blackout | jjk

⇥ pairing: roommate!jungkook x reader

⇥ genre: best friends to lovers, roommate and college au, fluff, crack, smut

⇥ rating: 18+

⇥ warnings: swearing, he’s just a bit of a fuckboy, bickering, swooning over/thirsting for jk (🤷‍♀️), a manually induced fake blackout? dunno those 2 are odd k, they play uno, a lot of spending time in the darkness, kook has no chill, teasing, consent, dirty talk, fingering, cmnf for a while, sexual tension, oral (both receiving), shower sex, choking, hair pulling, reader cries a bit, jk likes to praise, dry humping?, pussy and tits slapping rip (and some ass ig), making out🙄, manhandling, jk loves her tits and ass and plays with them (a lot), he’s sweet but cocky too, protected sex, dom + big dick kook

⇥ wc: 14.3k

⇥ author’snotes: this is a repost from my old blog!! i may repent for my sins. also i do not know why this is so long, i thought it would be 10k rip please i apologize. anyways, i really hope you like it!! i’m very stoked to find out what you think😶‍🌫️

⇥ summary: Utility bills shooting up like this should be an international crime. Luckily, Jungkook has the perfect idea(s) to save up money and make your night sinfully unforgettable.

–

pt1 || pt2 || pt3

–

The hardness of the bench is tiring out your ass.

It’s incredible to you what tribulations you’re ready to burn through just to keep your best friend happy and satisfied. The blazing noon sun is steaming your scalp, even though in the middle of fall, it really shouldn’t.

Fingers wrapped around the edge of your seat, you lean forward and squint your eyes. You make out the energized individual running across the field immediately. Nevermind that he promised you football but you got soccer instead.

You wouldn’t dare to complain, though. In the summer heat, lopsided beams and big, dark puppy eyes refresh you like the late night Tequila Sunrises you love so much.

“Are you playing or taking a walk?” You yell from where you watch. Childish howling and woahhhhs echo across the field, fists pressed against round mouths and eyebrows skyrocketing.

They strive off anyone’s praises, really, but your unfaltering coaching pushes them forward a good, humongous step. In fact, you only recognize about a handful of the players, though there aren’t that many anyway.

No one running around down there cares much about authentic formations. The game usually played with eleven screaming, pumped members on each side only consists of four per team today.

It’s entertaining: The constant curses that always evolve into dramatic compliments, the loud and ambitious handshakes when they score, and the testosterone dissolving in the air, but only after the scent has wafted straight into your nostrils.

And the verbal invitations Jungkook hands out to you every week with pouting lips might play a role, too, yeah. He doesn’t like to make you wait like he does right now, but he doesn’t necessarily enjoy distance from you much, either.

A buff man in his mid-twenties, attractive beyond Greek gods’ appearance, highly determined and ready to indulge in new hobbies – relies on you, even after years of independence.

Seeing you watch and cheer him on boosts his already steadfast ego, and he’s never failed to let you know that, “It feels different from when other girls scream my name.”

You wish you could take it as a compliment, but the consistent ambiguity in his (bitter)sweet words fatigues your heart. The beat of it is not so consistent.

The crush has been omnipresent since you learned the first steps of stupid algebra, but lately, something in your lower belly has shifted weirdly, too.

Today, the shift shows in the way you clench the edge of your seat.

You hear the boys announce the end of their groundbreaking, world changing match, though you can’t recall who won, and observe the languid steps Jungkook takes toward the bench.

Energy slowly dwindling, he puffs out a deep breath, unaware that something inside you dies when he throws back the damp hair. His white, sleeveless shirt is sticking to his broad, firm chest – the refined pecs, abs and bare arms might not have triggered your embarrassing drooling if the last weeks hadn’t changed your perception of him.

There are, for instance, the filth-riddled noises when he’s fucking one of his occasional flings to the moon. Or how those exact same groans of his repeat when he heaves something that perhaps does not even require this low ass growl.

The sounds when he’s repairing something at your place or stretching after waking up. How you wish you could add to those sounds by delivering your very own, unique version of the female moans you usually hear from his room.

You could blame it on sex deprivation, or you could blame the outrageous line of his jaw, but you think the walls of your pussy have deformed and become dick-shaped. Welcoming a certain something that’s definitely better than your beloved toys, according to the sounds at least.

This yearning feels kind of weird.

Jungkook has stopped not too far from you. He lifts his inked, veiny hand to wave and then reaches for his bottle to hydrate. And hydrating he does – in a way so alluring that you think he’s doing it on purpose.

Flashing the jawline of nightmares, he cuts you from afar. Sharp, more hazardous than in his teenage years. A phenomenal bone structure, accentuated by the shine of the tiny sweat drops. Shimmering golden skin.

When he drinks, you see his Adam’s apple bop even from here. His bicep is hard, bangs falling into his eyes, and his pink lips wrap around the bottle so prettily…

Thirst.

You and he both know how it feels.

Your mouth shuts close before he can notice. Instead you cup your hands around your mouth and call out to him.

“You do know we have an appointment today, right?”

“Your dick appointments can wait,” he yells back. When you roll your eyes to the back of your head, mumbling gross, the dork chuckles. “I’ll be done in a sec.”

He wraps stuff up, running back to his friends, and claps his hands before giving everyone a last handshake-bro-five-mix. The fondness you feel watching his social side bloom is blissful torture.

Jungkook grew up as a timid caterpillar, shying away from crowds and public gatherings. Opening up took a while, so you can’t remember when he went through the process of metamorphosis to come out prettier than a Cramer’s Blue Morpho butterfly.

He’s still somewhat introverted, but doesn’t back away from parties anymore. Red cups fill with intoxication. Bodies sashay past him, some toward him to fall into his grip.

You don’t want to be envious – so you’re proud instead. You enjoy when he’s liked by someone, love how the others grin at him. A likable and soft person like him taking over hearts left and right either platonically or not is kind of attractive to you.

“I’ll wash up,” his voice declares when he’s standing next to you. “And then we go.”

“Aren’t you gonna take a proper shower?”

“Yeah, later tonight. College showers are gross.”

Your conversations are a constant repetition. The way you act around each other, your gazes and your actions were bound to become a routine – if not during your time growing up together, then certainly when you began searching for a place to share.

So his response doesn’t surprise you. Neither does the further waiting on the bleachers, pulling in your knees, draping your arms around them to press your cheek against them. Daydreaming and watching or listening boy after boy leave the field.

Despite the familiarity of everything, you still feel different these days.

–

“After last time, I feel like you’re asking for too much.”

The man, not exactly happy about missing a live match of tennis but not quite grumpy today either, leans against the frame of his door. White, wet tresses peek through his dark mane, an indicator he just showered to enjoy the calm day you interrupted.

Jungkook’s hair was as wet as his when you left the bleachers too, now fully dry as you stand in your old but cozy building.

How could it not be?

Considering the dozen stops between campus and your home, you could possibly dry an entire laundry in that time. Both of you are at fault, though – one of the million things you’re good at doing together is wasting money on stuff you might not necessarily need.

Convenience store, pharmacy and a flower shop to buy yet another succulent for your room. Jungkook pouted and frowned at you for the entirety of the convenience store visit when you told him the landlord thing wasn’t an appointment per se, but that he knew as well as you that you needed to sort things out.

Things being the impossible utility bills that keep you up at night. Things being both your stupidity to still halt in front of shops to acquire things like parsley and cheese.

Remembering just this idiocy and looking at the power your landlord’s eyes hold, you’d rather look at Jungkook than him.

At the shiny hair tips hanging into your friend’s eyes. The oversized gray shirt that could potentially hide the body he sports underneath, but his fingers are holding the strap of his rucksack, and the pull at his shirt is enough to make the lines of his chest visible.

But this afternoon is not about brooding over the edges of his torso. It’s about confronting a landlord who fortunately didn’t meet you in a hazardous mood despite his firm plans for tonight. He doesn’t complain about the weather today or seem elated because he found yet another new hobby, like he usually does.

He looks almost neutral, you think. You can’t read him, actually.

“Yes,” you confirm, exchanging a look with Jungkook. “It does sound like a lot, but you know you can count on us–”

“Dunno. You don’t seem to remember last time.”

The taunting tone riles you up, but the numbers on your bills haunt you enough to keep your calm. This is no time for an argument.

You take a breath and shoot another glance at Jungkook. His eyes are tremendously big and lips pressed together to an innocent, uplifting smile. He seems to sense your irritation, too.

“We do,” you confirm. “But c'mon, that’s not fair. We’d just started living on our own back then. You know, no guardians to take care of us and all, so it was bound to happen.”

Not just that. The reason why you asked for postponing rent payment was because the two of you had been too eager and too stubborn to ask anyone for money. Ending up only providing half of the rent for almost three months wasn’t something you did on purpose.

But while you should’ve been more cautious, to some degree, it wasn’t entirely your fault. You had more college debt than you could afford only half a year after moving to this apartment, and Jungkook’s earnings weren’t close to what you needed.

“I really don’t know.” Yeah. The man’s doubts are kind of valid.

“C’mon… You know us, Mister Choi,” Jungkook tries this time.

“That’s why–”

“You can…” You suddenly interrupt, only noticing how things might backfire once you’ve already said them. “You could end our lease if we don’t pay you what we owe you this time.”

You think you can quite literally hear Jungkook’s heart stop next to you. At least that’s what his wide eyed, confused stare suggests when he moves his head to you. He’s voicing something in silent hesitation, but Choi most likely doesn’t notice.

Because before Jungkook can throw in his own–probably very unsure–two cents, hand coming up, the landlord sighs. He shrugs his shoulders, mumbling your last names, contemplates for a second longer and then… Agrees.

“Okay,” he says with a not-my-problem-nod. “That’s an idea I can work with. This month’s and at least half of next month’s by the end of the upcoming month, alright?”

You hate the constant repetition of the frightening word month, but on the inside you still jump and clap in joy. Both your and Jungkook’s expressions light up, your feet shifting as though you’re about to jump Choi and tackle-hug him to the ground.

Instead, you only gasp, clearing your throat and cheer, “This is! More than we expected! Thank you so much. Thank you for real for real, seriously, wearesosuperth–”

A palm stops the fast flow of your gratitude, and he only shakes his head and bids you goodbye with a thumbs up before he disappears behind his door. You think you see a fond smile, but your happiness might just be inducing pictures.

But who cares anyway?

Phase One of Saving Money turned out successful.

–

Once you enter your humble apartment, tension releases out of your mouth with your sigh. You slip your bag off your shoulder and into the corner next to the entrance, shoulders dropping. Every second with the landlord took a year from your lifespan.

Jungkook, always happy-go-lucky, isn’t as demotivated and grumpy as you. His steps carry him to your kitchen without a second thought, immediately scavenging the small space for an easy meal.

“What do we do now?” You whine, leaning against the dining table.

The sun is still up and it will remain hanging in the azure blue sky for a few more hours. But you dread the darkness that will descend after – not because it scares you, but because it means you’ll have to light up rooms for ideal navigation.

But lighting them up means raising the numbers on your electricity bill.

Jungkook, however, doesn’t pay much mind to your shattering financial situation right now. He’s humming at the pots and seasoning he’s scattered around on the counter, calm as ever, because worrying about something he can’t change right now is not something he likes to do.

“First, we eat. Am starving,” he decides.

A slight shake of your head suggests frustration, but the grumble of your stomach agrees with him as though to remind you of feeding it. He side eyes you and smirks. “I’m not doing or talking about shit until you’ve eaten something.”

Of course. Caretaker first, friend second. If you’re not on the receiving end, you’re the one giving.

You push your butt off the dining table and choose to introduce Phase Two of your mission, telling him, “I think we’ve candles somewhere.”

The conversation changes at once when you release your suggestion into the air. Although you might argue you’re still stuck on the same issue, given the intention that lies behind your idea.

“Are we– Ouija board stu– again?” You hear Jungkook call from the kitchen, every other word chopped off and eaten by the sounds of pots and dishes.

“I’m not ever doing that with you again,” you exclaim back.

“Huh? Why not?”

“You were moving the planchette!”

Granted, there was kindness in his cheating. The evening drained you out of energy and left you a nervous mess, eager to speak to your favorite late grandaunty and her deceased dog. Neither Jungkook nor you believed in the magic behind the practice, but he made sure to soothe your nerves anyway.

You were pissed when you noticed what was going on – but once the anger subsided and gave way to the realization that he really cared, you fell asleep with a smile after all.

“I swear on my favorite hoodie that I didn’t,” he defends.

“Lying son of a bitch,” you whisper, laughing to yourself as you kneel in front of a cupboard storing a few dozen candles and other shenanigans.

You choose one scented, thick one for each room, and then a few smaller, regular ones that you think must do. With a handful of them, you return to the still bright living room, placing each one where you want it later tonight.

You’re serious about your candles – the tongue poking out, eyes squinting in concentration kind of serious. Arranged in a rational way, you beam at your artwork, impressed by your own idea as if it’s not something human beings used to do all the time.

“Seriously, you’re so easy to excite,” Jungkook always reiterates.

Once you join him in the kitchen, preparing not only a meal but spontaneously baking a treat too, time passes significantly faster. In hindsight, you didn’t do that much today, but somehow it still feels like you sailed the world.

You barely realize when several topics have shifted and the sun has disappeared. The moon hangs bright in the dark sky, the brisk gust blowing in through the open windows. It was a pleasant day of the week, even though you kept freezing at his touch even while cooking, and you’re ready to finish it just as lovely.

Only, it doesn’t end at dinner and the day’s exhaustion.

“Dessert tastes better in bed,” Jungkook tells you once you’ve done the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. Since tidying up, you’ve suddenly become quieter than before and his eyes squint like they’re testing you.

“Okay? Then go and take it with you.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

He shrugs his shoulders, blowing a raspberry. “You’ll go and sleep already?”

“No, but…” You hum and think. It’s not that late just yet – and you don’t feel like tackling homework or any other taxing task tonight. “I do wanna eat dessert, too. Just thought we might chill in the living room.”

“I mean. Take it as an informal invitation to spend some time with me, but in my room. You don’t wanna?”

“Pervert,” you lightly hit his shoulder with a cloth when he winks. “Is that how you court other ladies?”

“Why, yes. What did you think?” He laughs when you shake your head dramatically, pulling your shirt back and further over your clavicles. “Nah, I was thinking of… Just chilling, really.”

It’s not the first time you’re joking in a way like this. It’d also not be the first time of you hanging out with him in his room, on his bed, giggling about stupid jokes or ridiculous cartoons. Or whatever.

But it’s one of the first times the thought renders you nervous. Like you’re perceiving him as more than your best friend just now, after all those years of harmless platonic cuddles.

When you don’t answer, he delivers another decisive argument. “My room is smaller. Less candles. More to spare for the next time!”

You’re not surprised that he sees through your little idea – rather baffled how easy it is for him to sway you. So you follow him to his minimalistically organized room, not one but two diffusers on his desk. The corner of your lips twitches.

The more you near his bed, the more your heart strikes. His mattress is soft and cozy, and Jungkook’s scent oozes from every inch of it. You feel engulfed in his presence so bad that the emotions of this noon and the last few weeks hit you like a brick.

“Wanna watch something, Pumpkin?” Jungkook asks once you’re draped in the comfort of his duvet.

He might never stop calling you that. Probably hasn’t let a day pass since elementary school when your mom and you decided to dress you as a damn pumpkin for Halloween.

“And waste precious battery life?” You scold with a cocked eyebrow. Your voice is quieter now that you’re cuddled in with him, but you try to maintain your cool.

Turning on the living room TV or light is out of the question anyway. No regular Thursday movie night this time. Blasting Disney’s version of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice for the hundredth time can wait.

With the no-technology-rule you established today, even unplugged devices shall remain for emergencies as long as possible.

“So we’ll act like it’s a full blown blackout, yeah?” He asks before he leans over you, pulling open the second drawer of his bedside cabinet to rummage through its content.

The small action forces your body backward, pushing you against the headboard so tight that your lungs fail. He looks unsuspecting, drenched in the warm light of the candles. You breathe him in unintentionally, and he smells of soap and cologne.

Wrapped in darkness next to him is already strange as it is, but it cannot compare to the oddness of how new his proximity feels.

You barely notice what he’s fished out until he waves it right in front of your frozen expression. An old deck of Uno greets your vision, the packaging as worn out as the cards that he pulls out.

He places them on his large palm before he begins shuffling them – staring at the smoothness he operates with makes you almost miss what he asks.

“Is that good enough, then?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool,” he holds the cards to your face once more. “Are we playing with seven or ten cards?”

“Take it up a notch,” your feeble voice allows. “Make it fifteen just for funsies.”

“Why did I know you’d say that?”

You shrug your shoulders, imperceptibly shifting away from the touch of his arms and hips. “Remember one thing, Jeon.”

“Yeh, yeh,” he taunts, his voice strained. He sounds as though his body is beseeching him to lay down and drift off – but something about the moment seems to be keeping him soberly awake. “I won’t let you win this time.”

Fifteen cards down on your lap, you lift your hands from under the blanket, pulling your set close to your face in utter distrust. You cock an eyebrow at the universe’s choice: Jungkook has either already broken his promise, or the gaming Gods have decided this round’s end already.

With the victory residing in your hands, his vow pretty much slips your mind immediately; it blends out how he still remembers your middle school matches. He really still recalls when you’d fume and burn – disappointed and livid when he’d reveal his picture-perfect deck, unused to accept defeat.

The game doesn’t even properly progress when the first argument of the night pops up. More than half your cards are still in your hands, both your words overlapping.

“Once you lay down a 4+ or color card, you’re not allowed to play again. It’s my turn,” you insist, his wrist in your firm grip as if he couldn’t break out of it whenever.

“I am allowed to play, though.” When he swings his hand, yours moves with him. Both your stances are upright, eyes blown wide and comically riled up. “Especially after a 4+. You’re blocked.”

“This doesn’t sound right.”

“Look.” He slaps his cards with the logo upwards into his lap, sifting through the rest of the deck to draw out a yellow stop card. “Would you be able to play on if I hit you with that?”

“No, ‘course not.”

“And 4+ cards work the same way.”

You keep staring at the bright color, lost in thoughts and traveling back to a time when the world around you hadn’t altered every rule of every game you knew. But when no productive result flashes through your mind, you suggest something else.

“Google it, then.”

“You can’t just read the rules? Hold up,” he pulls out the instructions from the package, already fiddling with the paper. “I bet the answer is hidden somewhere in there.”

“Have fun. I can’t read in this darkness for shit.”

Relying on technology for a minute shouldn’t cause a cataclysmic event, so you type in the million dollar question plaguing both your mind, soon striking it rich when a video materializes on the page.

Too lazy to skim yet another amateur post, you decide to trust WikiHow’s explanation clip, hoping for a fruitful result. Jungkook soon gives up the task he bestowed upon himself, cuddling closer to your misery to watch with you.

“Are we serious?” He breathes, laughing off the peculiarity of the moment.

“Watching a video on Uno rules?” You ask, giggling in unison with him. “I fucking know. We’re seriously weird.”

“How long’s it been since we played games together like that?”

You can’t say for sure.

“When we got this place,” you assume. “Didn’t we spend half the night going through board and card games? Because–”

“Because there was nothing else to do. We were sitting on the ground on some shit ass mattress.”

You laugh. It’s been a while – time truly does pass when you’re stuck with someone. You don’t think you’d ever trade the memories you gathered here for anything good in the world. Piggyback rides and cooking mishaps are a delight to store in the depths of memory.

Or moments when you very clearly, very softly realize that you’re falling for your roommate bit by bit; so much deeper than when you were still kids. For him and his touch. His sensuality, even when it’s unintentional.

Like now.

Jungkook grabs his water bottle from his side of the bed as the voice of the narrator chimes. The background is a bright green and the animation weirdly cute, but you blend it out when he reminds you of the plushness of his lips again. Wrapped around the bottle head…

When you reach the wild card moment, both of your ears perk up before you erupt in simultaneous chaos. Jungkook half chokes as he attempts his one-syllable-argument.

“See!” He exclaims.

“See what? He said, if the player can’t play any of their cards, blah blah… Which, in our case, is me.”

“No, but what player? The one who had the wild card? Or the other?”

“Fuck it,” you curse, clicking away without finishing the last minute. “Another video. WikiHow sucks.”

“Why do I feel like we’re both right and wrong?”

You shake your head in defense and with a furrow between your eyebrows, but the dorky grin on his face pulls out your true, playful emotions in the form of a laugh.

The next clip you settle on goes on for longer, seemingly endless – allowing you enough time to peek at the smooth curves of his silhouette.

His lips are jutted and the moving pictures reflect in his eyes. His button nose begs to be booped. A small dimple appears when the tip of his tongue pushes through the seam of his lips to hydrate them.

You don’t think you’re as subtle as you’d like to be, though. Because soon, he’s looking up, causing a sudden flinch. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

He blinks at you slowly, one eyebrow briefly twitching. “Oh. Are you bored?”

“No! Why?”

“Are you okay, then?” Your tongue flits along the inside of your cheek, muscles stiffer than before. He eyes you up and down. “You’re so tense.”

“It’s just… Just weird,” you stutter. Hesitancy breaks the flow of your usually confident speech, and you flick your inner self’s forehead for the obvious awkwardness. “Sitting in the dark.”

What?

What the fuck.

You need to get yourself together and come up with a wittier response. If he just let you – because he prods, “Are you scared?”

“Wha– Do I look scared?”

“You don’t look normal, at least.”

“That’s rude,” you scold, letting the device fall onto the blanket. Numerous wrinkles decorate your forehead, hiding your true thoughts behind frisky surface-annoyance.

His next words do not freaking help.

“Girls usually like me in the dark.”

“That’s…” Heat of an exploding star warms your already blistering cheeks. “That’s pretty lewd of you to say. And unnecessary, too.”

You’re pouting like it’s the first day of sex ed. Innocence expands your pupils harder than the lack of light in this room. Jungkook can’t help it – fondness engulfs his heart. You’ve always been endearing to an immeasurable degree.

“You’re so cute,” he drops casually. He’s amused by the side eye you give him, laughing when you exhale and rub the sweat off your hands on the blanket. “But seriously, what’s up with you today?”

He nudges your shoulder as a joke, and you hate that years of friendship couldn’t prepare you for a dark, emotion-altering night like this. Hormones and an adult’s desires are the devil’s advocate as much as Jungkook is himself.

“Nothing!”

“Have I done something weird?”

“You’re always weird.”

His shocked gasp dramatizes the moment, lifting the tension in the air enough to overshadow your inept breathing. Any attempt to keep your chill could turn out futile any moment now.

“Fair,” he laughs. “But also rude.”

His soft palm sets upon your knee and the plea you utter to your mind to calm your nerves falls on deaf ears. At his touch, you flinch just a fraction… And immediately, he pauses.

His gaze skyrockets to your seemingly sinless one. Lips part in confusion before his expression changes – like a bulb has lit up in his mind.

And then, the biggest change in topic occurs.

“Could you give me my phone charger?” Lifting his device, he lights up the screen to show the red, drained battery bar. He points to the bedside cabinet again. “First drawer.”

Right.

Jungkook doesn’t keep his charger plugged in at all times like you do. Scared it might burn off. You didn’t expect less when you decided to move in with your best friend, though: Not from the boy who declared his fear of microwaves and their potential to melt dishes ages ago.

You open and hunt through the drawer, surprised at the half emptiness of it until your fingers graze something you might not have anticipated. And then you realize…

Ah. Oh.

What if…

Perhaps that was the plan all along. Because when you look back at him, he doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. The calmness in his eyes is telling enough to guess his intentions – but you don’t want to assume for sure yet.

Your touch remains on the little–open–box for a second, one sealed package peeking out. An absolutely fresh condom… One of Jungkook’s no less.

What’s happening today?

“What’s up?” He asks, and you almost huff at the stupid, fabricated innocence in his stupid, soothing voice.

“I think,” you lean back, attempting a laugh. “I just found your most prized possession.”

“Ah?” He waits, and you nod. “Is that weird to you?” A nonchalant shrug of your shoulders spurs him on, the tilt of his head perilous. “It’s not the first time you’re seeing those, right?”

Ugh, yeah. You remember all casual visits to drugstores. The vivid image of Durex’ extra large Excite Me, and true to Jungkook’s dedication dotted for extra stimulation.

He usually cares as much about embarrassment between the both of you as you do when you place pads and tampons between his stuff. Why is it weird, then?

“Yeah. It’s just…” You’re stumbling for words. Fuck. It’s over for you. “Reminds me of some of your escapades lately.”

Jungkook hums. “Mhm. There weren’t that many these days, though.”

“I know. Just made me think of those that did happen, y’know?”

“Okay.” He’s still looking at you like he’s solved every piece of the riddle you are tonight. Not any less shameless, though. “Then… What exactly is it that you’re thinking about those escapades?”

Huh… There are too many details you’d need to omit in your answer. But the way his stare is stabbing questions into you as if he already knows what you might say?

Yep. You’re fucked.

“Now?” You ask.

“Right now.”

“Nothing.”

God, even he must be bored of the constant repetition. What does nothing still mean in reality? Everything. That’s how your inner translator interprets it, at least.

This time, Jungkook doesn’t let your response slip. His hand, however, does. Up from your knee… Right to your thigh.

The blanket still lays in between, its fabric pivotal for the moment. If it wasn’t there, you might faint. And something in you says that the experience isn’t far.

“Is that what it is?” Jungkook whispers. His voice is deeper now, and so is your sigh. “That must be what it is.”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been tense ‘cause of that? Since soccer training you’ve been looking at me like I’m suffocating you.” Shit. Of course he’d notice. “And now you suddenly feel weird about being close and about condoms? Do you just…” He digs his index finger into your thigh, his cut nail raking your leg with too many layers in between. “Just miss being touched?”

“By… By you?”

“No, Pumpkin. In general.” You don’t have an answer to his quizzing. Or, you do, but you don’t know where it might lead… Nervousness clogs your throat. “Don’t you…”

“What?” You think you can foresee what he’s going to ask, but you put on a curious act anyway. Then, he drops the bomb.

“Don’t you touch yourself?”

Oh God. Someone tell him to shut up. The little workers in your brain are setting your internal office on fire, handling his lax conversation worse than you.

“I’m…” You pause to breathe in shakily, and then laugh to hide your bewilderment. “Of course I do. Everyone does.” You clear your throat. “That’s a really freaking weird and sudden question, though.”

“Not that weird considering how you’ve been acting today. Thought it’s PMS, but you just called in sick ‘cause of your period last week.” Damn, Sherlock. Of course he’d remember – your whining wasn’t subtle after all. And he was the one serving you every meal all day. “So I’m guessing… It’s been a while and things are just worse tonight?”

“Dunno.”

You’re blinking at him. He’s built a Chinese-Wall-strong barrier at the front of his mind, and you can’t peek through it to understand what he’s thinking. Or what he wants. What he wants you to say or want.

It’s incredibly suspicious to you… And kind of tempting.

“Not gonna lie,” Jungkook’s voice drops to a low whisper, his confession worse than you expected. “I think I heard you a few nights before.”

You rip your eyes open in surprise. Your heart runs up to your throat to start hammering against your vocal cords, and for a few syllables, you can’t do much other than stutter and gasp.

“You fucking creep!” You then blurt out, calling yourself a hypocrite internally in the same breath. It’s not like you listened away during his adventures, legs pressed together to create friction.

“I’m sorry,” he lifts his hands in defense. “But you weren’t exactly being quiet. Plus, our walls aren’t that thin.”

You know… Hell, you know.

But how is he initiating the conversation just like that? God, the absolute courage…

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you curse. You bring your fingers to your eyes, rubbing them rather than hiding your entire face. “That’s fucking embarrassing.”

But Jungkook softly brings your hand down again – then speaks to reassure you. Only, anything he says tonight makes matters worse.

“Would it help if I told you it wasn’t embarrassing for me?”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It just sounded…”

He procrastinates, his expressions calm but his eyes dangerous. Hooded.

“Bad?” You dig.

“No. It sounded hot.”

No. No, your heart and body can’t handle this. You might die if you don’t push his admissions into the most disbelieving corner of your brain.

Jungkook finds you hot? The sounds you couldn’t hide, he likes them? He means it?

“Shut the fuck up, I’m–” You begin, but he replaces your rebukes with a deep inhale and stiff muscles when he moves closer.

Your back presses against the bedside cabinet. Now that the flickering candle is melting down, its light is getting dimmer and the room darker. Bright enough to still make out his silhouette and most alluring features.

The phone has long fallen from between your fingers, hiding in the blanket and the video long over. Somehow, you’re glad you disabled autoplay – it doesn’t disturb the moment that’s clearly progressing to something dangerous.

But at the same time, you’re surprised as hell. Asking yourself silently over and over again, whatsgoingonwhatsgoingon.

“What are you doing?” You whisper.

“I’m just wondering.” His body is tilted, one hand still on your thigh. “When you do stuff to yourself… Is there something specific you think of?”

You shift a little, not answering. When he sees the surprise in your eyes and confuses it with fear, however, he backs away again and clicks his tongue. “My bad. Sorry for being like that.”

But you’re not letting him retreat now… Things have come too far. You place a hand on his arm and tug him closer subtly. His already big eyes look humongous now, positively delighted, even when you keep struggling with words.

“No, I just…” You try but fail as soon as you start.

“Why are you stuttering like that? That’s not you.”

You wish he was wrong. You’re more confident than this in any other moment. Crazy what one Jeon Jungkook’s touch can do.

You swallow hard, delivering a mental slap before pieces of your courage resurface again.

“This is new to me,” you tell him.

“What is?”

“The way we’re talking to each other. It’s not nothing…” You look down to seek the emoji on his middle finger, barely recognizable in the darkness. “And you’re… You’re good looking, Jungkook.”

“Yeah,” he agrees cockily, but you know his humility enough to understand he doesn’t mean it. Those are shameless teases, nothing more. “And?”

“You’ve always been good looking. And on top of that, I can always hear how you sound when you…”

Should you really go there? What if it damages something? Then again, it’s too late now anyway.

“When I…?” He tries.

“I kinda don’t wanna say it, and I know you know what I mean.”

“Ah, right,” Jungkook casually confirms, like he’s just realized what you might be pointing at. “When I fuck someone’s brain out.”

You suck in a breath.

“Don’t say it like that!”

“How do you want me to say it?” Jungkook taps his chin with his finger. He looks like a sly anime college crush. “I kindly empty their thoughts.”

“Shut up.”

“And rearrange their guts–”

“Oh my God, I’ll–”

Do what? Your own guts are pleading for a good, nasty and disrespectful mess. Wobbly pudding on his bed, your body is already melting at the mere thought… So you can’t imagine what actual ferity could do if he unleashed it.

Unknowing what to say, you look away, moving back like a proper idiot. But suddenly, pressure wraps around your wrist, fingers pulling you into him. You look at him speechlessly, parting your lips when he looks down at them.

“Is there something you want me to do?” He asks.

There’s a myriad of things you want him to do. But there’s slight doubt knocking against the walls of your brain and – ugh…

“Is it okay for us to do such a thing?” You question back.

“I don’t know,” he confesses quietly, his breath pleasant against your lips. “Say no just once and I promise I’ll back away.”

“And… And if I don’t?”

“Answer first.” He tilts his head, big eyes too pure and sweet for the conversation going on. “Or… Well, don’t.”

You remain silent. Hot blood turns your face as warm as a grill, and you look at him and his smile. Your heart rebels in your throat, but your thoughts are sober. So once he sees the clearness in your stare, he understands.

“Alright.”

It’s the last word he whispers before his hand wanders up your pajama pants. He fiddles with the neat knot holding your pajama around your waist, playing with it for a moment until patience runs out.

Soft fingertips tug at the end of the strings until the hem of the pants loosens around you. His eyes shoot up to yours, hiding menacingly behind his bangs. You don’t know what for–perhaps for permission–but you nod.

“Can you lift a bit for me?” His voice is soothing, calm and lovely when he utters his demand as a question. If you listen closely, you hear the desire, though.

You raise your ass, letting him slip the pajama down your thighs. When your body presses back into the mattress, your hands move to his face, making him look at you. The front of his tongue darts out, trapped between his teeth and his eyes are dark and starry. Lost in you.

His teeth let his tongue go, sliding it across his lower lip… Goddammit, you want to taste it.

When he skims over your panties and now bare thighs, your eyes blink close. He watches and adores your reaction; skims your dampness below. Jungkook acts as fuel, even though you’re already incredibly flammable.

The hums that accompany your slight wiggle are gentle, contrasting the losing of your mind going on in your head.

“More?” He wants to know.

“Mhmmm.”

“Okay. Good, Pumpkin.”

You’d smile at the ridiculous childhood endearment if the moment wasn’t so sinful. If he wasn’t grazing your pelvis, causing goosebump as he goes, pulling at the thin fabric until you lift once again.

He chuckles, a sound that reaches deep within your chest. “Good girl. Learning fast.”

Is he serious?

He can’t just drop a good girl like that as if he’s announcing a brief walk through a nearby park. What the fuck.

“Stop it,” you mutter, unaware why exactly.

“Want me to stop? We’re just starting,” he chants, his pout playfully childish and cute.

But the fingers. Oh the fingers rounding the skin right over the sensitive nub. Playing with you like you’re his own personal doll, wrapping you around his skillful, strong and incredibly beautiful fingers.

His touch drops deeper when you whisper an inaudible wish; whatever it is, he thinks he knows what you want. Featherlightly, he presses down on your clit, and you cry out quietly.

You fall back against the headboard again, your hands in his hair and tugging at the strands at the nape of his neck. One blink of his eyes passes and he’s snaking an arm under you, pulling you down and flat onto your back.

“You alright, yeah?” Jungkook makes sure, elated when you nod enthusiastically. “Good. Very good.”

His face is close to yours but doesn’t remain there: As he caresses your clit, shaking up your lower belly, his mouth dives in and finds home between your tits. He breathes you in before he presses a kiss against the shirt hiding your skin.

“Jungkook…”

“Mmmh.” He looks up at your chin, your head thrown back. “Say, Pumpkin…” He blows at your left nipple, well aware that you never wear a bra at home, and watches it perk under the shirt. Then, his teeth catch the material before he lets go and speaks on. “May I see those pretty tits of yours?”

“Nnnh,” is all you can give back. “Yes.”

Happily, the unoccupied hand lifts the white tee until he touches the underside of your boobs; his touch covers something you reckon he might enjoy. With his face hovering over yours, you wonder how long it will take him to notice.

Nothing yet at least.

His hand pauses there and then lifts the shirt over your mounds. He palms one of them, relishing your mewls. The sigh lets his voice fall some more, enticing when his mind numbing talk continues, “Hello there, girls.”

Jesus fucking Christ…

Why is this so hot to you?

His hair tickles your clavicles before his tongue does the same to your hard nubs. Wrapping his lips around your nipple, he pulls at it, then releases it to repeat it all. All while his fingers float down to your hole.

And then…

Palms pushing your thighs apart under the crumbled up blanket, he doesn’t wait another second before he drops to his side next to you and dips his middle finger inside. Slowly at first, easing you into the process, but it does nothing to avoid the sudden term that falls out of you.

“Fuck, baby, this is–”

You realize your mistake–mistake?–when his finger halts mid action. But once he proceeds, lifting his head to kiss your jaw, you don’t see a single trace of embarrassment or shame. No, he rather jumps onto the train with you.

“Easy, kitten.”

The new nickname forces your head to fall sideways to face him – your lips come to touch, but he doesn’t take it a step further. His eyelids fall half close, mouth not moving against yours; but you can’t really kiss anyway with the way he urges moan after moan out of you.

His finger starts pumping in and out of you, your walls contracting around him. There’s thought in his actions. He doesn’t just push in and pull out like a wildling – no, the curve of his digit, the tempo he chooses and the patch he massages inside you must be calculated.

Adding a second finger does nothing but amplify this feeling.

In his hold, you’re a little less squirmy than you might be without his touch. He keeps you grounded, controlling the wiggle of your body, allowing you to bite into your fist until he grabs your wrist and pushes it against the mattress.

“Nuh-uh,” he warns. Your eyes crack open a slit. “Stop muffling your sounds. Why would you?”

“I’m just…” You shake your head. “Self-conscious… Okay?” God, words are hard. “Y’don’t see me naked… Every day.”

“Absolutely outrageous if you ask me,” he breathes, knuckles deep inside you. There, he remains, merely moving his fingers inside without pulling out anymore. You hide half your face in the pillow. “Fuck, look at me.”

The danger and irritation in his voice sober up a piece of your mind, but the sudden emptiness when his fingers vanish shake you awake with a snap. An utterly wet touch trails along your thigh and then up your sides. He doesn’t give a fuck about the state of his blanket.

Letting go of your wrist, he pushes aside the fallen phone that his ass touches, and stops with everything altogether. Reaches behind him and then shoves the device to a far top corner of the bed.

“That’s good,” Jungkook whispers once he’s cozy with you again. Watching your breathing, dizzy form. “We don’t have to charge the phone and waste electricity that way, right?”

“Shut up…” is all your brain and tongue allow.

He clicks his tongue. “Alright, you killjoy.” A sudden slap to your overflowing pussy renders you speechless. But not him. “I’ll use my mouth elsewhere then, k?”

You’re still a mess in disbelief. Can’t comprehend that he’s actually saying those words in this exact constellation. You might think you’re dreaming if the squeezes of his hands and the dampness of his tongue didn’t prove you otherwise.

Crawling down your body, he makes sure to ruin every patch of your skin. He licks along your collarbones and gently bites at your tits. His palms love the feeling of your chest, nails digging in… And he only stops when he reaches a very particular something.

You feel his movements freeze clearly. He smacks his lips, and when you look at him, he looks surprised. Delightfully so.

“What’s that?”

There it is.

He watches your lips curl to a satisfied smile and your eyelids shut as he brushes his finger over the spot under your tits. Squinting, he removes more of the blanket, hoping the dim light of the candle might allow him a deeper look.

The black color isn’t as faded as the ink on his hand or arm, so it must be a recent sin you went for. You hum in innocence, opening your eyes again to barely catch the shake of his head as he repeats his question.

“What is that, huh?” He exhales the last word, breathing against you. Then kisses the skin underneath the tattoo. “You weren’t even gonna tell me about it?”

“Figured you might find out one day…”

He laughs quietly, hiding his fascination. But you know he’s still mesmerized, staring at the little thing, distracted even when he responds. “Is that so? You tease.”

Dipping down, an open mouthed kiss lands on top of your tattoo. His hands push your tits together, his mouth working on worshiping the tiny piece of skin that has captured him. His kiss is greedy to the touch, his breaths cold against the saliva he left once he lifts his face again.

“A crown, yeah? That what it is, isn’t it?”

The pleasant satisfaction in his voice is apparent, but you think you even hear bits of irritation – like he’s annoyed that you didn’t tell him about this. Like he’d dove into you earlier if you had.

“Hey, a lil feeling of royalty is never…” You stop when he pecks your tummy. His lips run along your stomach until they reach your pelvis. “Ohhhfff… You’re close.”

“I’ll keep going, alright?”

You let out more incoherent sounds, something between a moan and a hum. The anticipation is unbearable, but the fact that Jungkook is still fully dressed and his cock yet aching to be discovered by you might be worse.

With the blanket fully off of you, his lips explore your body, so close to where you want him. His right hand still lingers where the tattoo is eternalized in your skin, and according to his next words, his mind isn’t less hung up on it, either.

“Your tattoo matches mine, y’know?” He informs you as if you haven’t seen the crown on his index finger a few million times. The digit that’s digging into your hungry cunt again, along with another finger showcasing an emoji that must be looking like you right now. “We can both be royalty, don’t you think, princess?”

“My God, shut up,” you order. Your insides cringe, even though you’re sure you wouldn’t be opposed to him calling you that godforsaken nickname once again.

His giggle is Jungkook-ish sweet, but the hands that pry your legs open are not. Less even when he pushes them down onto the mattress as much as your joints allow, distracting you from the pull of your muscles when his nose nuzzles your pelvis.

The tip of his tongue touches your sacred part first. It’s just a slight dip, testing the waters. But your ocean is wild and its waves crash against the pit of your stomach.

“Didn’t think you’d be responsive right away,” he admits, only pausing to place a gentle kiss on your clit. “Then again, I haven’t seen a dude at our place in ages.”

“Asshole,” you curse, eliciting another deep snicker that vibrates right against your cunt.

Then, the jokes end and his stance changes. He takes a deep breath and then lowers his head once and for all. Leaving a trace of kisses riles you up enough, though things only get worse once his tongue darts out, starting a gentle dance in a captivating pattern.

He collects spit on the muscle in his mouth, pulling out the fingers out of you to spread your folds. Watching your pussy shimmer and leak, he laps up the arousal meant for just him. His cock stretches his favorite joggers, and he moves his hips against the bed for relief.

Buried deep, he moves to your clit to close his lips around it for a moment before he french kisses your pussy. Then, he repeats it all – only this time, the tip of his tongue moves in a perfect circle around your sensitive nub for a bit longer.

Slowly, softly, and then he stops.

“Wait…” you interrupt, blindly grabbing a patch of his hair. “Do that again. Please.”

The hushed desperation in your voice makes his sweatpants strain impossibly. His balls already ache.

“Like that?”

“Yeah… Yep.”

You arch your back and let your mouth fall open when his fingers return inside you, tongue imitating the motions from before. For a while, your moans and uncontrolled, quiet, peaceful sounds motivate and inflame him.

But once he begins yearning for your taste again, he swaps. His curved digits pull out of you, thumb taking his mouth’s place and vice versa. Which feels… Just as dangerous.

His tongue presses into you, a hand shoving up your right, closing leg. Your thigh stiffens when it feels his fingers deep in your flesh, and when it relaxes again, it falls over his shoulder and onto his back softly.

Zealously, you plant your heel against his shirt, trying not to think about the muscles of his back too hard. Yet, drowning in fervor, you can’t help but push his shirt up, irritated that he’s still wearing so damn much when you’ve already exposed the last of your being to him.

He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t acknowledge your hints yet. Because his focus is still somewhere else – understandably so.

“I knew you’d taste like that,” he confesses when he surfaces to take a breath.

He knew?

You’re panting more than him. Speaking comes to you harder than to him. “Like what?”

“Like absolute heaven,” he exhales at your waterfall-sex, hot and shiver inducing. “Pussy gifted by the angels.”

Oh, you bet he says that to everyone…

“Please don’t treat me like one, though,” you beg.

“Like an angel? Don’t worry. I fear you’re far filthier than I might expect.”

When his words collide with his repeated actions, your eyes water. You whine at the onslaught on your pussy, squirming, and shake your head when your insides somersault.

“I… I don’t think I can anymore,” you foolishly say.

Your ears seem to block out any sound, your body revolting. The pressure in your stomach is intense, to say the least. Your fingers and toys surely don’t feel that way.

“It feels like that because you can. I promise,” Jungkook, however, assures.

“This is the… I’ve never…”

It’s true. You’ve never had a build up or an orgasm like this before. Of course not: How could you if he’s drinking in every drop of the arousal dribbling out of you while rendering you wetter at the same time?

He sounds so goddamn lewd when he makes out with your cunt like that. Too filthy… You wonder how his lips will feel against yours if he’s able to do such magic down below already.

“It’s gonna be good… Okay?”

He’s wrong. Good is an absolute understatement.

The force with which your orgasm hits is worse than being run over by a truck. You internally slap everyone in your past who missed to make you feel that way.

You implode and explode, a swarm of cacophonic sounds oozing out of your mouth. You grab his sheets and his blanket so hard that the thoughts in the back of your head fear you might rip something.

Jungkook groans and moans along with you, his mouth and fingers attached to you no matter how much you move. A single tear flees between your shut eyelids, arousal not stopping to trickle out of you.

You’re still calling his name once the high comes down… Still holding the sheet, your vision still blurry. He licks and rides you through the end of the blast for a few more seconds. And when he’s done and you look at him, he’s covered in a shimmer.

Such a pretty boy.

“Hey,” he whispers joyfully once he comes up. “Hello.”

“Hey. You, jail,” you breathe.

You don’t waste a moment before you take off his shirt, eager and hungry. He laughs, cocking an eyebrow. “Why jail? Did I give you a bombastic orgasm or what?” He moves to lay half on top of you and licks his lips. “Shouldn’t I get free lap dances or something?”

“Jail for not doing this earlier.”

“Ah. Apologies. I’ll be at your service whenever from now on.”

The vow makes your tummy flutter. From now on? So he wants to do that again?

Nah. You must be dreaming. A fall night’s fever dream.

“Good,” you mutter before you close the distance mutually.

He cages you in, beginning the kiss softly but urgently. His tongue doesn’t hesitate to seek out yours, and he tilts his head to deepen the gesture. Both your hands wander to the other’s face and hair, lips eating up each and every thrum.

His chest is warm against yours, hard pecs pressing against your nipples. It feels good, feeling him so close and intimate with you. No layers separating your upper bodies, melting into one… And that kiss…

As he pours all passion into it, you think you taste a bit of you on him, but said taste mingles with a lot of other things. The spices of dinner. The lingering sweetness of dessert. His thirst. The ardency that refuses to leave his motions.

“Hey,” he mumbles when he breaks the kiss. “I…”

“Hmm?”

“I really want you. So, so bad.”

The carnal desire is hidden in the moment for sure. But right now, listening to the softness in his voice, all you can and want to hear is unbridled longing.

Insatiable, you nod. “I want you, too. Please?”

“You… You don’t need to beg for it, Pumpkin.” His hips move against yours and you wrap your legs around him tighter. “Seriously, no need–”

His joggers are rough against your swollen pussy, but their harshness doesn’t compare to the thick bulge pushing into you. Moving down your wandering fingers, you push at the remaining clothing, shoving until you feel the bare, firm, muscular ass under your palms.

Hell, there’s so much you want to do. Like, slap it.

Lifting a little, he lets you free his cock, his sweatpants and underwear somewhere a little over his knees now. You’re ready to let him fuck you unconscious and into another universe before you realize you might not be all that ready just yet.

Because the throbbing, hot length falls heavy against your stomach. It’s thick and big and entirely unexpected. Not that he’s never boasted about it before or ran around without underwear beneath his pajamas. But fuck, you thought it’s the usual shit men say.

You didn’t think he was actually hiding something this… Generous.

“Wow, I–” You begin, but to no avail. Your screaming pussy distracts you.

“Huh? Yeah, what is it?” Jungkook purrs against your neck.

“Just. Can I…”

Your hand prowls from his ass to his cock, and you begin to guide it to your pussy slowly, opening up your legs more. Okay. You’re ready. You are. You are.

Only, Jungkook is not.

He shakes his head immediately, then nods towards the drawer inhabiting the condoms. You understand and roll your eyes, scoffing. “I wasn’t gonna do it anyways. But I’m… I am on the pill.”

“Yes. But you also forget to take it a lot.”

“Fair.” God, you just want him to drill you. Why’s starting so hard? “But I’m fine.”

“I am, too.” He groans when he moves over you, reaching to the drawer. “Still.”

You watch as he takes the package out, the foil carefully held between his fingertips. And in those brief seconds, you think.

His last hook up wasn’t so long ago. You wonder if he ever goes in raw with other girls… Wonder why he doesn’t with you but insists on protection. Less like he doesn’t trust you but more like he doesn’t trust himself.

You don’t ponder on your bumbling thoughts for too long before he smiles and sidetracks. “Hey, have you showered?”

“No. Why?” You answer, certain that the furrow of your eyebrows lays your confusion bare.

“You said you needed to.”

“And?”

“It’s gotten warm inside.” Aha… You think you know where this is going. But just for fun’s sake, you play dumb. “I still need my proper shower, too, by the way.”

“Okay… But we’re saving up on water, right?” You stare up at him in innocence. Godgodgodgod. He’s really doing that.

Jungkook slaps your ass, and you yelp. “Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m saying.”

“Kook–”

“What? We clean up together… Save water. I don’t have to shower again in the morning and can sleep in. It sounds like an amazing idea, if you ask me.”

You contemplate his idea. In all honesty, you know that he’s aware of your teasing and fake hesitation – but you think he likes the act. If it was up to him, he’d probably want you tapping your chin and all, cartoonesque.

“You do shower long…” You then conclude.

“Yeah. And so do you.”

“So…”

“So what do you say, Pumpkin Pie?”

“Mmmh. Okay.”

His eyes blow wide. “Really?”

You grimace at him. He’s adorable. After all he’s said and done, he’s still astonished at your response? An actual dork. But you still nod.

“Oomph,” he says. “Imagining you under the shower.” He’s talking more to himself than anything. “Might be just a bit more insane than imagining you naked in general.”

More than a decade of being friends and a couple of years of living together should’ve suggested at least once that thoughts can’t stay pure 24/7. Especially when hormones raged and you grew a pair of tits, you should’ve known his mind derailed a little on at least one occasion.

Still, you’re surprised.

“Did you imagine me naked before?” You wonder.

“Are you kidding me?”

The answer shoots out of him like a bullet, almost as fast as he lifts his body to come to a stand. You don’t bother about an answer when he grabs the condom and something else, then offers you a hand, pulling you up butt naked before guiding you to the bathroom.

“Calm down,” you joke. One hand covers your nipples, even though you’re not sure why. What’s done is done already, and you can’t and don’t want to burn the image of you exposed from his mind.

“Too late.” Once in front of the bathroom, he stops, lifting a finger. It’s funny how casual your conversation is and how naked you are. “Wait here.”

Twenty seconds pass, and he returns with two candles in his hands, planting and lighting them up on the washing machine. This idea better not backfire.

The small room is cooler than his own, and the porcelain sink he pushes you against when you enter, placing the condom and the small bottle he brought at the edge of it, is even worse.

You shiver and hiss before his fingers grip your chin. He pulls your face to his own, bringing your hand to his crotch as his kiss catches your breath.

His warm, towering cock twitches in your palm, making you moan into his mouth. You attempt to unify your bodies, shifting closer, but he keeps pushing you backwards. Your back arches over the sink, and the kiss stops, his lips opening yours, suffocating against you.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know?” He maffles, stepping back but not without pulling you along.

You can’t wait to step back into his room later to investigate where your discarded clothes lay.

For now, you smile, delighted when his lopsided smirk matches yours. He kisses the tip of your nose before he draws a deep breath. Brings the both of you into the shower and then lets hot water rain down on you.

The liquid burns hot on your shoulder first, and Jungkook exclaims something incomprehensible as he regulates the temperature pouring out of the faucet. The procedure remains calm and quiet, unusual for a bickering pair like you.

But once he gets soaked under the water, shaking his hair out of his eyes just to push it back with his hands… You can’t keep your mouth shut anymore.

“Jungkook,” you whisper.

He puts a hand on your waist and the other on your cheek, stepping closer carefully. For a second, you think he looks at you like nothing else in the universe matters.

Your stomach bubbles… Your heart pounds.

“Hmm… Yeah?”

“I imagined you,” you tell him. “Us… Like that before, too.”

“Really? How?” He whispers back. Your vision is blurry – you don’t know if it’s the water’s or the moment’s craze’s fault.

All you know is that you want to remember his touch on your face, the shower warming your chest, trickling into your soul.

He keeps brushing back your drenched tresses lovingly and softly. You almost forget how to act purely horny, enabling tenderness and feelings until your nipples press against his torso and his cock moves against you again.

“I feel like you’d enjoy,” you near his ear, breathing, “sucking on my tits as much as I would.”

He grins.

“I’m more of an ass guy, though.”

On cue, he grabs a handful of your rear, pulling out a weird sound out of you that you regret immediately. He doesn’t bother as much as you. He’s busy staring at your lips and getting familiar with your ass.

“Right,” you say, distracted by the (intentional?) movements of his cock. You want to… You really want to… “Can I– can I suck you, ass guy?”

The embrace around you loosens up. According to his expression, he probably didn’t predict your question; but you think a man with a dick like his should expect that everyone wants to suck him dry.

But anyways–

Perhaps his surprise is a good thing, because the way his mouth drops open when you bring your hand to his shaft is priceless.

“Wow,” he expresses under his breath. “I’d be fucking stupid to say no, right?”

“Yes. I’m pretty good at this.”

You wrap your fingers and palm around his hardness, twisting your hand and alternating the pace. Your thumb runs over his slit, tempted to taste what already leaks out. One smile is all he gets before you choose to drop to your knees instead. Sacrificing their flawless state.

He shifts to the wall until his back hits its coolness, speechless when you look up at him, trying your hardest not to ogle at the delicious cock angry in front of you, and then stretch out your tongue.

You press it to the underside of his cock, making sure he feels you breathing, and then you shove his member into your mouth before it can slap back against his stomach.

Holy fuck, he really is hard.

“I believe you…” He says, his breaths rigid. “Barely doing anything, but it’s…”

So good.

First, you focus on the head. Swirling your tongue around it, you hum, hearing him hiss above you. You do your best, but you don’t know just how much you actually affect him.

Because from above, Jungkook’s point of view is something he doesn’t think he could even dream of. The sounds of you quietly gagging and slurping, constantly moaning and vibrating around him rile him up. The fact that you’re struggling to control your breathing, because you’re too immersed, apprehensive to stop.

And your lips, God, your lips, they wrap around him perfectly. He wonders what it’d look like if you were wearing lipstick, or how your non-waterproof mascara would run down your cheeks if he fucked your mouth.

You pull him out to catch a breath, using the pause to stroke him lightly. Leaning closer, you take a moment to rub the tip against your nipple – he seems to like it, because the bite of his lip is firm.

Then, you move your gentle touch to his balls and speak. “Is that alright?”

“I… alright?” He croaks, furrowing his eyebrows. “How about you suck me dry every fucking day, huh?”

“If I’m allowed to.”

You laugh a little, inhaling through your nose before you dive in again. This time, you let him in as much as you can take. Small fireworks explode on your tongue when his precum touches it, his cock twitching more between your lips as you suck harder.

“You are… Fuck, of course you are…” He permits, throwing back his head. Tattooed digits sneak into your hair, and when he pulls your head back, you disconnect from his cock with a plop sound. “But pause for now, k? Wanna fu–”

He can’t speak, so you guess you succeeded. But you get it… You’d rather he fucked you too instead of coming in your mouth.

A hand wrapped around your neck gently pulls you up to your feet. His jaw is clenched and sharp, and his eyes are piercing. He looks so fucking hot wet like that, drawing out his tongue to run it between his lips.

His mouth lures you in automatically, your gaze frozen on it and already imagining his taste. But he’s a step ahead–though in another twisted way–when he turns you around without a warning.

He pins your tits against the wall and tugs at your hips until you’re angled just right for him. Then, he leans in to voice one single order. “Stay like that.”

His wish is your command, anytime.

Panting, you let the water pour onto you, waiting. The small bottle he brought, undoubtedly lube, is placed in the shower caddy next to you, and before you can blink twice, you hear a package ripping open.

“Hurry,” you beg, recognizing the amused chuckle you definitely expected.

“Chill,” he says. “Gimme just a moment, princess.”

“Stop.”

Another sneer, more apparent complications, but in the meantime he distracts you with words that leave you unstable. “Fuck, I wish I could go in just like that.”

You want to say he can. But you don’t want to risk another rejection like before… Your heart and ego can only take this much.

For now, you push the thoughts aside, only focusing on the fact that you’ll be railed by Jeon fucking Jungkook. That he’s turned you around to finally weaken your knees, to batter your pussy, that you’ll actually be having sex with him in no time.

Or whenever he figures out a solution to his problem.

He turns away the showerhead and curses at the condom or whatever, and you laugh, still bent in an uncomfortable position.

“Harder than you thought, huh?” You joke.

As a response, he exhales, then grabs your waist as he delivers a verbal answer. “My dick or putting this shit on? Because yeah.”

Apparently, dealing with the condom wasn’t too impossible after all. Because once it’s done, his hands are on you again, one pulling you in further by your hip while the other spreads your pussy folds.

Then, his fingers disappear, grabbing the bottle of lube to fiddle with the liquid and placing it back in no time. You can hear the sounds that smearing it onto his dick causes.

And then you hear it even worse when he brings those exact digits back to your cunt. He contributes the rest of the lube by rolling his fingertips around your entrance and then pumping into you a couple of times. You moan out, and impatience grows faster.

“Okay,” he says, his voice still steady. “You tell me to stop if it ever hurts, alright?”

You nod, and he whispers, “Perfect.”

And then, it happens.

And it takes ages.

Not really due to hesitation or anything like that, but more because the cock intruding your walls just doesn’t stop. The shaft, rich in thickness and length, penetrates you deep, already overwhelming, and you’re sure he isn’t even halfway through.

“That enough?” He asks.

You shake your head. No. You don’t think anything will ever be enough, no matter how intense and mind numbing things become. More, you want all of him.

“More,” you repeat, speaking out loud.

“Seriously…?”

Yeah. You’re as much in disbelief as him. But your body – it knows what it’s pleading for, what signals it’s sending to your brain and then to your tongue.

“Please,” you beg. “I’ll tell you if I feel uncomfortable. I promise.”

A groan. A deeper push. He fills you to the brink, engulfed by you perfectly. The ideal lock to his key… Everything inside you tingles and aches.

When he’s bottomed out, he shifts and you feel the movement inside you. Mewling, you whisper his name, his ears perking up as his already drained voice calls back to you.

“Move?” He wants to know, his entire sentence abandoned.

“Move.”

So he does.

Long, slow, languid and careful strokes. He pants behind you. The shower water is still a bit too hot, but it doesn’t compare to whatever the fuck he’s kindling inside you.

Whenever he returns back deep, you lose your mind a bit more. And whenever he notices, his pace fastens by a tiny, tiny fraction. Until restraint becomes a foreign concept.

“Fuck, I wish I could…” His sentence breaks as much as you do when his hips meet yours. “Wish I could keep the imprints of your hands on the wall forever.” He thrusts into you hard once, hands pushing up your ass. “Wish I could see you pressed against it.”

He leans forward, his wet chest touching your soaked back. Kissing your cheek and neck, you slip into the craze only he can call forth. Fucked by him in the flickering candlelight, romantic for a fly on the wall, but sickeningly filthy in reality.

You’re a fool, because the thought of romance rests in the back of your mind right now – so you add to the already established sins when his hand brushes your neck.

“Jungkook…” You purr.

His movements slow down at the call of his name. You reach out an arm and turn the stream of water off – after all, you’re here to save the environment and yourself. That you’ve barely been focusing on showering is neither your fault.

Jungkook doesn’t question whatever you do. You don’t think he cares much about his surroundings anyway, everything around him is blurred but you. His lips still roam your shoulder when he shoves himself inside you balls deep and then pauses there.

You whisper his name again, drawing out another deep hum right next to his ear, and then spit it out.

“Choke me.”

You wonder. If you hadn’t turned off the water, would it have frozen to ice, too?

Because the wall and the room suddenly cool down and you swear he’s stopped breathing. You press your underarms and your forehead to the wall, eyes closing and asking yourself whether you made a mistake.

But… But maybe not.

In the next moment, Jungkook suddenly laughs a little, quiet but enticing enough to make your scalp tingle. He pushes the hair out of your face and your neck, slowly tracing your skin downward until he touches the spot over your vocal cords.

His fingers lift your head, breaking the contact to the wall. Gently rubbing your jaw with his thumb, he starts wrapping a huge hand around your neck… Silently at first before he finally answers.

“Shit, you’re so much dirtier than the good girl I know.”

No matter how simple the sentence, something in it awakens ambiguity in you. The realization that you’ve successfully surprised him. And at the same time, the urge to remain his good girl.

You want to be all of it for him; want to be the only object of affection for him.

“Can tell you the s-same.” You gasp when he squeezes the sides of your neck, just below your jawline. “This isn’t–” Biting your lip, you pause, distracted by his palm. “Not what puppy eyed boys should be doing.”

He lifts your body wordlessly, only laughing at your words in delight. Still sunken inside you, he straightens your posture just a bit, careful to not apply any kind of pressure to your windpipe. He knows what he’s doing – sex couldn’t be safer with anyone else.

At least that’s what you know, judging the choking experiences you’ve gathered with other men or women so far.

He leans into you, kissing your temple as he hammers into you again. The squeezes around your neck differ: His motions follow a varying pattern; your veins pulsate.

You imagine his clenched jaw or his furrowed eyebrows. The furious look on his face that doesn’t really suggest anger but blissful pleasure. You imagine his teeth trapping his lower lip, dimples on his cheeks, wet dark hair restricting his vision.

All that combined with all the godless things he says.

“I can’t believe we haven’t done this before… But…”

A sharp thrust pushes you forward, and one of your hands reaches behind you to grip his hip. Good God, he’s so fucking large. Human anatomy and logic aside, he must be battering your guts along with your pussy.

“But I knew I’d fuck you one day.”

Oh.

He has no remorse. He’s either too trapped in you to notice what he’s doing to you or he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Either way, your faltering soul can barely still handle him.

“You fucking devil,” you only respond.

And the devil has the audacity to leave your neck to slap your tits. How dare.

You yelp and your sound continues when he pinches your nipples, soft at first before his nips become harder. Defenseless in his grip, your knees almost buckle, especially when he talks to you again.

“My God, you’re letting me do fucking anything I want.”

“It’s… It’s the dick,” you tell him, already embarrassed. “Too good.”

“Ah? Thanks.” Letting his hands drop from your sensitive tits, he finds your clit again – you think you might cry. “Little reward for being so good for me?”

You want him to elaborate, but you soon learn what that reward consists of anyway.

He caresses your clit slowly and gently, accompanied by occasional light slaps. No rest for the wicked seems to be his motto today, not that you can complain.

Because a minute later, his fingers combined with the reckless, now fast paced plunges throw your world into chaos once more. You scream out his name, barely able to breathe. “Kook, I’m… I–”

“I know. Let go for me, Pumpkin. You’re all good, okay?”

His promises and soft reassurances make you fall harder into the fondness you already feel for him. If there was ever a point of return, he’s annihilated it once and for all now.

Who are you to doubt him? So you let another mind blowing orgasm wash over you. It rolls in hard, showing in your broken moans and curling fingers. He holds you up on your melting legs, an arm around your tummy.

“Hold on for me,” he snarls against your cheek, and you try. You really try your best, but your body’s giving up, trembling at the peak’s intensity that’s shaking up your insides. “Gonna cum, too…”

One more. You can afford one more indecent idea.

“Cum on my ass, Kook.”

“Fucking hell, baby.”

That’s all. That’s all he needs.

No hesitation in sight, he steps back and out of you, angling your body again by pulling your ass back as much as possible. The condom falls somewhere next to you – you see it from the corner of your eyes before you hear the way Jeon Jungkook climaxes.

Which is: With extra guttural groans, a quivering breath, fingers digging deep into the flesh of your butt and–what you realize when you look back at him–with super uncontrolled pumps of his cock.

“Fuuuuck,” he moans when his seed shoots hot onto your bottom.

It takes a few seconds for him to empty himself completely, and he keeps swearing, keeps saying something you barely understand.

But what you do understand, even though you’re absentmindedly focusing on his fingers spreading the cum on your back, is, “Gonna punish you for being so fucking hot one day.”

“That a promise?” You ask, still breathless.

He laughs. “Brat.”

The whole affair ends almost the way it started: Carefully and slowly, bickering thrown in here and there. But aside from the obvious fact you’re showering together, still so, so naked, there are more differences you notice when he lets the water run again to clean you up properly.

Like, his look. A smile you haven’t seen before, you think.

Very soft touches along your cheeks, fingers combing through your hair like you’re something fragile.

Questions such as, “Are you okay? Was that okay? Do you feel good, Pumpkin?”

Also… The hecking forehead kiss when you smile and nod.

The mood has shifted, albeit to something pleasant, once everything’s said and done. He puffs out a breath, discarding the neglected condom. Before he wraps you in a towel, his thumb brushes over your tattoo once more – his eyes look fascinated and affectionate, but he doesn’t comment on it again.

He doesn’t guide you back to your room but to his, drying you up thoroughly and affectionately.

He lets you leave for just a moment, telling you that you need to come back once you’ve found stuff to sleep in. His behavior is odd, but instead of questioning it, you indulge in his tender care.

But in the end, he only lets you wear your fresh pair of underwear and your shorts, snatching your shirt to throw it onto his desk. He rummages through his closet silently and only speaks once he’s handed you one of his cotton shirts.

“Take this?”

His tone is different from how he sounded the rest of the night. Not demanding, but kind of questioning. His teeth nibble at his lip and then he says, “I think you’d look good in it… Just if you’re up to it.”

He doesn’t stutter or hesitate. Like he dreamed of this for ages.

“Okay,” you mutter.

Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, he waits until you’re done, incredibly ecstatic when you smoothen the fabric over your body. He praises you, “Knew it. Beautiful.”

Then, his mouth falls shut. The joy melts into something softer. His eyes drink you in from head to toe, and he lifts both arms to tangle his fingers with yours.

You oblige, letting him pull you closer softly. Tilting your head, you speak up. “What’s up?”

But he doesn’t elaborate. “Nothing,” he only tells you with a smile.

“Okay.”

“But–”

You knew it. There’s something he’s thinking of profusely and he doesn’t want to keep it hidden. Thank God.

“Yeah?” You spur him on.

“Um… Stay here tonight.”

…Oh. Oh–

After all the things that went down tonight, his offer still strikes you like lightning. There’s a dull thump behind your chest and a growing ache in your stomach. You don’t know what it is and don’t understand why your body reacts that way.

You should be swarmed with butterflies. But instead, a ball of something strange forms inside you.

Maybe because he asks like your room isn’t right next to his. Or as though you’d be gone and out of reach for miles if you stepped over the threshold of his bedroom now.

But… You’d be insane to resist.

So you let him drape the blanket over the both of you, crawling next to him.

“Lemme–” He says. You don’t get the opportunity to lay against his heartbeat, because he does it first. An arm holds your body close, his cheek pressed against your chest. “Like that. Feels good.”

He tangles his legs with yours, sighing in extreme satisfaction. You’re sure he’s dozing off when you interrupt by joking, “We didn’t save that much water after all.”

His voice is just a mumble when he speaks. “You did turn it off, though…” You chuckle quietly, and he pulls you closer to him. “I’ll use the college shower for a few days, okay?”

The things he’s ready to do for you…

In hindsight, you don’t think it’s the physical attraction you’ve been feeling for weeks that led to tonight’s fiasco. It’s not hormones or his jawline. Thinking, your emotions might date back to a time you can barely remember.

Because those subtle sacrifices he makes, the caring statements, the love he carries for you that shows in tiny, tiny things. Platonic or not, a bond like yours was bound to make you fall as hard as you did.

You think you remember what occurred that set you on fire so much hotter recently. Just right now… It might not be the time to speak about it yet, so you stuff the secret memory back into your mind.

Zeroing in on the mention of college, you stretch sideways, telling him to hold on a moment.

“Hm?” He mumbles.

“Setting an alarm.” The phone screen lights up your face and you squint one eye shut. “We’re still college students, Jungkook.”

“Mmmh,” he groans in displeasure. “Do we need to go?”

“I mean, do you wanna graduate?”

“I don’t know. I could strip for money.”

You laugh, holding him closer to you than before. Fondness seeps into him, and you notice when he digs his ear harder into your chest.

“Saw you naked, so speaking out of experience,” you support, “I think people would like that.”

He hums again. You feel his lips graze the shirt he gave you. “Would you be my manager?”

“If I get free shows.”

Nodding, he assures, “Of course. You can count on me, mon capitaine.”

“Oohhh,” you praise, tapping his bare bicep. “You can’t just quote The Beauty and the Beast and expect me to stay solid.”

He breathes out a throaty laugh, sounding right from his chest. “Stay solid?”

“Yeah. Look.” You palm his soft cheek, ignoring the way he leans into your touch. Ignoring what it does to you. And he’s smiling, too. “Do you feel me melting?”

“You’re so damn funny, you know?” He tells you.

Your face warms at his compliment, and you think you could fall asleep in satisfaction after all. That is. If there wasn’t what he says next of course. Out of fucking nowhere.

“Hey…” He begins and hesitates. His voice is quiet and drowsy, ready to drift off. “All that happened won’t change anything, right? Between us? Because I’m… I’m sorry if it makes things weird.”

Your heart skips a beat… He might have heard it.

That’s what he wants? To not change shit?

To remain platonic, friendly, close but not close enough. It won’t change anything? Because you thought it would.

But what are you supposed to say? Here, with him in your arms. You can’t start an argument or disrupt the evening you gifted each other. The preciousness of it can’t fade…

“No,” is what you say for that reason. “Of course not.”

“Good. Good, that’s important.” You don’t think he’s aware of what he’s saying. He sounds so tired, worn out after all the things he did today. The way he bids tonight goodbye is proof of that. “Night, Pumpkin.”

“Good night, Kook.”

Why did things happen the way they did? How did you let your guard fall? When did he decide it’d be okay to take a step further in his bed, in the bathroom, in the shower, only to go back to ground zero?

All those questions could plague your mind as you begin slumbering away. But they don’t.

Not yet.

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pt1 || pt2 || pt3

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author’s note: I am! sorry for the ending🥴 if you made it to the end of my very first real fic, thank you sowww much! did you enjoy it? let me know what you think–send an ask or reblog if you’d like, i’m really excited to know what you have to say bc feedback and support means everything💕