well have taken that idiotically expensive tie around his neck and strangled him with it. Instead, you tightly smile and ungraciously thrust a menu into his hands.

When you return a few minutes later with his cocktail (extra edible glitter), he says, “I want you to eat with me.”

“I can’t. I’m kind of in the middle of my shift, y’know, like my job.”

“I’ll wait.”

“No, you won't,” you snap. “You can’t sit here that long.”

“I doubt Jim will mind. Should I go ahead and ask him?”

Jim? Since when was he on a first-name basis with your boss? How did he even know Jim's name? “Look,” you hiss. “I don’t get what you’re trying to pull, giving me the grant for my research. But, you can’t buy me off that easily.”

“I’m not buying you off,” Jeongguk says, deadly black eyes fixated on yours. “I already told you what I had to say, I don’t care what you think of it.”

“Then why’d you give it to me?”

“Because your's was the best.”

His compliment hits you like a slap. He sounds completely matter-of-fact. And god, you’d like to believe it. But, you don’t trust him, not one fucking bit.

You're a third-year Ph.D. student at one of the best theoretical physics departments in the world, one that housed more than one hundred grads and what sometimes felt like an infinite amount of undergrads.

It’s been three weeks since Jeongguk— a Professor in your said department— granted your research project to be fully funded by no one other than him. Granted, you did submit your paper to his office (along with quite literally all of the other ambassadors) but that’s because you were almost certain he’d outright deny you.

Jeon Jeongguk, more infamously known as Dr. Jeon was the reason behind an abundance of late graduations; the sole culprit for half of the students in the department being forced to postpone their thesis. Not to mention, he forced your roommate, Jimin, to scrap two of his research projects and completely start from scratch—mid-semester.

You vividly remember Hyuna, Jeongguk’s assistant stopping you three weeks ago. “I have good news for you,” she said, running up to you.

“You do?”

“Yes, Dr. Jeon and his team have reviewed all of the research proposals… and you’ve been chosen for the grant!”

You stared at her, dumbfounded.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all, congratulations!” She passed you a slim envelope with your name neatly handwritten on the label. “There’s your check. You’ll accompany Dr. Jeon at his conference in one month to propose your research to a panel. I’ll email you the details for making use of his building.”

A week later, Jeongguk, showed up at your job for the first time ever, staring daggers into your direction. At the time, you hadn’t even known it was him. You assumed he was another hotshot coming in to pick up the bartender, Krystal. You nearly threw your entire tray of various drinks at him until he introduced himself.

“Finish your shift,” Jeongguk says, dismissing you. “Then we’ll talk.”

You finish your evening shift, feeling his eyes on you everywhere you turn, every move you move. Your skin burns and you fumble through tasks you usually could perform in your sleep.

He was mental. There was no reason for someone like Jeongguk to be hauled up at this run-down bar of all places. You could count six much more lavish bars that would be way more fitting for him.

“What’s with him?” Jim asks you, nodding in Jeongguk’s general direction.

“Sorry— he’s waiting to talk to me. He’s funding my research.”

“Like your Professor?” Jim questions, peeking around the corner to get a better look at Jeongguk.

“No, well yes— he is a Professor, but not mine. He funds like half of the school and somehow granted my proposal.” You toss your head, irritated that Jeongguk has invaded all aspects of your academic and now personal life.

“He looks rich as hell,” Jim snickers. “You should ask him out, Professor and his student, eh?”

“No fucking way.”

“He is rich though, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” you admit.

“Knew it.” Jim nods, wisely.

“He’s wearing Alexander Wang, you’re not exactly Anna Wilson here.”

Jim gasps fakely, placing his hand on his chest as though someone just shot him. “You better drop the attitude or he’ll never date you, missy.”

You wish you could slap Jim and Jeongguk at the same time, with both hands.

“Well, go ahead on to your Prince Charming, I’ll finish your stuff off,” Jim says.

“Thanks,” You respond, not actually grateful. You’d much rather deal with drunk-off their ass old men and frat boys for another two hours than sit and talk to Jeongguk for five minutes.

You take your apron off and plop in the seat opposite to Jeongguk.

“Listen, whatever the hell you’re trying to pull—“

You’re interrupted by Jim, who apparently has decided tonight would be the night to wait a table for the first time in a decade so he can have the pleasure of observing your annoyance up close and personal.

“Good evening!” he sings. “What can I get for this fine couple?”

Jeongguk turns to Jim with a smile of such sincerity that you could only gape at him. His entire face has transformed, suddenly animated. Even his voice softens, becoming warm and humorous. You pinch the flesh of your hand to make sure you’re not dreaming, you wince at the jolting pain reminding you that you are very much awake.

“___ was just telling me how hungry she is,” Jeongguk says. “I want to treat her to all her favorites— I’m sure you know what she likes.”

“How incredibly generous,” Jim says, eyes wide behind his spectacles.

Your hand brushes the full glass of water before you, itching to swing it directly at Jim.

“I am quite generous,” Jeongguk says, grin widening. “Thank you for noticing.”

Jim laughs. “And to think she didn’t want to spend her evening with you.”

“Is that so?” Jeongguk questions, patting your hand in a way that makes you feel murderous. “She never knows what’s good for her.”

Jim is enjoying this ordeal so much he doesn’t want to leave to punch in your order. You clear your throat several times, sending him daggers until he decides to finally get the memo.

As soon as he’s gone, you snatch your hand back from Jeongguk.

“I don’t need you,” you inform him.

Jeongguk snorts.

“The fuck you don’t. You’re broke, barely can afford to pay off your shitty apartment. You have no connections and no cash. I don't think you understand how grilling this field can be. You absolutely need my help, sweetheart.”

You wish you had a counterargument to that.

All you can do is scowl and say, “I’ve gotten quite far with what I have now.”

Jeongguk lets out a long sigh of annoyance.

“I think we both know that’s not true. Let's be honest, you're not doing so great in the real world. But now you’ve met me. In a few weeks, you’ll be joining me at my press conference. I could recommend you to the best Physicists in the world with my connections. You have no idea how many doors I could open for you, darling…”

You cross your hands over your chest. “In exchange for exactly what, Dr. Jeon?”

Jeongguk smiles. Now, this was his genuine smile— not the one he put on for Jim minutes ago. There’s nothing warm or friendly about it. In fact, it’s fucking terrifying.

“You’ll be my protégé,” he says.

“I’m sorry. What does that even mean?”

“It means we’ll get to know each other. I’ll give you my outstanding advice, mentorship. You’ll follow that advice and you’ll flourish.”

The words he’s telling you sound perfectly benign. Yet you can’t stomach the feeling that you’re about to sign a devil’s bargain with a hell of a hidden clause.

“Is there some kind of sexual implication here that I’m completely missing?” You say. “Are you the Epstein of the Physic’s world?”

Jeongguk sits back in his chair, sipping the sparkling cocktail lazily. This new position shows off his long legs and his powerful chest flexing beneath his cashmere sweater, a display that was beginning to suffocate you.

“Do I look like I need to bribe women for sex?”

“No,” you admit.

Half of your roommates and colleagues would fuck Jeongguk in a heartbeat. Actually, all of them would, except maybe Seokjin.

You bite the edge of your thumbnail, considering it.

“Don’t bite your nails,” Jeonnguk snaps. “It’s disgusting.”

You bite the nail harder, scowling at him.

He’s going to be bossy and controlling, you can already tell. Is that what he wants? A puppet dancing on his strings?

“Can I see your lab?” You ask.

It was an audacious request. Jeon Jeongguk doesn’t show his lab to anyone. Especially not when he’s in the middle of conducting experiments to solve yet another world-renowned theory. You have no right to ask— but you have just the strangest sense that he might agree.

“Already making demands?” Jeongguk says. He stirs his straw through his ice with a cold clicking sound.

“Surely a protégé gets to see their master at work,” you test.

Jeongguk smiles. He likes being called “master.” Sick fuck.

“I’ll consider it,” he says. “Now…” he leans forward on the table, steepling his tattooed, tan hands in front of you. “We’re going to talk about you.”

Is he serious? This happens to be your least favorite topic.

“What do you want to know?”

He looks at you hungrily. “Everything.”

You swallow hard. “I’ve always had a passion for Physics. I lived out in Arizona for a while, until Princeton accepted me for my Ph.D.”

“What about your family?”

Come to think of it, that tops the cake for your least favorite topic.

You put your hands down on your lap so you don’t start chewing your nails again.

“I don’t have any family,” you say.

“Everyone has a family.”

“Not me.” You glare at him, lips pressed together, stubborn.

“Where’s the alcoholic father?” Jeongguk says.

To you, the conversation at his office was a blur of shouted accusations and utter confusion. Jeongguk apparently remembers every word, including the part you blurted out and now fervently regret.

“He's still in Arizona,” you reluctantly mutter.

“What about the stepmother?”

“As far as I know, she lives in California. I haven’t talked to either of them in years.”

“Why?”

Your heart is hammering and you feel that sick, squirming sensation in your stomach that always arises when you’re forced to think about your father. You like to keep her trapped behind a locked door in your brain. He’s emotional cancer—if you let him out, he’ll infect every part of you.

So what if you had daddy issues?

“He’s the worst person I’ve ever met,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “And that includes my stepmother. I ran away the day I turned eighteen.”

“Where’s your actual mother?”

“Dead.”

“So is mine,” Jeongguk says. “I find it’s better that way.”

You look at him sharply, wondering if that’s supposed to be a joke.

“I loved my mother,” you say coldly. “The day I lost her was the worst day of my life.”

Jeongguk smiles. “The worst day so far.”

What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. Him.

“So Mommy died, leaving you alone with Daddy dearest and not a penny between you,” Jeongguk prods you, wrinkling his nose as he can still smell those awful years on your skin.

“There are worse things than being poor,” you inform him.

“Enlighten me, then,” Jeongguk says, one dark eyebrow raised.

“No,” you say flatly. “I’m not your evening entertainment.”

“Why must you make everything so difficult?” he says. “Have you ever tried cooperating?”

You laugh. “In my experience, when men say ‘cooperative’, they mean ‘obedient’.”

He grins, leaning closer. “Then, have you ever tried being obedient?”

“No.” You lie.

You have tried it. And all you learned from it is that no amount of submission is ever good enough for a man. You can rollover like a dog, beg for mercy, apologize profusely and they’ll keep beating you.

Jeongguk’s dark eyes rove over to your face, giving you an uncomfortable sensation that he can see through every thought you try tirelessly to keep hidden.

Thankfully, you’re saved by Jim depositing several familiar platters of steaming food in front of you two.

Only after Jim leaves you does Jeongguk examine the food with his usual critical glare.

“What is this?” he demands.

“That’s the bacon sampler platter,” you say, nodding toward four marinated strips of premium pork belly labeled with a fancy script like each is a guest at a wedding.

Jeongguk frowns. “It looks . . . intense.”

“It’s the best thing you’ll ever put in your mouth. Look,” you cut off a bite of the rosemary balsamic bacon. “Try this one first.”

Jeongguk takes a bite. He chews slowly, his expression melting from skepticism into genuine surprise.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“I told you—try this one now. Brown sugar cinnamon.”

He takes a bite of the second strip, eyebrows rising and an unwilling smile tugging at his mouth.

“This is so good.”

“I know,” you snap. “That’s why I work here. It’s the literal best food in the city.”

“Is that really why you work here?” Jeongguk asks, watching you closely.

“Yes. The smell of food—I can’t stand it if it’s not good. The food here smells incredible because it is incredible. Here, try this now—take a sip of the cocktail, then eat one of the spicy-sweet potatoes.”

Jeongguk does exactly what you said, taking a small sip of his drink, then quickly biting into the potato.

“What the fuck,” he says. “Why is that so good?”

“I dunno.” you shrug. “Something about the sour citrus and then the pop of salt. They amplify each other.”

Jeongguk is watching you as you eat your own food, taking a small bite of one thing and then another, cycling through your favorite combinations.

“Is that how you eat?” he says.

You shrug. “Unless I’m in a hurry.”

“Show me more combinations.”

You show him all your favorite ways to eat the magnificent brunch spread Jim laid before you both—lemon curd layered with fresh strawberries and clotted cream on the scones, blueberries between bites of maple bacon, a dash of hot sauce mixed in with the hollandaise . . .

Jeongguk tries it all with an unusual level of curiosity. You’d assume somebody as rich as him has eaten at a million fancy restaurants.

“Don’t you eat out all the time?” You ask him.

He shakes his head. “I don’t spend much time on food. It bores me.”

“But you like this?”

“I do,” he says, almost as if he hates to admit it. “How do you come up with all this?”

You shrug. “I never tried most foods until I started working at restaurants. I’d never tasted steak, cilantro, or avocado. I wanted to try everything—it was like discovering a whole new sense.”

“But there was a time when you weren’t poor,” Jeongguk says, harrying that point like a dog with a bone. He’s really not gonna fucking drop it.

“Yes,” you say testily. “When we lived with Melissa.”

“That’s your stepmother.”

“Yes.”

“What did you eat then?”

“Not fucking much. She used to scream at me if my spoon clinked in my cereal bowl.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven.”

Jeongguk’s relentless . . . and hypnotic, the way he fixes you with those deep, dark eyes, never looking away for a moment. The way he absorbs everything you say with none of the usual displays of sympathy or irritating commiseration. He just soaks it in and demands more, like he plans to drill down to the core of you, strip-mining your soul.

He insisted on paying for the meal, leaving an extra hundred-dollar bill as a tip for Jim— something you’ll never hear the end of.

You can already see how he uses his money to manipulate people—including me. You cashed that seven-thousand-dollar check because I had to. You were not only late on rent but you owed Jimin somewhere around four hundred dollars for spotting you the past two months.

Jeongguk knows exactly how much leverage he has over you, and he isn’t shy about leaning on the lever.

And yet, despite the fact that he’s clearly callous and manipulative, you still find yourself walking with strange lightness down the campus streets to your sparkling new lab in his building.

Maybe because he wasn’t trying to make you feel better. In fact, it’s the first time you’ve ever mentioned this topic without hearing the words, “But it’s your dad . . .”

Jeongguk offered no sympathy. He also offered no excuses. No fucking platitudes. No lies.

You spend the afternoon working on studying light. You’ve never felt such confidence in your work. You bend over the display of water and turn on the main lamp above it, you then take the wooden dowel to your left and make indentations in the water.

The idea is already there, inside the depths of your brain. Perfect and whole—all it needs is to be unveiled.

You spot something in the reflection that you hadn’t noticed before: a camera mounted above the door, pointed into the lab. You frown, turning your face away from the lens.

Why the hell is there a camera in here?

Is it recording all the time?

Something in the back of your brain tells you yes, it most definitely does.

You suddenly feel self-conscious, replaying your behavior all afternoon. Did you talk to yourself? Scratch your ass? Pick your nose?

You’re suddenly paranoid that Jeon Jeongguk is watching you.

He unnerves you, and you don’t fucking trust him. Your talk at the bar didn’t help to ease what his intentions were. Sure, he said that you’d be his protege. But, when a man takes a special interest in you, it’s never good.

As your leaving, you stop at the cafe on the ground level, treating yourself to one of the iced lattes Hyuna promised were so good. She’s not wrong—the coffee is rich and perfectly prepared.

Hyuna herself comes through the front doors as I’m leaving.

You kind of wish she hadn’t caught sight of you, since she’s dressed in a stylish scarlet pantsuit, her hair freshly blown out and her lipstick immaculate. Whereas you look like you spent the night riding around in the back of a garbage truck.

“Oh, ___!” she says, “You’re here early.”

“Hey,” you say nervously. “Just leaving, actually. I came in extra early—I hope that’s okay.”

“More than okay.” She smiles. “That’s why you have twenty-four-hour access.”

“Yeah . . .” you say. “Actually I was curious . . . I noticed a camera in the lab. Right above the door.”

“Oh, yes,” she says. “All the studios have them. It’s for security purposes only—we’ve had issues with theft in the past. Don’t worry, no one has access to the feed. It would only be reviewed in cases where an incident has occurred.”

“Sure.” you nod.

You don’t believe a word she’s saying. Jeongguk owns this building, and those cameras are there for a reason.

A week after granting your proposal | Jeongguk

Jeongguk takes his stalking of you online.

Like most people, you’ve splashed your life all over social media for anyone to see—both on your own accounts, and your friends.

You and your friends are a smart bunch, so the photos you share are less eclectic than average. Jeongguk has to wade through any number of sepia-toned lab photos, aesthetic campus photos, and landscape shots to find something useful. Once he does, he finds endless portraits of you.

He spends a long time examining your face. You’re an interesting conundrum. Vulnerable yet fierce. Damaged yet stubborn.

You do not make personal posts—no long, rambling dissertations on your inner feelings under a mirror selfie, and no vague captions intended to elicit a flood of comments begging for more details.

Jeongguk’s already decided that you and he will inevitably cross paths—the Physic’s world is too small to avoid it.

He intends to choose the time and location of that meeting. He’ll control all the elements, arranging the players like pieces on a chessboard.

It’s unlike him to fixate on a woman like this. Jeongguk finds most people horrifically boring. He’s never met anyone as intelligent as him, or as talented. Other people are weak and emotional—slaves to their impulses. Constantly making promises they can’t keep, even to themselves.

Only Jeongguk seems to have the power to control his own fate.

Whatever he wants to happen, happens. He makes it so by his own cunning, his determination.

Everyone else is a victim of chance and circumstance. To arbitrary rules set up by people who died a hundred years ago. To their own pathetic ineptitude.

He does what he wants. He gets what he wants. Always. Every time.

If there’s a god of this world, it’s Jeongguk.

But even Zeus found mortals interesting from time to time.

He desires to see you again, to speak to you. Jeongguk wants to manipulate you and see how you react.

And if Jeongguk wants something . . . that means it’s good.

Jeongguk breaks into your room later that afternoon.

You’re working at that sleazy shit bar, something that usually takes you until 10:00 P.M.

It’s almost impossible to find a point in the day where none of your roommates are home, so Jeongguk doesn’t bother waiting. The apartment is so crowded, with so many people coming and going, he doubts that any of them will notice a few extra creaks from a room that ought to be empty.

It helps that your room is on the topmost floor. It’s easy to scale the trellis of the neighboring house, drop down onto your deck, and force open the flimsy lock on the glass door.

The attic room is certainly not to code. The ceiling is so low that he can’t stand upright, even in the center of the peaked space. Your bed is a futon mattress on the floor, your clothes folded in plastic milk crates because you have no closet or dresser.

This is the sort of cramped, chaotic space that usually disgusts him. The dusty air and stacks of battered secondhand Physics books next to the bed—no bookshelf to hold them—reek of poverty.

Curiosity staves off his repulsion. He’s drawn to the obviously used cover of his very own book. It’s his research paper from when he was a Ph.D. Student, “Fundamentals of Physics” laid prettily in your room.

He smiles to himself.

Of course, you had good— no, great taste.

He sets the book down.

He can smell your perfume on the sheets, stronger than when he followed you a week prior.

Jeongguk lays down in your bed, his head on your pillow. He turns his face so his nose is pressed against your crumpled sheets and he inhales.

Your scent is layered and complex. Warm notes of vanilla, caramel. A botanical scent—mandarin, or maybe black currant. Then something exotic, spiced—perhaps a jasmine soap. Under that, the light scent of your sweat arouses him far more than any of the others. Jeongguk’s cock swells until it’s no longer comfortable within his trousers.

He enjoys the trespass of laying in your bed. Knowing that you may catch a hint of his cologne lingering there tonight. It may confuse or frighten you. Or arouse you, if his chemical composition calls to you as yours does to him.

The idea of your heart beating fast, of you startling awake, searching your room for evidence that someone else was here, amuses him.

Deliberately, he rearranges the order of the books next to the bed making sure to put his on the very top.

Then he looks through your clothes.

You wear cheap nylon underwear, thin and transparent, in shades of black, gray, and purple. How colorful.

Most of your clothes are dirty, stuffed in a drawstring bag to be hauled down to the laundromat.

A single pair of black briefs lies abandoned next to the bed. Jeongguk assumes this is the underwear you shucked off this morning.

Lifting it to his face, Jeongguk inhales the scent of your warm morning pussy.

It’s similar to the smell of your sheets but musky.

His cock is raging now. Jeongguk unzips his pants, allowing his thick dick to spring free. He strokes it gently while he breathes in the scent of your cunt. He even puts out his tongue and tastes the cotton strip that is nestled between your pussy lips.

He remembers the picture of you laying on the ground from two weeks ago, tightly bound, arms behind your back and breasts thrust forward. Your knees pulled back, your bare pussy exposed. He could have shoved his cock in you.

If he had smelled this scent, he would have done it.

Jeongguk’s never experienced anything like it. It’s addicting. The longer he spent in your room with your sheets, your half-empty shitty perfume bottle, your dirty laundry, the more it fills his lungs, surges through his blood.

The more he wants it. Fresh from the source.

Jeongguk’s jerking his cock harder, taking deep breaths.

He imagines you tied down, this time on your back with your legs pulled apart. He imagines burying his face in you, thrusting his tongue all the way inside you while you thrash against the ropes.

His balls are boiling, his cock throbbing with every heartbeat.

Jeongguk wraps the panties around the head of his cock and he thrusts into them, right against the crotch. His cock erupts, pouring cum into your underwear.

He uses your panties to catch every last drop, squeezing them around the head.

That skimpy black fabric feels better around Jeongguk’s cock than any actual pussy he’s ever fucked. Maybe it’s the novelty, or maybe it’s the way your scent still clings to his fingers, lingering in his lungs.

It’s not enough. The orgasm was rapid, powerful as a rifle shot. Jeongguk’s not satisfied.

He wants to watch you in this space. Want to see how you walk around your room, how you undress, how you behave when you think you’re alone.

Jeongguk looks out your window.

The adjoining row houses offer no line of sight into your room. But the house behind hers—the tall Georgian with the black shutters—offers a perfect view from its own attic space.

You have no curtains on your windows. You’re so high up, you feel as safe as a crow in its nest.

Crows forget about hawks.

Jeongguk drops the panties back on the floor where he found them.

Then he leaves the way he came, already planning to call his estate agent.

You

By the time you get from your night shift, you’re already late for your meeting with Minho.

He’s good-looking, decent at sex, and better at conversation, though he has a tendency to get preachy. He’s judgmental as fuck about you bartending at Hybe because he says half the regulars are alcoholics and you’re fueling their addiction. Never mind that you met him at Hybe, and he’s hardly a teetotaler.

You hurry into the house, knowing Minho will be annoyed if you’re late again.

Seokjin passes you on the stairs, likewise hurrying to a date with his long-term boyfriend Taehyung, as you jog up the three flights to your attic room.

“You look gorgeous!” You tell him.

“You too!” he lies.

You laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m about to change.”

You strip off your clothes, sweaty from skating around the park with the dogs. Even though you’re well into October and the sky was cloudy, it was close to eighty degrees, muggy and humid.

You consider rinsing off in the shower, but you don’t really have time. Instead, you pull a black mini dress out of the closet, along with pair of thigh-high boots.

Shimmying into the dress, you look around for some clean underwear. It’s been two weeks since you hauled your clothes down to the laundromat, and you’re in short supply.

Desperate and late, you snatch up the panties off the floor, pulling them on.

“What the fuck,” you mutter, as wetness presses against your pussy lips.

Hooking your thumbs on either side of the briefs, you lower them to knee level.

You examine the crotch of the underwear, trying to figure out if you got your period without noticing. It’s hard to tell on the black material.

Stepping out of the panties, you rub your thumb across the strip of cotton sewn into the crotch. It feels distinctly slippery. Raising your fingers to your face, you smell a faint bleachy scent.

You drop the panties on the floor, heart racing.

You know what cum smells like.

Don’t be ridiculous, you tell yourself. You’ve lived in this house for two years. Nobody comes up here.

Three of your roommates are male, and all three of them are gay.

It’s possible some asshole could have come up here and poked around your stuff. You sweep the room, wondering if you would notice if anything had been moved.

Your copy of “Fundamentals of Physics” by Jeongguk is still right next to the bed, open to the same spot as before.

Other than that . . . how the fuck would you know if someone had been in here?

Your heart hammers against your sternum, your hands trembling as you set down the theory once more.

You’re being paranoid. So your underwear was wet. It’s probably just . . . you know, discharge or some shit.

You don’t want to be this person. Jumping at shadows and thinking everybody is out to get you.

You can’t live like this, terrified and paranoid.

You take several deep breaths, trying to slow your racing heart. You look at your new phone, bought with a credit card.

10:14.

You’re really fucking late.

Snatching up your purse once more, you leave the underwear on the floor and hurry out of the room commando. No underwear is probably better than dirty underwear anyway.

Jeongguk

Jeongguk had a dinner for the Theoretical Physicist Embassy he was supposed to attend, but he skipped it in favor of further reconnaissance.

He found the house directly behind yours listed on Airbnb for eight hundred dollars a night. After messaging the owner, Jeongguk convinced him to cancel his next three bookings so he could take the place for a month, starting immediately.

So intense was his desire to spy on you that he probably would have bought the damn thing.

Jeongguk drove over to the townhouse early in the evening, parking his Tesla at the curb.

The three-story Georgian wasn’t nearly as nice as his own house, but it’s ten times more habitable than yours. The pale oak floors look freshly polished, and the host left a bowl of foil-wrapped chocolates on the kitchen island, as well as stocking the fridge with bottled water.

As long as the house is clean, Jeongguk doesn’t give a fuck about anything else. Strike that—it’s the view he cares about.

He climbs the creaking stairs to the third floor, which includes an office, a small library, and a sitting room.

The library window is the one that looks across the back garden to your house. The beveled glass offers a watery view into the protected alcove of your balcony.

You could be forgiven for thinking that you have complete privacy in that space. The library window is small, set high up on the wall, divided into a dozen diamond panes.

Jeongguk cuts out the entire window with his glass cutters. Then he covers the space with black paper, leaving only a hole for his telescope.

From a distance, it will look like nothing more than a dark window into an empty room.

His efforts are rewarded when you rush into your bedroom only twenty minutes later before he’s completed his preparations.

You rush everywhere you go, running from job to job, always late.

He respects the hustle, but your existence is tawdry and depressing. The thought of waiting tables, taking people’s orders, and serving their food is offensive to Jeongguk.

Jeongguk’s interest in this hectic, desperate girl baffles him.

His desires have never been mysterious to him. In fact, they’ve always felt rational and natural.

Jardin—his mentor— irritated him, so Jeongguk removed him from his sphere. He put his bones inside the sculpture in his apartment as his own private joke.

This is the first time in Jeongguk’s life that he’s desired something without understanding why.

Out of all the thousands of women, he’s encountered, how did you catch his attention like a hook through the gills of a fish?

Jeongguk noticed you the very first moment he saw you when you spilled wine on your dress. You hardly even flinched—just marched into the bathroom, emerging with that makeshift tie-dye that was creative and beautiful.

You had Jeongguk wondering what it would take to break you. To shatter you into so many pieces that you could never put them together again.

The view through the telescope is so clear that he could almost be standing in the room with you.

He watches you strip off your clothes, revealing a lean, taut body with average breasts and wide hips. He’s intrigued to see that you haven’t removed the piercings from your nipples—the twin silver rings remain in place.

As you hunt for clothes, a cold bead of excitement runs down Jeongguk’s spine. He already knows you have no clean underwear.

Sure enough, you spot the discarded panties on the floor. Jeongguk’s heart stops and he can hardly breathe, riveted in place, eye to the telescope, watching . . .

You pick up the underwear and step into it.

Blood rushes to Jeongguk’s cock so fast that he’s lightheaded.

You’re wearing panties soaked in his cum without knowing it. The most intimate part of him pressed up against the most intimate part of you.

You hesitate, standing still in the center of the room.

You’re feeling the wetness of his cum against your cunt.

Jeongguk’s cock is so hard it tents out the front of his trousers.

He loves the thought of his cum on your bare flesh. How long does sperm survive? He wonders if those desperate, minuscule swimmers are trying to wriggle inside you right now.

You yank down the underwear, examining the material.

Jeongguk watches the panic and confusion on your face, his cock harder than it’s ever been.

You touch his cum. Smell it. Then rips off the underwear and flings it away from you.

His whole body is warm and throbbing. Jeongguk can’t remember when he last felt this level of excitement. He’s been so fucking bored lately. Nothing impresses him. Nothing interested him. Until now . . .

Tormenting you without even touching you is so stimulating that Jeongguk can hardly imagine what it would be like to put his hands directly on your flesh . . . to circle them around your throat . . .

You shift your weight back and forth, trying to decide what to do.

You’re wondering if you felt what you think you felt.

You don’t trust yourself.

Finally, you snatch up your purse and exit the room.

Jeongguk’s already heading down the stairs. You’re not dressed for work—he wants to see where you’re going.

A date, he suspects.

At the thought, Jeongguk’s pupils contract, his throat tightens, his heart slows. He’s cold and focused.

Who do you date? Who do you fuck?

He wants to know.

He exits the townhouse, not bothering to lock the door behind him. He cut across 96th Street, catching sight of you walking ahead in your tight black dress and thigh-high boots. You don’t wear heels often. Jeongguk like how it hobbles you, slowing your pace.

It’s easy for him to track you, walking along the opposite side of the street like a disconnected shadow. Jeongguk follows you to a trendy little restaurant a few blocks away, where you meet some scruffy-faced hipster in a too-tight t-shirt.

Unlike you and your date, Jeongguk doesn’t have a reservation. A hundred-dollar bill pressed into the hostess’s palm solves that problem. He probably could have convinced her just by holding her gaze and letting his fingers trail across her wrist. The hostess giggles and blushes as she heads him to a table he requested, tucked away in a corner.

Jeongguk has no problem attracting women. In fact, it’s too easy. The wealth, the fame, and the looks suck them in before he says a word. There’s no challenge.

He wonders if you will fall at his feet as easily as that hostess.

You don’t seem particularly enthralled with your date. In fact, you twitch irritably as he rests his arm across the back of your chair.

Your date yammers on about something, oblivious to your expression of boredom. He doesn’t seem to notice how you angle your body away from him, only rarely meeting his eye. When he tries to tidy your hair, you jolt away from him.

Jeongguk feels a strange sense of satisfaction in your rejection of this buffoon. It would have lessened you in his eyes if you were besotted with someone so . . . pedestrian.

His pleasure evaporates as your date reaches under the table to fondle your pussy.

In its place: a sharp spike of fury.

Jeongguk wants to rip that hand off his arm, leaving a ragged stump with a bare glint of bone.

Even in Jeongguk’s most extreme moments, when he’s slit the throat of someone he hated and watched their blood run down his arm, his heart rate barely rose.

The feeling of that lump of muscle pounding in Jeongguk’s chest is something new to him—something that makes him sit back in his chair, breathing hard, hands clenched into fists on his lap.

What the fuck is happening.

He almost feels. . . jealous.

He’s never been jealous before. Why would he? No one on this planet has anything he envies.

Yet he’s already decided, with absolute certainty, that no one should be touching that sweet little cunt except him.

He’s smelled your scent on his fingers.

He wants it fresh from the source.

As if obeying his command, you jump up from the table, shoving back your chair. Jeongguk hears your hasty apologies as you throw cash by your plate. Then you leave, abandoning your disgruntled date before you’ve even ordered your entrées.

Lucky for him—Jeongguk was already planning how he’d cut off his balls with a box cutter.

Luckily for hipster boy, he's saved by the expedient of Jeongguk's urge to follow you instead. He's left his own folded bills tucked under his unused fork.

The sky is fully dark, thick with clouds. The wind is colder than before.

He walks back to 96th Street, feeling a curious elation at the prospect of watching you alone in your room.

Jeongguk likes you best in your private space. It’s a look inside your mind—your comforts and preferences.

Settling himself behind the telescope once more, he sees you pacing your room. You are a skittish horse. When you’re calm, you move with grace. But when you’re frustrated or uncomfortable—and you were certainly both in the company of your incompetent date—you become stiff and withdrawn, hypersensitive to irritants.

You haul your mattress out on the small deck attached to your room.

This is all the better for him. He can see you as clearly as a figure in a diorama.

You lay down on the futon, a pair of headphones over your ears. It takes a long time for your breathing to slow, for you to settle deeply into the mattress. Your lips move in time with the lyrics of the song.

You’re so still now that Jeongguk wonders if you fell asleep. Your chest rises and falls with metronome regularity.

The breeze whispers through the hedges in the garden between him and you. It slides across your skin, making you shiver. Your nipples are hard, visible even through the black dress.

Jeongguk hears the soft rumble of thunder.

A few scattered raindrops hit the black paper covering the library window.

You stir, feeling the rain on your skin.

He expects you to rise, to pull your mattress back inside.

But you seem determined to surprise him at every turn.

You sit up. Lift your palm. Feels the rain pattering down.

Then you pull your dress over your head and toss it aside.

You lay down on the mattress once more, fully nude.

Jeongguk lets out a soft sigh, his eye pressed against the telescope.

Thunder rolls and the rain falls harder. It shatters all across your naked skin: on your thighs, your stomach, your bare breasts, your upturned palms, your closed eyelids. It falls in your partly opened mouth.

You’re soaking it in. Feeling the delicious coolness and the tiny impact of each droplet breaking on your skin.

Your expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure. Fully relaxed for the first time since Jeongguk has been watching you.

Again he feels that strange, squirming feeling in his guts.

Jealousy.

The rain falls harder, soaking your hair, drenching the mattress, chilling your skin.

You don’t give a fuck.

You reach between your thighs. You begin to stroke your fingers back and forth across your pussy lips. Touching yourself lightly, delicately.

Your lips part wider, allowing more rain into your mouth.

The rain beats against the side of the house. A bolt of lightning sizzles across the sky, illuminating your shining body like a camera flash. Every detail stands out in sharp relief: the long column of your throat, the divot of your collarbone, the points of your nipples, the long, flat expanse of your abdomen, the delicate bones of your hands, the slender fingers slipping inside of yourself.

Jeongguk’s never seen anything so beautiful.

Your bronze as a statue in the purplish light. If he could sculpt you exactly like this, it would be his greatest work.

He wants to pour molten metal over your, freezing you in time forever.

Jeongguk puts his own hand down the front of his pants, feeling the thick rod of his cock, painfully hard.

His skin feels feverish.

He wants to be out where you are, drenched in rain, touching that cold flesh . . .

Jeongguk pumps his cock in time with the motion of your hand.

Your pace quickens, back-arching, head thrown back.

He fucks his hand harder and harder, imagining he’s about to explode over your body, hot cum raining down on you harder than the storm.

Your eyes squeeze tightly shut, your cries drowned out by the rain. Your thighs clamp around your hand, your body shaking.

Jeongguk’s cumming for the second time today, a hot flood that pours over the back of his hand, dripping down onto the floorboards.

He can’t tear his eyes from the telescope.

He can’t stop looking at you for a single second.

Can I request idol!Jungkook coming home wearing his new stage outfit and reader just...oof...she can't barely take it. You know the one 👀

He's so pretty 😍

(pls no pressure obviously!)

Pretty Star Candy

Idol!Jungkook x Reader (f)

Genre: Fluffy but also thirsty so be warned.

Notes: Did they all get new outfits? I’ve been trying not to spoil myself too much since I’m going in person but now I’m curious heh…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Baby I’m home!” It’s late, around nine in the evening, and it’s a relief to hear your boyfriends voice after he’s been gone all day. Shooting out of your shared bed and abandoning your doritos, you run out toward the entrance to greet Jungkook… Only to halt in your tracks.

Skin. So much skin.

He had mentioned earlier that he was getting the final fitting for a new outfit, specifically for the Black Swan performance. This made you a tad bit sad because that outfit looked absolutely scrumptious on him, but hey, if it makes him more comfy then why not. However, you didn’t expect him to come walking in with his new outfit on…

“W-what are you wearing?” Kook glances down, eyes wide and full of confusion as he runs a hand down his shirt (crop top?!). It sparkles prettily, the dainty chain hanging down his body gleaming in the lowlight if your entranceway. The definition of mouthwatering.

“The new outfit for our next show! Remember, I told you I was going to get it silly. I wore it home because I was too lazy to change.” He walks forward, not even taking the time to remove his boots. Booping your nose innocently, the man walks right in by without a care in the world, like he isn’t ruining your life.

“It uh, it looks really good on you. You look really pretty…” Looks good on him? You can practically feel your panties getting soaked by the second. It’s concerning how he goes from a huge dork to walking sex in the snap of your fingers. Jungkook looks back toward you before stopping, both eyebrows raising as he appraises you.

“Yeah? You like how I look baby?” He saunters back toward you, cheeky little smirk on his face as his eyes light up with something much darker. You’ve been caught.

You try to stutter out a response, or try desperately to as he backs you up till you hit the wall. It should be a crime that he looks like this while you’re wearing an old shirt and his boxers. He’s looking over you know, hair falling into his eyes slightly as he quietly giggles.

Jungkook leans down till he’s eye level with you, his breath fanning softly against your lips. You glance down noting that there’s still quite a bit of his pretty honey skin showing even in this outfit. Everything he wears looks dangerously good. Jungkook catches your chin between his fingers softly, prompting you to look him in the eye.

“You wanna see what it looks when it’s all unbuttoned and on the floor?” Not trusting yourself to speak, you nod your head, rubbing your legs together at the thought. A light chuckle leaves your boyfriend before he leaves a swift peck against your lips, raising back up to his full height and backing up toward the living room.

“Alright cutie, come take it off me then.”

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

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It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

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At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

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The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

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Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

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There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

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"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

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Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

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The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

feel better | jjk (m)

⇢ summary; your boyfriend arrives home after the Grammys, seeming annoyed and disappointed. and as his girlfriend, you want to make him feel better.

pairing; idol!jungkook x f. reader

word count; 1,848

rating; 18+

warnings; angsty, oral sex (m. receiving), bit of praising, tiiiiny bit of dom!jk, unprotected sex, cream pie, the ending is pretty soft

a/n; just to be clear, this is NOT me saying this is how jungkook felt after the scammys last night. it’s just fiction and i honestly have no idea how he must’ve felt after not winning last night but i hope none of them are too hard on themselves !! awards do not matter to us and we love all seven of you no matter what <3 forever proud of our boys 🥺

ps. i really hope this isn’t bad lolol, i quickly wrote this for y’all and i didn’t edit so bear with me, thx <3

↳ this is a ‘hair dye: the collection’ drabble !

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How to Get a Guy. jjk | 02

PART 02 OF 02 | PART 01

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader | [slight] Yoongi x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates!au, college!au, fuckboi!jk, enemies to friends to lovers

Summary: Star basketball player Jeon Jungkook has a reputation as the ultimate fuckboi. He’s loved by everyone. Everyone. And you would have followed suit if he had not broken all your strict Roommate Rules™ within the first week of his stay. Jungkook, on the other hand, thinks you’re absolutely bizarre. But there’s a silver lining — Mr. Fuckboi here knows basketball captain Min Yoongi, your dreadfully clueless crush. He strikes up a deal with you: he’ll teach you the ways of flirting if you lessen your load of rules (so Jungkook can continue perusing his way through the ladies on campus). Yet the longer Jungkook spends with you, the more he realizes that maybe he doesn’t want to be the campus fuckboi anymore. The problem is, how does he prove that to you?

Rating: 18+ sexual content.

Warnings: protected sex (twice..), oral (f. receiving), rough sex (1), a lot of making out, orgasm denial (for two secs methinks), titty sucking, cursing, alcohol consumption from parties, jk sleeps around (but not anymore?!), the basketball team is kinda disgusting, jk lowkey (highkey) be staking his claim but it’s seen in y/n pov, honestly jk and y/n are still hella confused

Word Count: 15.3k

a/n ✑ part dossss! thank you so much for waiting!! i adoreee this couple and i hope you enjoy the rest of their journey too <3 appreciate all of you guyss <33 (also there’s like.. one epilogue scene teehee)

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