More Than Friends | JJK 18+

eight♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ valentine's day party

Yumi groaned as she came to approximately five hours later—one hour before Jungkook deemed enough for nap time, and five hours longer than she meant to sleep.

She stirred in bed, tangled in the sheets, and her face planted unceremoniously into the comfiest pillow that ever graced her face. She wiggled around to commemorate the pure comfort and promptly released the loudest moan she could.

Jungkook immediately tore his eyes from his laptop, nearly breaking his neck as his attention snapped to where she slept on his bed.

He wondered if she was having a dream. A wet dream. Was it about him? He sure hoped so. It would make him feel better about the ones he had about her.

But he digressed.

He felt like a creep watching her writhe and moan on his bed as she slept, and he stood, his eyes shifting anywhere but at her.

He had to go, but where? He unplugged his laptop quickly enough to shake the contents on his desk, and he barely managed to keep his glass of water from falling in time.

Yumi lifted her face blearily at the sudden commotion, grudgingly turning to see what all the ruckus was about. She and Jungkook made eye contact, both of them blinking eerily slowly as they took each other in, and then—

"You creep!" Yumi hurled the comfiest pillow in the world at him. "You were watching me sleep?! I was fucking moaning!"

"I fucking heard," he bit back, his features tense. He set the glass on his desk, breathing shakily. "I was going to sit in my bathroom."

"Your bathroom?" Her jaw could have touched the floor. "To do what?"

"I'm not a pervert," he seethed. "I couldn't focus with you moaning like that." Turning it back around on her to let himself catch his breath, he pressed, "Why were you moaning?"

"I was comfortable," she shot back. "Why the fuck else?"

"I don't know what you dream about," he snapped.

She gaped before slamming her mouth shut. "That is none of your fucking business."

"It becomes my business when you're moaning on my bed."

"I didn't ask you to put me on your bed."

"Oh, I'm sorry." He made a grand gesture with a sweep of his arms. "Would you have liked to sleep on the floor?"

Yumi glared at him before slithering off the bed—taking his blankets with her—and curling into a ball on the floor. A beautiful cocoon, if anyone cared to ask.

He pinched the bridge between his nose. "I just washed my blankets."

"You should always wash your blankets after someone else uses them, you nasty boy."

"You're not someone else," he bit back. "You're you."

She peeked at him through a gap in her cocoon. "Who else would I be?"

"I'm saying"—he nearly slammed his laptop down on his desk out of frustration for the blanketed demon on his floor—"you're you and not some stranger. I don't need to wash my blankets if you use them."

She sniffed. "Nasty boy."

"Would you wash your blankets if I used them?"

She paused. "Yes," she lied.

He scoffed. "Bullshit."

"You're bullshit."

"You're bullshit."