a succubi's problems - jjk x bts

chapter twenty

Jeongguk was mortified. Horrified, actually, if he was being truly honest. True to his word he'd woken the next day with all of his memories from the last night (really though it had been only a  few hours prior) fully in tact. Embarrassingly in tact —Jeongguk was sure  that if he didn't stop humiliating himself soon he was going to start losing hair, a prospect that was mildly terrifying as Jeongguk very much loved his hair— like almost bury your face  in sand and scream until you die in tact.

But after contemplating simply letting himself succumb to death in his bed, instead realises he's being a little dramatic. Their talk hadn't been all that embarrassing — in fact the idea that his friends knew he didn't partake in watersports was kind of comforting in its own strange way, as he's not entirely sure they would have deemed him better than that without the clarification. Succubis were known for being lustrously kinky and Jeongguk was  also know for getting himself into weird  situations, so the two crossing paths wouldn't seem much of a stretch. So hes glad at least they now know that he doesn't partake in piss or shit or whatever the fuck else waterspouts entails. He's also glad that they know he has boundaries, despite what happened yesterday.

What he's not glad about, however, is the fact they had this conversation with him when he was half drunk off his ass and slowly coming down. Even if by the end of the conversation he was almost sober, Jeongguks filter was still relatively stripped away and the thought that he could have very easily blurted out anything and everything on his mind at any second and the fact he hadn't was a fucking miracle in and of itself —  was terrifying. He's lucky he had been as  tired as he was, because otherwise Jeongguk had no doubt he would have blurted  some really off kilter shit and then instead of just contemplating pitching himself out of his window, he'd actually be doing it.

But there was also something else keeping Jeongguk in his bed despite his alarm going off five minutes ago, and that was that he had butterflies in his stomach.

Fucking butterflies.

Like a pre-teen girl, Jeongguk was feeling like he had a flutter of butterflies partying in his stomach acid (it might also be a bit of queasiness from his hangover, but semantics) that was causing Jeongguk to blush like an idiot, and he'd barely been awake ten minutes.

Perhaps Jeongguk would have felt these same butterflies last night, but they were comatose undoubtedly by the alcohol in his system, or he was just too drunk to have noticed. But here they were now, fluttering up a storm and making Jeongguk flustered like an idiot at seven in the fucking morning. It's too early for this shit, Jeongguk grumbles to himself as he sits up, clutching a hand to his stomach and making sure it wasn't just puke turning his insides (it wasn't) and then just sitting there like a blushing idiot staring down at his carpet for a couple minutes.

It was sweet, okay? Shoot him for being whipped for the fact his friends had stayed up until four in the morning just to have a talk with him despite them having a packed schedule planned the next day. Whipped for the way that despite their clear exhaustion they had still waited up for him like it was nothing, like they had  nothing better to do despite the fact they should have been in bed. Whipped for the way they were so concerned, whipped for the soft looks they'd given him, whipped for the way they just were how they fucking were — kind. Considerate. Sweet.

Protective.

It made a different kind of butterfly erupt in Jeongguks belly. One made of entirely too many dirty thoughts for seven in the morning, too much for Jeongguks pounding head and dry throat that begged for water, thirsty in an entirely different way than he normally was after drinking. Pathetic, really, how such benign shit got to him so easily just because it was them.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath in and swings his legs over the side of his bed, standing up on slightly shaky legs and then trying to shake away those thoughts, shooing away the butterflies into nets he ties down to the lining of his stomach and makes sure to secure before he pulls open his bedroom and steps  into the cold hallway. It prickles at his bare  arms and... jeans? Jeongguk realises he'd fallen asleep in the same clothes from the night before at the same time he's stepping into the kitchen and deeming it too late to turn back and change. He fills a glass and gulps it down, fills it again and then chugs that, too, before putting his glass back in the sink, leaning against it and closing his eyes in an attempt to force away the hangover haziness from behind his eyes.