Chapter Text
01.
It’s dark, and that’s a good thing.
“Fuck, yeah —you like that?”
His fingers break apart from your needy bud, wet and coated in your sheen. Likewise your tiny fingers, barely large enough to fit around his girth, reluctantly slip from your grip. You moan into the kiss, and Jungkook can’t help but groan at the feeling of your warmth ghosting across his body.
He’s in that weird state of drunkenness where everything’s euphoric. The blurry feeling that courses through his body may be nausea, but the sharp edge that comes with that is pure pleasure.
Your voice is breathy, your skin is plush silk as you move to straddle him.
“C-can I top?” you ask, the moon melting through your back.
It swerves him the other way, but it definitely isn’t a bad thing. He loves the way you take initiative, albeit the slight tremble in your voice. He’s endeared, “Mm, of course baby,” Jungkook cooes, sloppily helping you arrange your body on top of him. He feels the tip of his cock graze across the bare swell of your ass, and he relaxes against the pillow in preparation for what’s to come.
You’re taking his dick like a champ, so wet and soft. Your plush walls tighten around his cock deliciously, sucking him back in as soon as you lift off. “Oh—Jeon, ah—” your moans are a sweet symphony, spurring you on as he tightens his grip on your hips, “s-so big, feels s- oh— good!”
Could be the alcohol, could be the fact that he’s riding off the high off tonight’s lacrosse game, but the sex feels especially good tonight. Many girls have topped him, hoping to fuck him into a stupor and show him who’s really boss. But Jungkook likes your authenticity, your genuinity as you try so hard to satisfy each other. Your fingers flick across his nipple, pinching and rubbing at the sensitive bud as you look down at him with half-lidded eyes.
Finally he thrusts up, holding you across the waist as he picks up your pace and morphs it into his own. You bounce against him helplessly, whining and biting into his neck as you both reach your climaxes.
“I-I’m gon’ cum,” you warble helplessly, holding onto his broad shoulders for leverage.
“Let go, baby. Wanna— mph— feel you suck my cock dry,” Jungkook breathes into your neck, pressing kisses across your wet jaw.
When you cum it’s like Jungkook feels a taste of supernovas and galaxies. A weird, out-of-body experience that can only be achieved by inheberation. When you lift yourself off his hips, a trail of honey seeps from your folds, and he groans at the combination of your nectar and his mixed together.
Absentmindedly, your fingers reach for the sticky fluid, bringing it up to your lips for a taste. He sighs longingly, a shy glimpse of your pink tongue cleaning up the syrupy texture.
But you don’t waste time, however. You put on your shirt, a shirt unsuitable for a party that his house was throwing. The shirt’s way too big, drowning your cute little booty shorts. Jungkook quite likes the way it appears though as he watches you blearily from the couch, looking around for your phone. Big shirt, small you. A smile quirks on Jungkook’s lips.
“They’re uh, calling for you downstairs,” you mumble into the door, unlocking it. It only takes two centimeters of a crack to hear the incessant shouting for the team to take the keg.
“That’s okay,” Jungkook replies easily, “let them wait, riles them up.”
“Alright, good night then.”
“Not staying?”
“No,” you mutter more to yourself, a secret smile as you tuck your chin in your shirt, “wasn’t even plannin’ on coming tonight.”
He doesn’t know what you mean by that, but he’s too sated to care. Sleep comes easy. He’s a little sad he didn’t catch your name but no big deal, maybe you’ll come around.
02.
“Hey, gotta pen?”
Your eyes look down at his Air Jordans, unsure of what actions you should take next. Jungkook grins, feeling full with attention as if you’re flustered to be looking at him. He came late today, and ran into the first empty seat he saw.
Next to you. You, who looks unbelievably adorable in your large cardigan and fluffy lavender winter boots. Jungkook is appalled at himself for not noticing you earlier. You look a little familiar, but it’s 8AM and he can’t wrack his brain for your name. Considering the way you shrink in your seat as he leans in closer, it’s probably a trick of the light, and maybe he’s just seen you in passing at a party or something. His head is still pounding from last night’s events, and in his rush he’s forgotten half of his supplies.
“Uh, what color?”
“Black is fine.”
You quickly shuffle into your bag, pulling out a pig-shaped pencil case. Out pops a plain black pen, albeit decorated with little whale stickers. Cute. Soft hair, soft eyes, soft lips. You look so damn pretty.
“Thanks.”
“It’s nothing.”
The rest of class is quiet between you two, although Jungkook can’t help but steal glances at you every five minutes. It’s unfair, how you’re currently monopolizing all his attention in the span of thirty minutes. You have no right living in his mind rent-free when he should be trying to absorb Franklin Covey’s 7 Habits.
“Hey, did you watch the game last night?” Jungkook asks you between transitions.
“What game?”
“The lacrosse game,” Jungkook rests his fingers on your little desk, taking advantage of his time while the old professor weaves through his Google Drive for the next set of slides, “I’m sort-of their All-Star.”
“O-oh,” you make a funny face, one where Jungkook can’t tell if you’re flustered or amused.
“You should come sometime, I’ll save you the warmest seat in the house.”
“Why?”
“Because? You’ll be more comfortable sitting by the lights?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“Why not?” Jungkook tilts his head, “I’ve never seen you before, I’d like to get to know you.”
You’re embarrassed. Your eyes flicker around the room, feeling like a caged bunny. Girls and boys alike flicker their eyes to Jungkook, curious. He doesn’t get it.
The funny face that mars your face is not because you’re flustered by his charm, but because you feel like a damn fool being played.
03.
“So in a Think-Win-Win situation, why do you think empathy and maturity are large factors in a high success rate?”
“Uh.”
“Jeon?” you look up from your lashes, and Jungkook can see the way the yellow lamp puts a little golden glimmer to your eyes, “Jeon, did you even study?”
“I—I uh yeeess?”
He can’t help it, feeling out of water as he babbles for an answer like a fish gasping for air. You can’t help the subtle roll of your eyes, masked by you picking up your textbook to peer closely into the text. It hurts him, and he suddenly feels tiny and sweaty despite bench pressing two-hundred and taking a quick shower an hour before.
Jungkook notes that you’re also the only one who brought their textbook, the rest of the study group either coming back from lacrosse or just decided not to.
“C’mon,” Jimin smiles lazily, bumping his knee with yours. Your eyes shift to where his skin makes contact with yours, “we’ve had practice all day. We’re tired. The cheerleaders had a rough evening too,” he sends a wink to Sooyoung, who just scoffs with her berry tinted lips, “I’m pretty sure you finished the project anyway, so why are we here?”
Jungkook watches the way your legs press together, black leggings hugging your thighs. He doesn’t mean to stare, he probably looks like a weirdo if not for the fact you’re so focused on burning stare to Jimin. It’s then he realizes he knows you. A hookup, maybe? A friend of a friend he was introduced to in-between practices? He isn’t sure. He really fucked up not noticing you the second time around, and he’s not sure you’ll give him a second chance.
Instead of biting back, you flush. You shrink in the uncomfortable wooden seat, looking at Jimin with furrowed brows. Jungkook squeezes his hands between the kangaroo pocket of his lacrosse jersey, wishing he could instead squeeze his hands between the two apples of your cheeks. It’s unfair how adorable you are, even in a situation as fucked up as this. Unfortunately it’s still majorly unfair to you, being paired in unnecessarily hard core-elective with three prime procrastinators and D1 athletes. The professor must’ve done it on purpose, hoping you’d knock some sense into them.
You frown, and press your lips together as you stuff your things in your Mickey Mouse tote bag. In goes your textbook, then your MacBook, and finally your fuzzy pink pen. “Right,” you mutter under your breath, most of the fire directed towards Jimin, “because I orchestrated and worked around all your schedules just for fun. ”
Jungkook’s hands twitch by his sides, watching you walk out of the library without so much as a glance towards their table. He shakes his head towards his teammate, “You didn’t have to be such a dick about it,” and grabs his phone, following you out.
Cool air slaps Jungkook’s face, and he immediately finds you hunched over your phone on a bench. You’re not even trying to make a getaway, legs spread comfortably as you scroll the Grubhub menu for the nearest restaurant. He calls your name, and you jolt out of your relaxed state. You look up at him, startled at the way your name rolls off his lips.
“Hey,” Jungkook says, sitting down next to you.
You blink at him, confused. “Jeon? Did you need something?”
“I wanna help you with the project.”
“Didn’t seem to contribute much back there.”
Ouch. “Okay, but I’m a really good listener and I can follow directions. Just tell me what to do and consider it done,” Jungkook usually prides himself as a smooth talker, but now he feels like he’s grappling on strings when talking to you, “that’s… what a Think-Win-Win situation is, right?”
A small huff of a grin ghosts on your lips, and he smiles wide. “Not really,” you answer smoothly, “but it’s a start.”
He takes that as his in, and immediately rolls with it. He follows your pace, trying to slow down because you’re so much smaller than him and he’s so excited that you’re not immediately pushing him away.
“After we finish, it’ll only be like 10PM,” he follows you to your first destination, a local pizzeria. “It’s a Friday night, and I was wondering if you wanted to go to a party with me? It’s for Hoseok. I don’t know if you know him but he’s sort of my captain and we could celebrate finishing the project together that way?”
“No thank you,” you reply to Jungkook, and then you point at whatever item is on the menu to the counter lady, “and please have extra chilli flakes on the side.”
You said no to him, and it didn’t even take a heartbeat for you to think about his offer. “Wait, why?”
Your smile twists into something undecipherable, “Not my crowd,” you eyes scan him briefly, taking in the clean lacrosse jersey and the baggy sweatpants, “besides, you’d leave me within the first five minutes of arriving. And even if you didn’t, girls would probably steal you anyway.”
Jungkook feels a little gross at your blunt honesty. He’s insulted, to be bunched up and lumped with a bunch of popular jocks and cheerleaders and all the in-between. It isn’t fair for you to be making assumptions about him when you barely know him and he’s trying to let you get to know each other a little better.
When Jungkook looks down however, his hands are empty because he didn’t bother to bring the textbook and materials he was supposed to bring. His hair is still damp from the shower and not blow-dried, proof that he rushed to the library because he was late to the meeting you spent all week arranging. His mouth is shut because he didn’t defend you when Jimin called you out in the library, even though he knew he and his friends were in the wrong.
He hates how much you’re right. It’s like you’ve stabbed him with a fleet of truths, mapping out his night down to a T. His habits are a notorious connect-the-dot puzzle, cultivated over the course of four years: whoever he’d bring would escape his thoughts, too absorbed in how everyone compliments the All-Star’s record last match. Girls and boys alike will flock to him like bees to honey, reveling in him and he’ll lap up the attention. He’ll get requests for a quick fuck, and if it’s a nice night, he’ll oblige.
And what, he expects you to think this time is different?
You’re pretty, and smart, and Jungkook’s undeserving of you.
“I’ll see you Monday, Jeon,” you say breezily, brushing shoulders. He gets a whiff of your hair and the scent of fresh bread as you walk away with your pizza pie.
04.
You turn off the lights, making sure the only thing that can see you two is the night air.
“Doing it in the dark is more romantic,” you try to add a sultry edge to your voice, hoping Jungkook doesn’t notice the waver in your vocal chords.
“Oh, you’re a romantic?” Jungkook’s already on his bed, throwing off his sweats and jersey. He really doesn’t cut corners getting to it, and sits on the edge with his legs spread, ready for you to slot yourself between his thighs.
“Mm, yeah,” you sigh, walking over to settle our hands on his shoulders.
Your fingers trail down his pretty collarbone, then the pale skin kissed by the moonlight, glittering
You can’t believe it. You’re going to fuck Jeon Jungkook.
This is all a byproduct of Namjoon tricking you. Namjoon called you in a panic claiming he needed a hard copy of your part of the journalism project. Instead, Namjoon pulled you into the house half-glazed and told you to let loose and get laid. He handed you a fruity drink that tastes distinctly like a childhood juice you’ve always loved but you know there’s something deceptive beneath the layers of sugar.
The problem isn’t that you need to let loose . This isn’t your crowd, you don’t feel comfortable surrounded by sweaty strangers and incessant screaming. Your version of letting loose involves a bottle of wine and no pants in the comfort of your apartment. These aren’t your friends. You’re invisible.
Well, to everyone except Jungkook.
Namjoon had been holding your hair while you retched over the sink, being the best half-friend he could possibly be. After you downed two shots of soju without a lick of dinner, you were bound to feel sick. You were about to thank Namjoon for not only holding your hair, but rubbing your back soothingly, you’re met with a wobbly Jungkook.
Jungkook’s one hand rubbed your back, the other held a fresh pizza on a thin paper plate.
“I don’t really like the taste either,” he replied with a charming smile, although the smell of his breath says otherwise.
So you pretended.
You pretended that you’re meant to be here, that you were invited by a fellow brother and they’ve been expecting you. You pretended that you’ve been toeing around Jeon Jungkook for weeks, hoping he’d notice you. You pretended you’re not wearing your pajama shirt and a pair of house shorts, feeling completely and utterly wanted as Jungkook’s hand trailed up and down your thigh as he fed you pizza.
He laughed at every bad joke you make, flirtatiously dabbed the oil from your face with a napkin, and hooked your thighs over his thighs as you finished your meal. This version was a far cry from the zombie-fied version that shows up every Monday morning to your Public Speaking course. Although he’s definitely drunk, his eyes sparkled as he talked about his friends and college life.
“Mm,” you’re on your second slice of pizza, and downing alcohol is definitely easier knowing it’ll be absorbed by all the crust, “this pizza is so tasty.”
Jungkook smirked at your declaration, and he took your hand to lower the plate in your lap. “You know what else would be tasty?” he shielded you from the party, pressed up against the wall. He whispered something in your ear, something that can’t be revealed to the outside world. Your tipsy alter-ego giggled, and your hands grappled the silky penny material of his jersey, pulled him so close you felt the warmth of his breath echo over your lips.
“Jungkook!”
You flinched away from the fantasy, met with a girl who called shrilly for the person next to you. A pretty girl with straight waterfall-like hair, hands on her hips as she waited for him to lift his head.
“Dahyun,” Jungkook tilted his head, “you’re doing okay?”
“No, because you came with me. ”
“Don’t mind her,” he whispered into your neck, before turning to who appears to be the date he brought, “yeah, Dahyun. We went as friends. Now I’m hanging out with my friend and you have plenty of friends to choose from. So, make some.”
You couldn’t help but frown. You didn’t know the nature of their relationship, it’s none of your business, but it settled weirdly in your stomach, much like the combination of pizza and alcohol.
“You always do this,” Dahyun whined, but relented as her hard stare melts away, “always find someone within five minutes to leave your date behind.”
“That was mean,” you furrowed your brows at him, pushing him away by the chest.
Jungkook frowned, doubly upset. “You don’t even know what she’s like,” he accused softly, pulling you up, “and I’m not mean, she never would’ve left if I laid it down. C’mon, let’s get outta here.”
He’s right, you didn’t know anything about this world and you don’t intend to. You were only playing pretend.
At least it’s quiet upstairs. Fast forward to now, the only sounds expressed being the soft thrum of the floorboards, and the breathy moans that escape the both of you.
“Is it really me you want?” you slur in his lips, now devoid of the taste of alcohol and replaced with warm cheese and bread.
And yet you like it, you crave him. He’s someone you never imagined you’d be with, someone far out of reach that it wouldn’t even be in your realm of acknowledgement. But here you are, breathing in the scent of Jeon Jungkook and loving the way the blunt edge of his fingernails dig into your waist as he pulls you down.
“Of course,” Jungkook’s lips are glossy against yours, wet with the sheen of your coupling, “I picked you, didn’t I?”
That, he did. So you let the fantasy continue, just for tonight.
5.
“Hi,” Jungkook catches up to you the Monday after class.
“Hey, Jeon,” you reply with a stiff smile, pulling a bill out of your pocket and making a beeline to the nearest vending machine.
He tries to strike up the topic as casually as possible. He leans against the vending machine, muscles trained and poised to lean against the hunk of metal as attractively as possible. His shoulder bumps against it, and he crosses one leg over the other.
“So, you really came through with the presentation.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” you laugh to yourself, eyes glittering over the King-Sized Kit-Kat, “of course I’d hard carry my team, my grade is on the line here.”
God, you’re so attractive. You’re not even doing anything. Gaming lingo is a weakness. Kit-Kats are a weakness. And he’s soft for you in your soft sweater that’s bunching up at the wrists as your fingers reach for the confection underneath.
“How was the party?” you ask.
“Was good,” Jungkook blurts, excited that you wanted to talk about his weekend, “good turnout, lots of people. Our sister sorority came out and had this massive tub of suds and just filled the pool. Hoseok was totally wasted and mooned the whole team! And then on Saturday we had this big tournament with the nearby university and it was all fun and games but the crowd went wild when I got this really good shot at the second half. The cheerleaders did this really crazy routine—”
He cuts himself mid-sentence. You’re doing an impeccable job at looking interested, but he knows that you’re more interested in your candy bar. Your eyes are looking right at him, but at the same time not. Glazed over, you chew thoughtfully at your Kit-Kat, already half eaten.
“That’s nice, Jeon,” you reply in a small, kind voice, “glad you had a good weekend. Sounds like you had a good time all on your own.”
This weakens him. Do you really not like him?
He doesn’t know how to get a good read on you, in fact he isn’t sure that he’ll get the opportunity to know how to read you. So in a moment of self-defense, he scoffs. Crossing his arms, he blows air into his onyx bangs and looks down at you with a little smirk.
“Yeah, I did,” he quips, pulling out his phone to scroll the endless amount of unread messages, “got a couple numbers this past weekend, too.”
“Then, you should answer them instead of me,” your smile is like lightning. It’s quick and flashes straight into Jungkook’s heart. Crumpling the finished wrapper, you toss it into the garbage. “I’ll see you next week.”
Again, you melt between his fingers. A feeling so warm and fleeting he misses it as soon as you’re gone. It’s then he realizes how stupid he was. His phone lowers in defeat.
He forgot to tell you that his weekend would’ve felt complete with you in it.
6.
You’re nothing special. You’re just another fish in the water, and once graduation hits Jungkook and you will swim far away from each other.
It’s what he’s been saying to himself for weeks on end, the last project long forgotten and his professor currently droning on about the next assignment.
This time, it’s with partners. Even more important, they get to choose who they work with. He feels giddy at the thought, and he turns to Jimin who mirrors a similar silly expression. It’s like they’re back in elementary school, sharing the look and you know you’ve snagged each other as partners. They bump fists in the lecture hall, because as always they are seated next to each other.
Past Jimin’s face however, he spots you sitting at the end of the row. You pop your head out as you lean against the small wooden pull-out tray, typing something down in your phone. Today you’ve styled your hair, and it looks cute and quirky. Two little space buns peek out from your head, little Jungkook-signals for him to stay glued to your form. Your buns sway with your head and move back and forth around the room, watching everyone get paired up. It seems that you have no friends in this class and you don’t know what to do. You’re pouting cutely into your screen, scribbling something with your stylus.
Who’s he kidding? You're the only fish he wants.
Jimin pokes Jungkook in the forehead, “Into the nerd?” he jabs a thumb not too subtly in your direction, “that’s fine, go have your fun. I can work with Sooyoung.”
That leads Jungkook to awkwardly bend his large thighs between the flimsy lecture desks, feeling the arm rests jab into his leg with every step it takes to get to you at the end of the row.
“Hey, do you have a partner?”
“Ah, I wish,” you reply mindlessly, packing up your things.
“I fish too,” Jungkook nods, “I mean, I wish! I uh— ugh. ” he can practically feel Jimin and Sooyoung laughing away in the back of the room, probably off to tell their group chat how terribly he’s doing at getting a partner, “do you wanna be partners?”
“I don’t know,” you shrug on your backpack, “will you do half the work?”
“I’ll do it all if you want,” he blurts, in a desperate attempt for you to say yes, “to make up for last time.”
“That’s stupid, Jeon,” you shake your head, “you have practice and an actual social life.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t do my half,” he steps in front of you, stopping you from leaving. This time he has the power of mass on his hands, blocking the left entrance of the lecture hall which is only a single door, “in fact, we can start on it this weekend. After practice I’ll clear my schedule. I’ll be free all day Saturday.”
His heart is pounding through his chest, watching you carefully. You don’t know what to make of him. All he wants is for you to notice how hard he’s trying, and maybe if he’s lucky, a tiny bit impressed by his proactiveness. You’re blushing, a little startled by his insistence. The heat that kisses your cheeks only furthers the palpitations, combined with a fluttering in his stomach that he hasn’t felt in ages.
“I’ll bring pizza?” he offers.
“Okay,” you nod. Maybe he should’ve started with the pizza. “My place, 2PM.”
Jungkook’s over the moon.
7.
“I, oh— fuck ,” you breathe into his shoulder, hot breath fanning his neck, “please, more.”
How did this happen?
He really wants to do this right. He wants to prove to you that he’s more than just a pretty face and an All-Star. Everything started off perfectly: he had a steaming hot pizza pie in one hand, books in the other, and he even showed up fifteen minutes early.
So why an hour later are you writhing under him, begging for him to have his cock pounding you into the mattress?
You’re a gorgeous sight, really. Silky hair fans out in a disarray, a halo consisting of your beautiful hair texture and sweat beading across your baby hairs. Your hands are holding his broad shoulders like leverage, and it forces him to look right at you as he’s pistoning his cock as deep as you desire. He loves the way your breasts bounce and jiggle with each thrust, following his actions accordingly and just like that he’s mesmerized by how stunning you look writhing underneath him.
Missionary always seemed like a boring position, but today that’s changed.
“Fuck—you like this, huh?” you’re so deliciously tight, hugging his walls and swallowing him whole over and over. He can’t get enough, “look down, baby. Is this want you wanted? You wanted my fat cock in your pretty little pussy? Pounding into you so hard that you won’t be able to walk in the morning?”
He watches as your eyes thicken, and he preens at how easy it is for you to obey. He steals a look as well, loving the way you’re connected. Your hole is so sweet and wet, so creamy as it devours his length.
“Puh-please,” you warble, pouting at him with baited eyes, “I—yes, I need—”
“Use your words, baby,” he breathes into you, leaning forward to kiss away your pout. You taste good, his saliva mixing with yours in a way that makes him giddy. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”
“Cum, please cum inside me?” you pose it as a question, tilting your head to see the expression on his face.
His eyes darken, drinking you in like the finest wine. “Anything, fuck! You’re so amazing,” it spurs him on further, loving how your moans feed into him as he thrusts harder, “can’t wait to see your pussy full of our cum, spilling out of you and begging to be fucked, huh? Do you have any idea how hard it is to resist you, looking so damn cute all fucked out?”
“Y-yes Jeon—”
“Not that,” he corrects, almost begging as he presses his forehead to yours, “call me anything but that, baby.”
“I— oh Kook ,” you press breathless kisses into his jawline, and he preens at the affection, “you’re so good, fuck! Mm, Kook, I’m gonna, gon’—”
“Fuck, go ahead baby. Let go, cream on my cock. Wanna feel you,” he slips his fingers between your sweet bud, loving how your sensitive pearl is slick with essence as you clench down on his cock, giving him the go to cum. Thick, hot spurts fill you up even further, stuffing you to the brim.
When he pulls out, he’s surprised when you immediately dip your hand between your folds, bringing a pearly glob to your lips and sucking the digit clean.
“Shit, you’re so hot,”
“Kook,” you warble, thighs still vibrating, “put it back inside?”
He’s putty on the bed, even moreso that you’re calling him Kook.
You don’t even have to ask. Taking his softening cock between his hands, he scoops up the shiny essence, loving the way it swirls around your swollen folds. Wincing at the sensitivity, he pushes it back into your pussy, feeding it with a mixture of your juices over and over until the both of you are satisfied.
Everything happened so fast. Through his bleary eyes he catches glimpses of himself, memories of fucks just as hard and dirty as this. He likes it this way though, it’s better when your glassy eyes beg for more. He likes the wavy lines between your powerplay, how he’s rough yet you’re the one commanding for more.
“Fuck,” he collapses on top of you, and you giggle into his ear to move over. He’s sweaty and he doesn’t care, continues grappling for you. He places his head comfortably between your breasts, a pillow he wishes he could rest on forever. “Ah, so soft,” he jokes lightly, nuzzling into the cotton skin.
“Got a thing for boobs, huh?” you tease lightly, hands going to play at the slightly damp strands of his mussed up hair.
“Got a thing for you,” he mumbles tiredly, and he doesn’t notice the way your hand freezes against his locks.
8.
Everything was going so right , until it went wrong.
The following Monday was fine. The two of you presented, 50/50 and with flying colors. The professor praised both of you, and the beams you both shared were nothing but genuine. A high five that lingered too long and a fluttering in Jungkook’s heart that has him on Cloud 9.
But come next Monday and it feels like you’ve created a barrier. He waits for you twenty minutes before class begins, only for the class to fill up and Jimin taking the seat he saved for you. You come in a minute late, hair bouncing in a high ponytail
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks quickly, words tumbling over each other in a rush to get to the bottom of this.
“Uh, no?”
“Then why don’t you want to talk to me?”
“Why would you want to talk to me?” you tilt your head, “you already got what you wanted?” with a blink you add, “twice?”
It clicks. “Wait, you only think I wanted you for sex?”
“Isn’t that… what you do?” you look embarrassed saying this, wringing the syllabus between your hands, “I—I don’t mind. I know, so you don’t have to let me down easy or anything.”
Again, defeated. Square one. Negative square one.
“No, I mean yes but—no,” your eyes widen at his word vomit. “Fuck, I mean, not with you.”
“What do you mean?” The lecture hall is quiet, even the professor had left for office hours.
“I mean that I like you,” he says.
9.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t I tell you that you’re a damn fool?” you bite, ripping off your top.
He can barely focus on the fact that you’re grinding harshly against him, because this time around he’s sober and not clouded by lust. This time it’s planned, a rendezvous in his bedroom for a painfully brief review session and then the cherry on top.
You, on top.
The image is all too familiar. You with your shirt off, sitting on him like a throne you’ve claimed for yourself. The way your silhouette centers his window perfectly—he can’t believe it took this long for him to put two and two together, and you didn’t say a damn thing.
It’s different, though. There’s power. Every bit of your touch is buzzing, charged by your frustration, the misunderstandings between each other that have guided you to this very moment.
“W-we met,” he says archly, “before this, all of this!”
“To be fair, I thought you were just fucking with me,” the lick of confidence that zings through your form is electrifying, and Jungkook can’t help but cling to you as he helps you out of your undergarments. “Turns out you’re airheaded since you couldn’t even recognize me.”
“Was drunk,” he pouts.
“Shitty excuse,” you gripe back, dragging a nail between his coral-colored lips.
“‘M sorry,” he holds onto you like you’ll leave, linking his fingers behind your back, “I’ll make it up to you, right now.”
“Really, Kook?” he melts at the name, and you two switch spots. You make a point to fluff up his pillows, impressed at the scent of fresh fabric softener and florals. Jungkook sits up on the edge of the bed, sitting on his knees and definitely straining himself as his cock stretches against his jeans.
You relax against the pillows, beautiful and bare beneath him. His eyes are wide and glassy, wondering what’s going on in your head.
He really is a damn fool, because he isn’t sure what’s going to happen after this. He likes you, but what does he like about you? He likes the way you feel against him, sure. But he can’t tell the game you two are playing, and for once the cards are no longer in his hands. No, the cards are scattered all over the place, an endless game of 52-pickup.
With a twirl of your finger, you wave towards him. “Strip for me,” you command sweetly.
But boy, he does know he wants to earn it.
10.
“You gave me the bread-butts,” Jungkook pushes the plate away, “I don’t like the bread-butts.”
“The bread-butts,” you deadpan, “you—you mean the ends?”
“Yes, bread-butts are for aunts who have no spice in their life,” Jungkook looks at you pointedly, “do I look like a spiceless auntie?”
“Are you kidding me,” you shove the plate back to Jungkook’s side, “I only gave you one end! And I have no more bread so it’s either that or you get your own damn food.”
“But I’m hungry,” he pouts.
“Don’t wanna eat what I made? Fine,” it breaks Jungkook a little when you look at him with a scowl, taking one triangle of the sandwich for yourself. You busy yourself with your phone, playing on some mindless app while Jungkook sits at the island with you, hoping you’d give him a little more attention.
You don’t.
He really isn’t a fan of the bread-butts, but he is a big fan of you. Taking the other half of the sandwich, he sneaks a glance in hope that you notice. He feels like a trooper, a petulant boy scout as his teeth rip through the toasty bread and the bitter taste of the crust. Otherwise, the sandwich is good. Simple, but he can tell you tried hard to spice it up with whatever seasonings you own.
“So,” he feels like he’s talking to himself, his voice echoing in your empty apartment, “do you wanna come to a party with me tonight?”
“You know I don’t like parties.”
“I met you at a party.”
“Because I was tricked,” you state plainly, “and it doesn’t count if you forget, Jeon.”
You really know how to hit him in the right places. First with the bread-butts, now this. “I just… really want you there,” he mumbles. He knows it’s not your intention but you do an impeccable job of making him feel small.
Jungkook’s friend, Kim Taehyung is working to become a teacher. Taehyung once told him a story about how the wildest kids have to be broken to be built back up. He feels a little like that. You’re breaking him with every passing day. Every time you smile? He cracks. When you tuck your hair behind your ear and you’re flushing profusely at him with those soft cheeks and sweet smile? Absolutely broken, crumbling to pieces.
“Who will you go with?”
“Huh?” Jungkook can’t follow.
“I’ve heard you usually bring a date.”
“I don’t anymore,” he furrows his brows, “where are you getting your information from?”
“Jimin.”
“You talk to Jimin.”
“Jimin talks, I don’t,” you shrug, “he just won’t shut up.”
He sighs, rubbing a hand across his face. He really can’t catch a break with you, at this rate he’ll get a real date by graduation. Jungkook doesn’t blame you. He never thought his reputation would have repercussions, then again he never thought he’d meet someone as scintillating as you. He tries to show it in micro-isms; he sits next to you now in class, holds your hand when no one’s looking, and relinquishes every bit of his power in the bedroom to let you take the lead.
Jungkook knows you’re scared of the possibility of being more , but doesn’t want to bring it up. He can feel it every time you shift your head when he leans in, or when his kisses don’t last as long as he wants because you pull away, or when you cover his eyes when you’re about to cum. He needs to show you he’s different, not just say it.
“You have to go,” you declare, nudging your phone to his phone. It’s beeping with messages, flurrying down his lockscreen.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna come?” Jungkook frowns.
“I’m sure,” you give him a tiny smile, and Jungkook can’t tell whether it’s forced or not.
Your doorbell rings at a rate of five rings per second, and you’re going to lose your mind. After Jungkook left, you shoved off your pants and scrubbed all the makeup off your face. So dumb, you think to yourself, his annoyingly adorable little bunny face taking over your mind. You knew he was going to leave, so why are you still upset over it? This is just a hearty fling, one that for some reason Jungkook is clinging onto a little too tightly. That kind of attitude is too dangerous for you to entertain.
“I swear to god, Jennie,” you swing the door open, “bring your fucking keys next time or I’ll—”
Stupid Jungkook and his stupid face is at your front door. He’s holding a not-so-stupid pizza box in his hands.
“You’re cute when you’re angry,” he says with a grin, letting himself in.
“Why are you—”
“You shouldn’t be angry, I have pizza.” Jungkook puts down the pie on your island, cupping your cheeks between his large hands, “pizza doesn’t make you angry.”
“What about the party?” you mumble, barely able to make out the words between his hot hands. Weak , you think to yourself.
Jungkook scrunches his nose, “Not our thing,” he says.
You’re crumbling, relaxing in his touch. “Pizza and a movie?”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
11.
Min Yoongi, synonymous with the title Stupid Boy.
Jungkook doesn’t care that Yoongi is carrying the music department on his back. He doesn’t care he’s probably going to be signed to BigHit Entertainment as a producer straight out of graduation. He’s still stupid.
Stupid because you’re giving him all the attention.
An hour ago Jungkook didn’t mind. In fact, Jungkook was on the same boat an hour ago. He likes Yoongi’s music, and his personality isn’t half-bad.
Yoongi visited his Public Speaking class to talk about making claims or whatever. His speech was short and sweet, and Jungkook was thankful for that.
Until Yoongi decided to skip the exit and head straight for the chair next to yours. Apparently you two know each other.
Jungkook feels like the lonely half of an Oreo cookie, unstuck between you and Yoongi. Yoongi whispers random things in your ear, and Jungkook so desperately wants to throw his shame out the window and ask what you two are talking about. He subtly reaches for your hand—only for you to slip away in favor of resting it on your little pull-up desk, so you can fold your legs and arch your waist closer to Yoongi.
He’s seething.
“Who can?” Jungkook asks in between deep thrusts, digging his fingers so hard between the flesh of your hips he can feel your skin under his nails, “who’s the only one who can fuck you like this?”
“Y-you!” you squeal, groaning when a hot hand slaps against your ass.
Did you do something wrong? You definitely did nothing wrong. But the fucking is especially harder, angrier, it has to stem from something. But it’s nothing short of satisfying. Lately Jungkook’s been going easy on you, and while you like having him wrapped around your finger, you also don’t mind him wrapping his fingers around your neck as he fucks you through the mattress.
“Tell me I’m better,” Jungkook demands, slowing his cock. It drags deliciously, painfully against your tight pussy.
You twist on your back, looking at him with confused eyes, “Better? Better than who?”
Something imperceptible flashes in his eyes. You realize that you’ve ignored him all day during class, in favor of an old friend. He looks at you with a litany of emotions, sadness, betrayal, jealousy. The hard, dark chocolate stare has you clenching shamelessly around his cock.
“What? Yoongi? Jeon, he’s—oh, fuck !” you have no time to recover when Jungkook pulls out and flips you on your back, fingering the shit out of you with three of his long tattooed digits. One hand is squeezing your breast, kneading it like a doughy loaf as he works his fingers in and out.
“Tell me,” he breathes like a mantra, leaning over you so his lips ghost over your jaw, “tell me who can only have you like this.”
“Y-you, Kook ohmy god— ” the squelching is absolutely lewd, you’re so wet and you can see your juices dripping down his fingers. Pulling away to rub your honey on his cock, he immediately slips back in you, his dick stretching you out so nice and tight. Jungkook hooks a leg over his shoulder, going in deep. “Only y-you, Kook,” you garble, putting a shaky hand on his cheek. He leans against it, “only you c-can see me like this, get me like this. Better Kook, so much better than anyone, yeah? You’re s-so, so good to me—awh fuck— ”
You’re cumming, with the aid of Jungkook’s thrusts and his fingers tucked between you two, swirling your swollen bud. He’s practically suffocating you, pushing all of himself onto your body as he cums, feeling your walls hot and creamy as he rides out both your highs.
“That’s right,” Jungkook says, his tone no longer possessive but almost heart-achingly sad as he holds you close, “don’t want anyone taking you away when I barely have you.”
Your eyes widen as he tucks his head in the crook of your neck, unable for him to see the stricken expression on your face.
12.
“It’s the height for me,” Jungkook says pointedly.
“You fucker,” Jimin seethes, looking down at his friend’s unnecessarily chunky combat boots, “it’s the micro-cleaning for me.”
“Excuse me do you not want a clean apartment—”
“It’s completely unnecessary to clean the sugar crystals off the counter at Starbucks, JK,” Jimin sticks up his nose, “especially when you don’t work there.”
You don’t know how to fit yourself into this conversation. Every single one of Jungkook’s friends has something eye-catching about them, whether it be Jimin’s charm, Lisa’s boisterous personality or Taehyung’s… everything. They’re all alluring, and impossibly pretty that you can barely look at half of them in the eye.
Jungkook said tonight’s shindig was small, and he was right. It’s someone’s apartment (Taehyung’s?) and there’s probably around fifteen people, max. The room is warm despite the obviously expensive taste and angular furniture, and you naturally gravitate to a corner of the room where a eucalyptus candle burns brightly.
Not five seconds after you sit down someone approaches you.
“Hi, I’m Sana,” she’s so pretty, like a beacon of starlight. Her smile is impossibly white, and she slips her thighs next to yours as she makes room for yourself on the tiny seat. You immediately clam up, clutching your juice with both hands as she leans her face into yours.
“Hi Sana,” you chirp back, a tentative smile curling at her enthusiasm.
“Your skin is so nice ,” you back away slightly when her rose tipped nail brushes against her cheek, giggling uneasily, “what’s your routine?”
Your hand floats your face, running your palm over the flushed skin. “Just the usual? It’s five steps. Although I have been forgetting to put on sunscreen in the morning.”
“Oh, me too!” Sana practically cooes, delighted that you’ve found something in common, “what brand do you use?”
“I use the Klairs one, it’s a big bottle and really sinks into your skin,” over the years you have been a bit of a skincare junkie, wanting to at least find regulation in one routine even if the rest of your life is amock. “I definitely recommend it, it’s like a moisturizer but with SPF! What’s your skin type?”
Sana is lovely company, you relax against the seat and squish the throw pillows between your arms, exchanging regimens and favorite skincare YouTubers. You feel warm and fuzzy and you no longer feel compelled to cling to your date for the night. She doesn’t push you to meet new people, try strange drinks, and no bit of malice mars her face. No, you like her. You want to be her friend.
“Babe,” Jungkook pops into your bubble, brushing your arm against his thumbs.
Sana gasps softly into your ear, “Oh my gosh, he babe-ed you.”
It’s then that he notices your new friend’s presence, and he stiffens. You feel his fingers curl lightly into your bicep, and you watch the way his jaw clenches minutely, “Sana,” he says, and she offers a polite smile.
“Is it eight already?” you ask, eyes darting to the window.
“Yeah, final exam tomorrow,” Jungkook reminds, “I gotta go to the bathroom, I’ll meet you at the door.”
He leaves as quickly as he enters, and while you think nothing of it, Sana knows more.
“You’ve been together long, huh?”
“Oh, well—” you give a half-hearted shrug, rubbing your sweaty palms in your sweatshirt, “I mean maybe? It’s been a while, but we don’t really go out on dates or anything.”
“Oh please, we’re young and broke! Netflix and Chill is totally a date!” She slaps her thighs on her skin-tight jeans, as if she’s telling a fact. “Besides, you’ve lasted longer than others. That’s a good sign.”
You’ve lasted longer than others.
It disarms you. You know that Jungkook has had a more lucrative relationship history, moreso on the realm of shoddy flings and half-hearted hookups. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. There’s no air of arrogance that graces Sana’s expression, maybe she’s genuinely happy for you. Maybe she’s impressed that you’ve managed to keep Jungkook entertained for this long. Maybe she’s wondering why it isn’t her, but someone as inconspicuous and wall-melting as you.
You force a small smile, and lie levelly, “We’re not that serious, actually.”
13.
“What time is yours?”
“10:30. And yours?”
“11,” Jungkook smiles fondly at you when you try to tie his tie in a fancy Eldridge knot. You found some tutorial on YouTube about how to make fancy tie knots. Jungkook insists that no one’s going to look through his gown until the dinner, and by then his family would care less about how his tie is tied, but you care. It’s a bluff, Jungkook loves that you’re trying to dote on him and leave a trace of you at his graduation, as if it’s the last one you could give him.
Time is what you’ve run out of.
It takes infinitely longer to get ready when you’re dressing other people rather than yourselves. You’re tying his knot with your safety shorts and a bra, dress thrown somewhere and Jungkook’s only in a button down and boxers.
“You think I can make yours?” Jungkook jokes, “I mean my name’s in the Js. That gives me like, forty-five minutes.”
You scoff, shaking your head. Despite the fact that you would love to go to each other’s convocations, your majors are vastly different and therefore your graduations collide.
“It’s a busy day,” you reply vaguely, stepping away from Jungkook to see your handiwork. The tie is a minor detail, little silk ribbons criss-crossing over each other like an onyx waterfall. “Handsome,” you remark, brushing at his collar one last time before you dress yourself the rest of the way.
This should be a happy day–it is a happy day. Your family is driving over to the convocation ceremony, with signs and flowers as they watch you cross the finish line to the next chapter in your life. Likewise with Jungkook, as his friends and family are traveling to another convocation ceremony on the other side of campus.
Your eyes discreetly dart around Jungkook’s apartment, noting that your college days really are over. Unlike your apartment, which you and Jennie have robbed clean (and spent days trying to get out the bleach stains in the carpet when Jennie spilled dye) until nothing was left, Jungkook’s remains fully furnished. He’s been accepted to the graduate program on campus, which starts right after graduation.
Your thoughts cutaway with Jungkook’s sweet words. “You’re beautiful,” he echoes your compliment once you put on your sundress, and he pulls you over to smooth out the edges.
Beautiful. Not cute or adorable, as he always loves to coo. You feel higher, lovelier, uplifted at the compliment.
“Is it too late?” you mumble to yourself, slipping on the silky material of your gown and hood. You clutch the cap between your fingers, squishing the cardboard material that keeps it straight.
“Too late for what?”
“Too late for us.”
Jungkook smiles, reaching over to brush the invisible tears off the swell of your cheek.
“I’m sorry,” you say.
“You can’t turn down an internship in New York,” Jungkook insists, “and there’s y’know, Facetime.”
It isn’t the same, and you don’t want to get to know Jungkook through a screen for the next year. How are you both going to balance a budding relationship,
“I’ll wait for you,” he promises, but you put a hand on his chest before he has more to explain, “this is your hometown, right? You’ll have to visit sometime.”
“I can’t let you do that for me,” you chastise, “you’re too good for that.”
“And you’re too good for me,” Jungkook’s all smiles, and that pains you even more. You’ve made this poor guy suffer for half the year, combined with a stressful senior year it took so long for you to get your head out of the dirt and realize that he didn’t just want sex, he wanted you.
“Don’t wait for me,” you repeat again, poking your finger in his chest. You yelp when he simply drags your pointer finger to his mouth, biting right at the canine, “I’m serious!”
“Fine,” he pouts, “but you can’t force me to stop thinking about you.”
“I can’t, but I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
Why do you have such impeccable timing? Since when did the conversation get so lead-heavy? The ache in your chest seeps across your body, and you let yourself melt, leaning into Jungkook’s warm arms. You’re on borrowed time, your ceremony will start in less than thirty minutes, so you savor every second of it.
“Thank you, Jungkook.”