‘He knows it's a big bad world, knows that I'm a good girl. I like 'em tough and mean, J is the worst that I've ever seen.’
Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Trophy wife (fem) reader.
Word count: 3,240
Genre: organized crime, toxic attachment, dark romance
Warnings: MDNI! Explicit sexual content(adult themes) | graphic violence (implied) | threats | mentions of death | coercion | harsh language| power imbalance | morally grey ml | gun | distress | smoking | dom jk | rough sex | raw sex | heavy makeout | oral (m. receiving) | man handling | dirty talk | age gap | observer/close third perspective | heavy misogynistic undertones |
The ice in Jeon's glass clinked as he swirled it, the amber liquid catching the dim light. Across the room, his Rolex lay discarded on the coffee table.
“Dumb fuck thought he could skim my shipments? Twelve years I fed that rat’s familly, put food in his kids mouth and this is his gratitude?" Jeon's voice cut through, deep and relentless like thunder rolling in. He was sprawled on the leather couch, a glass of whiskey in one hand, his broad shoulders straining against his black shirt. The room reeked of cigar smoke and expensive cologne, his three men hulking figures with scarred knuckles nodding respectfully around the coffee table scattered with papers and half empty bottles.
One of the older men, the one with the jagged scar, stepped forward carefully. “We’ll handle it, sir.”
“Oh, I know you will” Jeon said, barely listening. He set the glass down with a solid thud, leaning forward, forearms on his knees. “Make it ugly” he added almost lazily. “But clean. I don’t want stray blood landing anywhere it shouldn’t.”
His gaze lifted briefly, sharp enough to cut through steel. “A man who bites the hand that feeds him loses his teeth first."
One of the men cleared his throat rubbing a scar across his knuckles.“Sir… what about his wife?”
Jeon’s eyes narrowed. “No one touch her. She can cry over the scraps we leave behind. Loyalty is a family duty. They failed.”
__
It had been just over a week since the wedding, binding her to Jeon. No reception, no honeymoon plans. Just a drive back to his mansion in a blacked out suv as the city lights blurred into the night.
They told her she was lucky. Chosen. Blessed.
He was filthy rich that much she knew from her family's whispers. But the rest? A mystery wrapped in tailored suits and piercing stares.
She'd noticed the unfamiliar men at their wedding lurking in the corners like wolves in sheep's clothing. Their eyes scan the room with predatory intent. She had no idea who half those men were. She had no idea who her husband really was either.
Before the engagement they exchanged maybe three full conversations. Everyone assumed he chose her because she was a pretty docile and an easy wife for a man of his power. But he liked her precisely because she wasn’t fit for a world like his.
He kept his inner world sealed shut, a door she didn’t have the key to. Everything about him was controlled, guarded, untouchable. To him, dominance was natural. Authority was instinct.
He was good to her in his way. Providing everything she could ever need. He liked order. He liked routine. And she gave him exactly that.
Every night, she folded his watch and cufflinks neatly on the table. Every night, she waited in bed but pretended to be asleep when he entered because Jeon hated when she stayed up for him. Never climbed into bed with the air of a lover.
That was their normal.
__
It was well past midnight and the air hummed with the low buzz of the air conditioning, contrast to the humid summer night outside.
Tonight, she'd waited up longer than usual. Jeon's car had pulled into the drive hours ago but he hadn't come to their bedroom. Worry gnawed at her silly perhaps. Slipping from the silk sheets, she went barefoot down the glass stairs.
She'd only meant to check on him or maybe leave his usual whiskey on his table like she always did. He'd made it clear earlier. "Stay in your room when I have business." She hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But Voices grew clearer laced with profanity and menace. Then she saw him and surrounding him were four of his men.
"They'll find him by dawn, sir " one of his men grunted. Jeon swirled his drink "Make sure they don’t leave enough for a funeral. I want his wife to identify him by his fucking dental records." Jeon said, voice low almost conversational. The men nodded, their faces blank. They respected the boundaries he'd set, eyes averted from the upper floors.
Her blood turned to ice. Her heart hammered in her chest as she backed away, eyes wide with terror. She silently backed up, pulse thundering in her ears. Get out, she thought. Before he sees. Her mind raced with images of blood, of his men pulling a trigger because Jeon said so.
One of the men turned his head just enough. His eyes locked on hers with just a flicker of recognition and he dipped his head slightly, respectful even now.
"Mrs. Jeon" he said softly, voice steady not rising to alert the others yet.
Too late Jeon's gaze snapped up, dark and furious like it's ready to unleash hell. The room fell silent, the air thick with tension.
“The fuck is she doing out here?” he snarled.
Her breath catching as she saw him before she could even slip into the hallway. “I—I just…” she began, her voice cracking mid word. “I just came to check if you were home."
He set his glass down on the table with a quiet clink. He rose in one fluid motion all coiled power and menace striding toward the staircase. “Out” he ordered his men flatly. They emptied the room without a word, the door clicking shut behind them.
“Come down” he ordered.
She shook her head slightly without meaning to. His jaw twitched once.
“Fucking come down!” he barked.
Her legs carried her before her brain caught up. When she reached the last few steps, she stopped too scared to close the distance. And Jeon climbed the remaining steps toward her. Until they were eye level, only inches apart.
“What the fuck did I tell you?” he asked, voice low and laced with that edge that always made her knees weak with equal parts fear and something darker, something that pulled her to him despite everything. His presence was overwhelming as he grabbed her wrist yanking her close with effortless strength. She gasped twisting in his grip, tears pricking her eyes. “What did you hear?” he asked, the question laced with venom.
Her mind raced with survival mode. This was no negotiation. She understood that her answer determined not only her future but potentially her continued existence. Y/n straightened her spine slightly despite the overwhelming terror attempting to weaken her knees. She drew a shallow breath.
“N-Nothing..” she whispered, the words barely audible. “I heard nothing. I promise..”
He laughed then, a short, harsh sound that held no humor. The alcohol in his breath warmed her skin. “Do you think I am fucking stupid? “
His free hand gripped her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “Eavesdropping on shit you shouldn't. Now you're a liability.”
“I… I don’t understand your business.” she managed, her voice still thin. This much was true. “I only heard sounds. I couldn't process the words..” Another lie but it was the best she had. She had overheard enough to know the gravity of the situation.
He searched her eyes looking for any flicker of deceit. The necessity to intimidate her fully remained however. His expression shifted from pure menace to something bordering on frustrated disbelief. In a swift motion, he reached into the waistband of his pants and pulled out a Glock, the matte black metal gleaming under the light. He pressed the cold barrel against her temple not hard enough to bruise but firm enough to make her gasp. Her body went rigid, tears pricking at her eyes as she stared into his madening gaze.
"Lie again" he murmured "and I'll fuck the truth out of you right here" His eyes weren't angry. That was worse. They burned with something predatory like he'd been waiting for this.
“This is the only warning you get. My business is not your concern. It is not dinner table talk. If you ever, ever repeat anything you hear in this house to anyone it won't just be that fucker bleeding out. You get me? I'd hate to see that innocent face ruined. ” The cold finality of his threat left no room for doubt. He wasn’t threatening divorce ofcourse but he was confirming his power over her mere existence.
She nodded frantically unable to speak hoping he'd understand. Jeon exhaled once. “You're my wife. That's the only reason my gun isn't already smoking” he muttered more to himself than to her. He suspected her immediately agreeing as calculated rather than a genuine reaction of terror. He wanted resistance perhaps so he could crush it but her immediate surrender angered him.
Her breath trembled. “I swear I won't tell-”
He tilted her chin up with the cold metal edge of the gun not hurting her, just freezing her in place. “You overheard things that people die for” he whispered. “Things I never wanted you dragged into.”
“Jeon... please…” Tears streamed down her face. The gun's weight was like a death sentence hovering and she could smell the faint tang of gun oil mixed with his cologne.
He dragged the barrel down her cheek, tracing her jawline with deliberate slowness, the threat lingering. “You're in it now. If you even think about running. I'll fucking hunt you down. And when I find you. You'll wish I'd pulled this trigger. Am I clear?” His thumb brushed her tears , a mocking tenderness amid the threat.
“I.. I get it” she choked out, voice barely a whisper. “I won't. I swear!”
Jeon studied her for a long moment, the gun still in his hand, then holstered it with a fluid motion. “Get back to bed”
He stepped back just enough for her to slip away. Her legs wobbled as she retreated back to the bedroom, her heart still racing.
Jeon knew the hold he had on her the way she'd fallen into his trap drawn to the danger like a moth to flame. Her family would disown her for going against someone like Jeon anyway. But this, this was to break her, to etch fear into her bones because trust was a luxury he couldn't afford.
__
Jeon remained in the living room, drinking the last sip of his whiskey, the burn in his throat doing little to dull the rage simmering in his veins. She'd know too much today. For her own fucking good, he'd scared her straight and he didn't regret the lesson she'd needed.
He climbed the stairs, taking off his suit along the way. The bedroom door creaked open, revealing her curled on her side. Her shoulders shook faintly, sobs escaping despite her efforts to muffle them. Not asleep. Crying like a child caught in a storm she didn't understand.
He hadn't meant to shatter her this bad because vulnerability wasn't his style. Though he didn't regret the scare, loose lips sank ships and she needed to learn her place in his world. Not because he doubted her but because she would never survive it.
Jeon kicked off his shoes, fingers working the buttons of his shirt loose one by one exposing the hard planes of his inked chest. He unclasped his watch tossing it onto the dresser with a clink.
“Stop crying” he said, voice rough. “I haven't hurt you before and I don't plan to. I don't want to do a damn thing to you if you just listen. Keep your nose out of my shit and we're good.”
She didn't respond, her back rigid, face buried in the pillow. She knew he wouldn't pull the trigger not really. Deep down in the twisted combination of her fear and inexplicable pull toward him she sensed it. But the scare? It was real, raw.
The silence grated on him, fueling the fire. He hated this, her pulling away. This genuinely wasn't how he pictured their nights together, him playing their villain. But blame her for eaves dropping and acting like he was the monster when he'd built this life to protect what was his.
With a curse, he crossed the room in two strides, grabbing her shoulder and yanking her onto her back. “Look at me when I talk to you” he snarled, pinning her with his gaze. Her eyes, red rimmed and wide, met his, fresh tears spilling over. "You're gonna kill me for this, aren't you? "
Jeon's laugh scraped out, bitter yet hurt. "Kill you? Jesus fuck, no. This life? It devours the innocents. I wanted a wife , someone to handle the home, pop out kids maybe, keep shit together while I bleed for my fucking empire. Not some partner meddling in deals that could get her raped or worse. Stay in your lane or they drag you in and rip you apart. And I... shit, can't lose you to that." He pulled her closer by her hand, forehead thudded against hers, breath ragged, the confession ripping him open. Tenderness bled through the cracks, possessive and raw.
Y/N's chest heaved, terror twisting with the magnetic pull of him, her body betraying her mind. His hands roamed her back, slipping under the slik slip night dress to trace her spine.
Pulling away, Jeon straightened reaching into his pocket for the cigar he'd been saving. He lit it with a flick of his lighter, the flame casting shadows across his face as he inhaled deeply. The scent filled the room mixing with his cologne and the faint tang of sweat from the night's tension.
“I'm already pissed as fuck darling” he said, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling, his free hand unbuckling his belt with sharp jerks. The leather slid free and he tossed it across the room where it thudded against the wall. “The least you can do right now is be a good wife and satisfy me in bed. Make me forget your little stunt.”
Y/N's breath hitched, her body trembling under the sheets but she didn't protest. Fear fueled the heat pooling between her thighs. Jeon's eyes darkened, the cigar clamped between his teeth as he unzipped his pants shoving them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy already hardening at the sight of her fear laced submission. His dark eyes dropped pointedly to his crotch, a silent order that needed no argument.
She hesitated for a heartbeat then slid from the bed, knees hitting the plush carpet. Her nightgown rode up, eyes down , cheeks flushed with something deeper. Lips parting on instinct. Her hand wrapped around the base, barely circling its girth and she leaned forward, tongue flicking out to taste the salty bead at the tip. Jeon groaned, fingers threading into her hair not pulling yet but guiding. “Suck it like you fucking mean it.”
Y/n stretched her jaw wide, sliding the head past her lips. It filled her immediately, stretching her mouth around its thickness. She bobbed her head, sucking with wet, slurping sounds, her tongue swirling along the underside. Saliva dripped down her chin as she worked more of him in, gagging softly when it hit the back of her throat. The fear made her movements frantic but the way he throbbed against her tongue ignited a twisted heat in her core.
“Fuck, yeah“ Jeon rasped, hips rocking forward gently. “Look at you, choking on my cock. So scared but your mouth's greedy for it.” He tightened his hold in her hair, fucking her face with shallow thrusts.
Jeon's free hand cupped her jaw while he took another drag, the nicotine sharpening the edge of his arousal. With a grunt, he pulled out strings of spit connecting them.
“Enough. Up here.” He hauled her up by the arms onto the bed face down, the mattress bouncing under her weight. Y/N gasped, scrambling to push up but he was on her in seconds, yanking the nightgown over her head and snapping the clasp of her bra open. It fell away, freeing her breasts, nipples hardening in the cool air. Jeon flipped her onto her stomach again, kneeing her legs apart, his body covering hers like a shadow.
“Gonna fuck you now, darling” he muttered, grinding his cock against her ass, the tip nudging her slick folds. She was wet traitorously. He leaned down, cigar still lit and pressed his mouth to hers in a brutal kiss, exhaling smoke directly into her lungs. She coughed, inhaling the bitter haze, his tongue forcing deeper, tasting of whiskey and tobacco.
The kiss broke with a wet smack and Jeon tossed the cigar into an ashtray. His hands roamed, rough palms squeezing her hips, then sliding under to grope her breasts.
He lined up and thrust in without warning, burying his cock fully in her pussy. Y/N's walls clenched around him, tight and soaking, a muffled sob escaping into the pillow. Jeon didn't pause, pounding into her with aggressive snaps of his hips, the bedframe creaking under the force. Each drive stretched her, his balls slapping against her clit, building friction that made her body betray her with involuntary moans.
The stretch burning. Y/N screamed, nails raking his back, pain exploding into twisted bliss.
"Feel why I keep you out?" he grunted, hand on her throat. "This world's for men like me. You? You're for this, for taking my cock, shutting the fuck up about the rest" he rasped, sweat beading on his brow, one hand fisting the sheets beside her head while the other reached around to grab her tits, squeezing them harshly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he rutted deeper. Her nipples scraped against his palm, the pain mingling with pleasure, her cries turning breathy. She writhed under him, fear spiking the ecstasy.
Jeon shifted, hooking an arm under her waist to yank her ass higher, fucking her from behind with an insane speed. His cock dragged along her inner walls, hitting that spot that made her shake, her juices coating him, dripping down her thighs. “My cock owns this pussy.” The room filling with the obscene sounds of skin slapping skin, her whimpers, his grunts. And when she clenched around him, he slammed deep one last time flooding her with hot cum, ropes pulsing inside her.
Jeon collapsed over her, chest heaving still buried inside as he nipped her shoulder. Their heated bodies tangled, his lips pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, a whisper of care.
He pulled out slowly, watching his seed leak from her swollen folds.
__
The room was thick with the scent of sweat, smoke and the leftover heat of bodies.
Jeon sat back up slowly breathing hard, watching her chest rise and fall in shallow motions. There was no satisfaction in his expression now. No softness. Nothing smug. Only a simmering frustration buried under something he refused to voice.
He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. She met his gaze, eyes wide and red rimmed. “I don't get off on this shit. Scaring you. You think I wanted this life?”He paused, thumb brushing away a tear from her cheek, the touch un sarcastically tender before his hand dropped. “Born into it, clawed my way up. It's a goddamn meat grinder.” he muttered.
She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat burning. "I... I was just worried" she whispered, voice breaking. "And I just want to understand you. Be part of-"
"Part of what? You think I dragged your ass into this marriage for shits and giggles?" He barked a harsh laugh but it held no humor. "Worry from afar. Keep my home running, warm my bed, play the perfect wife. That's your place. Not dodging bullets. "
Jeon pulled her back against him then. The vulnerability lingered, a rare glimpse of the man haunted by his duties but it vanished as quickly as it came. “Understand this darling, my world's a fucking hell. You wouldn't survive it. I married you to keep something clean in this filthy world." The raw edge in his voice cracked her open wider, anger, fear, that possessive affection spilling through like poison in honey. She whimpered, body pressing closer overwhelmed by the storm of emotions. His mouth found here, lips brushing in a kiss that was almost tender.
The room fell silent save for their shared breaths. He held her tighter, a silent vow intertwined with curses and care binding her to his darkness even as he shielded her from its depths.
She felt safe and trapped, loved and diminished, the toxic pull of their bond dragging her under.
SUMMARY -> in which jungkook can’t resist his star student.
WORDS -> 6.8k (approx 30 min read time)
WARNINGS -> jungkook x female reader, unprotected sex, praise kink, age gap (if you squint), power imbalance (professor and student), slowburn, size kink, jungkook is kinda pathetic
now playing: silk lingerie, - kali uchis˚.⋆♪
epilogue
you had been a teacher’s pet since grade school.
all of that hard work got you into one of the most prestigious universities in your country. you were proud of your grades—the teachers and professors throughout your academic career were happy to give them to you.
professor jeon was nothing like any of them.
the first day, you showed up to class early and sat in the front (of course). you didn’t know what to expect. professor jeon was fresh meat, the newest professor in your school. no ratemyprofessors profile, no student horror stories, no face.
he fascinated you the moment he left his office and awkwardly stumbled into the lecture hall. you leaned in to take a closer look.
he was young, not that much older than you and heart achingly handsome. when his eyes met yours, a strange warmth coursed through your veins.
matters of the heart were foreign territory for you. yes, you had heard about your roommate’s various talking stages and hookups, but you never thought this would be anything like this. your heartbeat picked up. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him and he hadn’t even said a word.
he nearly dropped his laptop bag on the podium, fumbled with the hdmi cable to his slideshow, making the screen flash blue. he muttered an apology.
professor jeon cleared his throat, “um—hello. good morning. i’m professor jeon. jungkook. i mean—or dr. jeon. either is fine. not jungkook. not just—anyway.”
he laughed nervously.
silence.
you stared.
he ran his fingers through his jet black hair. “this is my first semester teaching. so, um. be gentle.”
the class laughed lightly.
you didn’t. you felt something shift in your chest. not authority, not intimidation.
but tenderness.
you were hooked.
art history became your favorite class. it met on tuesdays and thursdays from 5pm to 7pm. you heard your classmates complaining about how they were bored by the material, how the class was too long, but you just never understood why.
you could listen to professor jeon talk for an eternity. the way his eyes lit up when he saw a certain brush stroke. how he talked with his hands when he was excited. how he fumbled with his hdmi cord, always having problems with the connection before every class. you’d always get up to help him.
“you had the magic touch,” he said to you one day, “you always fix it.”
you replayed that moment in your head for days.
a week into the course, he announced a new resource for you all: homework videos. he filmed them weekly to explain core concepts.
“they’re probably unnecessary,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “but i know the content can get…intense.”
you were the first one to watch the video the night it was uploaded.
he was in his office, books stacked behind him. he stumbled over terminology, corrected himself mid sentence, and laughed awkwardly.
“okay,” he said in the video, “that made no sense. let me start over.”
you rewinded that part three times. you didn’t need the help. you have a 100%.
but you watched every video. every week. the moment they drop. sometimes twice. sometimes to hear his voice.
you wondered if professor jeon had a wife. he was young, yes, but someone like him couldn’t be single. you imagined him with a woman, looking at her with the same brightness in his eyes he has when he talks about his favorite art pieces.
it made you sick.
you wanted to be that woman.
when he sent an email to your class about office hours, you knew you had to be there.
you didn’t have any questions. you just wanted to “clarify something.” he looked surprised to see you, like he expected no one to come.
“oh! hi. it’s you—um. front row? hdmi?” he ran his fingers through his hair.
“yes, professor.” you smiled.
he gestured to a chair, “everything okay with the reading?”
you nodded. “i just wanted to ask about the emotional framing of the baroque martyrdom.”
he blinked, just staring at you for a moment.
you swallowed.
“that’s… actually a really great question.”
you talked for thirty minutes.
you noticed him relaxing with you. he smelled like fresh laundry up close, which somehow felt more intoxicating than any cologne would.
by week three, you were there every monday. he started to expect you.
・・・・・
jungkook squinted as he reread your paper for the third time.
the subject does not desire possession. only closeness. only the warmth of standing near something luminous and being allowed to witness it.
he had that part circled since the first time he read it. something about it stuck with him in ways he couldn’t describe.
he knew educators weren’t supposed to have favorites, but if he was honest, he did and it was you. teaching at this university was a very impersonal experience and you were one of the only students he’s gotten to bond with. you were brilliant, your papers a delight to read. when you answered questions in class, he felt immense relief.
when he got excited to see you at office hours, he told himself it was because you were academically engaged.
not because you sat too close.
not because you smelled vanilla and paper.
not because of how your lip gloss caught the light.
and definitely not because he let his eyes wander to how your perfect legs would cross under your desk.
you were beautiful. that was a simple, undeniable fact.
office hours with you became the highlight of his week.
you really listened to him. chin resting on your palm, eyes steady on his mouth as he explained to you, brows knitting together ever so slightly.
“so, in caravaggio’s work, the light is meant to…”
you bit your lip in concentration. his brain short circuited.
he trailed off into silence, taking you in for a moment. heat crawled up his neck.
“dr. jeon?” you asked softly.
hearing his name come from your lips made his heart skip a beat. he ran his hands through his hair.
“yes, i’m sorry. i lost my train of thought. what was i saying?”
you blinked up at him so innocently, adjusting yourself in your seat. you somehow ended up closer to him, “the light reveals what the subject can’t say.”
“that’s right.”
he stared at you for half a second too long. you made him feel smart. seen. important when he was so afraid of being seen as incompetent.
one day, he checked your name on the gradebook out of pure curiosity. you had the highest average by far. you didn’t need office hours. yet you never missed them.
that night, he replayed his conversations with you.
the way you looked at him.
it’s not normal student interest. it’s softer. lingering. he swallowed.
you’re just enthusiastic, he told himself. but he knew what a crush looks like. he’s had them.
he disregarded that thought.
it was pathetic to think that someone like you wanted him. you were brilliant, beautiful, and had a bright future ahead of you. and most importantly you were his student.
he was awkward, and you probably thought he was incompetent but were too nice to show it. he was projecting.
but a part of him wished he wasn’t.
at office hours that week, you showed him a draft of an upcoming paper. he stood behind you, scanning it over your shoulder.
he leaned down slightly, his hand gingerly rested on your shoulder.
he could smell your coconut shampoo. he swallowed. his voice lowered subconsciously.
“this line stood out to me,” jungkook said. “the way you describe longing… it’s intense.”
you just nodded.
jungkook reread it.
the tragedy is not that he is distant. the tragedy is that he believes himself unworthy of being wanted.
something about that felt too personal.
he pushed it down.
you followed the prompt, right?
it’s art analysis.
you couldn’t be writing about him.
that night, he couldn’t get the sweet scent of your shampoo out of his mind.
when he finally got your paper in his hands on a late night in his apartment, he was very impressed. you were his star student, of course.
just his star student.
not the girl he counted down the days till he saw.
not the girl who made mondays his favorite day of the week.
not the girl who bit her lip when she was concentrating.
not the girl who made his body feel things he definitely shouldn’t.
just his student.
he loved reading your papers. your syntax was perfect and your analysis was refreshing. the prompt was about longing and devotion in the assigned piece. he wanted to see what you had to say.
but something was strange.
the cruelest irony is that he fears crossing a line that has already blurred.
his brows furrowed.
what did that mean?
it was a stretch to say it was relevant to the piece.
jungkook leaned back in his chair, the paper still in his hands.
he read the line again.
the cruelest irony is that he fears crossing a line that has already blurred.
his stomach dropped.
that wasn’t about a painting.
that wasn’t about some baroque martyr suspended in dramatic lighting.
that sounded like—
no.
he shook his head and scrubbed a hand down his face.
you were just good at this. you wrote with emotional precision. that’s all. you were perceptive. intense. maybe a little dramatic.
he kept reading.
the viewer aches not because he is unattainable, but because he cannot see what she sees when she looks at him.
his throat went dry.
she.
not the viewer. not the audience.
she.
jungkook’s fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the page.
it was probably stylistic. plenty of critics used gendered language. it didn’t mean anything.
he forced himself to keep going.
he stands illuminated before a room full of people and still insists he is ordinary. that is the greatest misunderstanding in the composition.
his chest felt tight.
illuminated before a room full of people.
standing in front of a room.
insisting he was ordinary.
he thought about the way he apologized during his first lecture. the way he said be gentle. the way you had looked at him like he wasn’t something fragile but something worth protecting.
his pulse started to thrum in his ears.
this is ridiculous, he told himself.
he is projecting.
he is lonely.
he is reading into things because he wants to.
she didn’t mean it like that.
but then—
he flipped back a page.
devotion often attaches itself not to grandeur, but to sincerity. to the quiet way he fumbles with cords before speaking. to the nervous laugh he cannot seem to outgrow.
his breath stuttered.
that wasn’t—
that couldn’t—
he actually dropped the paper this time, the soft rustle loud in his silent apartment.
fumbles with cords.
nervous laugh.
those were details.
not abstract traits.
details.
jungkook stood abruptly, pacing once across his small living room before running both hands through his hair.
no.
you wouldn’t.
you couldn’t.
you were brilliant. careful. disciplined. you followed prompts. you didn’t blur lines.
he was the one blurring them.
he was the one noticing how close you sat.
the one replaying your voice saying dr. jeon late at night.
the one counting down to mondays.
this had to be him reading what he wanted to read.
but when he picked the paper back up, his hands weren’t steady anymore.
the tragedy is not that he is distant. the tragedy is that he believes himself unworthy of being wanted.
his jaw clenched.
unworthy.
he had said that word before. not to you. never to you. but to himself. in the mirror. in quiet moments when imposter syndrome clawed at his ribs.
how could you possibly know that?
unless—
unless you were paying attention the same way he was.
unless when he thought you were just listening, you were seeing.
really seeing.
a slow heat crept up his neck, down his spine.
shock first.
then disbelief.
then something far more dangerous.
hope.
he sank back into his chair, staring at your name typed neatly at the top of the page.
you.
you with the highest average in his gradebook.
you who didn’t need office hours.
you who sat too close.
you who bit your lip when concentrating.
you who looked at him like he mattered.
how could someone like you—
want someone like him?
the thought made his head spin.
it was impossible.
and yet the evidence was sitting in his hands in twelve-point times new roman.
he pressed his thumb lightly over the line again.
fears crossing a line that has already blurred.
a line.
between what?
student and professor.
he inhaled sharply.
this was wrong.
this was dangerous.
he should shut it down immediately. draw a boundary. grade the paper objectively. pretend he never read between the lines.
but instead, he found himself wondering—
when you wrote he, were you picturing him?
when you wrote she, were you picturing yourself?
his heart hammered harder at the possibility.
that wasn’t academic curiosity.
that was desire.
he stood again, restless, pacing a second time.
this is inappropriate.
he is your professor.
you deserve better than his loneliness.
but the image of you at that desk, looking up at him with those wide, steady eyes, wouldn’t leave him.
what if he wasn’t imagining it?
what if you really—
he stopped that thought before it could fully form.
he dropped back into his chair and grabbed a red pen.
his hand hovered over the top of the page.
for a long moment, he didn’t write a grade.
instead, almost without thinking, he wrote:
see me after class.
he stared at the words.
his pulse thundered.
he had no idea what he was going to say to you.
he just knew he couldn’t keep pretending he didn’t see it anymore.
and he couldn’t keep pretending he didn’t want it to be true.
he dreamt about you that night.
・・・・・
see me after class.
your heart dropped. as you reread the line on top your paper.
no grade. just that written in red pen.
what could he mean? professor jeon loved to read your papers. he told you that it was a delight to grade them.
you had tailored your writing style to fit his tastes. to get the praise and approval from him that you grew to crave. the thought of him suddenly disapproving was heartbreaking.
you knew you couldn’t have him, but at least you had his professional admiration.
did you just lose that too?
that class was the first to feel slow.
professor jeon avoided eye contact with you, directing his attention away from the front row for the whole two hours. he called on other students, and pretended as if you weren’t there.
you were addicted to his attention, and you could feel the withdrawals.
when class finally ended, you stayed in your seat, looking over your notes as everyone else filed out of the lecture hall.
he closed the door behind the last student and locked it.
you swallowed.
“professor, i—“
“one moment please,” his tone was colder than normal as he tidied up his podium and approached you.
you were silent, your heart pounding in your chest.
“i wanted to talk about your essay,” he went to sit in the chair next to you.
you looked down, fiddling with the hem of your skirt, “is it… inappropriate?” you were quieter than you wanted to be.
“no,” he said. you felts his eyes boring into you but you refused to look up. “just… very honest.”
the silence stretched.
“you write longing like you understand it intimately.”
that was when you looked up, meeting his searching eyes. your breath trembled.
“maybe i do.”
you had no idea why you said that. he slid closer. “is there… someone you’re writing about?” his eyes softened.
you couldn’t lie to him. “yes.”
his head tilted, “does he know?”
you studied his face. his skin was perfect, free from blemishes that you’d normally see from someone this close. his thin rimmed glasses slightly slipped down his face and framed his beautiful brown eyes.
you still couldn’t lie to him.
“i think he does now.”
the silence was suffocating.
your heart is slamming against your chest. heat crawled up your neck. he could probably see the slight blush on your cheeks.
professor jeon nervously laughed the way he does when he mixed up his words or lost his train of thought.
you could hear the disbelief in his voice, “you’re… you’re brilliant.” he ran a hand through his hair, “you could have anyone.”
you leaned in, “i don’t want anyone.”
he slid closer.
“why me?”
his voice was raw, honest. his professor persona was gone, replaced with something softer.
“you look at me like i matter.”
that was his undoing.
he had never been the object of someone’s longing.
he was always replaceable. invisible. occasionally admired for his usefulness.
and here you were—beautiful, bright, the top of his class, looking at him like he was sacred.
something snapped.
“this is a terrible idea,” he whispered.
“tell me to leave.”
he couldn’t.
his hand moved, almost involuntarily cupping your cheek.
it was soft against your cheek. you melted into the touch.
he inhaled sharply.
you kissed him first.
soft, uncertain. he froze for a moment, shocked.
he caved.
he kissed you back, hands hovering over your waist. it was clumsy. breathless. desperate. you pulled away, stunned. he stared at you like he just jumped off of a cliff.
“w-we can’t do this,” he muttered.
you grabbed his hands, guiding them onto his hips.
“then stop.”
he doesn’t.
you climbed on top of him, hips bracketing his.
he kissed you this time. deeper, slower, memorizing. it was overwhelming for the both of you. you had never been wanted like this.
then reality slammed back in.
you were on campus. the door was unlocked. the building was probably empty, this was a night class, but it wasn’t empty enough. if anyone saw you, he would be fired and your scholarship would be in jeopardy.
the risk seemed to process in his head as well. you climbed off of him, expecting him to push you away.
instead, he said, “we have to get out of here.”
we.
・・・・・
this was idiotic and jungkook knew it.
you walked out of the lecture hall first, and he set a five minute timer to leave after you.
you met him in the empty faculty parking lot. the air was cool, the sky was dim. he unlocked his car with shaking hands.
this was insane.
you got in the car anyways.
the moment the door shut behind you, he looked at you.
then it all started over. you gave him a kiss before buckling your seatbelt. it was urgent. his hands framed your face like he couldn’t believe you were real. he pulled back, starting his car.
he was grateful his apartment was clean when you walked in. you stepped inside like it was sacred ground. he closed the door, locked it, and shut the blinds.
he just stared at you, nervously standing in his living room.
“you deserve someone better,” he blurted, breaking the silence.
it wasn’t modesty. it was insecurity.
“i don’t want better. i want you.” you said matter of factly.
he sat on the couch. you climbed on top of him again, gingerly positioning your clothed heat on top of his crotch. his hands hovered over your hips.
“can i?”
you nodded. his hands rested on your hips, rubbing light circles that made you melt further into him. he kissed your again, his tongue curling with yours as your hips began to subconsciously rock into his. he didn’t stop it.
jungkook hadn’t done anything like this since he was in grad school, your touch making him realize how starved he’s been. he shuddered as your hips found a rhythm grinding against him.
he tilted your chin up, trying to to deepen the kiss. you did your best to keep up, and he pulled back.
he pulled back, cupping your face. “relax,” he whispered, “let me.”
and when he kissed you again, you obeyed, melting under him as you let him take control of the kiss. he smiled into it.
you were always such a good listener.
your hips began to rut into him faster and faster, clearly chasing something you didn’t fully understand. he noticed your movements were clumsy, uncoordinated, a coil tightening in your stomach that needed release.
his hands tensed on your hips, stilling you.
“easy,” he murmured, “let me help you.”
his fingers slid down, slowly inching underneath your skirt. “can i?”
you nodded, breathless. his knuckles brushed against your panties. you gasped, leaning into the touch.
“so responsive,” he made eye contact with you. “has anyone touched you here before?”
you shook your head, unable to form words. a possessive rush ran down his spine.
he slipped his hand into your panties, finding you soaked and swollen. you cried into the touch, hips bucking against his hand.
“shhh,” he soothed, his other hand coming to cup the back of your neck, “i’ve got you, just feel.”
his fingers explored you slowly, deliberately. he watched every expression that crossed your face, cataloging your responses like he studied art. when his thumb softly massaged your clit, you whimpered and tried to grind against his hand again.
“p-professor…”
he slowed down, cupping your cheek. “look at me,” he coaxed.
you obeyed immediately.
“can you call me by my first name here?” he asked, thumb rubbing circles into your cheek.
it felt wrong to you to call your professor by his first name. he was someone of greater knowledge. someone older. someone to respect.
someone with his hand in your panties as you sat in his lap.
the way he studied you melted your heart. he stared at you with a reverence that you never thought you would receive.
you couldn’t say no to him.
“j-jungkook,” you whispered.
he felt himself twitch in his pants. something about the way it rolled off your tongue had him dizzy.
he cursed under his breath. “again, please baby.” he asked with pleading eyes.
that nickname made you shudder. you obeyed, “jungkook.”
jungkook gave you a quick kiss, “good girl. just my name. only my name.”
the praise was addictive.
he circled your clit with his thumb while sliding one finger inside you. you clenched around him instinctively, your body reacting to the foreign intrusion. the sensation made you whimper.
“baby…” he rested his forehead against yours, “you’re so perfect for me.”
you whined.
something in him snapped. he added another finger, pumping them in and out and stretching you while he rubbed circles on your clit. his doe eyes stared down at you.
his bottom lip trembled. “i can’t believe i let you sit in my office hours for weeks and didn’t know you wanted this. i-i tried my best to not look at you,” he rambled between open mouthed kisses to your cheek and her jaw, “you’ve always been so good to me… so sweet. i could’ve had you so much sooner.”
you gasped as he found the sweet spot on your neck. he took a moment to suck and nibble on it. “if i tried to touch you like this right in that lecture hall, you probably would’ve let me… just spread your legs and let me take what i wanted, right? because you want this as bad as i do, right?”
you bit back a moan and nodded as the pace of his fingers picked up. the combination of the fingers and the pressure on your clit was overwhelming. your breath came out in short pants.
you came with cry, your body shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you. jungkook held you through it, his movements slowing as you rode out your orgasm.
when you finally gathered yourself, you were slumped against him, your face buried in his neck. you could feel his hardness pressing against you through his slacks. he removed his fingers, the loss making you whine.
you had never experienced anything like that before.
“did you like it?” he asked, his voice rough.
you were still staring at your lap, overwhelmed. he tilted your chin up with his finger.
“eyes up,” he corrected softly.
you looked up at him with wide, yielding eyes. he wanted to devour you. he wanted to rip all of your clothes off, bend you over on the couch, and take you over, and over, and over until you couldn’t walk. until the only thing you could say was his name. you were so eager to please that you probably would’ve let him.
but you didn’t deserve that. you deserved something sweet and slow.
he smiled at you, “we’re not done yet.”
he lifted you effortlessly, body going limp in his arms as you clung to his shoulders. you were in a daze and he could tell.
jungkook didn’t waste any time. he opened his bedroom door, kicking it shut behind him with his heel.
the first thing you noticed about the room was that it smelled like him—sandalwood and old books.
he laid you out on the bed like you were something precious, his soft mattress dipping under your weight. you stared up at the ceiling, your heart still hammering against your ribs, your skin tingling all over. your skirt rode up to your waist.
“look at you,” he murmured, “so pretty.”
he crawled onto the bed. your thighs spread instinctively. he noticed, grinning.
he positioned his head between your thighs, looking up at you as his fingers brushed your waistband.
“what are you doing?” you whispered.
he looked up at you, “can i taste you?”
your breath hitched, “…yes.”
he pulled off your skirt, unbuttoning your shirt and taking off your bra for good measure, leaving you only in your panties. he pulled back for a moment to take you in. you blushed.
he pulled your panties down slowly and tenderly, letting out a soft gasp as he saw the remnants of your orgasm slipped out of your panties and dripped down your thighs.
“oh baby,” he said, “you made a mess, didn’t you?”
you whimpered. it was music to his ears.
“it’s okay,” he coaxed, taking off his fogged up glasses and setting them on the nightstand. “i’ll clean you up.”
that was when he bent down and licked a stripe against your sensitive flesh. your thighs instinctively closed against the sides of his head. he moved his hands to rest on your knees.
“keep your legs open,” he commanded softly.
the second swipe made you cry out, back arching off the bed. he groaned, the sound going straight through your core, feeling that coil tighten all over again in your tummy.
“jungkook…” you whined, hands tangling in his hair.
“just relax,” he mumbled against you, vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. “let me take care of you.”
your back arched again, and he held your hips down. the restraint made you dizzy.
he was a starving man, and you were the feast. he ate you out with desperate, enthusiastic hunger, his nose nudging against your clit as he lapped at you. he didn't just want to please you—he wanted to consume you.
you were melting into the mattress, completely overwhelmed. you wanted to grind against his face, to chase the friction, but his hold forced you to stay still. you were his to use, his to taste. you let him do all the heavy lifting, letting his tongue and his hands do the work while you just surrendered to the sensation.
you whimpered. high, helpless, embarrassingly sweet. the praise, the quiet command, it unraveled you faster than you thought possible.
he could tell.
your breathing turned ragged and your stomach started fluttering again, he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked. it was soft at first, then with steady, pulsing pressure. your whole body locked up. a broken little sob tore out of your throat as the second orgasm crashed through you, sharper and deeper than the first.
he didn’t stop.
he licked you through every aftershock, slower now, almost tender, until your whimpers turned into soft, overwhelmed sniffles. only then did he finally pull back, lips glossy, cheeks flushed, pupils blown so wide the brown was nearly gone.
he crawled up your body carefully, caging you without crushing you. his forearms bracketed your head. you could smell yourself on his mouth, on his chin, and the realization made fresh heat bloom low in your belly.
jungkook looked… ruined.
his hair was a mess from your fingers, shirt half-unbuttoned, chest rising and falling too fast. he stared down at you like you were the most devastating thing he’d ever seen.
“you’re shaking,” he whispered, brushing your hair out of your face. his thumb traced your bottom lip. “was that too much?”
you shook your head immediately, eyes glassy. “n-no… it felt so good…”
his expression softened into something dangerously fond.
he kissed you then, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. you moaned quietly into his mouth, small hands clutching at his shoulders like you were afraid he’d disappear.
when he pulled back just enough to speak, his voice cracked.
“baby…” he swallowed hard. “can i… can I be inside you?”
your breath hitched.
the question hung between you, heavy and reverent.
you wanted to say yes. you did want to say yes. but the sudden rush of everything, body over yours, the damp heat still pulsing between your legs, the sheer size of him pressing against your thigh through his slacks—made your brain short-circuit.
you stared up at him with wide, dazed eyes. lips parted. no sound came out.
jungkook’s face fell the tiniest bit. misreading your silence as hesitation, he started to pull back.
“i’m sorry—i shouldn’t have—”
your hands grabbed his shirt before he could retreat.
he froze.
you didn’t speak, just looked at him—soft, overwhelmed, trusting—and slowly shook your head no. not no to him. no to him stopping.
understanding flickered across his face.
he exhaled shakily. “you want me to keep going?”
a tiny nod.
“but you’re… you’re not saying anything.”
another tiny nod. your cheeks burned. you liked this, seeing the normally composed, fumbling professor come apart. liked the way his voice was starting to shake.
jungkook dropped his forehead to your shoulder, breathing hard.
“you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered. then, quieter, almost broken: “please. sweetheart, please. i need to feel you. i need it so bad. i haven’t—fuck, i haven’t let myself have anyone since i was studying for my master’s. i buried myself in books and data and—and then you walked into my class and i… i can’t think straight anymore.”
his hips rolled once, involuntarily, grinding his clothed length against your soaked core. he groaned low in his throat.
“i’ll go slow. i swear. i’ll stop the second you want me to. just… please let me inside you. please.”
the please sounded almost pathetic. desperate. nothing like the quiet authority he carried in lecture halls.
and you loved it.
you stayed silent a little longer, letting him unravel.
his breathing grew uneven. he started pressing soft, pleading kisses along your throat, your jaw, the corner of your mouth.
“i’ll take such good care of you,” he whispered against your skin. “i promise. i just… i need you. need to feel how warm you are. how tight. please, baby. please say yes. i’m begging you.”
your heart squeezed.
finally, soft, barely audible—you breathed:
“…yes.”
jungkook made a broken sound in the back of his throat.
he kissed you fiercely once, then sat back just enough to yank his shirt over his head. belt. button. zipper. he shoved everything down and off in one impatient motion.
when he settled back over you, completely bare, your eyes widened.
he was… big.
thick. long. flushed dark at the tip and already leaking. the sight made your thighs tremble.
“i—i don’t think…” you whispered, suddenly small and unsure again.
jungkook noticed immediately.
he leaned down, cupping your face with both hands.
“hey,” he soothed, voice velvet-soft. “it’s okay. it’ll fit. i promise you it will. we’ll go as slow as you need. you’re so wet for me already… it’ll be so easy. is that okay?”
you swallowed. nodded.
he reached between your bodies, guiding himself to your entrance. the blunt head nudged against you—hot, slick, insistent.
“breathe,” he murmured. “just breathe for me.”
you did.
he pushed in barely an inch.
your breath caught. the stretch burned immediately. sharp. intense. you whimpered, fingers digging into his biceps.
“shhh, shhh,” he kissed your temple, your cheek, your lips. “you’re doing so good. so perfect. look at you taking me already.”
another slow inch.
the burn sharpened. tears pricked your eyes.
“jungkook—it hurts—”
“i know, baby. i know.” he stilled completely, trembling with the effort of holding back. “just stay with me. relax around me. let me in slow. you’re so tight… fuck, you feel incredible.”
he kissed you through it. soft, open-mouthed, distracting. whispered praise against your lips.
“you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.”
“so good for me.”
“taking me so well even though it’s your first time.”
“i’ve wanted this for so long.”
little by little, the sting began to melt. the fullness turned heavy, aching, good.
addictive. your hips shifted experimentally.
a soft moan slipped out.
his eyes fluttered shut. “that’s it… that’s my girl.”
he sank the rest of the way in one careful glide.
you both groaned.
he bottomed out, hips flush to yours, and stayed there—letting you adjust, letting himself feel every fluttering pulse around him.
“you’re perfect,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “so perfect. feel that? that’s us. just us.”
tears slipped down your temples—not from pain anymore, but from how full you felt. how wanted. how seen. he kissed them away.
“move,” you breathed after a long moment. “please… please move.”
he did.
slow. deep.
every drag of him inside you lit up nerves you didn’t know existed. the ache turned molten. sweet. you wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer.
he groaned your name like a prayer.
“you feel so good,” he rasped. “so warm. baby, you’re squeezing me so perfect.”
you keened at the praise, nails raking lightly down his back.
“more,” you whispered. “please.”
he gave it to you—still controlled, still careful, but deeper now. harder. the bed creaked softly beneath you.
“look at me,” he murmured.
you did.
his eyes were liquid dark, reverent.
“i’m so proud of you,” he said, voice shaking. “letting me have you like this. trusting me. you’re everything. you know that? everything.”
your eyes fluttered. the coil was building again—different this time. deeper. all-consuming.
“jungkook—”
“i’ve got you,” he promised, hips rolling in that perfect grind. “come for me, baby. let me feel it. please, baby.”
you shattered.
harder than before. clenching around him so tightly he cursed under his breath. your whole body shook, soft cries muffled against his shoulder.
he followed right after, hips stuttering, burying himself as deep as possible as he spilled inside you with a long, broken moan of your name.
for several long minutes you just held each other. breathing hard. sweaty. trembling.
he pressed the softest kisses to your hairline, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose.
“you okay?” he whispered eventually.
you nodded against his chest. smiled sleepily.
“more than okay.”
he exhaled, relieved. wrapped both arms around you and rolled so you were tucked against his side, still connected.
“stay,” he murmured, almost shy now that the urgency had passed. “just… stay with me tonight?”
you nuzzled closer, already drifting.
“always.”
the apartment was quiet in a way it had never been before.
not tense.
not forbidden.
just quiet.
the kind of quiet that settled after something life-changing.
you were wrapped in his sheets, hair messy, lips swollen, limbs pleasantly heavy. the world felt softer around the edges. unreal.
jungkook was sitting up beside you, chest rising and falling slowly, still trying to steady himself. he looked wrecked in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion and everything to do with disbelief.
you were looking at him like you had just discovered something sacred.
he ran a hand through his hair and let out a small, almost shy laugh.
“are you sure you okay?” he asked, voice lower than usual.
you nodded immediately. “perfect. all because of you .”
that made his ears turn pink.
he disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and came back with a warm cloth. the gentleness in his movements made your chest ache. he knelt beside you on the bed like you were fragile porcelain.
“let me,” he murmured.
he was careful. attentive. not clinical, but reverent. like this mattered. like you mattered.
you watched his face while he cleaned you up, the concentration in his brows, the softness in his eyes. he kept glancing up to check your expression.
“tell me if anything feels uncomfortable,” he said quietly.
you shook your head. “it doesn’t.”
he exhaled, relieved.
when he was done, you sat up slowly and took the cloth from his hand.
“my turn,” you said.
he blinked at you. “you don’t have to.”
“i want to.”
that softness again. that eagerness that kept undoing him.
you guided him back onto the bed, pushing him gently until he was the one lying down. he let you. completely.
there was something so vulnerable about him like that, broad shoulders against white sheets, hair falling into his eyes, chest rising steadily under your gaze.
you were just as careful with him.
your touch was slower, lighter, almost curious.
he swallowed hard.
“you’re staring,” he muttered.
“i am.”
he huffed a breath that might have been a laugh.
“why?”
you shrugged slightly. “i never thought you’d look like this.”
“like what?”
“soft.”
that made him go quiet.
when you finished, you tossed the cloth aside and crawled back toward him without hesitation. skin to skin. you pressed yourself against his side like it was instinct.
he stiffened for half a second. not because he didn’t want you there, but because he wasn’t used to it. not used to being held.
then his arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies.
you rested your cheek against his chest.
he smelled like clean laundry and something warmer now. something entirely his.
“was this okay?” you mumbled sleepily.
his arm tightened around you.
“yeah,” he said softly. “it was more than okay.”
your fingers started tracing idle patterns against his skin.
that was when you noticed it fully. the ink winding down his arm.
you lifted your head slightly, eyes scanning the dark lines and shaded details of his sleeve.
“i never thought you’d have tattoos like this,” you murmured.
he looked down at you, amused. “like what?”
“like this,” you repeated, dragging your fingertip slowly along the edge of one design. “i thought you’d have, like… a tiny minimalist one. something academic.”
he laughed, the sound vibrating under your ear.
“a tiny minimalist one?”
“maybe a paintbrush,” you said seriously. “or something pretentious.”
he laughed harder at that.
“i’m not that bad.”
you hummed, tracing another section carefully. “it’s pretty.”
“pretty?”
“yeah.” your voice was soft, sincere. “i liked that it didn’t match what people expected.”
he watched you with an expression that shifted from amused to something deeper.
“you didn’t seem surprised,” he said quietly.
“about what?”
“that i wasn’t what people expected.”
you rested your chin on his chest and looked up at him.
“i’d known that since the first day.”
his fingers slid into your hair absentmindedly.
“you were full of surprises too,” he murmured.
you smiled sleepily. “like what?”
“like how brave you were.”
you flushed at that.
“i was terrified.”
“you didn’t look it.”
you tucked yourself closer into him, your leg sliding between his instinctively. he inhaled softly at the contact but didn’t move away.
“i liked being close to you,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.
his hand stilled in your hair.
“i liked you being close,” he answered.
the room went quiet again, but it was different now.
comfortable.
your fingertip continued tracing the lines of his sleeve, slowly, carefully, memorizing. you followed each curve like you were studying something important.
he watched you the entire time.
like he still couldn’t believe you were there.
like he was afraid if he closed his eyes, you’d disappear.
“don’t look at me like that,” you mumbled without opening your eyes.
“like what?”
“like i’m going to vanish.”
his breath caught.
you opened one eye and smiled faintly.
“i wasn’t.”
his arm tightened around you again, pressing a soft kiss into your hair.
“good,” he whispered.
and for the first time since the line had blurred, neither of you felt like you were falling.
you just lay there, skin to skin, quiet and tangled together, tracing ink and memorizing warmth, like you had all the time in the world.
author’s note: this took forever to write bc i got super self indulgent😭 i hope you enjoyed it, i’ve had this idea for a while. thank you for reading<333
|| mr. jeon wasn't looking for a girlfriend when he hired you as a babysitter for his 5 year old son - however, he took a liking to seeing you in his own home, way more than he'd realized. (13k words)
content : age gap (31 & 22) , secretly down bad jungkook, mini slow burn, sensitive reader, teasing, jealousy moment, eventual smut (mention of m. masturbation, unprotected p in v, oral f. receiving, praise and degradation, edging, doggy, hair pulling, talking her thru it, small boobs appreciation, clit play ..), fluff, lwk mean dom kook, they want each other bad, reader has long hair, jungkook is kinda grumpy, themes of dom & sub faintly underlying
♡ bunny´s notes : dad jungkook is my fav trope ! i worked hard on ts,, lmk what u think (This took ages to write) >.< may contain typos or errors
⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
Life looks different twice a week.
On boring mondays and long wednesday evenings, you'd been making your way over to a neighbourhood that seemed far out of reach before, getting on a bus you'd never thought to ride. Lavish residences with blooming gardens line the streets of his district, among them, a rather dark looking, simple house; plain garden with a swing placed thoughtlessly right in the middle of the neglected front lawn, a broken porch light glowing whenever it felt enticed to.
Yet the herbal, earthy and simultaneously fruity scent of bonterra organic cabernet lingers in the air from what feels like a mile away. The artificial sweetness of your 16 euro body spray - notes of sugar and vanilla - create a mismatched harmony that infiltrates Mr. Jeon's home.
His son fell in love with you at the first meeting.
The puppy-like looking little boy had nannies on trial and error before - highly paid, recommended ones, the kind that have a linkedin, like all the other rich bastards in Jungkook’s circle have. While the first two's soft approach got the occasional giggle out of Jukyung, the following three, stricter ones, failed to do anything but make him cry and refuse to eat the meals they had spent so much time preparing. All of it seemed to make no sense since - he is by no means a difficult child to charm, proving equal habits by the time you came around. Hiding behind his dad’s leg and clinging his tiny hands to the cashmere pant, eyes wide and already glossy from glancing up at the fresh face in front of him.
Maybe that's why Jukyung came to adore you so quickly. Sweet faced and unmistakably younger than any of the other women his dad hired. Old enough to be old in his eyes - but young enough to know the shows he watches, recognize marvel superheroes and play the songs currently on the radio - when he repeats them with a jumbled melody and made up, Incoherent lyrics.
“He's a bit shy” Jungkook sighs, muttering as his fingers skim down the kid's tiny shoulders soothingly. You reply with a small hum, offering an inviting smile to him as you talk,
"That's okay. I'm sure we will get along. I'm – , nice to meet you Jukyung.”
He blinks slowly, the big doe eyes that match his dad's shine with childish excitement Jungkook lost somewhere along the way of becoming a man.
“Namjoon said you're good with brats like him” Jungkook continues, a curious glint in his serious gaze, his friend's judgement remaining under scrutiny.
“Mr. Kim?”
He nods, “He suggested you to me”. While adjusting his tie, he spares a quick look at the golden watch on his wrist.
“I hope you get along. Don’t hesitate to call me if there is an emergency.”
Jukyung pouts as he looks up to his dad, his iron man shirt bunched up in angry little grips of his hands. You stay quiet, listening to the serious tone in Jungkook's voice fade out into a parental gentleness, wiping the look off his son's face as he crouches down, giving him a kiss to the forehead and a reassuring pat on the head. “Appa is gonna be home in a couple hours. Be nice, okay?”
“Okay” he grumbles in return, almost managing to sound annoyed - if it wasn't for him nodding enthusiastically. The determination of his dad is wearing off on him even at this age.
Overall, the resemblance is striking, which is definitely why your eyes keep scanning over Jungkook's form. Noticing his full, pierced bottom lip, the slenderness of his fingers, the sharp contours of his jaw and round tip of his nose that looks exactly like his sons.
Jungkook also thinks his son is just like him.
The panorama window sits high above the rest of the city, his desk overlooks people scrambling for a taxi, kids leaving their school's building with a backpack that's almost bigger than their own body. The corner of his office desk is decorated with a frame holding a picture of his son on his third birthday, smiling at him. The assistant left long ago, the humming of the radio turned off with her departure, Jungkook always works in silence when he is in solitude. His mind was filled with enough noise.
Vibrations drumming against his desk snap him out of the deep focus read he was loosing himself in, his eyes feel dry from the screen's blue light that glowed continuously - picking up his buzzing phone, trading for a smaller blue light to stare at him.
A picture of Jukyung takes up his screen, a large wooden spoon clutched in his hand, his feet anchored to the stepper in order to reach their stovetop. From the caption, it reveals the orange hued, vegetable filled pan to be a coconut curry that his son has, supposedly, made all on his own.
He huffs in the memory of Jukyung attempting to help him with pajeon when it had rained two days ago - knowing from extensive experience that his five year old may be a talented boy, but certainly no chef.
The screen turns dark again, leaving a read notification on your end. Streetlights down the line start turning on their yellow glares, the sun’s glow replaced as it bids goodbye slowly, notifying him that it is time to go home soon.
“Appa!”
“You’re not sleeping yet?” he tuts, loosening his tie and pulling off his suit jacket that survived another day. Jukyung shakes his head, a mischievous look proudly displayed on his face.
“You should have put him to sleep” Jungkook says, looking over at the neatly cleaned kitchen. From his distance, he can make out a covered pan still filled with a generous portion of food.
“He has a set bedtime” he continues, brushing past you as you walk to the front door, picking up your shoes.
Up until now, you assumed to have done a good job with his son. He was quick to talk to you, engage - reluctantly - with your suggestions, his shy and guarded posture loosening into clumsy movements as time went by.
“Right, i’m sorry, i guess i forgot about it”
Your reply is timid, shoulders raised against your knowledge, voice lowering into a smaller, flowery tone. The coconut curry’s aromas fly their way from the kitchen into the rest of the house, lingering in the air like an apology.
“Next time then”
Next time - Jungkook wants you to come back for a next time. Satisfaction runs through you quietly, Jukyung’s sleepy face looking up at you as he waves goodbye,
“Yes, see you next time” you say, waving back at the two politely.
It’s even quieter in his home than it is in his office once his son has fallen asleep. There’s no loud clock ticking on a wall, no background of employees talking in the hallways or printers working.
But there is a warm, home cooked dinner, sitting on his stove for him to eat.
Upon lifting the pan’s cover, the scent gets stronger, delicious spice and freshness rise with the steam of the dish. Jungkook doesn’t recall the last time he came home to the warmth of someone else’s cooking. Since Jukyung was born, there might have been a day - once or twice - where someone was watching him and there was food left over for him to eat. A day or two, where he didn’t need to carry his tired hands to rummage through his cabinets after vast hours of working. It was always cold, he knows that for a fact.
It wasn’t the comfort of a hot meal, the embrace of a taste that was seasoned with care - the picture of Kyung stirring the curry flashes in his mind as he scoops another spoonful into his mouth. He groans, aware of the inevitable look of anger crossing his expression. Jukyung pointed it out to him a couple months ago, how he always looks mad when he likes the taste of something he’s eating.
The static rush of water running is the loudest one in his house as he rinses off the empty plate, even with the pressure turned up to it’s fullest - with the water splashing over the rim, wettening his underarm, the rhythmic beating of his heart sounds loudly within his ears.
It’s the last sound he hears before he goes to sleep, the last thing he feels when his eyes are closed and his body feels warm, even with the AC running in the background.
Mondays always brought giddyness into his home. Jukyung got to pick the movie for the night- which typically ended up being either ponyo or spiderman into the spiderverse. His matching spiderman socks glide against the wooden floor as he sprints towards the front door, where you're sliding into the cotton slippers Jungkook bought for you to wear on your visits.
“You're gonna hurt yourself Kyung” Jungkook calls out, walking up behind him in slower strides.
“Hey Kyungie” you greet while his giggle starts up your own. Freely letting it out, the smile lines craving your skin, the scrunch in your nose blooming. You're reaching to mess up his hair a little, as he peers into the large tote bag hanging from your hand, the coloring book you brought looks very tempting.
“Noona, you have one?” he gushes.
“Of course. Told you I would bring you one didn't I?”
Nodding, he looks at his father who's displaying a lighter version of the same grin he's got on his face.
“What do we say?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow, turning his expression into a playful look of strictness.
“Thank youuu” Jukyung sings, sporting another giggle. He probably never wanted his dad to leave the house this badly, the idea of filling out little bear drawings with you couldn't wait any longer.
"That's right” his dad retorts.
“Give that to me” he continues, grasping the handles of the bag with his hand and pulling it out of yours. He must've noticed how it looked filled to the brim, now setting it on his couch as you pour yourself a glass of water.
“You can leave your things here, no need to carry everything over and make hassle”
You set the glass down, smiling at him awkwardly. “You’ve been saying that for weeks”
“Exactly” he says, buttoning up his coat, “And you keep ignoring it”
“Most of it is my uni stuff, Kyung's been sleeping early lately”
"You're studying that late?” he asks, narrowing his gaze at you. You hum in confirmation, explaining that the exam you're about to write has been driving you crazy. “I just can't get the hang of his writing. You’re not secretly a kant lover, are you?”
Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head abruptly. Philosophy has never been his thing and probably will never be. His life lessons wouldn't have been avoided by knowing what some old man thought a thousand years ago, his business would not have grown to be any bigger either.
"Unfortunately not. My advice is to keep reading. You'll get it eventually”
“Stellar, Mr. Jeon” you say, watching him shut his eyes in response. Juykung's laugh sounds faintly in the back of the open living room, busying himself with the crayons he snuck out of your bag.
"There's money on the counter for food, I didn't have time to go grocery shopping”
You look over to the couch as you speak, purposefully raising your voice to get the kid’s attention.
“That’s okay. I was thinking of making pizza from scratch”
Jukyung's doe eyes widen at your suggestion - snapping towards you for the second time, his excitement spills over into the room, flooding it with infectious, childish happiness.
“Pizza, I love pizza. Appa never makes it”
You gasp loudly at the perfectly reasonable revelation, shaking your head at Jungkook with faux disappointment.
“Really? That's no good”
Jungkook, a bit caught off guard at his son's cheekiness though it should come to no surprise, crosses his arms over his chest as he defends himself with the excuses of that being untrue, that if Jukyung ate his vegetables, maybe he'd consider pizza more often.
Their back and forth grants a glimpse into the home the way nothing material ever could. His son's expensive backpack and cheap pokemon bodywash don't account for the late nights that he lets him crawl into his spacious bed, strokes his head and mumbles made up stories to get Jukyung to fall back asleep. Domestic bickerings of father and son that are too alike and yet, couldn't be more different.
Jungkook's face never looks more handsome than it does when he's with his kid, his smile only reaches his eyes in moments like this. It's a sight you felt privileged to, a sight you, admittedly, called back into your thoughts often.
“Noona always gets to be the nice one, isn't that a bit harsh on me?”
“No, no you aaare is nice too. But noona is so nice. Just like you said noona is...” he trails off, pursing his lips and really straining his thoughts. He's thinking hard, and the adults have to hold back a laugh at the deep frown in his brows, the angry purse of his lips. At least before you understand that he's trying to recall something Jungkook had said about you.
“That's enough” he cuts in, reaching his hand down to high five his son,
“Don't cause trouble”
The front door creaks open, turning back with a composed expression, he nods at you, stepping out of the house without another goodbye to spare.
The sun is high up in the sky even in the afternoon. Rays of light reflect on the metal slide tucked into the back of the playground, scorching and unusable on days like these. From the bench you're sitting on, next to moms spreading the newest affair stories coursing through the neighbourhood, Jukyung is in perfect view. Running around in the knee long denim shorts he begged you to let him wear - they look just like ones his dad has on when he's not in a suit, he said. Watching his short legs scramble around among the equally tiny ones of his two friends, you could make out that they must be playing catch - or something akin to it. His giggles are loud and his friends laughter bright, it felt impossible not to smile at the combined sound of it.
Jungkook spots you as he rounds the corner, his shortsleeved button down shirt and black jeans sticking out sorely in a crowd of floral dresses and lightly colored Tshirts. The low call of your name gets you to notice him taking a seat on the bench as well.
“Mr. Jeon, you're early”
“My meeting was cut short” he replies, facing the playground in search of his kid. You can tell the moment he spots Jukyung, the frown in his brows evening out, his upper back now rests against the bench in relaxation.
“Has he been good?”
“Of course. He's really energetic today” you chuckle, meeting his eyes that have shifted over to you. He huffs out a short laugh, “Yeah, Kyung loves this weather” he adds, seeing a strand of your hair swaying past your face in the breeze. You tuck it back in place, holding a hand up to see past the blaring sun.
Your words about the new show Jukyung started watching turn into background buzz for him as Jungkook's gaze wanders off to the side, trailing after a mother holding hands with her son as they make their way out. Heesung, the little boy and Soojin, his mother, live a block down from him. Kindergarden has caused their worlds to collide in more than one way - Jukyung frequents their home, Heesung and him play football in their yard - while Soojin sometimes laughs a tad too loudly at Jungkook's sarcastic remarks and accidentally goes to pick up her son in a shirt that might've been washed too hot. Watching her now, his expression doesn't change, his frown never returns as though there is nothing present to bother him. Maybe there wasn't, maybe he had five years to get used to being a single father, to this inner feeling of somehow taking something away from his son.
He pushes it back down, letting his thoughts run back to routine - when his next meeting starts tomorrow, what he'd be cooking for dinner later.
“Sounds like something he'd like” he states, unsure if that's even the case. “How was your exam?”
“Oh, it went well, I think. I'm just glad it's over now” you reply, sighing with the relief of long studies that have come to an end. The glimmer of initial surprise doesn't go unnoticed, he himself is a bit stunned he managed to remember anything outside of his own schedule.
“I was always stressed in uni. I'm sure you did a good job” he says, seeing the exhaustion behind the coralish blush and the concealer you wear daily.
You try not to visibly melt at the validation, it was like he could pick out on your underlying insecurity, your silent need for something as simple as reassurance - someone to tell you that you did well, as embarrassing as that is.
“It is stressful. I have a paper due next week and I haven't had time to start it”
Jungkook hums, "Shouldn't have come today. You never cancel” he mutters almost disapprovingly, the image Jukyung swinging next to his friend reflects in his eyes.
“I wanted to see Kyungie. Promised him we'd be going to the playground”
A subtle, sunny smile takes its place on your lips when it’s your turn to face the swings - just as he's pulled to look at you again, because as time went on, it's been becoming increasingly, infuriatingly difficult to stop himself from doing so. Reluctantly, he allows his focus to remain on the sheer softness he can make out by looking at your lips, the fondness painting your face in peace. Something compels him to mumble that you're too nice to his son, wishing for you to overhear. He knows you do hear him once that gentle smile turns into an actual chuckle again and suddenly, he is almost grateful that you did.
Jungkook also knows what classes you have on the days you watch Juykung, he knows that the dress you’re wearing is your favourite because his son said it makes you look like a pretty princess - and he knows that he tried his hardest to pretend that he does not know any of those things. Just like he ignores how you remembered to ask him about the marketing deal that'd been stressing him out lately and how you noticed that he fixed the porch light after months of putting it off.
“Seriously, how long was that thing flickering for, it would drive me crazy”
Jungkook snarls briefly, the way he does when his son is being a bit of a brat, before searching for the answer to your question in the back of his mind.
“I don't remember a time it ever worked. When Hyejin and i first moved in it was already like that”
Hyejin.
It wasn't like you'd never thought to ask. Never sat in their home looking for evidence of another parent - pictures where she'd be seen moving in the background or posing with him. The absence of a mother was impossibly evident, regardless, never making the home feel incomplete. Jukyung never asked complicated questions about his mother, never had a complaint about her working too much, like appa does, or why all the other kids had one to come home to. But there had to be one, gathering from that one time he asked you if your mother and you are still friends, he knows he has one too.
The first ten seconds after he says her name are silent, it's always like that when he does mention her to anyone, like a curse you weren't supposed to say out loud.
“She's..?”
“His mother” he finishes, the uncomfortably familiar tightening in his throat fails to climb all the way up to shake his stable reply, practice over the duration of five years does that to someone.
“I see. I've never heard you talk about her” you say awkwardly, only noticing how that sounded once the sentence is spoken, you open your mouth to stumble over words that tell him “It’s not like you have to, i just meant-”
"No need to get scared” he says, the rough laugh that follows makes a flash of heat go through your stomach and an embarrassed flush flood your system. His unshakeable calm and stupid, serene seriousness even whilst laughing - rattled you every single day since meeting him. It makes you nervous by default, to engage with someone that seems to have it all together. So unlike you, so unlike any of the men that you’ve come in contact with in university frats and hallways.
“It’s not like there's much to say, she didn't want to be in his life, so she isn’t”
Occasionally, fragments of life were really that plain. That easily explained, a history of grief, longing, hard work and separation summarized into a bite sized answer that accomplished as much answering as a question like that can be answered. The addition of her leaving Jungkook stranded at 26 with a newborn that, he now has to raise into a functioning human, didn't serve any purpose. The detail that they had just begun renovating the house was useless. Five years later, all that matters is that the world kept spinning, that Jukyung may not have a mother but he does have a father that loves him unconditionally. A father that's happy with the way things are, for the better.
The simple answer sunk in and now, it didn't matter to you either, insignificant how's and why's vanished because of how hollow it felt to look into a story that ended in a content little boy.
“I don't think he needs more than his dad. You're doing amazing at giving him what he needs to be happy”
Jungkook’s throat tightens again, unfamiliar this time, fondly, like he wants to bathe in the compassion of that sentence and remind you - that Juykung needs you too.
“Thank you” is what he settles for, allowing enough space for quiet appreciation to sit down between you.
It doesn't stretch on much longer, interrupted by the high pitched crying ringing through the otherwise tranquilly chaotic playground. Crying that sounds too much like Jukyung. You're on your feet before he registers; it is indeed his child that's sitting on his newly scarped knees, sobbing tears that tumble down his chubby cheeks in a stream.
“Shh, it's okay Kyungie, come here.. Let noona see..” you mumble into his black messy hair, the wetness on his face seeps into your shirt as he molds himself into your chest. You're crouching form has Jungkook standing uselessly to your right, looking down at your hand that soothes his kid's back, the comfort of your embrace sparks Jukyung to sniffle in order to catch his breath and explain that he fell, only for his voice to break at the end.
You place a kiss on his temple, picking him up to sit on your underarm while inspecting his minimal wound with worried eyes that look suspiciously glossy. Jungkook's whispering gruff “It’s okay" 's, the unease in his own body diffusing when Juykung naturally reaches for your embrace, seeks your soft words with tiny hiccups. Softening even further, as his miniature fingers brush a salty tear from your own cheek.
Jukyung pouts, telling you not to be sad, that he's a big boy. He knew he’d be safe when you came walking, knew you’d be there to hold him when he was hurt and Jungkook now knew - that his son's trust in you is the biggest blessing a curse could possibly bring. Butterflies that he thought lost their wings half a decade ago begin to fly through his stomach briskly, the tingle so juvenile and youthful it feels almost wrong to pay attention to.
“You need to be more careful buddy” he grumbles, hugging the small boy to his chest as you´re passing him over, listening to his sobs subside slowly.
“Do you wanna eat ice cream before we go home?”
Jukyung's mood brightens in a bat of his long eyelashes, the glossy doe eyes staring into his dad's demandingly and he knew no better than to give in. “I want choco ice cream" he nods enthusiastically, forgetting all about his scraped knee at the thought of tasting chocolate that melts into his mouth.
“Would you like one too?”
“Yes, yes noona take one! You like strawberry” Jukyung says proudly, stealing the polite no off your lips, declining the idea of you missing out on something as amazing as ice cream. Jungkook looks at you to confirm,
“You're right, I do like strawberry” you say to Jukyung, though you're looking at his dad, who is already pulling out cash from his wallet, whilst his son is beaming about being able to recall the flavour you favor most.
“Thank you Mr. Jeon” you tell him after he's done ordering for the three of you. He's about to open his mouth to tell you that it's really nothing, but Jukyung butts in.
“Jungkook”
Both of you share a look of confusion, tilting your head at the little boy apparently does the trick, he repeats his father's name - this time elaborating simply,
"Appa's name is Jungkook”
Jungkook's puzzle pieces fall into place before yours do, huffing at the innocent ease of his words, the weight behind them invisible and unimportant in the mind of a five year old. Jukyung takes the icecream into his greedy little hands as soon as it's in reach, licking away at it like there was a timer running - the pain of his previous injury long left in the dust.
“You're right Kyung” he enforces after a split second of bravery in his weakness, handing over your own portion and hoping - that you'd understand the message he's trying to send.
Normally, you’d refuse. Immediately result in professional smiles and head shakes, saying that there is no need to skip formalities. It might have been the intensity of his brown eyes as he established what he wanted, how there was never an offer as much as there was a demand. Doomed to the beauty of his name and the honey as he said it, there remained no bone in your body that craved to deny him. Your throat itches to say his name, let it roll off your tongue delightfully, let the sound hang in the thick summer air.
“Jungkook” you repeat, satisfied at hearing yourself say it. The wall tore down loudly, echoing a minimized space between you two. Realistically, it was nothing more than his first name - but also, nothing less than being called by his first name.
“Getting used to that will take time”
"Don't stress out” he exhales heavily, facing his kid that's succeeded in smothering his mouth in chocolate ice cream.
“Noona, can you not stay for longer? pleeeease?”
“Jukyung, let noona go home, she's been entertaining you all day” Jungkook chimes in, picking up his whiny kid by his armpits, the stretched word please becoming background noise as he groans, settling him against his broad chest.
“Enough, it's late and you're sleepy, say bye to noona” he says, a slightly worn out edge to his tone. Jukyung pouts as he waves in your direction, watching you zip up your jacket with glassy puppy eyes.
“Bye bye noona” he mumbles dramatically, making a kissy face afterwards. With your fingers scratching at his head that rests on Jungkook, you tell them, “Goodnight, sleep well”
Jungkook's tiling his head down involuntarily - closer, focusing his unguarded gaze on the genuine smile on your face, the tenderness in your words as you speak to his baby. His heart thumps stupidly loud when Jukyung giggles at your touch and he hates how submissive he feels to all of it. To the ridiculous image of extending the hold to include you, attach his lips to your head because it'd be so easy to just lean down and -
"Mr. Jeon?”
“Yes”
Sharp. Maybe too sharp - too forced against the silent, pillowy warmth that bubbled up inside him moments ago. He notes your startled blink, the sweet innocence of those pretty eyes that don't understand what it does to him when you stare up like that. He doesn't correct you, respects the much needed, accidental distance in the usage of his last name.
“I uhm, just wanted to say goodbye”
“Yeah” he grumbles, roughly wiping a hand down his tired face, his other holding on to the squirmy child, “Goodnight”
The door shuts, Jukyung is rubbing his eyes sleepily and it's just them now. He's just Appa now, and you're on the bus - on the way back to the university dorm you live in. At times that felt like a united world broke its illusion. You were, whether you yourself knew or remained painstakingly unaware, in utterly incompatible worlds. That is his mantra, his voice of reason anytime he starts drifting into thoughts that notice how much your dynamic creates a harmonious balance despite it all. Despite him being nearly a decade older, a single dad, a rich business man.
Because as much as he feels sick being stripped down like this, naked in the shower - exposed to his bare thoughts - in your eyes, all he truly ever was, is Jukyung's dad. Just Appa - just Mr. Jeon, Jungkook. He desires nothing more than to solely be Jungkook, that's who stares back at him with every glance in the fogged up mirror. But he isn't, or more so, he cannot be. Not when you have too much ahead of yourself, the youth of nine years he'd lived through already- and deserve so much better than a thirty-two year old single father that fists his cock to the remembrance of his first name on your lips, in that sweet, girlish voice.
He groans your name quietly - like the sound hurts and scratches its way up his throat because it feels wrong, so wrong how naturally it seeks to slip out no matter how much he forbids himself to voice it. Slow drags of his hand over his aching cock transform into hasty strokes that crave a smaller, softer hand to tip him over. The blurry picture of you earlier, in that pretty dress that hit just below your knee, the fabric denting at the curve of your waist just enough to make out the dips and curves - felt sinfully beautiful in his mind's eye. It would've felt much more satisfying to spill into a hand that has polka dotted gel nails, watch his milky arousal drip from those feminine fingers instead of his tattooed digits. He wouldn't be washing it away shortly after, there would be no shameful cloud to loom over his head as he shampoos it.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“Sorry,” you hush, gathering up the limp child in your arms. His head lolls back, pouty lips parted in a relaxed snore. Jungkook’s fingers brush yours when he takes his sleeping kid into his arms, bicep straining against the black button down, “I tried to keep him awake. The playground really did a number on him”
"Not surprised” he says, stroking some long strands from Jukyung's forehead, “So?”
“Oh, right” you almost forgot he asked you something. It was just so distracting - the subtle ways he would soften when looking at his son, the way his shirt clung to his arms and chest in an intimidating contrast, “Sure, if it's no issue”
“Of course not” he mutters back like the question was an inconvenience, the width of his shoulders coming into view as he steps up the staircase, getting ready to lie Jukyung into his racecar bed.
Jungkook’s long day shows up in his slower movements as he chops up the ingredients, adding that tired rasp to his already sultry voice as he talks.
“You bought it for him”
“What?” his eyes narrow a little, swinging the noodle pan with an easy wrist,
“The bed he's been rambling about” you answer, standing just shy of brushing against his frame when attempting to pull out two plates from the top cabinet. Your stance proves unstable, fingertips reaching for lengths out of reach even on the balls of your slippers,
“Yeah. He wouldn't let it go” Jungkook says with a short exhale, his fingers reach beyond yours, pulling out the two plates with a clank that's too loud in the sudden silence. His chest brushes against your shoulders with the slight lean, the ghost of his contact haunts your skin with shivers, no matter how brief it had been.
“Here” he says, his gaze dropping to meet yours, already looking up at his face that seemed too close - even though there is a respectable distance, you could clearly see the mole under his bottom lip, the silver ring in the corner that glistened in the fluorescent kitchen light. The action remains uncommented but you swear you see his eyes dart to your parted lips for an unusually long second- just as he returns his attention back to the curry pasta, leaving you to set the plates down like nothing had happened, because nothing did happen.
The unforeseen pulse between your thighs would beg to disagree. Embarrassingly it blooms, causing you to press your legs together secretly - hidden under the dark wood table just as he sits down next to your tense figure. Not across, not facing you with the length of his table separating you. On the chair next to yours, body angled in to fill up your empty plate with a delicious smelling dinner. The action is careful, caring in a way that only worsens the ache with its underlying dominance, with the gruff mumble of him telling - or rather, ordering you to start eating. You wait for his plate to be full before you do, and with the first bite always comes that satisfied, low moan. Jungkook knew it was coming, he'd first lost his mind when you got icecream together and braced for its arrival ever since. Your reactivity had him fantasize about how stupidly easy it is to make you moan, how he would probably be able to make you cry if he just kissed you for long enough, deeply enough.
“You should eat too” you mumble, covering your mouth. He's staring, he just now realises.
“Is it good?” Jungkook questions, taking a first bite himself - the flavours spark on his tongue in the familiar comfort of a dish he has cooked a dozen times over.
“Soo good” you hum, nodding your head as if to support the statement while chewing. He hums too, beginning to feel the heat rise up his neck and it steals his ability to speak momentarily.
“Yeah?” he huffs, a swipe of his tongue over his lips accommodate the strangely sultry intonation that's laced itself into the conversation,
“You like it?”
The way he asks feels loaded. You do like it. Both of you know you do. The simple answer is yes, the complicated one is the softer sounding yes you give him;
eyeing his lips, voice quieting to mirror the weight of his own gaze.
“I'm glad. It's nothing elaborate” he mutters, spinning his fork slowly with a stern glare into the plate. He was getting distracted.
“I saw normal people by sally rooney in your bag” Jungkook states, remembering how the cover caught his attention. He read that book a while back, turning the pages about stories of, well, normal people. Relationships, lives. From the handful of books he read, he wouldn't shy away from crowning this one as his favourite. Something so ordinary and complicatedly mundane felt like second nature. You, on the other hand, take another bite as you gather your thoughts.
“Terrible book. Don't read it, it's a waste of time”
“What?” he fires back, a sharp huff of air leaving him.
“What? It's so boring, basically nothing happens in it” irritation laces quietly into your words, watching him get increasingly more irritated in return. He sets his fork down, a tinge of sarcasm accompanying him, “Right, nothing in 300 pages”
“Yes” you say, barely smiling while gesturing his way, “Now you get it”
Jungkook shakes his head, grumbling that, “You have terrible taste”
“Because I don’t wanna read about someone’s daily life?”
“Because you think that slice of life is boring. It's social commentary” he says, his voice getting a tad louder with his increased annoyance and it hits him then, that he's getting way too worked up over this. He can’t help it, the feeling of being misunderstood prickles underneath his skin. Instead of going on a tangent about the lessons in life and the beauty of normalcy in a society where there’s so many expectations thrust on you, he resumes eating.
“If I wanted philosophic takes I’d read my classes notes”
“Maybe you should”
“Sorry?” you say, more mockingly than seriously offended. Jungkook, looking back up at you with his signature, neutral expression tells you; “Apology accepted” before breaking out into what can only be described as an indefinite smirk.
“Once you get older, you’ll understand wanting to know about lives like your own” he retaliates, eating another mouthful of pasta to let the statement settle first.
“I’m not saying it’s not understandable, i’m saying i think it’s boring”
Your explanation doesn’t pull an answer from him, pushing you to start talking again. “I like when a book takes me places that.. aren’t realistic”
“Most people do”
“Yeah, i guess”
You’re looking at him from the lens of someone that has lived an equally as normal life - maybe even more so, without a child to take care of on your own, without the headstart of abundant money, the responsibility of a business on your shoulders.
“But I guess it’s nice to read something boring once in a while. Makes you feel less boring yourself”
"Recommend me one. Maybe it can change my mind” you add after a moment of consideration, the olive branch fragile and swaying as you wait for him to take it.
“Intermezzo. Also by sally rooney.”
“Are you a fan?” you joke, raising an eyebrow at him. He tuts, his shoulders shaking slightly with a gentle, low laugh spilling from his lips. Ease takes over your body, a smile openly shines on your own lips now, the thought of wanting to hear his laugh again makes you feel impatient.
Impatient to listen to more of his opinions, unwrap the tangled ropes that tie together his thoughts.
Perhaps too impatient, too uncoordinated as you brush the fork past your lips.
"There's something” he begins, inching closer with intent. His hand reaches to your face, thumb swiping at the corner of your lips with added pressure as he mumbles the remainder of his sentence, “... on your face”
He’s unable to stop looking, unable to pretend he does not see your eyes widening, your breath catching in your throat. The tiny sound of surprise has him holding down a deep moan. He doesn't let his finger linger afterwards, his thumb is gone from your skin as fast and unexpectedly as it had landed there in the first place. However, you would be able to feel it tingle there for hours later. Even days.
Like on this quiet friday evening, standing in your cozy bathroom, looking into the mirror as you tie your hair back, remove your hoops - wash off the make up that’s been marinating on your face for longer than it should have. You scrub, closing your eyes, the warm water feels like a hug on your stripped skin. In the black behind your eyelids, the touch on your face feels lively - and you can almost hear his voice too, telling you to read the book that’s now sitting on your nightstand, halfway into a story of grief, love, family.
A story about a part of life everyone will be confronted with. An ending no one can escape witnessing and falling victim to. Nature taking its breath back, people losing each other and gaining vital epiphanies, long winded stories that end in questions and answers. Reflection, a window into your own life and it's fragile evanescence. Death isn’t the only grief a person can experience. Losing someone - something, the effects of that run through your veins because of absence. Learning to fill the hole - whether by stitching it up or embedding its presence into routine, isn’t a task exclusive to the aftermaths of a death.
The text message notification dings, transferring you out of the story that’s been playing out on the laid out pages.
“Can you watch Kyungie today? It'd be from 7pm to around 9:30pm.”
With a glance to the time on top of your screen, you close up the book, letting him know that, yes - you’d be there soon.
When you arrive after taking the usual route, nothing is particularly unusual, though something is different. Impossible - to - ignore - kind of different. He stands in front of the hallway mirror for much longer than normal, adjusting his tie for what seems like the seventh time in five minutes. And when he walks past to slip into his jimmy choo's, the air reeks thickly of bleu de chanel.
Manly, fresh, deliberate.
“What’s the occasion ? You never make me watch him on weekends”
“It was a bit spontaneous. I’ll pay you extra for the short notice - and I’ll text you if it gets later.”
You nod in agreement, give him another questioning look he fails to acknowledge as your heartbeat continues to speed up, the clingy awareness of insecurity providing its steady beat. He swings his coat over his shoulders, slipping into it carefully. The gust of wind that passes when he closes the front door behind him is cool, uncovering how suffocating the air in your lungs is. Suddenly, you knew what this was. Why it might get later than anticipated, later than how things usually are.
Jungkook is going on a date.
It doesn’t matter, does it?
That you’ve never seen his hair styled like this and you're already mentally scrolling through restaurants he might be taking her to, silently wondering If he kisses on the first date,
If he tastes like nicotine and sugary maturity.
It matters when the strong feeling of disappointment rushes to your chest and your mind wraps itself around the concept of Jungkook looking to date. The quiet intimacy from your perspective now staring back at you like a huge misunderstanding. It didn't vanish - if anything, the plunging feeling only grew with his son that is already tugging on the sleeve of your oversized sweater, babbling about wanting to watch ponyo and do puzzles. Activities with his noona, the babysitter that watches Jungkook’s son.
Jungkook's son, who’s so completely in love with you, who you've sung to sleep with Jungkook admiring quietly, leaning against the doorframe - hoping you didn't spot his shadow. Jungkook who'd heard you tell Jukyung your favourite fruit and somehow, always ended up buying tangerines at the end of the week after that
“Noona actually brought you a new puzzle”
His smile widens into an innocent giggle, wrapping his little grubby hands around your arm and you can not be asked not to chuckle in return, letting him walk you to the couch. “Did you eat dinner Kyungie?”
“I’m starving” she chuckles, "Haven't eaten in hours”
Boring, god the woman in front of Jungkook is so incredibly boring to him.
Soojin's pretty, with long brown hair and a low cut shirt, a gentle voice and a nice smile. The faint touches of her hand on his arm when she laughed at something he had said - or the way her eyes darted to his lip ring - didn’t reel him in. Not like it did with you, where he felt the pull of wanting to kiss that needy look off your face. Everything she said, about her yoga studio and the way she liked going golfing, was so boring to Jungkook. He wondered, at some point of watching her sip the wine he ordered, if you had already put Jukyung to bed, if your hair is pulled into a messy pony yet and if you knew what he was doing right now.
Something about it made him feel almost guilty. He'd avoided saying it on purpose, why you're watching over his son today and yet, when he glanced back at you through the window, It was obvious you had caught on. Obviously, whatever you were feeling about the realization, you did not look happy for him. In a twisted way, it made him happy, even if for a mere moment.
Dinner tastes good, steak always does the trick - wine always relaxes him. Unable to indulge in it to the full extent, he had to drive - but getting wine drunk has never sounded more appealing. Especially after the fifth failed attempt of intellectual conversation. Words were not getting him anywhere but deeper in thought, nowhere and yet, parked in front of her apartment, with a slightly frustrated frown in his eyebrows - his lips kept colliding with hers anyways, allowing her warm tongue to lip past and explore his mouth. His eyes shut tightly in an effort not to sink into this burdening feeling, the low groan that he lets out sounds more frustrated than blissful. Frustrated with himself, with the fact that Soojin's hands on his shirt buttons fail to faze him, that he doesn't move his hands up and down her body to map out the curves she has - but simply anchors them to her hips. He was holding on to the denim like the image of you, despite wanting nothing more than to let go of both at that very moment.
“I should get going” she mumbled breathlessly, the desperation in her airy voice sounded like she imagined him to refuse, to keep her in his car and mess up the make up she'd spend so much time putting on, let her undo the very last buttons of his shirt too. So when he hums and agrees, saying that it is getting late and they both do have a child at home after all, her slick smile turns almost polite. Straightening out her hair with her fingers, she stepped out without meeting his gaze once more.
Jungkook exhales heavily after the Mercedes door slams, running a sweaty hand down his handsome scowl and begins driving home, to his son, to you.
The rattling of his keys don’t wake you from the slumber you’d fallen into about halfway into the second round of ponyo playing on the flatscreen. It laughs at Jungkook, mocking the storm that was already rampaging his thoughts. You looked like a domestic wet dream; Jukyung's sleeping from with his head laid on your chest that is rising and falling, comfortably matching the rhythm of his son's slowed breathing. With unspoken awe, he notices how his son holds on to your shoulder loosely, how your soft hand looks big on the little boy's back and your eyelashes fan so prettily against your rosy cheeks. Noting the absence of a blanket, he’s already halfway into laying one over the both of you, ignoring the sheer fact that, realistically, he would need to wake you and you should be making your way back home.
“Jungkook?”
The dazed mumble of his name halts him in his tracks, widened blanket hanging in his hands without a purpose. He lets you wake up, waits until the fog of sleep disappears from your eyes to continue talking. The taste of his date's lips haunts his mouth in a bitter aftertaste now, seeing how your first instinct was to pull Juykung closer to your body, perching him upright as you sit yourself up.
“Shit I must've fallen asleep. Did you just get back?”
“Yeah, about a minute ago” he answers, folding the blanket back up, “Did he make you watch that fish movie again?” he mumbles, nodding towards the tv.
You nod too, groaning softly while tucking the sleeping child into the corner of the couch, coming to yourself from the nap. “Probably why we fell asleep, seen it about a hundred times now.” A beat of silence passes, your voice turns painfully careful,
“ How.. was it?”
Jungkook stills, the air between you both growing thick. A tense glance is exchanged as he steps forward an inch, his fully dressed-up form standing right in front of where you are sitting on his couch with a softness he isn't familiar with. He tried to clear himself of his actions - weak attempts in forgetting about you, buttoned his shirt back up and reapplied his perfume to overpower her stench. He was aware it was to no use, not when you could see his well gelled hair now beginning to fall loose, how a trace of red was smeared slightly around his lips and the pristinely ironed shirt looked just a tad messed up. He clears his throat, answering the question you never wanted to ask in the first place.
“Okay, I think”
“Okay?” you echo, the curious undertone smells like a hope you didn't dare to have. Misplaced, possibly unwelcomed.
He sighs, a quick shake of his head following,
“Nothing special. "Didn’t feel it.”
It was short, direct. An answer that was true to his nature and another relief to yours.
“Not your type?”
“No, not my type” he says, his body slumping down on the couch next to yours with a hand reaching to caress Juykung’s back - his head tips back against the couch with a delicious stretch of his neck. No purple bruises, no wet patches of skin decorating the road down to his shoulder. The darkness of the living room provides you with a slight comfort, swallowing details of your feelings, like the slight shake in your fingers when you too - lean back against the couch, head tilted enough to face him. He looks at you for that brief lapse of time, vulnerable wordlessness settles down, taking up the remaining inches between your faces. Raw and hidden all at once, the absence of light strikes Jungkook to be honest with not only himself, but you.
“It just felt unnatural. I didn't really.. want to be there”
He murmurs, his eyelids feeling heavy with drowsiness, “Wanted to go home”
“Sounds boring. We had fun here, you really missed out” you mumble back with withheld amusement, feeling the effects of this moment take a toll on you. It’s easier to tease him when you feel unseen, there is less resistance to the pull that always wants to tug you together adjacently.
The hum he lets out sounds from deep within his throat, almost rumbling through his deep, quiet words.
“Like I said, I wanted to be home”
Home, didn't just mean at his house, inside his walls without anyone to bother him but his kid. Home meant being somewhere you were, somewhere he had his son in reach, somewhere he knew he belonged. There was no use in explaining his favourite book to a woman that wasn't interested in the workings of his mind, no use when you'd read the same book and - hated it, listened to him bitching about you not getting the point but nonetheless, ended up reading another one of those just because he saw value in it.
When you breathed a part back into his lungs that was devoid of air, that now longs for warm meals after a long work day, the sight of a woman sleeping with his kid in her arms, a soft laugh he helped elicit.
Utterly, devastatingly terrifying.
“I felt like that with my ex boyfriend. Like I had to be what.. he wanted me to be” you say after a deeper inhale, the breath filling your tight chest with courage. You learned not to cry because he would get annoyed, mastered to dim your light for comfort, but it's plastered all over your face, how much allow yourself to show when you feel like it's just Jungkook that's watching.
“Unnatural, if that's what you meant”
“I did” he clarifies, “How long were you together for?”
“Not too long, I broke up with him after six months” you explain, reminded of the day you chose yourself. It must be laughable in his eyes, you think. Six months was nothing compared to his break up. Instead, he sympathetically quiets his words, mist of late hours making them feel too loud anyway.
“I’m sorry to hear that”
"Don't be” you shake your head, "It's better that way. I don't want to pretend”
“Neither do I” he admits, running his fingers through his hair, the previously formal style now messily sitting on his head with wear. He looks comfortable.
“Was.. this your first date after Hyejin?”
The question is a leap, a gap you didn't know you had permission to breach. As the question leaves your lips, the dark gives away how he doesn´t seem fazed or surprised, he just presses his lips together, nodding “Yeah. Had a baby to raise”
“Do you feel ready now?”
Jungkook cocks his head, his body instinctively turning towards you. The invisible string of rough, vague want and deep, intricate need for connection pulls tighter.
“Ready?” he hums, a moment of debating his answer goes by “Ready isn't a feeling. You decide ready”
Control is a possession he kept dearest to him. Decide how people look at you. Decide what they know. Decide when you're ready, no matter how much his heart rebels against it with its violent beat, no matter how much his hands long for a counterpart to lace his finger through and squeeze when things get overwhelming.
“You shouldn't pretend. There's nothing you have to hide”
You mutter, turning to your side as well. Whilst looking at him with the slit of separation that presented as a large wall, there still wasn't anything he could hide under. You'd seen him, even with his suit on and his back turned, you were always able to see Jungkook.
Midnight struck on his rolex like lightning, the string that's been pulling at your heads and hearts snaps underneath the tension of him deciding - that he isn't ready yet.
“You should go home, you'll be exhausted for your 8:00 am class”
He rises to his feet, cracks in his surface blend back together as the newfound space creates enough room to stop breathing in each other's exhales, swallow each other's words.
A sinking feeling comes up back as you do from the suede couch, the distance is notable, your smile adjusts into one he knows is restrained and it makes him feel like an asshole. He doesn't fight it, tells you to be safe after you open his front door, stepping outside of the isolated world they created.
The candle, a big, blue and sparkling six, is lit with its swaying flame moving in the wind passing through the Jeon’s kitchen window. Jukyung leans forward, his lips pursed as he blows out the candle with his birthday wish rooted deep in his mind, letting the smoke from the extinguished flame carry it out into the world.
“Did you wish for something good buddy?” His dad asks, wiping off the chocolate icing sticking to the bottom of the candle.
“Of course I did” he smiles proudly, the shimmer of childhood bright and alive as another year of life is ahead for him. His eyes widen in amazement the second the knife slides into his belgian chocolate mousse cake,
“What did you wish for?”
“That’s a secret, silly” Jukyung nods enthusiastically, watching as his dad raises a questioning eyebrow, placing a generous slice down on to the plate laying on the table.
“Alright, Alright” Jungkook says, pressing a kiss to his son's ruffled hair. In true Jukyung fashion, the chocolate spreads beyond the corners of his lips and somehow always ends up all over his fingers. But it's his birthday today, so all Jungkook can really do is watch, smile and hold back the current of emotion raving through his pulse.
After dropping Jukyung off at his best friends house, he drives back up the road, spotting someone waiting on his porch.
“What are you doing here?”
“Hey” you start, shuffling the blue paper bag from one hand to another,
“Sorry, i just wanted to drop off a gift for Kyung. Guess I'm a little late” you smile, reading him unlocking the door as a silent invitation for you to follow. Taking off your shoes as always, sliding into your house slippers laying right next to his.
“What did you get him?” Jungkook grabs two glasses from the cupboard, holding up a bottle of lillet. You nod, “A coloring book. The totoro one, i'm tired of ponyo”
Jungkook grins, pouring the both of you a refreshing, full glass. The weather is beautiful today, breezing romantic summer air. His eyes note the pink lipstick stain on his glass after you took a sip, sitting prettily.
“I can't stand that stupid fish” he grumbles, bringing his glass to his lips, concealing the way his smile widens at the sound of your laugh.
“He's growing up fast. He was so much more.. baby like when i started”
“Yeah. He's a little gentleman now” Jungkook rests his forearm on the counter, leaning against it casually by your side.
“He starts preschool soon right?”
He hums, looking into his glass,
"In September"
You hum too, the marble counter reflecting a ray of setting sunlight into the room. Glows of the golden hour soak his honey skin in it's hues, the glint of fresh tears in your eyes is more obvious when colorful.
“Ahh..” you shake your head, smiling to suppress it further, your finger already on the way to catch what's threatening to fall from your eyes, “Sorry, i get emotional so quickly”
Jungkook shifts closer, the natural black strands falling over his forehead - his body folds slightly to adjust to you, he knows this feeling. He recognizes it for what it is, for what it has always been with you around. He's not good at hiding it this time.
There's beauty outside control.
“That's okay. I get it, he's my son” he murmurs, brushing his fingers against yours, resting on the cool surface. You wait for them to disappear, but they never do. His fingers stay on top of yours like a feather light kiss, brown eyes refusing to look away from your face as the sadness disappears into sheer relaxation.
“You do realise that he loves you” Jungkook says, his thumb slowly moving against your hand,
“Do you know what he wished for, when he blew out the candle?”
His body moves forward again, you shake your head no, letting him continue, the words drowned in quiet affection.
“He said it's a secret, but that lasted for maybe 10 minutes”
Another smile blooms on your lips, waters the one growing on Jungkook's as he continues, focused on keeping that devastatingly heartfelt look all over your face.
“He wished for you to keep watching him when he gets older”
Jungkook is mesmerized with the first tear that truly tumbles down the apple of your cheek, a single, short sigh passing through your lips as you do nothing but look at him. Into his eyes, searching for something.
He inches his fingers closer, time feels stretched out into slow motion as his thumb makes contact with the wetness on your cheek, swiping it away carefully. You don't shatter under his touch, encouraging his thumb to wander down your jaw, caress again, until, unwillingly, tilting up the tip of your chin subtly.
He's powerless as he leans down, breathless at the first angelic touch of your lips on his.
Jungkook wants to kiss you until the world fades out.
Your lips attach to his too, slowly at first, testing how good it feels in your whole body every time his quiet sounds slip into your mouth, getting louder once your arms have made their way around his neck. His kisses grow demanding at the closeness, the warmth of your body creeping from your waist into his palms, your sweet moan of satisfaction makes him smile faintly right into the kiss, sliding his tongue against yours to pull another moan from your mouth.
“We need you” he mumbles, the words swallowed under more passionate collisions, drowning in your combined heavy breathing that resulted from being each other's source of air.
“Do I kiss better than Soojin?” you mumble after a hitch of your breath, his swollen lips trail down your tilted neck eagerly and patiently all at once. The memory of her makes his skin prickle, wanting nothing more but to tie himself to you further. Wet, open kisses punctuate his response, the nickname seeping into your skin, embedding its low sound into your body.
“Jealousy looks cute on you, sweetheart”
“M'not jealous" you chuckle, airy and full of lies. You can feel his grin resurface against your jaw this time, his hands slip underneath the hem of your blouse, tracing the slit of skin with slow strokes,
“Don't lie to me” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours for another taste of you. “M'gonna take this off”
He announces it, waiting for your nod to confirm before pulling the fabric over your head. The white, lace adorned bra cups your small chest beautifully, pulling his eyes to trace down the curve of your neck, the line of your shoulders, down to your breasts. He attempts to soothe his ragged need by running his hands up and down your back, feeling the skin grounding him.
Your manicured fingers pull him in by his tie, loosening the patterned fabric as he works on shrugging his heavy jacket off his shoulders. The rings on his finger are cool against your cheek, while your fingertips thrum against his chest once you've managed to unbutton his shirt. The desire in your eyes is honest as you do nothing but look at each other, painted under the light of the kitchen, shifting as he carries you up the stairs, lays you down into the plushness of his large bed. His black covers dip underneath your combined weight. There's gentleness in this heat, in the way his fringe tingles on your forehead as he supports himself - bicep flexing next to your head.
“You're so fucking beautiful” he whispers, nipping at your bottom lip the moment a pout forms on your face. Inside his chest cracks open the sentiment of being naked. Everything you know about the way he is, the pressure of his kisses and the taste of his skin, how his muscles flex and his eyes get heavy lidded - made him so, so naked.
Above you, the warmth radiates from him, forgetting that your skin is exposed to the cold nightly air taking up most of the tranquil room. Birds singing outside remind you that there's a whole word beyond this moment and these four walls that surround you.
Jungkook, most of the time, knows what he wants. His lips and hands wander all over you, rounding your shoulders, unclasping your bra with distracting flicks of his tongue on your collarbone. The bra gets tossed somewhere unimportant, his mouth devotes itself to leave every patch of your chest kissed, tracing down the subtle swell of your breasts - but there's only so much throbbing you can take between your thighs, so many little nibbles until you get restless and dig your nails into the naked muscle on his back.
“Stop whining” he huffs, tugging sharply at your right nipple while lapping at the equally stiff left one, his lips close around it with a rougher suck. You naturally whimper again, raising your back off the bed to indulge into his touch as much as you try to squirm away from it. The only place you wish to run to right now is this.
Alternating sides, he glances up at your pleasure clouded face, circling your bud the tip of his tongue torturously slowly, rubbing against the other one with the pad of his thumb without necessary roughness.
Too shallow, too soft.
“Please”
Jungkook hums at your whiny plea, noting the furrow in your eyebrows that's formed in concentration to, somehow, feel more of his touch.
“Ask nicely for what you want” he retorts, continuing to suck on your skin with time entirely at his mercy. Your fingers curl into his hair, voice coming out quietly and stained with embarrassment.
“Please.. give me more”
“Not so hard, is it?”
You shake your head no - breaking into a louder moan as he sucks more insistently, lips smacking against your skin. “Yes- mh -mmh”
“Like this yeah?” he mumbles, the breathless moans coming from your lips fill up his ears with motivation to keep kissing at your chest until your palm flattens on his forehead, pushing in overstimulation. He smiles, dominant and beautifully dangerous while dancing down the line of your stomach, kissing along your navel with his tongue dipping just a slither below your pant line. Warm fingers cup your thighs, carrying the need to rip off your pants to be gratified with the feel of your skin on his own.
If both of you listened closely enough, the joined, rapid thumping of two interlinked hearts could be heard below Jungkook's deep murmurs.
“You're so needy, what are you squirming for?”
“You, Jungkook” you pout again, unfamiliar with the desperate edge in your voice and the urge to beg for something like the touch of another person. His grip on your thighs loosen, repositioning to rub your hips on either side.
“What do you want from me? Talk to me”
“Something, just do something” you groan impatiently, biting the corner of your lip at the sudden sting after the smack he lands on your thigh, shaking his head to retaliate.
“Ask nicely. You want me to take this off and touch you?” he asks, narrowing his voice down into a delicious, low rumble that melts you down further, sinking into the intoxication he's drunk with. His dark eyes look straight up at you, expecting you to answer him. Still, there's an underlying question in the way he brushes his thumb over your hip bone as he waits for your response.
“Can you please.. take it off”
“And do what?”
He slowly unzips your pants, popping the button and getting a glance of the tiny bow sitting obediently atop your panties. Teasing, so sweet.
The sensation of your pants sliding down your legs feels freeing, an obvious damp spot greeting Jungkook as he tugs your legs free - making his painfully erect cock twitch against the material of his boxers.
“Touch me, please” you finish, a glossy layer overshadows your eyes and a slight sheath of sweat coats your palms. Nervously, you grip the dark sheets, closing your thighs to hide your growing arousal from him. His demeanor shifts to compliment your surfacing emotion, sliding his warm, steady hands up and down your arms, placing a longing kiss to your forehead. Your chest deflates with a heavy exhale into the safety.
“Good girl, that's it pretty. I'm gonna touch you, just like you want”
His own need is mere background noise the minute he parts your thighs again, sees the reciprocated craving of your body for his. The tip of his index draws a line on your inner thighs, touches the scruff lace edges of your panties before laying his palm out, cupping your mound into his hand possessively.
His round nose brushes your cheek as he just holds patiently, grinding ever so slightly against where you need it most. Jungkook’s tongue comes out to take a brief lick at the shell of your reddened ear as his whispered lures taunt you.
“M'gonna be so good to you. You want that don't you? You want me to make you feel good?”
The depth of his fingers circling your tender clit is sufficient for a gasp to leave you, for your lips to seek out his in order to dim down the volume of desire coursing through you. He doesn't respond by engaging in your kiss, rather by slipping his fingers below the cotton to find a small sea to dip in, trail back up to more gratifying touches on your most sensitive part.
“You gotta use your words” he insists, the circles growing smaller, faster against your slickness. Practically coaxing the words he needs to hear out of you, the want much greater than any fear.
There's beauty outside control.
If Jungkook was pretty before, he's striking now. Buried deep between your thighs that he has hooked over his shoulders. Inhaling the scent on you, tangy candy and musk, coating his tongue from the first long stripe he licks up your center. Your thighs tighten, secure in his hands that lock you down on his mouth.
The slow, long licks don't last for long, shift into sharp, short flicks against your swelling clit. Feeling him strum the pad of his fingers against your entrance, you break out into another helpless whimper, tightening around nothing but the sole thought of his thick fingers nestled inside your cunt.
Knowingly, he doesn't push in, keeps sucking on your clit, letting his saliva run down your puffy folds, you know what he needs to hear, you know what he wants you to do.
“Please, put it in - haah”
Jungkook groans, the deep noise vibrating against your soaked skin. One of his fingers slide in slowly, pausing his mouth's actions as the warmth welcomes him in like it had been awaiting his arrival. He uses the pause to listen to his name falling from your lips, appreciating your eyes shutting when, without a warning, a second finger sinks in, curling both digits upwards deliberately.
“You're so good, look at you” he mumbles, plunging his fingers in and out of you slowly enough to feel them drag against your walls, making a mess with relentless laps on your clit.
“I - fuck i'm gonna come” you squeak, tugging the strands of his hair weakly, your lower stomach is full to the brim with pressure, a large wave of pleasure tips right over you, swimming into his mouth greedily.
“That's it, come right into my mouth” he moans, licking up every drop of delightful pleasure spilling from you. Your taste hits him all at once, eyes closed and frowning for more. He doesn't stop you, lets you rock your hips into his mouth, unfiltered.
“Needy fucking thing aren't you? Not enough?” he huffs, rising back to his original position of hovering over you. Flushed, trying to suppress the panting and submission. Red looks elegant on your face, his thumb traces the color in adoration, watching the pupils dilate in your eyes.
He looks just like you do, exhales heavy and raw, desire replacing the blood in his veins.
The tension winding in his toned stomach snaps at the brief, careful touch of your warm hand on his bulge. Hard, straining aggressively. Your hand rests there, feeling out his thick shape, his length below your fingers.
“I need to feel you” he breathes out, permanently etching the words into your brain despite how softly they were spoken. Quickly returns to smash his lips onto yours with a rough kiss as if to consume you whole, passing the taste of yourself onto your tongue.
“Lift a little f’me”
One of his many pillows slides under your stomach, the imprint of his hand burning your bare hips, knees rooted in his sheets. Jungkook takes a shaky inhale, gathers your hair into his hand to reveal the curve of your spine, there for him to kiss reverently.
“Fuck, you’re soaking” he bites down on his lip, a groan ripping from his throat at the sinful sight below. Your thighs gleam, the same shine coating his heavy cock as he grinds it through your folds, slapping the pink tip against your glossy, tight hole once, then twice.
“Thaaaat’s right, take my cock so well”
Praise soothes the stretch he’s giving you, building a cozy home inside your body to reside in. You know now, that you want it all. His heart, his mind, his body craving itself into yours on nights like these. Your hands are planted down securely, though your elbows wobble under his impact.
Pushing in further until his pelvis makes contact with your backside. At the first feel of him, entirely sunken into you, intertwined, both of you remain melodically silent.
He adjusts the position of his hips, angling until a spongy, soft spot nudges his tip - and starts moving his hips. Deep with a craving for connection in this messy pleasure. It’s been so long since he felt himself burn with another person, smell the sex in his bedroom and enjoy the taste of salty sweat and sweet skin to skin.
“Good, so so good” your broken words buzz inside his head, making the deep and rhythmic ruts get sloppier. Moans, groans and whines come together in harmony, loud, shameless.
“Suck on it baby, c’mon” Jungkook threads his strong arm around your throat, holding his thumb on your plush bottom lip. When you don’t open your mouth right away, too lost in the vast ocean of pleasure, he shoves it past your lips - grinding against the wet muscle.
Your lips close around it instinctively, mindless callouts muffled by sucking just like he’d ask. Your obedience sparks him to thrust deeper, pushing your body back into him gets you another reward - his wet thumb finds your oversensitive clit, stimulating it wildly. No direction, no even movements as he seeks you out and you keep calling for him.
“I’m gonna come jungkook”
“You're gonna hold it” he gruffly says, taking away the additional pleasure to run his fingers through your hair, pulling your head back at the roots. Your neck stretches - back arching more than either of you thought possible and it stings better than you’ve ever felt it before.
The thorough, overwhelming orgasm building in your body is impendant, you clench on his big cock and whine for him louder,
“Can- can’t, please, mhh- fuck”
“You can, you can. C’mon be good and hold it” he grits out, jaw tense as his hips snap ruthlessly, chasing his own high.
You’re so soft and warm and so fucking tight - the arch of your back clings with sweat against his will and he loves it. The knowledge of you wanting to break all over his cock - all of it comes together to push him over the edge he’s been dancing on. He’s falling fast, closing his eyes for one last time to pull the strings of his voice together,
“Let go for me, let go baby”
“Fuck” he whispers, pumping his cock into his fist, right after feeling you gush on him. He throbs in his own hand, then you feel it - sticky, warm as it leaks down onto your back, drips down while he’s attempting to catch his ragged breath. Your knees finally give out - with a long, tired sigh, your sore chest makes contact with his bed, head buzzing, aware of your body’s heat and unaware of the look in his eyes, the heaving of his broad upper body.
Footsteps sound behind your closed eyes, inching closer to you. He places the damp towel on your spine, wiping away the traces of his cum, kisses the spot after, pats your butt like he had every right to that normalcy.
The normalcy of laying down next to you, wrapping his still bare body around yours - heart beating against your back. You still don’t see him, your open eyes scan his colorful tattoos contrasting your skin.
“Are you feeling okay?”
His voice is rough, the aftermath of what you did audible, louder in the proximity of his mouth to your ear. You give something close to a nod, a mumbled yes in response. You are okay. More than okay.
“Not too rough?”
“No”
“No?” he buries his nose into your neck, mumbling your words back in a question.
“No,” your body moves before you could stop it from happening and finally, after everything, you’re looking straight at him.
“Was perfect”
It’s not monday or wednesday today, which is precisely why Jukyung is confused for the first minute of seeing you take your jacket off.
It’s saturday, his dad has a day off and is wearing black sweats and a dark grey t-shirt. So he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
What matters though, is that his favourite person is in his home unexpectedly, so he runs up to you, flinging his arms around you in a rush.
"Noona! "
“Hey there” you greet back, returning the hug. Jungkook watches with his arms crossed and his head slightly tipped to the side.
The confusion in Jukyung’s eyes returns when you give the same greeting to his dad - allowing him to sneak his arms around your waist. This is new.
“We’re having movie night, i told you buddy” Jungkook says, reading the question off his child’s lips. He did tell him, however, Jukyung naturally assumed it would be on the following Monday. Not a boring, 7pm saturday - an hour before his technically strict bedtime.
“You decide on a movie while appa and i make snacks yeah?” You add, smiling at Jukyung warmly. Behind you, the older man waits impatiently, holding the edge of the door in his hand. Jukyung nods, taking charge of the remote to select a movie - all three of you knew what it’d be, you’ve been unsuccessful in redirecting his favourite ghibli movie.
“Missed you” Jungkook mumbles against your lips, the door mostly closed - shielding you from the curious pair of eyes his son holds.
Smart kid.
You tell him you missed him too, breathing in the subtle perfume on his shirt. His palm holds the side of your face, making an effort to keep your eyes on his.
“He’s used to sleeping early, an hour and he’s dozing off, promise” he says quietly, knuckles grazing your powdery soft skin,
“I know” you whisper, closing your eyes to soak up his touch. When Jukyung would find out is still undecided - it hasn’t been long but, sneaking around creates a guilty cloud to float above your heads, raining down anytime the three of you come together.
Jungkook smiles, precious and simple, then leans down again to feel your lips on his to reassure that - soon, you’d tell him soon.
A gasp erupts in the silence but neither of you are the cause of it.
Or.. right now.
“Appa - you’re -” the childs eyes widen alongside his big, toothy smile.
“Kyungie - listen to me-” you start - frantically turning to him while Jungkook shuts his eyes tightly, accepting their dooming defeat.
“Appa likes noona, Appa likes noona” Jukyung sings loudly, skipping around the kitchen.
𓄲 In order to make ends meet you pick up a side job as the nanny of a brooding, cold perfectionist by the name of Jeon Jungkook — while in the process of doing so, you might've ended up twisting the narrative about your education just a little. Watching over a few children couldn't be too hard, right? Only Jungkook is very peculiar about how he wants things done — strict routines, meal plans and tedious study hours that make the Jeon estate feel more like a military camp than a home — and it's only a matter of time until cracks in the seemingly perfect facade begin to form.
전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) jungook keeps secrets & so does reader
⧽ word count ⋮ 113k+ and counting
total reading time ⋮ 9 hours and 50 minutes
Help Wanted receives updates every week, usually around 4-6 days apart <3
[ Pinterest Board] ╱ [ Timezones For Updates ] ╱ [ Read Help Wanted On Wattpad ] ╱ [ Help Wanted Spotify Playlist ] ╱ [ Read Help Wanted on Ao3 ]
𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗫
chapter 01 "daddy doesn't sleep in there anymore" [5.7k]
reading time ⋮ 30 minutes
chapter 02 "your clothes are dirty" [5.5k]
reading time ⋮ 30 minutes
chapter 03 "could you stay?" [7.3k]
reading time ⋮ 40 minutes
chapter 04 "when mom was here" [6k]
reading time ⋮ 30 minutes
chapter 05 "are there some messes that can't be fixed?" [5.2k]
reading time ⋮ 25 minutes
chapter 06 "hide and seek" [8.3k]
reading time ⋮ 45 minutes
chapter 07 "pancakes for lunch and empty fridges" [6.8k]
reading time ⋮ 35 minutes
chapter 08 "I didn't know you wore glasses" [6.2k]
reading time ⋮ 30 minutes
chapter 09 "dirty dancing" [5.9k]
reading time ⋮ 30 minutes
chapter 10 "whiskey tears" [7k]
reading time ⋮ 40 minutes
chapter 11 "checkmate" [6.1k]
reading time ⋮ 35 minutes
chapter 12 "guilty as sin" [6.4k]
reading time ⋮ 35 minutes
chapter 13 "the truth" [5.8k]
reading time ⋮ 30 minutes
chapter 14 "you should be careful with that" [6.7k]
reading time ⋮ 35 minutes
chapter 15 "crumbling resolve" [11.4k]
reading time ⋮ 55 minutes
chapter 16 "tainted skin" [6.3k]
reading time ⋮ 35 minutes
chapter 17 "daddy-daughter dance" [5.9k]
reading time ⋮ 30 minutes
do you people UNDERSTAND the level of psychological damage this is causing me. jungkook n a ducati?!??! that man sat on a motorcycle and suddenly i have every emotion ever discovered by humanity at the exact same time. i want to bite him affectionately. i want to put him in my pocket. i want to shake him by the shoulders. i want to kiss his stupid handsome face and then fight him in a parking lot and then kiss him again dramatically under neon lights while cigarettes by chase atlantic plays in the background for absolutely no reason.
like why would he do this to ME specifically. leather jacket, tattoos, big bike, pretty face, evil smirk. this is not fan service anymore this is attempted manslaughter.
|| mr. jeon wasn't looking for a girlfriend when he hired you as a babysitter for his 5 year old son - however, he took a liking to seeing you in his own home, way more than he'd realized. (13k words)
content : age gap (31 & 22) , secretly down bad jungkook, mini slow burn, sensitive reader, teasing, jealousy moment, eventual smut (mention of m. masturbation, unprotected p in v, oral f. receiving, praise and degradation, edging, doggy, hair pulling, talking her thru it, small boobs appreciation, clit play ..), fluff, lwk mean dom kook, they want each other bad, reader has long hair, jungkook is kinda grumpy, themes of dom & sub faintly underlying
♡ bunny´s notes : dad jungkook is my fav trope ! i worked hard on ts,, lmk what u think (This took ages to write) >.< may contain typos or errors
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Life looks different twice a week.
On boring mondays and long wednesday evenings, you'd been making your way over to a neighbourhood that seemed far out of reach before, getting on a bus you'd never thought to ride. Lavish residences with blooming gardens line the streets of his district, among them, a rather dark looking, simple house; plain garden with a swing placed thoughtlessly right in the middle of the neglected front lawn, a broken porch light glowing whenever it felt enticed to.
Yet the herbal, earthy and simultaneously fruity scent of bonterra organic cabernet lingers in the air from what feels like a mile away. The artificial sweetness of your 16 euro body spray - notes of sugar and vanilla - create a mismatched harmony that infiltrates Mr. Jeon's home.
His son fell in love with you at the first meeting.
The puppy-like looking little boy had nannies on trial and error before - highly paid, recommended ones, the kind that have a linkedin, like all the other rich bastards in Jungkook’s circle have. While the first two's soft approach got the occasional giggle out of Jukyung, the following three, stricter ones, failed to do anything but make him cry and refuse to eat the meals they had spent so much time preparing. All of it seemed to make no sense since - he is by no means a difficult child to charm, proving equal habits by the time you came around. Hiding behind his dad’s leg and clinging his tiny hands to the cashmere pant, eyes wide and already glossy from glancing up at the fresh face in front of him.
Maybe that's why Jukyung came to adore you so quickly. Sweet faced and unmistakably younger than any of the other women his dad hired. Old enough to be old in his eyes - but young enough to know the shows he watches, recognize marvel superheroes and play the songs currently on the radio - when he repeats them with a jumbled melody and made up, Incoherent lyrics.
“He's a bit shy” Jungkook sighs, muttering as his fingers skim down the kid's tiny shoulders soothingly. You reply with a small hum, offering an inviting smile to him as you talk,
"That's okay. I'm sure we will get along. I'm – , nice to meet you Jukyung.”
He blinks slowly, the big doe eyes that match his dad's shine with childish excitement Jungkook lost somewhere along the way of becoming a man.
“Namjoon said you're good with brats like him” Jungkook continues, a curious glint in his serious gaze, his friend's judgement remaining under scrutiny.
“Mr. Kim?”
He nods, “He suggested you to me”. While adjusting his tie, he spares a quick look at the golden watch on his wrist.
“I hope you get along. Don’t hesitate to call me if there is an emergency.”
Jukyung pouts as he looks up to his dad, his iron man shirt bunched up in angry little grips of his hands. You stay quiet, listening to the serious tone in Jungkook's voice fade out into a parental gentleness, wiping the look off his son's face as he crouches down, giving him a kiss to the forehead and a reassuring pat on the head. “Appa is gonna be home in a couple hours. Be nice, okay?”
“Okay” he grumbles in return, almost managing to sound annoyed - if it wasn't for him nodding enthusiastically. The determination of his dad is wearing off on him even at this age.
Overall, the resemblance is striking, which is definitely why your eyes keep scanning over Jungkook's form. Noticing his full, pierced bottom lip, the slenderness of his fingers, the sharp contours of his jaw and round tip of his nose that looks exactly like his sons.
Jungkook also thinks his son is just like him.
The panorama window sits high above the rest of the city, his desk overlooks people scrambling for a taxi, kids leaving their school's building with a backpack that's almost bigger than their own body. The corner of his office desk is decorated with a frame holding a picture of his son on his third birthday, smiling at him. The assistant left long ago, the humming of the radio turned off with her departure, Jungkook always works in silence when he is in solitude. His mind was filled with enough noise.
Vibrations drumming against his desk snap him out of the deep focus read he was loosing himself in, his eyes feel dry from the screen's blue light that glowed continuously - picking up his buzzing phone, trading for a smaller blue light to stare at him.
A picture of Jukyung takes up his screen, a large wooden spoon clutched in his hand, his feet anchored to the stepper in order to reach their stovetop. From the caption, it reveals the orange hued, vegetable filled pan to be a coconut curry that his son has, supposedly, made all on his own.
He huffs in the memory of Jukyung attempting to help him with pajeon when it had rained two days ago - knowing from extensive experience that his five year old may be a talented boy, but certainly no chef.
The screen turns dark again, leaving a read notification on your end. Streetlights down the line start turning on their yellow glares, the sun’s glow replaced as it bids goodbye slowly, notifying him that it is time to go home soon.
“Appa!”
“You’re not sleeping yet?” he tuts, loosening his tie and pulling off his suit jacket that survived another day. Jukyung shakes his head, a mischievous look proudly displayed on his face.
“You should have put him to sleep” Jungkook says, looking over at the neatly cleaned kitchen. From his distance, he can make out a covered pan still filled with a generous portion of food.
“He has a set bedtime” he continues, brushing past you as you walk to the front door, picking up your shoes.
Up until now, you assumed to have done a good job with his son. He was quick to talk to you, engage - reluctantly - with your suggestions, his shy and guarded posture loosening into clumsy movements as time went by.
“Right, i’m sorry, i guess i forgot about it”
Your reply is timid, shoulders raised against your knowledge, voice lowering into a smaller, flowery tone. The coconut curry’s aromas fly their way from the kitchen into the rest of the house, lingering in the air like an apology.
“Next time then”
Next time - Jungkook wants you to come back for a next time. Satisfaction runs through you quietly, Jukyung’s sleepy face looking up at you as he waves goodbye,
“Yes, see you next time” you say, waving back at the two politely.
It’s even quieter in his home than it is in his office once his son has fallen asleep. There’s no loud clock ticking on a wall, no background of employees talking in the hallways or printers working.
But there is a warm, home cooked dinner, sitting on his stove for him to eat.
Upon lifting the pan’s cover, the scent gets stronger, delicious spice and freshness rise with the steam of the dish. Jungkook doesn’t recall the last time he came home to the warmth of someone else’s cooking. Since Jukyung was born, there might have been a day - once or twice - where someone was watching him and there was food left over for him to eat. A day or two, where he didn’t need to carry his tired hands to rummage through his cabinets after vast hours of working. It was always cold, he knows that for a fact.
It wasn’t the comfort of a hot meal, the embrace of a taste that was seasoned with care - the picture of Kyung stirring the curry flashes in his mind as he scoops another spoonful into his mouth. He groans, aware of the inevitable look of anger crossing his expression. Jukyung pointed it out to him a couple months ago, how he always looks mad when he likes the taste of something he’s eating.
The static rush of water running is the loudest one in his house as he rinses off the empty plate, even with the pressure turned up to it’s fullest - with the water splashing over the rim, wettening his underarm, the rhythmic beating of his heart sounds loudly within his ears.
It’s the last sound he hears before he goes to sleep, the last thing he feels when his eyes are closed and his body feels warm, even with the AC running in the background.
Mondays always brought giddyness into his home. Jukyung got to pick the movie for the night- which typically ended up being either ponyo or spiderman into the spiderverse. His matching spiderman socks glide against the wooden floor as he sprints towards the front door, where you're sliding into the cotton slippers Jungkook bought for you to wear on your visits.
“You're gonna hurt yourself Kyung” Jungkook calls out, walking up behind him in slower strides.
“Hey Kyungie” you greet while his giggle starts up your own. Freely letting it out, the smile lines craving your skin, the scrunch in your nose blooming. You're reaching to mess up his hair a little, as he peers into the large tote bag hanging from your hand, the coloring book you brought looks very tempting.
“Noona, you have one?” he gushes.
“Of course. Told you I would bring you one didn't I?”
Nodding, he looks at his father who's displaying a lighter version of the same grin he's got on his face.
“What do we say?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow, turning his expression into a playful look of strictness.
“Thank youuu” Jukyung sings, sporting another giggle. He probably never wanted his dad to leave the house this badly, the idea of filling out little bear drawings with you couldn't wait any longer.
"That's right” his dad retorts.
“Give that to me” he continues, grasping the handles of the bag with his hand and pulling it out of yours. He must've noticed how it looked filled to the brim, now setting it on his couch as you pour yourself a glass of water.
“You can leave your things here, no need to carry everything over and make hassle”
You set the glass down, smiling at him awkwardly. “You’ve been saying that for weeks”
“Exactly” he says, buttoning up his coat, “And you keep ignoring it”
“Most of it is my uni stuff, Kyung's been sleeping early lately”
"You're studying that late?” he asks, narrowing his gaze at you. You hum in confirmation, explaining that the exam you're about to write has been driving you crazy. “I just can't get the hang of his writing. You’re not secretly a kant lover, are you?”
Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head abruptly. Philosophy has never been his thing and probably will never be. His life lessons wouldn't have been avoided by knowing what some old man thought a thousand years ago, his business would not have grown to be any bigger either.
"Unfortunately not. My advice is to keep reading. You'll get it eventually”
“Stellar, Mr. Jeon” you say, watching him shut his eyes in response. Juykung's laugh sounds faintly in the back of the open living room, busying himself with the crayons he snuck out of your bag.
"There's money on the counter for food, I didn't have time to go grocery shopping”
You look over to the couch as you speak, purposefully raising your voice to get the kid’s attention.
“That’s okay. I was thinking of making pizza from scratch”
Jukyung's doe eyes widen at your suggestion - snapping towards you for the second time, his excitement spills over into the room, flooding it with infectious, childish happiness.
“Pizza, I love pizza. Appa never makes it”
You gasp loudly at the perfectly reasonable revelation, shaking your head at Jungkook with faux disappointment.
“Really? That's no good”
Jungkook, a bit caught off guard at his son's cheekiness though it should come to no surprise, crosses his arms over his chest as he defends himself with the excuses of that being untrue, that if Jukyung ate his vegetables, maybe he'd consider pizza more often.
Their back and forth grants a glimpse into the home the way nothing material ever could. His son's expensive backpack and cheap pokemon bodywash don't account for the late nights that he lets him crawl into his spacious bed, strokes his head and mumbles made up stories to get Jukyung to fall back asleep. Domestic bickerings of father and son that are too alike and yet, couldn't be more different.
Jungkook's face never looks more handsome than it does when he's with his kid, his smile only reaches his eyes in moments like this. It's a sight you felt privileged to, a sight you, admittedly, called back into your thoughts often.
“Noona always gets to be the nice one, isn't that a bit harsh on me?”
“No, no you aaare is nice too. But noona is so nice. Just like you said noona is...” he trails off, pursing his lips and really straining his thoughts. He's thinking hard, and the adults have to hold back a laugh at the deep frown in his brows, the angry purse of his lips. At least before you understand that he's trying to recall something Jungkook had said about you.
“That's enough” he cuts in, reaching his hand down to high five his son,
“Don't cause trouble”
The front door creaks open, turning back with a composed expression, he nods at you, stepping out of the house without another goodbye to spare.
The sun is high up in the sky even in the afternoon. Rays of light reflect on the metal slide tucked into the back of the playground, scorching and unusable on days like these. From the bench you're sitting on, next to moms spreading the newest affair stories coursing through the neighbourhood, Jukyung is in perfect view. Running around in the knee long denim shorts he begged you to let him wear - they look just like ones his dad has on when he's not in a suit, he said. Watching his short legs scramble around among the equally tiny ones of his two friends, you could make out that they must be playing catch - or something akin to it. His giggles are loud and his friends laughter bright, it felt impossible not to smile at the combined sound of it.
Jungkook spots you as he rounds the corner, his shortsleeved button down shirt and black jeans sticking out sorely in a crowd of floral dresses and lightly colored Tshirts. The low call of your name gets you to notice him taking a seat on the bench as well.
“Mr. Jeon, you're early”
“My meeting was cut short” he replies, facing the playground in search of his kid. You can tell the moment he spots Jukyung, the frown in his brows evening out, his upper back now rests against the bench in relaxation.
“Has he been good?”
“Of course. He's really energetic today” you chuckle, meeting his eyes that have shifted over to you. He huffs out a short laugh, “Yeah, Kyung loves this weather” he adds, seeing a strand of your hair swaying past your face in the breeze. You tuck it back in place, holding a hand up to see past the blaring sun.
Your words about the new show Jukyung started watching turn into background buzz for him as Jungkook's gaze wanders off to the side, trailing after a mother holding hands with her son as they make their way out. Heesung, the little boy and Soojin, his mother, live a block down from him. Kindergarden has caused their worlds to collide in more than one way - Jukyung frequents their home, Heesung and him play football in their yard - while Soojin sometimes laughs a tad too loudly at Jungkook's sarcastic remarks and accidentally goes to pick up her son in a shirt that might've been washed too hot. Watching her now, his expression doesn't change, his frown never returns as though there is nothing present to bother him. Maybe there wasn't, maybe he had five years to get used to being a single father, to this inner feeling of somehow taking something away from his son.
He pushes it back down, letting his thoughts run back to routine - when his next meeting starts tomorrow, what he'd be cooking for dinner later.
“Sounds like something he'd like” he states, unsure if that's even the case. “How was your exam?”
“Oh, it went well, I think. I'm just glad it's over now” you reply, sighing with the relief of long studies that have come to an end. The glimmer of initial surprise doesn't go unnoticed, he himself is a bit stunned he managed to remember anything outside of his own schedule.
“I was always stressed in uni. I'm sure you did a good job” he says, seeing the exhaustion behind the coralish blush and the concealer you wear daily.
You try not to visibly melt at the validation, it was like he could pick out on your underlying insecurity, your silent need for something as simple as reassurance - someone to tell you that you did well, as embarrassing as that is.
“It is stressful. I have a paper due next week and I haven't had time to start it”
Jungkook hums, "Shouldn't have come today. You never cancel” he mutters almost disapprovingly, the image Jukyung swinging next to his friend reflects in his eyes.
“I wanted to see Kyungie. Promised him we'd be going to the playground”
A subtle, sunny smile takes its place on your lips when it’s your turn to face the swings - just as he's pulled to look at you again, because as time went on, it's been becoming increasingly, infuriatingly difficult to stop himself from doing so. Reluctantly, he allows his focus to remain on the sheer softness he can make out by looking at your lips, the fondness painting your face in peace. Something compels him to mumble that you're too nice to his son, wishing for you to overhear. He knows you do hear him once that gentle smile turns into an actual chuckle again and suddenly, he is almost grateful that you did.
Jungkook also knows what classes you have on the days you watch Juykung, he knows that the dress you’re wearing is your favourite because his son said it makes you look like a pretty princess - and he knows that he tried his hardest to pretend that he does not know any of those things. Just like he ignores how you remembered to ask him about the marketing deal that'd been stressing him out lately and how you noticed that he fixed the porch light after months of putting it off.
“Seriously, how long was that thing flickering for, it would drive me crazy”
Jungkook snarls briefly, the way he does when his son is being a bit of a brat, before searching for the answer to your question in the back of his mind.
“I don't remember a time it ever worked. When Hyejin and i first moved in it was already like that”
Hyejin.
It wasn't like you'd never thought to ask. Never sat in their home looking for evidence of another parent - pictures where she'd be seen moving in the background or posing with him. The absence of a mother was impossibly evident, regardless, never making the home feel incomplete. Jukyung never asked complicated questions about his mother, never had a complaint about her working too much, like appa does, or why all the other kids had one to come home to. But there had to be one, gathering from that one time he asked you if your mother and you are still friends, he knows he has one too.
The first ten seconds after he says her name are silent, it's always like that when he does mention her to anyone, like a curse you weren't supposed to say out loud.
“She's..?”
“His mother” he finishes, the uncomfortably familiar tightening in his throat fails to climb all the way up to shake his stable reply, practice over the duration of five years does that to someone.
“I see. I've never heard you talk about her” you say awkwardly, only noticing how that sounded once the sentence is spoken, you open your mouth to stumble over words that tell him “It’s not like you have to, i just meant-”
"No need to get scared” he says, the rough laugh that follows makes a flash of heat go through your stomach and an embarrassed flush flood your system. His unshakeable calm and stupid, serene seriousness even whilst laughing - rattled you every single day since meeting him. It makes you nervous by default, to engage with someone that seems to have it all together. So unlike you, so unlike any of the men that you’ve come in contact with in university frats and hallways.
“It’s not like there's much to say, she didn't want to be in his life, so she isn’t”
Occasionally, fragments of life were really that plain. That easily explained, a history of grief, longing, hard work and separation summarized into a bite sized answer that accomplished as much answering as a question like that can be answered. The addition of her leaving Jungkook stranded at 26 with a newborn that, he now has to raise into a functioning human, didn't serve any purpose. The detail that they had just begun renovating the house was useless. Five years later, all that matters is that the world kept spinning, that Jukyung may not have a mother but he does have a father that loves him unconditionally. A father that's happy with the way things are, for the better.
The simple answer sunk in and now, it didn't matter to you either, insignificant how's and why's vanished because of how hollow it felt to look into a story that ended in a content little boy.
“I don't think he needs more than his dad. You're doing amazing at giving him what he needs to be happy”
Jungkook’s throat tightens again, unfamiliar this time, fondly, like he wants to bathe in the compassion of that sentence and remind you - that Juykung needs you too.
“Thank you” is what he settles for, allowing enough space for quiet appreciation to sit down between you.
It doesn't stretch on much longer, interrupted by the high pitched crying ringing through the otherwise tranquilly chaotic playground. Crying that sounds too much like Jukyung. You're on your feet before he registers; it is indeed his child that's sitting on his newly scarped knees, sobbing tears that tumble down his chubby cheeks in a stream.
“Shh, it's okay Kyungie, come here.. Let noona see..” you mumble into his black messy hair, the wetness on his face seeps into your shirt as he molds himself into your chest. You're crouching form has Jungkook standing uselessly to your right, looking down at your hand that soothes his kid's back, the comfort of your embrace sparks Jukyung to sniffle in order to catch his breath and explain that he fell, only for his voice to break at the end.
You place a kiss on his temple, picking him up to sit on your underarm while inspecting his minimal wound with worried eyes that look suspiciously glossy. Jungkook's whispering gruff “It’s okay" 's, the unease in his own body diffusing when Juykung naturally reaches for your embrace, seeks your soft words with tiny hiccups. Softening even further, as his miniature fingers brush a salty tear from your own cheek.
Jukyung pouts, telling you not to be sad, that he's a big boy. He knew he’d be safe when you came walking, knew you’d be there to hold him when he was hurt and Jungkook now knew - that his son's trust in you is the biggest blessing a curse could possibly bring. Butterflies that he thought lost their wings half a decade ago begin to fly through his stomach briskly, the tingle so juvenile and youthful it feels almost wrong to pay attention to.
“You need to be more careful buddy” he grumbles, hugging the small boy to his chest as you´re passing him over, listening to his sobs subside slowly.
“Do you wanna eat ice cream before we go home?”
Jukyung's mood brightens in a bat of his long eyelashes, the glossy doe eyes staring into his dad's demandingly and he knew no better than to give in. “I want choco ice cream" he nods enthusiastically, forgetting all about his scraped knee at the thought of tasting chocolate that melts into his mouth.
“Would you like one too?”
“Yes, yes noona take one! You like strawberry” Jukyung says proudly, stealing the polite no off your lips, declining the idea of you missing out on something as amazing as ice cream. Jungkook looks at you to confirm,
“You're right, I do like strawberry” you say to Jukyung, though you're looking at his dad, who is already pulling out cash from his wallet, whilst his son is beaming about being able to recall the flavour you favor most.
“Thank you Mr. Jeon” you tell him after he's done ordering for the three of you. He's about to open his mouth to tell you that it's really nothing, but Jukyung butts in.
“Jungkook”
Both of you share a look of confusion, tilting your head at the little boy apparently does the trick, he repeats his father's name - this time elaborating simply,
"Appa's name is Jungkook”
Jungkook's puzzle pieces fall into place before yours do, huffing at the innocent ease of his words, the weight behind them invisible and unimportant in the mind of a five year old. Jukyung takes the icecream into his greedy little hands as soon as it's in reach, licking away at it like there was a timer running - the pain of his previous injury long left in the dust.
“You're right Kyung” he enforces after a split second of bravery in his weakness, handing over your own portion and hoping - that you'd understand the message he's trying to send.
Normally, you’d refuse. Immediately result in professional smiles and head shakes, saying that there is no need to skip formalities. It might have been the intensity of his brown eyes as he established what he wanted, how there was never an offer as much as there was a demand. Doomed to the beauty of his name and the honey as he said it, there remained no bone in your body that craved to deny him. Your throat itches to say his name, let it roll off your tongue delightfully, let the sound hang in the thick summer air.
“Jungkook” you repeat, satisfied at hearing yourself say it. The wall tore down loudly, echoing a minimized space between you two. Realistically, it was nothing more than his first name - but also, nothing less than being called by his first name.
“Getting used to that will take time”
"Don't stress out” he exhales heavily, facing his kid that's succeeded in smothering his mouth in chocolate ice cream.
“Noona, can you not stay for longer? pleeeease?”
“Jukyung, let noona go home, she's been entertaining you all day” Jungkook chimes in, picking up his whiny kid by his armpits, the stretched word please becoming background noise as he groans, settling him against his broad chest.
“Enough, it's late and you're sleepy, say bye to noona” he says, a slightly worn out edge to his tone. Jukyung pouts as he waves in your direction, watching you zip up your jacket with glassy puppy eyes.
“Bye bye noona” he mumbles dramatically, making a kissy face afterwards. With your fingers scratching at his head that rests on Jungkook, you tell them, “Goodnight, sleep well”
Jungkook's tiling his head down involuntarily - closer, focusing his unguarded gaze on the genuine smile on your face, the tenderness in your words as you speak to his baby. His heart thumps stupidly loud when Jukyung giggles at your touch and he hates how submissive he feels to all of it. To the ridiculous image of extending the hold to include you, attach his lips to your head because it'd be so easy to just lean down and -
"Mr. Jeon?”
“Yes”
Sharp. Maybe too sharp - too forced against the silent, pillowy warmth that bubbled up inside him moments ago. He notes your startled blink, the sweet innocence of those pretty eyes that don't understand what it does to him when you stare up like that. He doesn't correct you, respects the much needed, accidental distance in the usage of his last name.
“I uhm, just wanted to say goodbye”
“Yeah” he grumbles, roughly wiping a hand down his tired face, his other holding on to the squirmy child, “Goodnight”
The door shuts, Jukyung is rubbing his eyes sleepily and it's just them now. He's just Appa now, and you're on the bus - on the way back to the university dorm you live in. At times that felt like a united world broke its illusion. You were, whether you yourself knew or remained painstakingly unaware, in utterly incompatible worlds. That is his mantra, his voice of reason anytime he starts drifting into thoughts that notice how much your dynamic creates a harmonious balance despite it all. Despite him being nearly a decade older, a single dad, a rich business man.
Because as much as he feels sick being stripped down like this, naked in the shower - exposed to his bare thoughts - in your eyes, all he truly ever was, is Jukyung's dad. Just Appa - just Mr. Jeon, Jungkook. He desires nothing more than to solely be Jungkook, that's who stares back at him with every glance in the fogged up mirror. But he isn't, or more so, he cannot be. Not when you have too much ahead of yourself, the youth of nine years he'd lived through already- and deserve so much better than a thirty-two year old single father that fists his cock to the remembrance of his first name on your lips, in that sweet, girlish voice.
He groans your name quietly - like the sound hurts and scratches its way up his throat because it feels wrong, so wrong how naturally it seeks to slip out no matter how much he forbids himself to voice it. Slow drags of his hand over his aching cock transform into hasty strokes that crave a smaller, softer hand to tip him over. The blurry picture of you earlier, in that pretty dress that hit just below your knee, the fabric denting at the curve of your waist just enough to make out the dips and curves - felt sinfully beautiful in his mind's eye. It would've felt much more satisfying to spill into a hand that has polka dotted gel nails, watch his milky arousal drip from those feminine fingers instead of his tattooed digits. He wouldn't be washing it away shortly after, there would be no shameful cloud to loom over his head as he shampoos it.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“Sorry,” you hush, gathering up the limp child in your arms. His head lolls back, pouty lips parted in a relaxed snore. Jungkook’s fingers brush yours when he takes his sleeping kid into his arms, bicep straining against the black button down, “I tried to keep him awake. The playground really did a number on him”
"Not surprised” he says, stroking some long strands from Jukyung's forehead, “So?”
“Oh, right” you almost forgot he asked you something. It was just so distracting - the subtle ways he would soften when looking at his son, the way his shirt clung to his arms and chest in an intimidating contrast, “Sure, if it's no issue”
“Of course not” he mutters back like the question was an inconvenience, the width of his shoulders coming into view as he steps up the staircase, getting ready to lie Jukyung into his racecar bed.
Jungkook’s long day shows up in his slower movements as he chops up the ingredients, adding that tired rasp to his already sultry voice as he talks.
“You bought it for him”
“What?” his eyes narrow a little, swinging the noodle pan with an easy wrist,
“The bed he's been rambling about” you answer, standing just shy of brushing against his frame when attempting to pull out two plates from the top cabinet. Your stance proves unstable, fingertips reaching for lengths out of reach even on the balls of your slippers,
“Yeah. He wouldn't let it go” Jungkook says with a short exhale, his fingers reach beyond yours, pulling out the two plates with a clank that's too loud in the sudden silence. His chest brushes against your shoulders with the slight lean, the ghost of his contact haunts your skin with shivers, no matter how brief it had been.
“Here” he says, his gaze dropping to meet yours, already looking up at his face that seemed too close - even though there is a respectable distance, you could clearly see the mole under his bottom lip, the silver ring in the corner that glistened in the fluorescent kitchen light. The action remains uncommented but you swear you see his eyes dart to your parted lips for an unusually long second- just as he returns his attention back to the curry pasta, leaving you to set the plates down like nothing had happened, because nothing did happen.
The unforeseen pulse between your thighs would beg to disagree. Embarrassingly it blooms, causing you to press your legs together secretly - hidden under the dark wood table just as he sits down next to your tense figure. Not across, not facing you with the length of his table separating you. On the chair next to yours, body angled in to fill up your empty plate with a delicious smelling dinner. The action is careful, caring in a way that only worsens the ache with its underlying dominance, with the gruff mumble of him telling - or rather, ordering you to start eating. You wait for his plate to be full before you do, and with the first bite always comes that satisfied, low moan. Jungkook knew it was coming, he'd first lost his mind when you got icecream together and braced for its arrival ever since. Your reactivity had him fantasize about how stupidly easy it is to make you moan, how he would probably be able to make you cry if he just kissed you for long enough, deeply enough.
“You should eat too” you mumble, covering your mouth. He's staring, he just now realises.
“Is it good?” Jungkook questions, taking a first bite himself - the flavours spark on his tongue in the familiar comfort of a dish he has cooked a dozen times over.
“Soo good” you hum, nodding your head as if to support the statement while chewing. He hums too, beginning to feel the heat rise up his neck and it steals his ability to speak momentarily.
“Yeah?” he huffs, a swipe of his tongue over his lips accommodate the strangely sultry intonation that's laced itself into the conversation,
“You like it?”
The way he asks feels loaded. You do like it. Both of you know you do. The simple answer is yes, the complicated one is the softer sounding yes you give him;
eyeing his lips, voice quieting to mirror the weight of his own gaze.
“I'm glad. It's nothing elaborate” he mutters, spinning his fork slowly with a stern glare into the plate. He was getting distracted.
“I saw normal people by sally rooney in your bag” Jungkook states, remembering how the cover caught his attention. He read that book a while back, turning the pages about stories of, well, normal people. Relationships, lives. From the handful of books he read, he wouldn't shy away from crowning this one as his favourite. Something so ordinary and complicatedly mundane felt like second nature. You, on the other hand, take another bite as you gather your thoughts.
“Terrible book. Don't read it, it's a waste of time”
“What?” he fires back, a sharp huff of air leaving him.
“What? It's so boring, basically nothing happens in it” irritation laces quietly into your words, watching him get increasingly more irritated in return. He sets his fork down, a tinge of sarcasm accompanying him, “Right, nothing in 300 pages”
“Yes” you say, barely smiling while gesturing his way, “Now you get it”
Jungkook shakes his head, grumbling that, “You have terrible taste”
“Because I don’t wanna read about someone’s daily life?”
“Because you think that slice of life is boring. It's social commentary” he says, his voice getting a tad louder with his increased annoyance and it hits him then, that he's getting way too worked up over this. He can’t help it, the feeling of being misunderstood prickles underneath his skin. Instead of going on a tangent about the lessons in life and the beauty of normalcy in a society where there’s so many expectations thrust on you, he resumes eating.
“If I wanted philosophic takes I’d read my classes notes”
“Maybe you should”
“Sorry?” you say, more mockingly than seriously offended. Jungkook, looking back up at you with his signature, neutral expression tells you; “Apology accepted” before breaking out into what can only be described as an indefinite smirk.
“Once you get older, you’ll understand wanting to know about lives like your own” he retaliates, eating another mouthful of pasta to let the statement settle first.
“I’m not saying it’s not understandable, i’m saying i think it’s boring”
Your explanation doesn’t pull an answer from him, pushing you to start talking again. “I like when a book takes me places that.. aren’t realistic”
“Most people do”
“Yeah, i guess”
You’re looking at him from the lens of someone that has lived an equally as normal life - maybe even more so, without a child to take care of on your own, without the headstart of abundant money, the responsibility of a business on your shoulders.
“But I guess it’s nice to read something boring once in a while. Makes you feel less boring yourself”
"Recommend me one. Maybe it can change my mind” you add after a moment of consideration, the olive branch fragile and swaying as you wait for him to take it.
“Intermezzo. Also by sally rooney.”
“Are you a fan?” you joke, raising an eyebrow at him. He tuts, his shoulders shaking slightly with a gentle, low laugh spilling from his lips. Ease takes over your body, a smile openly shines on your own lips now, the thought of wanting to hear his laugh again makes you feel impatient.
Impatient to listen to more of his opinions, unwrap the tangled ropes that tie together his thoughts.
Perhaps too impatient, too uncoordinated as you brush the fork past your lips.
"There's something” he begins, inching closer with intent. His hand reaches to your face, thumb swiping at the corner of your lips with added pressure as he mumbles the remainder of his sentence, “... on your face”
He’s unable to stop looking, unable to pretend he does not see your eyes widening, your breath catching in your throat. The tiny sound of surprise has him holding down a deep moan. He doesn't let his finger linger afterwards, his thumb is gone from your skin as fast and unexpectedly as it had landed there in the first place. However, you would be able to feel it tingle there for hours later. Even days.
Like on this quiet friday evening, standing in your cozy bathroom, looking into the mirror as you tie your hair back, remove your hoops - wash off the make up that’s been marinating on your face for longer than it should have. You scrub, closing your eyes, the warm water feels like a hug on your stripped skin. In the black behind your eyelids, the touch on your face feels lively - and you can almost hear his voice too, telling you to read the book that’s now sitting on your nightstand, halfway into a story of grief, love, family.
A story about a part of life everyone will be confronted with. An ending no one can escape witnessing and falling victim to. Nature taking its breath back, people losing each other and gaining vital epiphanies, long winded stories that end in questions and answers. Reflection, a window into your own life and it's fragile evanescence. Death isn’t the only grief a person can experience. Losing someone - something, the effects of that run through your veins because of absence. Learning to fill the hole - whether by stitching it up or embedding its presence into routine, isn’t a task exclusive to the aftermaths of a death.
The text message notification dings, transferring you out of the story that’s been playing out on the laid out pages.
“Can you watch Kyungie today? It'd be from 7pm to around 9:30pm.”
With a glance to the time on top of your screen, you close up the book, letting him know that, yes - you’d be there soon.
When you arrive after taking the usual route, nothing is particularly unusual, though something is different. Impossible - to - ignore - kind of different. He stands in front of the hallway mirror for much longer than normal, adjusting his tie for what seems like the seventh time in five minutes. And when he walks past to slip into his jimmy choo's, the air reeks thickly of bleu de chanel.
Manly, fresh, deliberate.
“What’s the occasion ? You never make me watch him on weekends”
“It was a bit spontaneous. I’ll pay you extra for the short notice - and I’ll text you if it gets later.”
You nod in agreement, give him another questioning look he fails to acknowledge as your heartbeat continues to speed up, the clingy awareness of insecurity providing its steady beat. He swings his coat over his shoulders, slipping into it carefully. The gust of wind that passes when he closes the front door behind him is cool, uncovering how suffocating the air in your lungs is. Suddenly, you knew what this was. Why it might get later than anticipated, later than how things usually are.
Jungkook is going on a date.
It doesn’t matter, does it?
That you’ve never seen his hair styled like this and you're already mentally scrolling through restaurants he might be taking her to, silently wondering If he kisses on the first date,
If he tastes like nicotine and sugary maturity.
It matters when the strong feeling of disappointment rushes to your chest and your mind wraps itself around the concept of Jungkook looking to date. The quiet intimacy from your perspective now staring back at you like a huge misunderstanding. It didn't vanish - if anything, the plunging feeling only grew with his son that is already tugging on the sleeve of your oversized sweater, babbling about wanting to watch ponyo and do puzzles. Activities with his noona, the babysitter that watches Jungkook’s son.
Jungkook's son, who’s so completely in love with you, who you've sung to sleep with Jungkook admiring quietly, leaning against the doorframe - hoping you didn't spot his shadow. Jungkook who'd heard you tell Jukyung your favourite fruit and somehow, always ended up buying tangerines at the end of the week after that
“Noona actually brought you a new puzzle”
His smile widens into an innocent giggle, wrapping his little grubby hands around your arm and you can not be asked not to chuckle in return, letting him walk you to the couch. “Did you eat dinner Kyungie?”
“I’m starving” she chuckles, "Haven't eaten in hours”
Boring, god the woman in front of Jungkook is so incredibly boring to him.
Soojin's pretty, with long brown hair and a low cut shirt, a gentle voice and a nice smile. The faint touches of her hand on his arm when she laughed at something he had said - or the way her eyes darted to his lip ring - didn’t reel him in. Not like it did with you, where he felt the pull of wanting to kiss that needy look off your face. Everything she said, about her yoga studio and the way she liked going golfing, was so boring to Jungkook. He wondered, at some point of watching her sip the wine he ordered, if you had already put Jukyung to bed, if your hair is pulled into a messy pony yet and if you knew what he was doing right now.
Something about it made him feel almost guilty. He'd avoided saying it on purpose, why you're watching over his son today and yet, when he glanced back at you through the window, It was obvious you had caught on. Obviously, whatever you were feeling about the realization, you did not look happy for him. In a twisted way, it made him happy, even if for a mere moment.
Dinner tastes good, steak always does the trick - wine always relaxes him. Unable to indulge in it to the full extent, he had to drive - but getting wine drunk has never sounded more appealing. Especially after the fifth failed attempt of intellectual conversation. Words were not getting him anywhere but deeper in thought, nowhere and yet, parked in front of her apartment, with a slightly frustrated frown in his eyebrows - his lips kept colliding with hers anyways, allowing her warm tongue to lip past and explore his mouth. His eyes shut tightly in an effort not to sink into this burdening feeling, the low groan that he lets out sounds more frustrated than blissful. Frustrated with himself, with the fact that Soojin's hands on his shirt buttons fail to faze him, that he doesn't move his hands up and down her body to map out the curves she has - but simply anchors them to her hips. He was holding on to the denim like the image of you, despite wanting nothing more than to let go of both at that very moment.
“I should get going” she mumbled breathlessly, the desperation in her airy voice sounded like she imagined him to refuse, to keep her in his car and mess up the make up she'd spend so much time putting on, let her undo the very last buttons of his shirt too. So when he hums and agrees, saying that it is getting late and they both do have a child at home after all, her slick smile turns almost polite. Straightening out her hair with her fingers, she stepped out without meeting his gaze once more.
Jungkook exhales heavily after the Mercedes door slams, running a sweaty hand down his handsome scowl and begins driving home, to his son, to you.
The rattling of his keys don’t wake you from the slumber you’d fallen into about halfway into the second round of ponyo playing on the flatscreen. It laughs at Jungkook, mocking the storm that was already rampaging his thoughts. You looked like a domestic wet dream; Jukyung's sleeping from with his head laid on your chest that is rising and falling, comfortably matching the rhythm of his son's slowed breathing. With unspoken awe, he notices how his son holds on to your shoulder loosely, how your soft hand looks big on the little boy's back and your eyelashes fan so prettily against your rosy cheeks. Noting the absence of a blanket, he’s already halfway into laying one over the both of you, ignoring the sheer fact that, realistically, he would need to wake you and you should be making your way back home.
“Jungkook?”
The dazed mumble of his name halts him in his tracks, widened blanket hanging in his hands without a purpose. He lets you wake up, waits until the fog of sleep disappears from your eyes to continue talking. The taste of his date's lips haunts his mouth in a bitter aftertaste now, seeing how your first instinct was to pull Juykung closer to your body, perching him upright as you sit yourself up.
“Shit I must've fallen asleep. Did you just get back?”
“Yeah, about a minute ago” he answers, folding the blanket back up, “Did he make you watch that fish movie again?” he mumbles, nodding towards the tv.
You nod too, groaning softly while tucking the sleeping child into the corner of the couch, coming to yourself from the nap. “Probably why we fell asleep, seen it about a hundred times now.” A beat of silence passes, your voice turns painfully careful,
“ How.. was it?”
Jungkook stills, the air between you both growing thick. A tense glance is exchanged as he steps forward an inch, his fully dressed-up form standing right in front of where you are sitting on his couch with a softness he isn't familiar with. He tried to clear himself of his actions - weak attempts in forgetting about you, buttoned his shirt back up and reapplied his perfume to overpower her stench. He was aware it was to no use, not when you could see his well gelled hair now beginning to fall loose, how a trace of red was smeared slightly around his lips and the pristinely ironed shirt looked just a tad messed up. He clears his throat, answering the question you never wanted to ask in the first place.
“Okay, I think”
“Okay?” you echo, the curious undertone smells like a hope you didn't dare to have. Misplaced, possibly unwelcomed.
He sighs, a quick shake of his head following,
“Nothing special. "Didn’t feel it.”
It was short, direct. An answer that was true to his nature and another relief to yours.
“Not your type?”
“No, not my type” he says, his body slumping down on the couch next to yours with a hand reaching to caress Juykung’s back - his head tips back against the couch with a delicious stretch of his neck. No purple bruises, no wet patches of skin decorating the road down to his shoulder. The darkness of the living room provides you with a slight comfort, swallowing details of your feelings, like the slight shake in your fingers when you too - lean back against the couch, head tilted enough to face him. He looks at you for that brief lapse of time, vulnerable wordlessness settles down, taking up the remaining inches between your faces. Raw and hidden all at once, the absence of light strikes Jungkook to be honest with not only himself, but you.
“It just felt unnatural. I didn't really.. want to be there”
He murmurs, his eyelids feeling heavy with drowsiness, “Wanted to go home”
“Sounds boring. We had fun here, you really missed out” you mumble back with withheld amusement, feeling the effects of this moment take a toll on you. It’s easier to tease him when you feel unseen, there is less resistance to the pull that always wants to tug you together adjacently.
The hum he lets out sounds from deep within his throat, almost rumbling through his deep, quiet words.
“Like I said, I wanted to be home”
Home, didn't just mean at his house, inside his walls without anyone to bother him but his kid. Home meant being somewhere you were, somewhere he had his son in reach, somewhere he knew he belonged. There was no use in explaining his favourite book to a woman that wasn't interested in the workings of his mind, no use when you'd read the same book and - hated it, listened to him bitching about you not getting the point but nonetheless, ended up reading another one of those just because he saw value in it.
When you breathed a part back into his lungs that was devoid of air, that now longs for warm meals after a long work day, the sight of a woman sleeping with his kid in her arms, a soft laugh he helped elicit.
Utterly, devastatingly terrifying.
“I felt like that with my ex boyfriend. Like I had to be what.. he wanted me to be” you say after a deeper inhale, the breath filling your tight chest with courage. You learned not to cry because he would get annoyed, mastered to dim your light for comfort, but it's plastered all over your face, how much allow yourself to show when you feel like it's just Jungkook that's watching.
“Unnatural, if that's what you meant”
“I did” he clarifies, “How long were you together for?”
“Not too long, I broke up with him after six months” you explain, reminded of the day you chose yourself. It must be laughable in his eyes, you think. Six months was nothing compared to his break up. Instead, he sympathetically quiets his words, mist of late hours making them feel too loud anyway.
“I’m sorry to hear that”
"Don't be” you shake your head, "It's better that way. I don't want to pretend”
“Neither do I” he admits, running his fingers through his hair, the previously formal style now messily sitting on his head with wear. He looks comfortable.
“Was.. this your first date after Hyejin?”
The question is a leap, a gap you didn't know you had permission to breach. As the question leaves your lips, the dark gives away how he doesn´t seem fazed or surprised, he just presses his lips together, nodding “Yeah. Had a baby to raise”
“Do you feel ready now?”
Jungkook cocks his head, his body instinctively turning towards you. The invisible string of rough, vague want and deep, intricate need for connection pulls tighter.
“Ready?” he hums, a moment of debating his answer goes by “Ready isn't a feeling. You decide ready”
Control is a possession he kept dearest to him. Decide how people look at you. Decide what they know. Decide when you're ready, no matter how much his heart rebels against it with its violent beat, no matter how much his hands long for a counterpart to lace his finger through and squeeze when things get overwhelming.
“You shouldn't pretend. There's nothing you have to hide”
You mutter, turning to your side as well. Whilst looking at him with the slit of separation that presented as a large wall, there still wasn't anything he could hide under. You'd seen him, even with his suit on and his back turned, you were always able to see Jungkook.
Midnight struck on his rolex like lightning, the string that's been pulling at your heads and hearts snaps underneath the tension of him deciding - that he isn't ready yet.
“You should go home, you'll be exhausted for your 8:00 am class”
He rises to his feet, cracks in his surface blend back together as the newfound space creates enough room to stop breathing in each other's exhales, swallow each other's words.
A sinking feeling comes up back as you do from the suede couch, the distance is notable, your smile adjusts into one he knows is restrained and it makes him feel like an asshole. He doesn't fight it, tells you to be safe after you open his front door, stepping outside of the isolated world they created.
The candle, a big, blue and sparkling six, is lit with its swaying flame moving in the wind passing through the Jeon’s kitchen window. Jukyung leans forward, his lips pursed as he blows out the candle with his birthday wish rooted deep in his mind, letting the smoke from the extinguished flame carry it out into the world.
“Did you wish for something good buddy?” His dad asks, wiping off the chocolate icing sticking to the bottom of the candle.
“Of course I did” he smiles proudly, the shimmer of childhood bright and alive as another year of life is ahead for him. His eyes widen in amazement the second the knife slides into his belgian chocolate mousse cake,
“What did you wish for?”
“That’s a secret, silly” Jukyung nods enthusiastically, watching as his dad raises a questioning eyebrow, placing a generous slice down on to the plate laying on the table.
“Alright, Alright” Jungkook says, pressing a kiss to his son's ruffled hair. In true Jukyung fashion, the chocolate spreads beyond the corners of his lips and somehow always ends up all over his fingers. But it's his birthday today, so all Jungkook can really do is watch, smile and hold back the current of emotion raving through his pulse.
After dropping Jukyung off at his best friends house, he drives back up the road, spotting someone waiting on his porch.
“What are you doing here?”
“Hey” you start, shuffling the blue paper bag from one hand to another,
“Sorry, i just wanted to drop off a gift for Kyung. Guess I'm a little late” you smile, reading him unlocking the door as a silent invitation for you to follow. Taking off your shoes as always, sliding into your house slippers laying right next to his.
“What did you get him?” Jungkook grabs two glasses from the cupboard, holding up a bottle of lillet. You nod, “A coloring book. The totoro one, i'm tired of ponyo”
Jungkook grins, pouring the both of you a refreshing, full glass. The weather is beautiful today, breezing romantic summer air. His eyes note the pink lipstick stain on his glass after you took a sip, sitting prettily.
“I can't stand that stupid fish” he grumbles, bringing his glass to his lips, concealing the way his smile widens at the sound of your laugh.
“He's growing up fast. He was so much more.. baby like when i started”
“Yeah. He's a little gentleman now” Jungkook rests his forearm on the counter, leaning against it casually by your side.
“He starts preschool soon right?”
He hums, looking into his glass,
"In September"
You hum too, the marble counter reflecting a ray of setting sunlight into the room. Glows of the golden hour soak his honey skin in it's hues, the glint of fresh tears in your eyes is more obvious when colorful.
“Ahh..” you shake your head, smiling to suppress it further, your finger already on the way to catch what's threatening to fall from your eyes, “Sorry, i get emotional so quickly”
Jungkook shifts closer, the natural black strands falling over his forehead - his body folds slightly to adjust to you, he knows this feeling. He recognizes it for what it is, for what it has always been with you around. He's not good at hiding it this time.
There's beauty outside control.
“That's okay. I get it, he's my son” he murmurs, brushing his fingers against yours, resting on the cool surface. You wait for them to disappear, but they never do. His fingers stay on top of yours like a feather light kiss, brown eyes refusing to look away from your face as the sadness disappears into sheer relaxation.
“You do realise that he loves you” Jungkook says, his thumb slowly moving against your hand,
“Do you know what he wished for, when he blew out the candle?”
His body moves forward again, you shake your head no, letting him continue, the words drowned in quiet affection.
“He said it's a secret, but that lasted for maybe 10 minutes”
Another smile blooms on your lips, waters the one growing on Jungkook's as he continues, focused on keeping that devastatingly heartfelt look all over your face.
“He wished for you to keep watching him when he gets older”
Jungkook is mesmerized with the first tear that truly tumbles down the apple of your cheek, a single, short sigh passing through your lips as you do nothing but look at him. Into his eyes, searching for something.
He inches his fingers closer, time feels stretched out into slow motion as his thumb makes contact with the wetness on your cheek, swiping it away carefully. You don't shatter under his touch, encouraging his thumb to wander down your jaw, caress again, until, unwillingly, tilting up the tip of your chin subtly.
He's powerless as he leans down, breathless at the first angelic touch of your lips on his.
Jungkook wants to kiss you until the world fades out.
Your lips attach to his too, slowly at first, testing how good it feels in your whole body every time his quiet sounds slip into your mouth, getting louder once your arms have made their way around his neck. His kisses grow demanding at the closeness, the warmth of your body creeping from your waist into his palms, your sweet moan of satisfaction makes him smile faintly right into the kiss, sliding his tongue against yours to pull another moan from your mouth.
“We need you” he mumbles, the words swallowed under more passionate collisions, drowning in your combined heavy breathing that resulted from being each other's source of air.
“Do I kiss better than Soojin?” you mumble after a hitch of your breath, his swollen lips trail down your tilted neck eagerly and patiently all at once. The memory of her makes his skin prickle, wanting nothing more but to tie himself to you further. Wet, open kisses punctuate his response, the nickname seeping into your skin, embedding its low sound into your body.
“Jealousy looks cute on you, sweetheart”
“M'not jealous" you chuckle, airy and full of lies. You can feel his grin resurface against your jaw this time, his hands slip underneath the hem of your blouse, tracing the slit of skin with slow strokes,
“Don't lie to me” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours for another taste of you. “M'gonna take this off”
He announces it, waiting for your nod to confirm before pulling the fabric over your head. The white, lace adorned bra cups your small chest beautifully, pulling his eyes to trace down the curve of your neck, the line of your shoulders, down to your breasts. He attempts to soothe his ragged need by running his hands up and down your back, feeling the skin grounding him.
Your manicured fingers pull him in by his tie, loosening the patterned fabric as he works on shrugging his heavy jacket off his shoulders. The rings on his finger are cool against your cheek, while your fingertips thrum against his chest once you've managed to unbutton his shirt. The desire in your eyes is honest as you do nothing but look at each other, painted under the light of the kitchen, shifting as he carries you up the stairs, lays you down into the plushness of his large bed. His black covers dip underneath your combined weight. There's gentleness in this heat, in the way his fringe tingles on your forehead as he supports himself - bicep flexing next to your head.
“You're so fucking beautiful” he whispers, nipping at your bottom lip the moment a pout forms on your face. Inside his chest cracks open the sentiment of being naked. Everything you know about the way he is, the pressure of his kisses and the taste of his skin, how his muscles flex and his eyes get heavy lidded - made him so, so naked.
Above you, the warmth radiates from him, forgetting that your skin is exposed to the cold nightly air taking up most of the tranquil room. Birds singing outside remind you that there's a whole word beyond this moment and these four walls that surround you.
Jungkook, most of the time, knows what he wants. His lips and hands wander all over you, rounding your shoulders, unclasping your bra with distracting flicks of his tongue on your collarbone. The bra gets tossed somewhere unimportant, his mouth devotes itself to leave every patch of your chest kissed, tracing down the subtle swell of your breasts - but there's only so much throbbing you can take between your thighs, so many little nibbles until you get restless and dig your nails into the naked muscle on his back.
“Stop whining” he huffs, tugging sharply at your right nipple while lapping at the equally stiff left one, his lips close around it with a rougher suck. You naturally whimper again, raising your back off the bed to indulge into his touch as much as you try to squirm away from it. The only place you wish to run to right now is this.
Alternating sides, he glances up at your pleasure clouded face, circling your bud the tip of his tongue torturously slowly, rubbing against the other one with the pad of his thumb without necessary roughness.
Too shallow, too soft.
“Please”
Jungkook hums at your whiny plea, noting the furrow in your eyebrows that's formed in concentration to, somehow, feel more of his touch.
“Ask nicely for what you want” he retorts, continuing to suck on your skin with time entirely at his mercy. Your fingers curl into his hair, voice coming out quietly and stained with embarrassment.
“Please.. give me more”
“Not so hard, is it?”
You shake your head no - breaking into a louder moan as he sucks more insistently, lips smacking against your skin. “Yes- mh -mmh”
“Like this yeah?” he mumbles, the breathless moans coming from your lips fill up his ears with motivation to keep kissing at your chest until your palm flattens on his forehead, pushing in overstimulation. He smiles, dominant and beautifully dangerous while dancing down the line of your stomach, kissing along your navel with his tongue dipping just a slither below your pant line. Warm fingers cup your thighs, carrying the need to rip off your pants to be gratified with the feel of your skin on his own.
If both of you listened closely enough, the joined, rapid thumping of two interlinked hearts could be heard below Jungkook's deep murmurs.
“You're so needy, what are you squirming for?”
“You, Jungkook” you pout again, unfamiliar with the desperate edge in your voice and the urge to beg for something like the touch of another person. His grip on your thighs loosen, repositioning to rub your hips on either side.
“What do you want from me? Talk to me”
“Something, just do something” you groan impatiently, biting the corner of your lip at the sudden sting after the smack he lands on your thigh, shaking his head to retaliate.
“Ask nicely. You want me to take this off and touch you?” he asks, narrowing his voice down into a delicious, low rumble that melts you down further, sinking into the intoxication he's drunk with. His dark eyes look straight up at you, expecting you to answer him. Still, there's an underlying question in the way he brushes his thumb over your hip bone as he waits for your response.
“Can you please.. take it off”
“And do what?”
He slowly unzips your pants, popping the button and getting a glance of the tiny bow sitting obediently atop your panties. Teasing, so sweet.
The sensation of your pants sliding down your legs feels freeing, an obvious damp spot greeting Jungkook as he tugs your legs free - making his painfully erect cock twitch against the material of his boxers.
“Touch me, please” you finish, a glossy layer overshadows your eyes and a slight sheath of sweat coats your palms. Nervously, you grip the dark sheets, closing your thighs to hide your growing arousal from him. His demeanor shifts to compliment your surfacing emotion, sliding his warm, steady hands up and down your arms, placing a longing kiss to your forehead. Your chest deflates with a heavy exhale into the safety.
“Good girl, that's it pretty. I'm gonna touch you, just like you want”
His own need is mere background noise the minute he parts your thighs again, sees the reciprocated craving of your body for his. The tip of his index draws a line on your inner thighs, touches the scruff lace edges of your panties before laying his palm out, cupping your mound into his hand possessively.
His round nose brushes your cheek as he just holds patiently, grinding ever so slightly against where you need it most. Jungkook’s tongue comes out to take a brief lick at the shell of your reddened ear as his whispered lures taunt you.
“M'gonna be so good to you. You want that don't you? You want me to make you feel good?”
The depth of his fingers circling your tender clit is sufficient for a gasp to leave you, for your lips to seek out his in order to dim down the volume of desire coursing through you. He doesn't respond by engaging in your kiss, rather by slipping his fingers below the cotton to find a small sea to dip in, trail back up to more gratifying touches on your most sensitive part.
“You gotta use your words” he insists, the circles growing smaller, faster against your slickness. Practically coaxing the words he needs to hear out of you, the want much greater than any fear.
There's beauty outside control.
If Jungkook was pretty before, he's striking now. Buried deep between your thighs that he has hooked over his shoulders. Inhaling the scent on you, tangy candy and musk, coating his tongue from the first long stripe he licks up your center. Your thighs tighten, secure in his hands that lock you down on his mouth.
The slow, long licks don't last for long, shift into sharp, short flicks against your swelling clit. Feeling him strum the pad of his fingers against your entrance, you break out into another helpless whimper, tightening around nothing but the sole thought of his thick fingers nestled inside your cunt.
Knowingly, he doesn't push in, keeps sucking on your clit, letting his saliva run down your puffy folds, you know what he needs to hear, you know what he wants you to do.
“Please, put it in - haah”
Jungkook groans, the deep noise vibrating against your soaked skin. One of his fingers slide in slowly, pausing his mouth's actions as the warmth welcomes him in like it had been awaiting his arrival. He uses the pause to listen to his name falling from your lips, appreciating your eyes shutting when, without a warning, a second finger sinks in, curling both digits upwards deliberately.
“You're so good, look at you” he mumbles, plunging his fingers in and out of you slowly enough to feel them drag against your walls, making a mess with relentless laps on your clit.
“I - fuck i'm gonna come” you squeak, tugging the strands of his hair weakly, your lower stomach is full to the brim with pressure, a large wave of pleasure tips right over you, swimming into his mouth greedily.
“That's it, come right into my mouth” he moans, licking up every drop of delightful pleasure spilling from you. Your taste hits him all at once, eyes closed and frowning for more. He doesn't stop you, lets you rock your hips into his mouth, unfiltered.
“Needy fucking thing aren't you? Not enough?” he huffs, rising back to his original position of hovering over you. Flushed, trying to suppress the panting and submission. Red looks elegant on your face, his thumb traces the color in adoration, watching the pupils dilate in your eyes.
He looks just like you do, exhales heavy and raw, desire replacing the blood in his veins.
The tension winding in his toned stomach snaps at the brief, careful touch of your warm hand on his bulge. Hard, straining aggressively. Your hand rests there, feeling out his thick shape, his length below your fingers.
“I need to feel you” he breathes out, permanently etching the words into your brain despite how softly they were spoken. Quickly returns to smash his lips onto yours with a rough kiss as if to consume you whole, passing the taste of yourself onto your tongue.
“Lift a little f’me”
One of his many pillows slides under your stomach, the imprint of his hand burning your bare hips, knees rooted in his sheets. Jungkook takes a shaky inhale, gathers your hair into his hand to reveal the curve of your spine, there for him to kiss reverently.
“Fuck, you’re soaking” he bites down on his lip, a groan ripping from his throat at the sinful sight below. Your thighs gleam, the same shine coating his heavy cock as he grinds it through your folds, slapping the pink tip against your glossy, tight hole once, then twice.
“Thaaaat’s right, take my cock so well”
Praise soothes the stretch he’s giving you, building a cozy home inside your body to reside in. You know now, that you want it all. His heart, his mind, his body craving itself into yours on nights like these. Your hands are planted down securely, though your elbows wobble under his impact.
Pushing in further until his pelvis makes contact with your backside. At the first feel of him, entirely sunken into you, intertwined, both of you remain melodically silent.
He adjusts the position of his hips, angling until a spongy, soft spot nudges his tip - and starts moving his hips. Deep with a craving for connection in this messy pleasure. It’s been so long since he felt himself burn with another person, smell the sex in his bedroom and enjoy the taste of salty sweat and sweet skin to skin.
“Good, so so good” your broken words buzz inside his head, making the deep and rhythmic ruts get sloppier. Moans, groans and whines come together in harmony, loud, shameless.
“Suck on it baby, c’mon” Jungkook threads his strong arm around your throat, holding his thumb on your plush bottom lip. When you don’t open your mouth right away, too lost in the vast ocean of pleasure, he shoves it past your lips - grinding against the wet muscle.
Your lips close around it instinctively, mindless callouts muffled by sucking just like he’d ask. Your obedience sparks him to thrust deeper, pushing your body back into him gets you another reward - his wet thumb finds your oversensitive clit, stimulating it wildly. No direction, no even movements as he seeks you out and you keep calling for him.
“I’m gonna come jungkook”
“You're gonna hold it” he gruffly says, taking away the additional pleasure to run his fingers through your hair, pulling your head back at the roots. Your neck stretches - back arching more than either of you thought possible and it stings better than you’ve ever felt it before.
The thorough, overwhelming orgasm building in your body is impendant, you clench on his big cock and whine for him louder,
“Can- can’t, please, mhh- fuck”
“You can, you can. C’mon be good and hold it” he grits out, jaw tense as his hips snap ruthlessly, chasing his own high.
You’re so soft and warm and so fucking tight - the arch of your back clings with sweat against his will and he loves it. The knowledge of you wanting to break all over his cock - all of it comes together to push him over the edge he’s been dancing on. He’s falling fast, closing his eyes for one last time to pull the strings of his voice together,
“Let go for me, let go baby”
“Fuck” he whispers, pumping his cock into his fist, right after feeling you gush on him. He throbs in his own hand, then you feel it - sticky, warm as it leaks down onto your back, drips down while he’s attempting to catch his ragged breath. Your knees finally give out - with a long, tired sigh, your sore chest makes contact with his bed, head buzzing, aware of your body’s heat and unaware of the look in his eyes, the heaving of his broad upper body.
Footsteps sound behind your closed eyes, inching closer to you. He places the damp towel on your spine, wiping away the traces of his cum, kisses the spot after, pats your butt like he had every right to that normalcy.
The normalcy of laying down next to you, wrapping his still bare body around yours - heart beating against your back. You still don’t see him, your open eyes scan his colorful tattoos contrasting your skin.
“Are you feeling okay?”
His voice is rough, the aftermath of what you did audible, louder in the proximity of his mouth to your ear. You give something close to a nod, a mumbled yes in response. You are okay. More than okay.
“Not too rough?”
“No”
“No?” he buries his nose into your neck, mumbling your words back in a question.
“No,” your body moves before you could stop it from happening and finally, after everything, you’re looking straight at him.
“Was perfect”
It’s not monday or wednesday today, which is precisely why Jukyung is confused for the first minute of seeing you take your jacket off.
It’s saturday, his dad has a day off and is wearing black sweats and a dark grey t-shirt. So he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
What matters though, is that his favourite person is in his home unexpectedly, so he runs up to you, flinging his arms around you in a rush.
"Noona! "
“Hey there” you greet back, returning the hug. Jungkook watches with his arms crossed and his head slightly tipped to the side.
The confusion in Jukyung’s eyes returns when you give the same greeting to his dad - allowing him to sneak his arms around your waist. This is new.
“We’re having movie night, i told you buddy” Jungkook says, reading the question off his child’s lips. He did tell him, however, Jukyung naturally assumed it would be on the following Monday. Not a boring, 7pm saturday - an hour before his technically strict bedtime.
“You decide on a movie while appa and i make snacks yeah?” You add, smiling at Jukyung warmly. Behind you, the older man waits impatiently, holding the edge of the door in his hand. Jukyung nods, taking charge of the remote to select a movie - all three of you knew what it’d be, you’ve been unsuccessful in redirecting his favourite ghibli movie.
“Missed you” Jungkook mumbles against your lips, the door mostly closed - shielding you from the curious pair of eyes his son holds.
Smart kid.
You tell him you missed him too, breathing in the subtle perfume on his shirt. His palm holds the side of your face, making an effort to keep your eyes on his.
“He’s used to sleeping early, an hour and he’s dozing off, promise” he says quietly, knuckles grazing your powdery soft skin,
“I know” you whisper, closing your eyes to soak up his touch. When Jukyung would find out is still undecided - it hasn’t been long but, sneaking around creates a guilty cloud to float above your heads, raining down anytime the three of you come together.
Jungkook smiles, precious and simple, then leans down again to feel your lips on his to reassure that - soon, you’d tell him soon.
A gasp erupts in the silence but neither of you are the cause of it.
Or.. right now.
“Appa - you’re -” the childs eyes widen alongside his big, toothy smile.
“Kyungie - listen to me-” you start - frantically turning to him while Jungkook shuts his eyes tightly, accepting their dooming defeat.
“Appa likes noona, Appa likes noona” Jukyung sings loudly, skipping around the kitchen.
jungkook was undeniably your closest friend. you two came as a pair, packaged tightly together and wrapped in clingfilm. you’d known each other since you were both ten, sat together in primary school, stealing glances at one another as though the intrigue you both kept could hardly make either of you look away. the boy had won your heart in a flash when he offered his banana milk to you after punching the horrible boy that kept bullying you, all whilst offering you a big toothy grin.
he came shopping with you, standing outside of changing rooms with crossed arms and big biceps, analysing every short little skirt and blouse. he’d sit beside you in all of your classes, helping you with your note taking, buying you special highlighters so you could make them prettier. and at parties? jungkook would stand, arm around your waist, eyes shooting daggers at any man that tried to even think about coming near you whilst he took care of you.
you see, jungkook being your best friend was indeed undeniable. the other undeniable fact? he was utterly, completely and entirely in love with you.
it would have been fine, if you weren’t so clueless. you took his actions as nothing more than him being friendly, and comfortable with you and sure - you both dated other people, but he’d made it abundantly clear to every woman in his life that you came first in the peking order. naturally, this didn’t make them stay long.
he had a deep, twisted sort of obsession when it came to you, constantly needing you close, wanting to hold you, smell you, caress you in anyway possible. you let him, of course - you were a sweet little thing, you always assumed it was normal despite everyone in your life questioning it. you were asked a million times a week whether you and jungkook were dating to which you’d always tilt your head, mumbling out a confused no. whenever he was asked, he’d simply smirk, and shrug his shoulders, playing the ambiguity card.
you weren’t sly, however. he could see right through you. no matter how innocent you’d act, he knew you enjoyed the attention, craved it and needed it in a way that resembled himself - you were a mere reflection of one another. he had just come to understand his feelings first.
y/n and jungkook, a simple pair. you couldn’t find one without the other, and despite him being the openly touchy and expressive one out of you both, the only person who thought it was friendly was you. the irony was, you knew deep down it was all a facade you were keeping up in hopes he would never stop. it felt too good to change the game now.
even now, jungkook knocked on your door at 2 in the morning, hair messy, coming from one of the libraries after a long PHD study session. you sleepily rose from your bed, already half way to dreamland as you lazily opened the door. though you weren’t expecting him, you knew it could only be him knocking.
“did i wake you?” he murmured quietly as you yawned against the door, letting him in.
he walked in, placing his bag and shoes by the entrance whilst he watched you sleepily turn back to your bedroom. “mm, but it’s okay.”
he followed you in, watching you snuggle back against your pillow. “scoot over.”
you did exactly that, shuffling, watching as he joined you in your bed, taking over a large majority of the space. you groaned a little as his hands found your hips, large fingers pressing into your skin whilst he pulled you into his chest with utter ease.
“smell good.” you purred, curling your face into his neck. he felt himself visibly relax, breathing in the scent of your hair.
“it’s the cologne you got me.” he murmured down at you.
you groaned in response, pleased at his answer.
if anyone were to see you both right now, the last possible thing they’d ever assume you to be was friends and yet here you were. best friends, even, through thick and thin. you’d learnt not to question jungkook’s wandering hands, how it brushed your ass every time he ran it up and down your back. he, in return, didn’t question you on the way you’d steal his clothes, curling into them whilst demanding to lay on his chest, wrapped tightly in his thick biceps. a mutual understanding, if you will.
“hey, we’re still on for tomorrow right? jimin’s party?” he whispered down, causing a subtle shiver down to go down your neck.
you huffed a little. “yes. now shut up, i’m sleepy.”
he grinned at that, bunny teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he pressed quick peck to the top of your head, finding himself joining you into dreamland.
—
you could hear the boom of jimin’s house minutes before you’d even arrived, offering a look over at your best friend yejin who was a giggling mess at the back seat of the uber. the blonde haired boy was notorious for his gatherings, unlimited alcohol thanks to his connections, and a gathering of people that rivalled multiple parties combined. he was a self proclaimed man of the people, offering his large home as a service to society. or so he claimed.
you slipped out once you’d arrived, pulling the hem of your tiny little dress down. the vibe for tonight was to have fun, find someone, get drunk, get ruined all before cosying back up in your warm, big bed. it didn’t feel like too much to ask for, and jimin’s party was the prime location to do it.
you followed yejin inside the too large house, immediately saying hi to people upon your arrival. within minutes, you’d both done your round, and you were finally walking up to your friends who were all mingling in the kitchen.
“hi.” you squealed at the sight of your party host, who grinned widely before giving you a big hug. “having fun so far?”
“jimin, this is insane.” you laughed, taehyung wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “more than insane, should of seen what happened 20 minutes ago, some girl slapped her boyfriend for flirting with someone else.”
“yeah well, had to try out do the other one.” jimin quipped, referencing his previous gatherings whilst already preparing you a drink.
“the fact you’ve managed that is insane.” yejin grimaced whilst taking a sip of the concoction yoongi had prepared.
your eyes flickered to the tall, tatted boy stood by the wall, back pressed against the surface. a loose tshirt sat on his figure, and though it shielded you from seeing the hard panels on his body, the sheer expanse of his shoulders were enough to have your legs move towards him within seconds.
jungkook was staring at you, gaze as intense as ever. his tongue draped over his bottom lip momentarily, wetting it at the mere sight of you. “hi.” he murmured down at you, lowering his head so his lips would graze your ear just slightly.
a shiver went down your spine. your fingers reached for his stomach, clutching his top gently. “already drinking? thought you’d wait for me.”
“been nursing it. don’t drink that.” he moved the cup jimin had given you out of your hand, preparing one for you instead. he was possessive like that, small acts that you could never pin point.
“hm? this tastes good.” you hummed, resting against him.
his arm slipped around your waist, done too casually despite the weight of it on your body. his eyes wandered over the tiny dress you were wearing, eyebrows furrowing.
“is this new?”
you peered up. “yeah! you like it?” you twirled a little, his arm loosening slightly. “got it today, yejin said it makes my legs look good.”
he grunted, half in appreciation and other half in annoyance that your mutual friend had you dressing in such a risqué dress. the thought of other men noticing you enraged him, in a way that wasn’t normal; not that he gave a fuck.
“i do like it. aren’t you cold?” he asked with narrowed eyes, hand returning to the bottom of your back.
you grinned into your cup, tilting your head. “that’s what you’re for, duh.”
at that, a smirk formed in his lips, the thought of you needing him in a way he was only more than happy to be was comforting to his obsessive brain.
the two of you muttered away, hidden away in a corner whilst your friends chatted around you. to the naked eye, you both appeared to be much more than the best friends you claimed to be. with your hands curled onto him, feeling his abs and hard chest under his clothes whilst his own were wandering up and down your back, often dipping low enough to touch your ass.
it didn’t register in your head that this wasn’t a normal thing. that friends shouldn’t touch each other so intimately, especially not ones that were as close as you and jungkook. the mask of friendship acted as a guide for you both, offering a rope of direction despite both of you often letting go, making your own decisions that completely disregarded what was supposed to be.
“gonna go to the bathroom.” you groaned suddenly.
jungkook had been stood in front of you, leaned over so you were caged against the wall, forcing you to push his chest lightly. “want me to come with?”
“what, so you can watch me piss? does that get you off?” you teased, watching as he rolled his eyes.
his tongue pushed against his cheek. “yeah, yeah, hurry up. i’ll hold your drink.”
you giggled to yourself, loving how riled up he’d get at a mere poke or jab, before sliding out of his grip, feeling his fingers tighten against you before letting go. jungkook watched you walk away, greedily taking in every inch of skin he could get. from your legs to your arms, the way your ass looked so fucking good in that dress. he let out a quiet groan.
you walked up the stairs, avoiding the moans emitting from different rooms like the plague. slipping into the bathroom, you quickly did your business before looking in the mirror whilst washing your hands. the alcohol had allowed for a flush against your cheeks and your pupils were dilated, you felt a rush all over your body. tonight was supposed to be chill, but the air felt electric.
you weren’t sure if it was the music, the amount of people or even the selection of drinks - but you felt slightly out of it. you shook your head, forcing yourself to stay present again before you began walking back to your best friend, almost too excitedly.
unfortunately for you, by the time you were slipping back into the kitchen, your tatted friend wasn’t there anymore, with hobi letting you know he’d gone into the main foyer. you, of course, listened and snuck between multiple people, exploring the house in a bid to find jungkook.
you huffed a little, realising he wasn’t there either. curse jimin, you thought, who needed a house this big anyway? your legs travelled around the expanse of the house, feeling slightly annoyed at the loss of your best friend who was usually stuck to your hip. you knew he preferred to stick together on nights like this, so you weren’t sure where he could be.
your legs took you to the living room, finding him leaning towards a corner which made your head tilt slightly, walking over immediately only to be stopped in your tracks the second you realised what was going on.
he had a girl in front of him, tall and leggy, and it took you no time to figure out who it was. yuna. his on and off ex of two years, toxic as could be, the one woman in the entire world you truly couldn’t stand whatsoever. unbeknownst to you, everytime you’d get into a relationship or begin seeing anyone, jungkook would return to her as a distraction, in hopes of making you jealous, to evoke any emotion he physically could. was it healthy? certainly not, but he didn’t really care for anyone that wasn’t you anyway.
you weren’t privy to this information, which meant your disdain for the frankly horrible woman felt unfounded. you felt guilty whenever you’d think about it, knowing you didn’t like her simply because she had jungkook when he felt more yours than anyone else’s, not that you could ever discuss that with anyone. you huffed at the sight, arms crossed whilst staring right at them.
you both had made a pact. you’d broken up with your ex boyfriend a few months ago, and at the time you felt like it was potentially a mistake, but jungkook had talked you out of it. said if you don’t go back, he wouldn’t go back to his ex either and selfishly, you knew that was what you wanted. yeah, you might have missed your ex, but the secret possibility of having him all to yourself was too much not to indulge in. seeing him now, however, had you drowning in annoyance.
yuna’s gaze flickered over jungkook’s shoulder, noticing you stood a few metres away looking at them openly. she wasn’t very fond of you either. it was hard to stomach the fact she would always be second in jungkook’s eyes, if even that, compared to the best friend he kept so closely to him. you could call and he’d drop the entire world to be by your side, so it made her bitter, naturally. seeing you stood there, visibly losing in comparison to her made a small smirk form as she tilted her head upwards to look at jungkook, her hands suddenly sliding all over his chest and shoulders.
you scoffed, deciding you’d had enough as you turned on your heel and exited the room with a grumble. if he wanted her so bad, he could have her, you didn’t care. he wasn’t allowed to come back to yours after though, a broken promise is still a broken promise and you held a grudge like no one else.
“now what’s got you frowning at a party like this?” jin questioned as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, seemingly appearing out of no where as you trudged to the kitchen to get drunk.
“nothing. it’s stupid.” you shook your head.
“probably, but if it’s upset you, let’s talk.”
you sighed, as you grabbed the bottle of vodka, making a concoction you knew would be too strong for you to handle. you were a lightweight after all. “jungkook’s in a corner getting all close with yuna.”exess
“stupid boy.” he shook his head. “are you upset because you don’t like seeing them together?” he asked, leaning against the fridge, watching as yoongi and jimin walked in, seemingly with the same idea as you.
“what..no it’s not that.” your cheeks flushed, a cheeky grin forming on his face that jimin was beginning to rival, understanding the context of the conversation immediately. “yeah? why you getting all red then?” the younger man teased.
“shut up.” you hissed, making him throw his hands up.
“okay. let’s say for arguments sake you’re not jealous, are you really gonna let that something as silly as that ruin your night?” jin asked, bumping your hip whilst making his own drink. “you can’t let his bad decisions dictate how you feel, enjoy yourself.”
“god. boring. don’t listen to him, y/n.” jimin huffed, grabbing your arms and twirling you a little. “don’t get upset. get even.”
“huh?” yoongi asked, eyes narrowing. “okay, feels like it goes without saying that you shouldn’t listen to jimin right now.”
you were intrigued, however. “what do you mean?” you asked, peering at him.
“get even.” he reiterated with a smirk. “gotta play him by his own game.”
“yeah, well, it’s not like my ex is here.” you grumbled at him, taking a sip of your too harsh drink, making you wince. jin tutted, stealing it out of your hand and making you another, more appropriate one.
jimin’s smirk could have rivaled the cheshire cat, with the way it pinned to either side of his face, clearly loving this game. he knew about jungkook’s feelings for you, and about the hidden feelings you could barely admit to yourself - wasn’t it time he had some fun, and made sure progress was being made?
“ah, but i have something better.” he tutted, leading you out to the entrance of the kitchen so you could look out all of the people here. “so many eligible bachelors. why go for something you’re used to, when you could try something new?”
you pondered his words whilst you heard yoongi groan, taking the drink jin was preparing for you and downing it himself.
soon enough, you had found yourself the perfect man. you couldn’t really remember his name, jaehoon, jaehyun, something along those lines - not that it really mattered. he was the right fit for what you needed. you flirted in a way you knew worked best, eyelashes fluttering and a few casual touches here and there, he was practically smitten by the end.
you’d even gotten up to dance, his hands travelling all over the expanse of your stomach, your hips and hair. he was letting you know exactly what he felt and what he was thinking through his eager touch. normally, you’d feel disgusted, you weren’t someone that revelled in attention like this but it was hard to think when you were being guided by jealousy.
“wanna get out of here?” he whispered down at you, voice heavy with intent.
at first, you faltered, as though ice water had been splashed onto your face, suddenly aware of what you were doing. one look upwards and you noticed jungkook wasn’t even around you, and for some stupid reason you couldn’t rationalise, it made you angry. he broke the pact. he had you walking around the party looking for him. him and his touches, wandering hands and fleeting looks - you knew friends didn’t do that, but it was jungkook. it was okay if it was him, you preferred it even, and yet here you stood, about to make the biggest mistake of your life out of pure ego.
“yeah.” you huffed a little, carried away by your thoughts.
the man in front of you couldn’t believe his luck, you were easily one of the prettiest girls at the whole party and entirely out of his league so he wasn’t about to waste a single minute. he took your hand, smirk big whilst leading you through the house, and towards the door.
you passed some of your friends, who were all looking at you inquisitively, managing to get to the foyer before you were so rudely stopped by a hand yanking your own away from his grip.
“what the fuck are you doing?” jungkook appeared, chest big and shoulders as wide as they could be.
he was inching towards the shorter man, eyes narrowed dangerously as though something completely unfathomable was taking place in front of him.
“who are you?” his eyebrows narrowed. “let go.” you hissed at the same time, yanking your hand out of his grip.
he turned to you, eyebrows furrowing in half confusion and annoyance. “what, you’re gonna leave with this guy? are you fucking stupid?”
“what’s it to you?” your eyes were matching his in emotion, whilst the man beside you watched you both in confusion. “listen, man, she told me she was single..”
“yeah, well she’s not.” he broke eye contact; facing him once more. “touch my girl again and i’ll fucking kill you.”
that was all he needed to hear; backing down immediately and all but scurrying away. jungkook was very well known, he had a presence that made most men uncomfortable, a cocktail mix of strength and anger that anyone would shy away from. it was secretly one of your favourite things about him, you were convinced he was invincible - the thought of him being able to protect you so thoroughly had butterflies erupting in your stomach.
“jungkook.” you hissed once more, anger bubbling in your stomach.
he didn’t bother to respond, grabbing you by your hips and pushing you almost harshly against the wall, secretly making sure your head didn’t bang. “what was that? leaving with some guy, you don’t even know who he was.”
“would it have been better if it was someone i knew, then?” you scoffed, hands gripping his shirt where his hardened chest sat beneath, pushing him away though he didn’t budge whatsoever. stupid, concrete body.
his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them. “you don’t fucking leave with anyone that isn’t me, you hear me?”
you rolled your eyes. “you don’t get to act all innocent with me, i’m surprised you’re not upstairs with yuna right now.”
“what are you talking about?”
“i saw you, so don’t even bother.” you huffed, pushing him by his chest once more only for him to grab your hands, pinning them to the wall above you.
“yeah? tell me what you saw, hm.” he darkly whispered down at you. “did you hear what we were talking about, or are you jumping to conclusions?”
you wiggled slightly, his chest now all but pressed against yours. this position was entirely indecent, and if either of you were more aware of your surroundings, you’d be thankful that everyone was currently too drunk to notice you.
“you said you wouldn’t talk to her anymore, that was the pact.” you hissed. “you promised and now you’ve broken it, so i can do whatever i want, you don’t get to dictate my decisions.”
he scoffed in your face, and your eyes widened lightly at the mere audacity, wiggling again against his grip. all this was doing was pushing your body tighter against him.
“you know, if you had stuck around longer than 5 seconds you would have actually heard what we were talking about.” he all but grumbled. “she approached me, wouldn’t leave me alone, i’ve spent the last 15 minutes telling her to fuck off, that i’ve only got my eyes on one girl, only have time for you.”
you stopped wiggling, his words hitting you one after the other.
“imagine my fucking surprise when i try find you, only to find some fuck leading you out of this place.” his face was dangerously close to yours. “what were you planning, y/n? trying to get me angry? was that your game plan?”
you didn’t respond, nervously keeping eye contact. your thighs were pressed against each other tightly, a sick part of you enjoying this more than anything, the way he was being a little rougher with you whilst still being protective - it made your brain sing.
“and what would you have done once you were both alone, hm? he wanted to fuck you.” he growled harshly, making you grumble under your breath. “you think a guy like that is worth fucking?”
“okay, fine, i shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. but you still broke the pact.” you weakly pushed back, your ego too high to let him win.
jungkook knew it, knew the only reason you’d gone so far was out of jealousy and it made his heart clench harshly - it felt fucking incredible. his girl, his y/n, so bothered at the sight of another woman staking their claim on him that you’d become this blind? if only you knew the way he had shut yuna down, leaving the girl practically in tears after he explained how deeply his heart and brain were intertwined into you - that he’d take morsels from you if it meant being close to you, whilst he wouldn’t even look at her twice even if she’d offer herself whole. he knew it was cruel, but in that moment, when all he wanted to do was return to you, he hardly cared.
“yeah, i did.” he murmured after a moment, slowly easing your hands back down from the wall, now pushing them back onto his chest. he could feel your fingers pulling at the fabric of his t-shirt once more. “forgive me, baby. swear my intentions were good.”
you nibbled on your bottom lip. he was still so close, his nose bumped against yours gently, “fine.” you huffed a little, despite one of your hands drawling down to his stomach, feeling the tightness of his abs beneath.
he dipped his head so your cheeks were pressing together, his lips ghosting against your ear. “now, stay with me for the rest of the night. next man i see touching you, i’ll fuck up.”
and as you both walked away, you sported a triumph grin, not only having jungkook possessively lead you to a spot on the couch, but also have his wandering hand go from your hip to firmly grabbing your ass.
—
“how much longer?” jungkook groaned alongside yoongi, who sat beside him, arms crossed and eyes closed.
the two men were sat within the confinements of what felt like a jail, but was actually a mere clothing department. surrounded by pretty dresses and a flourish of colours, the pair felt utterly out of place, dragged here by either girl. yoongi and yejin had a weird back and forth that had been building for years, incredibly similar to your own relationship with jungkook? the difference between you, however, was they at least tried to be subtle for the sake of appearances.
“god, just wait, you’re both so impatient.” yejin huffed, whilst you both chatted away in your respective dressing rooms. “i don’t know about this one.” you murmured, loud enough for jungkook to pick up on the slight tinge of anxiety in your voice.
“come out, y/n.” he gently coaxed, noticing your feet from underneath nervously shuffling.
you did exactly that, however, your hair pulled up into a messy ponytail that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from.
“wait let me see too!” yejin excitedly rushed out, the lilac tone of her dress catching yoongi’s attention.
jungkook couldn’t look away from you. a sweet grey dress that hugged every inch of you - from where it sat on your calf to the way it dipped in at your waist. it felt like your legs went on for days, your breasts accentuated. you were perfection in a bottle, and the fact you weren’t sure drove him insane.
“i really like that, actually. you look nice.” yoongi nodded in approval, yejin walking over and adjusting the straps. “oh, you are so getting this. you look hot.”
you looked over at jungkook. it was his opinion you really wanted, and you knew it wasn’t healthy, but you craved his thoughts the most. he was soaking you in hungrily, eyes dark and legs parted slightly, causing you to flicker down secretly. he was enamoured by you.
“i like it.” he grumbled. “i like it too much.”
your cheeks flushed a little, pleased with your best friend’s approval. “you sure kookie? just think this grey is too moody for a wedding, and maybe it’s too tight?”
“it’s perfect. i’m wearing black, so we’ll match.” he shook his head. yejin grinned to herself before flaunting her outfit towards yoongi who was equally as enamoured.
“ooh, are you wearing that suit we got together at the start of the year?” you excitedly asked, shuffling over to him. you were now in front of him, his legs parted as he leaned back in his chair, your body inbetween.
he was taking you in, openly. from your eyes to your lips, lips to your neck, neck to your boobs and downwards. he couldn’t get enough.
“mm, yeah. remember you saying how much you liked it.” his hands were touching you now, on your hips, sliding over the material hungrily. “i really do.” you admitted, a small, too cheeky grin forming on your face.
yejin had returned to her dressing room now, you promptly doing the same, jungkook’s hands falling off of your body, watching the dress pool at your feet from the bottom of the door. he spread his legs a little wider, accommodating for the already growing nature of his length.
“hey, you guys joining us for dinner?” yoongi asked him quietly, watching as yejin walked out, hands playing with her hair. “dunno man, might have to pass, she’s kinda tired so thought i’d take her home.”
he nodded, watching as you too came out. jungkook admired you whilst you both said your goodbyes, soon enough standing in front of him, in between his legs slightly, like before. “you don’t have to come with me if you’re hungry, kookie, i don’t mind making my own way back.”
he scoffed, whilst standing, height towering over you immediately. “gotta take my girl home, hm?”
you didn’t want to admit the pounding that formed in your chest at his words and the ease in which he said them in. he took a hold of your hand, both protective and possessive whilst leading you to the counter, not sparing you a single glance as he paid for your dress. you had known him long enough to know he’d sooner die than let you pay for anything, another thing that had you kicking your legs and screaming into your pillow.
“wait, can we go to yours instead? just remembered my house is a mess and i don’t wanna deal with that right now.” groaning into his arm whilst you walked beside him, peering up with big, hopeful eyes.
jungkook wanted to scream. as if he could say no to you.
“mm, sure. you left your stuff from last time too in case you want to shower.”
you grinned wide at the confirmation. “hm, maybe i’ll have a bath.”
within the next half hour, you were in jungkook’s bath, soapy bubbles covering your naked body whilst you hummed in delight, candles littered everywhere to create some sort of ambience. you loved coming to his place, it was much bigger and warmer than your own apartment. his scent was also everywhere, which made your brain keen.
“you hungry?” jungkook called out from the kitchen, prepared to make you a whole ass meal at your mere confirmation.
you were away with the fairies, too cozied up in the warm water and scented bubbles to even begin to hear him. jungkook frowned, realising you hadn’t responded, making him walk towards the closed door, knocking lightly and asking again.
in return, all he got was a slight hum, as though you were confused of what he was asking. without thinking, the door was already being pushed open, revealing you.
your hair was pulled up in a cute little bun, whilst your knees propped up in the water, the only sliver of skin jungkook could see whilst the rest of your body lay hidden underneath the expanse of bubbles. he watched as you peered up at him lazily, as though this was the most normal thing in the world - as though friends were supposed to walk in on each other naked.
“what did you say?” you murmured up at him whilst exhaling a little, seemingly content.
his lip quirked upwards slightly, whilst his cock thumped against the expanse of his boxers and jeans angrily. if you shifted, just slightly, just a little…
“asking if you’re hungry.” his voice has become rough, causing your eyes to flicker over to him, before slowly trailing down, noticing the way he was evidently hard.
in all honesty, you’d noticed it constantly. whether it was you waking up to his morning wood pressed tightly against you, or whether it was at parties where you’d sit on his lap only to be left with a core aching for something you weren’t sure you’d ever get.
“not really. this feels too good to leave.” a sigh left your lips dramatically, making him crouch beside you, his hand dipping in the water slightly to feel the temperature. “that does feel good.” he confirmed.
“i even put the salt thing you bought for me. feels so nice.”
if jungkook was any other man, he wouldn’t have been able to pick up on the secretive tone you were using. but, alas, he knew you better than you knew yourself, which meant he could recognise the teasing tilt to your voice with ease. you were enjoying this. you liked seeing him rock hard for you, and judging from the way your eyes kept flickering down, you were just as needy.
“yeah? mind if i join you, baby? wanna see what’s got you like this.” he was suddenly so close to your face; watching the way your pupils were dilating, your eyelids hooding whilst you offered a little nod, almost delirious.
hungrily, you watched him. he discarded his top, his jeans. he made sure your eyes were connected as he was left with his boxers, his length imprinted against the thin material, watching the way your gaze flickered down almost hungrily.
“make some room.”
it was though you were taken out of your trance, slowly pulling yourself to the corner of the massive bathtub whilst he himself got in, his boxers sat on the floor of the bathroom. jungkook rested against the opposite side of you, his back against the tub whilst you did the same, the bubbles mostly hiding you.
him, however - no he was a different story. his cock sat heavy against his stomach, pink and long, thicker than anything you’d ever seen before. it looked angry, the way it was twitching, hard and begging to be touched, visible to his sweet best friend.
he watched as you stared, little gasps leaving your mouth as you hungrily took him in. you weren’t hiding it, something he appreciated greatly.
the problem with your shared dynamic was that neither of you were shy about how you felt, making it clear to the world whilst never discussing it to one another, leaving you in this tension filled relationship where you both wanted each other in a way that felt stifling.
jungkook watched the way your chest and rose and fell, hints of your pebbled nipples coming to the surface before being hidden away once more.
“you were right. does feel good.” he casually murmured, wet hands running through his hair to keep it out of his face, as though his cock wasn’t leaking pre cum in front of you.
you weren’t sure what to say, core thumping and begging for something, anything.
he smirked slightly. “but colder than i expected.” your eyes looked up at his voice, finally listening again. “c-cold?”
“yeah. warm me up?” he tilted his head, watching as your body moved before you could even think.
you moved towards him, water sloshing, not that either of you cared, so your back was now suddenly against his chest, your naked bodies curling into one another with ease. your nudity wasn’t an issue for you, and certainly not for him, but the second you moved, you hadn’t realised this meant the bubbles were now moving away from you too.
your visibly naked body pressed against him, whilst his arm curled around you. he could see your breasts, the way they jolted with every move, causing his cock to twitch much to your non-secret enjoyment.
“feels better.” he breathed down at you, air tickling your ear, making you curl further into him. your hands were against him, one on his chest and the other at his side under the water, but your gaze had fallen directly onto his cock once more.
“pretty.” you whispered up at him. his ego was beyond anything at the minute. what do you mean his pretty little best friend was perched, naked on his chest, admiring his fat length?
he nuzzled your nose, almost condescendingly with his own, eyes dark and dilated to match your own. “yeah? you like it?”
you nodded, curling into him further whilst one of your hands drew circles against his stomach, dangerously close to where it sat. you weren’t as innocent as you looked, and jungkook fucking loved it.
his own hand curled tighter against you, fingers touching just above where your own pussy sat. “been like this since the dress shop. you looked so pretty.”
the way he was cooing at you had your eyes fluttering shut for a moment, a small grin beginning to form. “i’m happy you liked my dress.”
“i fucking loved it.” he scoffed, drawing his own circles against you. “always look so beautiful.”
the ending of his sentence was whispered down at you, as though they were words too big for either of you to hear. it did nothing to stop your grin from growing, giggling a little into him as you nuzzled closer to his chest, your fingers brushing against his cock more openly.
you watched as it twitched, whilst his own hand was beginning to fall forwards, almost cupping your heat entirely.
“kookie…” you began, nibbling down your bottom lip as you nervously looked up at him. “can..can i?”
instead of responding, jungkook took his free hand and took your own, pulling it up to his lips to plant pepper kisses all over it. your eyes were batting up at him, enjoying the affection and attention beyond anything you could ever describe, before watching him take your hand, and slowly wrap it around his dick.
your little gasp nearly had him bucking up into your hand. the way it couldn’t wrap around fully, your fingers much smaller than his and yet you wasted no time, beginning to pump him slowly, up and down.
“you’re so thick.” your voice was filled with awe, and again, his ego felt like it was about to sky rocket. jungkook wanted to close his eyes, relish the pleasurable feeling of you exploring him for the first time like he had dreamt of on so many occasions. and yet, he couldn’t look away from you, the way your eyes were hooded and your hands were moving up and down in pure intrigue. it made him want to ruin you.
“my turn.” he whispered in your ear, making you shiver. his hand that was grazing against you, now moved purposefully. jungkook ran two fingers up your slit, groaning a little at how wet you felt. despite the water growing colder each passing minute, you both felt on fire.
you let out a breathy moan, head pressing against jungkook’s cheeks as your legs opened up for him, the two of you peering up at one another.
“prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen.” he huffed through a moan, your hand moving up and down his length. your faces were turned to one another, breaths mingling as your lips sat dangerously close.
god, you were so beautiful. jungkook couldn’t get over the hazy look in your eyes, the way your gaze only ever looked away to look at your hand pumping him, or his own fingers moving against you.
a loud moan left your lips once you felt jungkook push a finger in, deep and full. he wasn’t waiting for you to adjust, merely pumping it with a curled edge, hitting you exactly where you needed it. your forehead now touched his own as you adjusted your body, giving him more access whilst you too sped up your actions.
neither of you could look away, pleasuring one another as though it was the most natural thing on earth, both yearning to kiss each other and yet there still seemed to be an air of uncertainty. soon enough, he added another finger, watching as your mouth fell open and eyes shut tight.
“cmon, baby, want your eyes on me.” he whispered against you, pressing too gentle kisses to your face, making you whimper and nod whilst doing exactly that.
your hands were sloppy, almost unsure of yourself as the pleasure raked up and down your body. fortunately for you, jungkook was of the opinion you didn’t need to ever work, the concept both foreign and offensive to his mind. his hand darted out, taking a hold of your own on his cock and guided you, taking control of you whilst also fingering you, actions growing harsher.
“fuck. a pussy like this needs to be ruined. look at you; just begging to be stretched out.” his words were pounding in your brain. “bet you can’t think unless you’re leaking cum.”
you stretched your legs impossibly wider, water sloshing around you as you nodded along to his words, feeling them in the pit of your stomach. you wanted that so badly.
“jungkook, i can’t..” the moans you were letting out were loud and bouncing off of the walls of the bathroom, whilst you both grew more and more erratic.
his fingers ploughed into you, in and out, curling right against that singular spot that had you arching your back into him whilst he helped you fist his cock.
“you can.” he hissed, biting your jaw, leaving hickeys against your neck and jawline as though he had every right. “wanna feel you cum for me, sweet girl. hm? so good to me, just letting my ruin your little pussy. who does it belong to?”
“you.” you responded almost instantly, back arching as you felt something grow in the pit of your stomach. “all yours, kookie, always.”
he nodded, forcing you to look at him as he too could feel his orgasm approaching. your words were like a drug to him, feeding ever warped belief he’d ever thought. you were both on the edge, so close, so ready to break, feeling higher than ever in one another’s arms.
he pulled you in suddenly, fingers leaving your core and dropping your hand away from his own cock. you wanted to whine until you realised what he was doing, positioning your body on top of him so he could slide his cock between your slit, pushing the tip into your tight hole.
“you’re going to cum on my cock, y/n. you hear me? gonna fill you up, make sure it fucking sticks.” his words were so dark, so possessive and yet they bounced around your brain in mere pleasure.
your body was shaking, he was a tight fit, but he wasted no time, only managing to fit the tip and an extra inch inside before roughly thrusting inside of you, building on both of your impending orgasms. if you thought his fingers felt good, the painful stretch of only a part of his cock had you screaming into his face. he couldn’t stop, his hands harsh and leaving bruises on your ass as he clutched, chasing both of your orgasms. neither of you were thinking clearly, which caused jungkook to lean even closer and press his lips tightly to yours.
your brain blanked.
the movement of his lips, the way your mouths moved in unison hungrily, both of your hands moving against one another was enough to finally push you over the edge.
your legs shook whilst jungkook came too, a loud grunt leaving his lips as ropes of cum painted your walls, whilst you cried out in pleasure, the too harsh coil bursting all over your body.
you felt like you were on cloud nine, and once you had finally come down for your high, you realise you were perhaps out out of it for longer than you’d realised. your back was against jungkook’s, his arm around your waist whilst the shower head above washed both of your bodies. your legs felt weak and hard to stand on, but his grip was tight and made you steady.
“you okay?” he gently murmured down at you, with a small kiss to your forehead, causing you to nod with a little curl. “i feel so good.” you hummed, aching core a reminder of his love for you.
“good. did so good for me, sweet girl. fingered all that cum back in you too, so it’s all inside.”
his words would have scared any other girl, and yet here you were, quietly giggling to yourself like he had just said the most romantic thing on earth.
you reached over so you were turned in his arms, pressing your cheek to his chest, feeling entirely dwarfed in this position and yet it was exactly what you needed. the grin on jungkook’s lips rivalled that of a cheshire cat.
“cmon, let’s get you fed.”
the rest of the day was spent with you sat in jungkook’s arms, continuing your usual routine. you’d always been touchy, holding one another, nuzzling in one another’s neck and cuddling but this? no, this was completely different.
he had you sat on the counter whilst he cooked for you, shirtless, feeding you spoonfuls whilst he kept a hand on you at all times. later, he fed you from his lap, making sure you were full and satiated. once you were done, you both popped on a movie, watching until you felt sleepy, his arms carrying you to his bed. you slept good that night, feeling protected as you curled into jungkook’s arms, biceps wrapped around you and his fat cock hidden away in your gummy walls.
though neither of you rushed to talk about what had happened, you almost didn’t feel the need to. jungkook was yours, he always had been, and yeah you didn’t have a label, but you weren’t sure anything could accurately describe what he was to you anyway.
you fell asleep in the arms of the only man you’d ever truly cared about, body and soul, heart and mind.
—
you loved weddings more than anything else on earth. to be around people expressing joy for shared love felt pure in the sweetest of ways, and it was always an honour you held deep in your heart whenever you were invited.
you sat on a table with all of your friends. jungkook sat behind you and jimin to your right, the circular table wide and chatty, laughing with one another and clapping your hands excitedly when namjoon made his toast.
ever since that night with jungkook, things had changed. not in a bad way, oh contraire - his lips would often find your own in a sweet embrace, fleeting but gentle, his hands wandering inappropriately in their usual fashion but now it held more weight. you’d lost count on how many times he’d cum inside of you, it slowly becoming an addiction for you - you couldn’t function if he wasn’t inside you in some way. it was like a switch had shifted in both of your brains and it made you realise you didn’t want to pretend anymore, you liked his attention, yearned for it, wanted more and more and more.
you hadn’t seen him for a few days which felt like a lifetime, but your exams and your part time job kept you away from him, not that this was a deterrent. he’d send you videos you know you’d giggle at, or facetime you like he typically would. it felt different, the air had changed, and you found yourself longing for something you knew you could have.
jungkook had picked you up from yejin’s apartment, some of the other guys coming with too so you could all attend together, and he could have sworn you’d stolen his breath then and there. he’d seen you dressed for parties, or even half naked, but it didn’t compare to seeing you now. elegance dripped from every inch of you, your dress from the shop he’d bought you adorned on your body and your hair pulled back in a sweet bun, wispy pieces adorning your face. he was wearing the suit you loved so much, and the both of you couldn’t help but grin at one another.
on the ride there, the both of you sat in the back of yoongi’s car. his hand was against your thigh, possessive and meaningful and you found yourself playing with his fingers almost excitedly. you liked how visibly he wanted the world to know you belonged to him. made you feel good.
walking in, you weren’t sat together for the ceremony, with jungkook being further down in the row whilst you and yejin sat separately from the boys, much to his disappointment. this proved beneficial when he realised his position allowed for direct access to you, watching you greedily as he took you in. he couldn’t help but notice how many of the groomsmen were eyeing you up, and it made him clench his teeth but he remained quiet. a problem he’d deal with later.
the bride soon walked in, a vision in white, and jungkook watched the way your eyes utterly lit up, a little gasp leaving you. his gaze was hungry, obsessive, he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to - the way your small hands were clutched by your chest as though the mere sight of the bride had hearts pooling at your stomach. you wanted to be a bride? done, he’d get you a ring first thing tomorrow.
he was being quiet tonight, and despite now being sat behind you at the table, he’d not talked to you much. you were a slight over thinker, so you were assuming it might have been the environment, maybe he was uncomfortable at weddings? he didn’t seem uptight or anything, merely contemplative, and he was still being touchy so you assumed it was about something else as opposed to you.
silly little you had no idea that jungkook was thinking of the next steps. he’d propose to you, obviously, the title of boyfriend and girlfriend was insulting to him and he’d never stoop so low than to claim you in such a way. secondly; you’d get married, and he’d buy you a big house - he was already lined up for a high paying job that he was about to start, and he was pretty comfortable considering his family’s fortune. did you want a lot of kids? lord knew jungkook would give you a hundred if that’s what you wanted, or he’d live a life solely focused on you if that’s what you preferred. he knew you well enough to know you liked children, always cooing and complaining about baby fever to him as though he wasn’t correctly equipped to heal you from it.
after a while, you simply couldn’t take it anymore, pulling at his sleeve a little, forcing him to look at you whilst everyone ate.
“you okay?” you tilted your head at him, wispy hair falling into your face.
fuck, jungkook thought. you were beauty defined.
“yeah, i’m all good.” he confirmed, taking your tugging hand and intertwining his fingers with them underneath the table. “sorry, just been lost in thought.”
“what’re you thinking about?” you asked curiously.
he peered over your features, the way your big eyes were blinking up at him as though he held the answers to the universe.
he pressed a little kiss to your hand. “about how pretty you’d be in a white dress.”
you gasped almost immediately, catching the attention of yejin and seokjin who sat beside jungkook, before they looked away. you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, chest beating hard at the insinuation of his words, gaze dropping to the way his lips quirked slightly at your reaction.
“why..” you cleared your throat. “why are you thinking about that?”
his thumb was tracing patterns against your skin, leaning closer to you for a minute. “i always think about you. feels fitting for the setting.”
your heart was beating. was he teasing you? you didn’t even need to think to know the concept of jungkook being your future husband was something akin to having heaven on earth. a man utterly, entirely obsessed with you, showering you with love and affection whilst being a six foot something adonis. the fact he was your closest, most cherished best friend since childhood only added a little cherry on top.
“shut up.” you pushed him lightly, but the dusting of pink in your cheeks was enough for anyone to notice.
soon enough, the wedding party actually began, with namjoon forcing all of you to dance and have fun, laughs being heard all around the room as you and other guests danced the night away. you knew you were lucky for having such a sweet circle of friends, all caring and uplifting, unafraid to make fools of themselves in the pursuit of joy.
you slipped away, grabbing yourself a champagne flute and heading out to the open balcony to get some air. you were having the time of your life, and despite having jungkook in your mind all of the time, it felt refreshing to be around such love whilst thinking of him. your best friend. your man.
a small smile formed on your face as you found yourself wanting to scream out loud, feeling so many happy emotions, humming a little as the nippy night air chilled the heat on your body, your exposed arms forming goosebumps.
“god, it’s loud out there.” a voice chirped to your left, making you gasp a little as you looked over.
a tallish man; blonde, green eyes. he was lanky, and resembled one of your exes. on any other occasion, you’d be ready to admit that he was undoubtedly your type, but at the minute, the only thing that could begin to occupy even one moment of your thoughts were that of big boba eyes and a bunny smile.
“you startled me.” you breathed, letting out a light laugh.
he grinned. “sorry.” he turned to you fully. “too much for you too?”
“just wanted some air. got myself a drink, so, can’t complain.”
he laughed in response with a little nod. you found yourself chatting to the stranger, finding out he was a close friend of the groom, was currently working as a lawyer, financially responsible, even had a dog. on paper, this man was the total catch and the fact he was being so openly responsive with you, it didn’t take a genius to figure out he clearly desired you.
however, you felt absolutely nothing.
sure he was attractive, but hardly anything could pull you away from the warmth jungkook provided. he felt like home. twisted, warped, dark and yet it felt safe, something you knew no one else could replicate. he’d known you since you were in pigtails, held your hand through every single thing you’d ever experienced and still stood tall. if not him, then who?
“okay, i’m just gonna ask. gotta shoot my shot, so..” the green eyed man, nate as you’d come to learn, turned to you. “are you single?”
your cheeks flushed almost instantly. you had a sneaky suspicion his interest was blooming from that angle and yet assumed the best. “oh..uh, not really.”
“that doesn’t seem like a confident no?” he tilted his head.
you bit your lip, a slight smile forming. “guess it’s complicated.”
“a girl like you shouldn’t be wasted on complicated. you deserve a clear answer.”
you peered up at him, nibbling on your lip and contemplating. “i know what i mean to him, we’re best friends…we’re more than anything i can describe, really. i don’t even know what you’d call us..i guess that’s why it feels complicated.”
nate took a swing of his drink. “what a lucky son of a bitch.”
you giggled at that, before feeling a heavy warmth against your back, thick fingers clutching the side of your hip and breath tickling the back of your neck, a single kiss being pressed against it. your brain swirled with content, recognising the touch almost instantly, as though you were tethered.
“very lucky.” jungkook all but purred into your skin, a small and almost shy smile forming at your lips.
the man beside you instantly understood this man to be the exact one you had spoken about, and the sight of you together, the way you both melted into each others touch floored him for a moment. you were right - this was the epitome of complicated. as a stranger peering in from the outside, he wasn’t sure what he’d call you. boyfriend girlfriend felt foolish, anything more would be too little, but the way you were reacting and touching one another felt fated.
he took his leave, the once disappointment that swirled in his stomach quickly replaced by an understanding - you were each other’s person. he didn’t stand a fucking chance.
“you scared him away.” you teased, whilst jungkook turned you in his arms, looking down at you with arms locked around your waist. “bad dog.”
“yeah, i guess i did.” he hummed. “been doing that with every man that comes your way for years. some slip through.”
you giggled. he wasn’t joking. not that you needed to know.
he twirled a strand of your hair. “you seem contemplative.”
“is a girl not allowed to think?”
“hm. i encourage it.” hands slowly slipped up to the small of your back. “tell me your thoughts?”
you bit your lip.
“what are we?” you asked quietly, as though afraid you’d break the peace in the quiet you shared with him.
jungkook didn’t falter, though. not that you expected him to, but you knew that it was an age long question that made most people uncomfortable. it was about time you realised that jungkook wasn’t like most people, and he hadn’t been for the past 15 years you’d known him.
he tilted his head slightly, so that your eyes would meet his directly.
“you are everything.” he simply responded. “i feel like anything i label you as is too small and it feels insulting, but i’ll take anything you give me.”
you nibbled further, nodding. “i know.” your voice came out a whisper. “i’ve always liked you to be honest. i guess i just put our friendship first because you’re my best friend, you mean so much to me.”
your admission was sweet, and he could feel it in the depths of his soul.
his finger reached up, tilting your head back gently and pressing a small kiss to your jaw. “i feel a lot more than like for you, y/n. think you’d run for the hills if you truly knew.”
“i wouldn’t.” you breathed out, pulling at his shirt, tugging. “wanna hear it. you can tell me.”
jungkook stared down at you.
“you are the only thing i ever think about.” his finger under your chin was now caressing your cheek. you were so delicate. “morning, afternoon, evening. i feel physically sick if i don’t see you, don’t touch you or talk to you. your voice alone feels healing.”
you breathed out a shaky breath of air.
“remember our pact? i don’t talk to yuna, you don’t talk to your dumb fuck ex.” you nodded.
“only reason i ever entertained her was because i couldn’t stomach the thought of him being around you, getting to hold you and kiss you. even now, i feel angry, feel sick even thinking about it ever being a reality.”
“jungkook..” you all but gasped out.
“i know it’s fucked up. i know it’s not normal, but my brain is warped. i’m obsessed with you, felt this way ever since we were kids and it’s just gotten worse and worse and worse. but i don’t care, baby. you’re it for me and i’m spending my life making sure you feel every bit of that, i don’t care if it means i have to tear this world and make a new one for you.”
your heart was beating out of your chest as you peered up at him, hands shaky and lips parted.
“you, y/n, are mine. i’m yours too.” he nodded. “so call me your boyfriend, or whatever you want, because soon enough, i’ll be standing up there with you walking down the aisle all pretty in white.”
he brought you closer.
“and even then, when you call me your husband, i’ll feel fucking sick. because it’s a cheap comparison for what i feel for you, what i wanna be for you - you’re one half of me, and i’ll never make you feel any less.”
peering into jungkook’s eyes, you saw a swirl of two things. love, undoubtedly, which swam in pools of ebony brown, curling around his iris and hugging the whites of his eyes as though it was the most natural thing on earth. behind it, bigger, stronger even, sat infatuation - deadly, all encompassing.
if you were a better woman, you’d run for the hills, recognise him as the apex predator whilst identifying yourself as his ideal prey. unfortunately for you, every line of obsession that made up jungkook’s entire being was matched within your own. you were every inch of what he was to you, you felt the exact same emotions, the same need, the same awe, the same primal want that you couldn’t explain to anyone else.
he was yours, yours alone and you’d never let him forget it.
you were both leaning in, about to kiss, reaching a new high and understanding when your name was called out from inside the building. within seconds, it seemed you were pulled away out onto the dance floor where the bride was ready to toss her bouquet, your figure hidden amongst the other excited women around you.
you turned, your intention to simply watch as red petals flew in the air, cascading through the crowd and landing gently within your hands, brushing your fingers gently until they found a home in your embrace.
jungkook watched from the balcony, small smirk forming as he too clapped alongside everyone else in the room.
figures, you thought, catching his gaze as you inhaled the scent of the fresh roses. even luck knew where you belonged. captured tightly against harsh thorns, possessive and rough - no way out with no will to find one.
· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations
pls reblog if you like any of my recs and don´t forget to support authors!❤️
riding jungkook´s nose - ( @euphoricfilter ) we´ve ALLL thought about this, and if you haven´t you´re lying, periodt. pRAISINGGG, he´s in a pussy-drunk frenezy, he likes feeling used, he likes getting his hair pulled, he likes getting his face wET, it´s sickenINGGGG goreaditplease
fucking in the gym - ( @euphoricfilter ) this was inspired by that one pic of him and jimin with their back out, I SEE THE VISION, fucking with ceiling mirrors
wicked - ( @noteguk ) smut, incubus!jk, big big corruption kink, lots of dirty ploting and dirty talk, yupppp this is a good one, so detailed, love me a fic that lit makes me see what i´m reading
strings attached (to my heart) - ( @jungkoode ) smut, crack, fluff, IT HAS IT ALLL, spider man au, college au, spider-man!jk x journalist!reader. READ THE TAGS BC ITS GOOD AF, bc wdym you combined sub-loser-desperate jk who also has a noona kink wITH a superhero au??? it´s like you wrote it for me,, (also, this deserves many many more notes imo)
think i need someone older - ( @redcherrykook ) smut, whipped rich older bf!jk (PERIOD!!) x younger!reader. JESUS FUCKING CHRISTTTTTTT!!! no more words needed, this one´s pulled right out of my maladaptive daydreaming folder
fade into you - ( @nmjoo-n ) SMUT, fluff, fwb to lovers au. barista!jk, possessive obsessive toxic lovesick!jk (LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO). this is a whole 2022 masterpiece, they way this is written, and the way jungkook is borderline PSYCOTICH (or in love ig) for her is so hotttttttt. deff one of my favs
this is how you fal in love - ( @jeonqkooks ) fluff, smut, angst if you squint. rockstar!jk au, est relationship. this is beautiful, a 2022 gem. love love love how lengthy and detailed this is
frost impressions - ( @fortunexkookie ) soccer coach!jk, teacher!reader, gamer au, work au, idiots to lovers, one sided pining at first, it´s a longggg one. another 2020 masterpiece, one of my favorite fics out there, he´s so disgustingly smitten with his new coworker that he ends up making a terrible first impression. so so so entertaining and fun to read, jk is silly af lmao, can´t stop putting his foot in his mouth, theres a bunch of cute second hand embarrasment situations
Over The Odds | The Confession - ( @jungk0oksthighs ) ceo jk, sugardaddy jk, jealous bf jk, sugar baby reader, he gets mad and yells bc he is lowkey insecure of her ex but reader is equaly in love. this is a series
wrong time - ( @spideyjimin ) smut, angst, dilf!jk, ceo!jk, exes to lovers, workaholic as a scape mechanism, the one that got away type of stuff but she broke things up first for valid reasons, big big heartache but she´s still the love of his life
don´t blame me - ( @ctrlsht ) sugar daddy!jk, ceo!jk, soft yan!jk, obsessive!jk, student!reader, unhealthy behavior on his part, manipulative behavior on her part, jealousy on both parts, he goes a lil too far but reader is bitchy and annoying, he lit gives her everythinggg she asks for, the man is..creazy about her in a very unhealthy way and she takes advantage of that, toxicc
failed quickie - ( @vminizzle ) cowerker jk, suggestive, they´re about to fucc on an elevator but shit happens, he likes his hair pulled!!1!
someone older - ( @bonny-kookoo ) smut, ceo jk, divorced jk, 30 something yo jk, taehyung has a kid, younger oc, its a nice read, would do it again
A soft morning turns intense and ends in comfort: light slips through the blinds across warm skin and tangled sheets, as sleepy teasing over breakfast slowly shifts until the kitchen feels like a promise.
pairing: jeon jungkook x fem/reader
genre: morning after. domestic fluff. smut. possessive jk. established relationship
note: thank you so much for liking my previous post! I hope you like this one as well ♡
──────────୨ৎ───────────
Sunlight filtered through the blinds, painting soft stripes across the tangled sheets. The room still carried the faint scent of soap and something warmer, something shared.
Jungkook lay on his back, one arm draped over his forehead, breathing slow and deep. When his eyes finally opened, he squinted at the light before turning his head toward me. The moment he saw me, something in his expression shifted—sleep melting into quiet focus.
His hand slid under the covers, finding my hip, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles.
"Morning…" he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
His gaze lingered on my face, taking in every detail now visible in the soft daylight—the same details he had memorized in the dark.
"Sore?" he asked, low and knowing.
I hummed softly in response.
A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, satisfied. His thumb paused, then resumed its slow movement as he pushed himself up slightly, brushing a few strands of hair away from my face.
"Good," he murmured. "Means I did my job right."
I gave a small, sleepy sound, and his lips curved into a soft smile.
"Cute," he added, leaning closer until his face hovered just above mine. "You always get like this… quiet, all soft." His thumb traced along my jaw. "Makes me want to keep you here all day."
Another content hum left me.
He sighed, settling back but keeping his hand on me. "I'll make something to eat. Stay right here."
I nodded faintly.
He smiled, warm and lazy, squeezing my hip before leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of my lips. Then he sat up, stretching, muscles shifting under his skin before he glanced back at me.
"You're getting eggs," he said.
I frowned slightly. "I don't want eggs."
He paused, then laughed under his breath, turning back toward me with a raised brow.
"No eggs?" he repeated, leaning forward again, elbows on his knees. "Then what do you want?"
"Something more… tasty."
The smirk that spread across his lips turned slower, darker.
"More tasty, huh?" His fingers brushed lightly over the sheets near me. "I can manage that… but you'll have to tell me—how hungry are you?"
"A lot."
Something in his gaze sharpened. He leaned closer, voice dropping.
"Then come here."
I blinked. "Wait—I meant real food."
He laughed, the tension breaking instantly as he ran a hand through his messy hair.
"Right. Real food," he said, shaking his head. "My brain's still in bed with you."
"Perv."
"Guilty," he shot back easily, grinning as he stood.
I crossed my arms slightly. "I want waffles."
He stopped at the door, sighing dramatically before glancing back with a teasing smile.
"Waffles? Now you're just demanding."
"If I am, then don't."
A low chuckle escaped him as he leaned against the frame.
"So demanding… and then not?" he teased. "You're confusing me this morning."
"Just do whatever you want."
His eyes lit up instantly.
"Careful," he said, stepping back toward me, voice dropping again. "You know what happens when you give me that kind of permission."
I rolled my eyes.
He softened, laughing quietly before reaching for my hand.
"Come on," he said. "You're coming with me. I don't trust you not to fall asleep again and blame me."
I let him pull me up but instead of letting me fully steady myself, his grip tightened just slightly. There was a flicker in his eyes, something playful… and a little dangerous.
Before I could react, his hands slid to my waist.
"Jungkook—"
In one smooth motion, he lifted me.
A quiet gasp left me as my hands instinctively found his shoulders, and my legs wrapped around his waist. He let out a soft, amused breath, steadying me effortlessly, like he'd done it a hundred times before.
"Much better," he murmured, his voice lower now.
Our faces were suddenly close—too close to ignore the warmth between us.
He started walking down the hallway like that, completely unbothered, one arm secure around me while the other brushed lightly along my thigh, absent but deliberate.
"Now I know you won't run off," he added with a crooked smile.
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "You're impossible."
"Mm," he hummed, glancing up at me. "And yet, here you are."
Sunlight spilled across the floor as he carried me, his thumb lazily tracing patterns against my side. The whole thing felt unfairly easy for him—like holding me there, close, was the most natural thing in the world.
"Consider this," he added, voice dropping just a little, "premium service. Breakfast delivery included."
I rolled my eyes, but my grip on him tightened slightly.
He noticed.
His smile softened—less teasing now, more something warm… something that lingered.
And without putting me down, he carried me straight into the kitchen.
He set ms gently against the counter but didn’t move away.
Not really.
His hands lingered at my waist for a second longer than necessary.
Then he finally stepped back, grabbing a bowl.
“Waffle protocol,” he announced. “Might get a little experimental.”
I watched as he cracked an egg—slightly messy—then fished out a bit of shell with a sheepish smirk.
“Extra crunch,” he said. “Very professional.”
Flour dusted his fingers, a bit of egg still clinging to his skin. I glanced at his hands, and he noticed immediately.
“These?” he asked, lifting them slightly, amused. “Multi-purpose.”
He slowly brought his thumb to his mouth, licking it clean, eyes never leaving mine.
“Messy,” he added quietly.
The air shifted—warmer, heavier.
He dipped a finger into the batter again, swirling it lazily.
“For now… just pancake mix,” he murmured.
When i stepped closer, taking his hand and guiding his fingers to your lips, he froze.
A sharp inhale escaped him, his entire body going still as his gaze locked onto you.
“…That’s not part of the recipe,” he said, voice rough.
I didn’t pull away.
He exhaled slowly, tension flickering through him. “That’s… one way to clean up.”
When i finally let go, he flexed his fingers, still watching you like he’d forgotten everything else.
He stepped closer, caging you against the counter. His voice was low, rough—still morning-raw, but stripped of any leftover sleep.
"What do you want?"
I didn't answer right away. Just looked up at him through your lashes, let the silence stretch.
"What do you want?" I returned the question .
His jaw tightened. Something flickered behind his eyes—something darker than playfulness. He leaned in, one hand braced on the counter beside my hip, the other coming up to grip my chin. Not hard. Just enough to tilt my face toward his.
"I want you to stop playing with your food."
His thumb dragged across my lower lip, slow and deliberate.
"So I'm your food?" I murmured against his skin.
"If that's how you want to put it…" His voice dropped to a murmur, lips brushing the corner of my mouth. "Yeah."
"I don't know. You can show me what you have in mind."
The words left my lips before i could stop them. A dare. A test. She wasn't sure which.
His predatory grin didn't falter. If anything, it sharpened—curling at the edges like he'd been waiting for me to say exactly that. His eyes held mine, dark and unblinking.
The gentle touch behind my ear slid down. His thumb traced the line of my jaw with excruciating slowness, his skin still damp from the batter, leaving a faint, cool trail along my heated flesh. I shivered. He felt it. His gaze flickered with satisfaction.
"Show you?"
He leaned in, closing the last inch of space between us. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear—not quite a kiss, more like a threat wrapped in velvet. His breath was hot, uneven. His voice dropped to a thick, honeyed whisper, dripping with promise.
"I can do much better than that. I can let you taste exactly what I have in mind."
"Mmmm."
The sound was soft. Low. It vibrated against his thumb, still resting on her jaw. A murmur of surrender. Of approval.
That single sound seemed to travel straight through his skin, his muscle, his bones. It landed somewhere deep in his core and lit a fuse he hadn't even known was there.
His breath caught. The wolfish smile turned into something darker. More possessive.
He moved his hand, cupping my chin firmly. His fingers pressed into my skin—not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to let me know i wasn't going anywhere.
"Good."
He breathed the word out like a promise. His eyes flickered down to my lips, lingering there for a heartbeat too long.
"Because you're about to get the whole fucking menu."
With that single, soft sound of approval, something in him snapped. The low burn of the last few minutes flared white-hot. He was done talking.
He let go of my chin, his hand sliding to the nape of my neck. His fingers tangled in my hair, gripping firmly, and he pulled my mouth to his in a sudden, claiming kiss.
It was deep, the kind of kiss that swallowed my air and left you dizzy. His tongue swept against yours, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world and knew exactly what he wanted to do with it. His body pressed my back against the counter, the edge biting into my hips, and i couldn't tell if the heat pooling low in my stomach was from him or from the way his fingers flexed against my scalp.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. His forehead dropped to yours, eyes still closed, jaw still tight.
His voice came out wrecked. Low. Almost a growl.
"That's the only sound I want to hear."
My lips curved into a smile. You knew he could feel it.
"I thought you wanted more."
His eyes snapped open. Something feral flickered there, raw and unguarded. His grip in my hair tightened just enough to make your breath catch not painful, just… present. A reminder.
His mouth hovered over mine, lips barely brushing as he spoke.
"Oh, I do."
His other hand slid from the counter to my waist, fingers digging into the soft curve of your my, pulling me flush against him.
"I want everything."
And the way he said it—low, certain, like it was already his—made my knees weak and my cheeks burn all at once.
I slid my hand down, first to my nipples through my shirt to show him how hard they were, then down to my heat. The deliberate movement was pure visual provocation. His eyes tracked my hand's slow descent, the hitch in his breathing the only sign he was still alive and not carved from stone. When my palm finally pressed against the heat between my thighs, a ragged, animal sound tore from his throat.
He watched, utterly transfixed, for one more agonizing second before his control shattered. His hand snapped out, grabbing my wrist and pinning it to the counter beside us. He leaned in, his mouth a breath away from mine, his voice a guttural command. "Don't. You don't get to do that. Only I do."
"Really? Then why am I the one touching myself right now?"
The challenge in my words, the sheer defiance of my action, slammed into him. His jaw tightened, the feral heat in his eyes solidifying into something dangerously focused. My wrist was still pinned beneath his, but the implied control I'd just exerted was a spark thrown on dynamite.
He pressed my wrist harder into the cold countertop, his other hand coming up to grip my jaw, forcing me to hold his gaze.
"Because I'm letting you. For about three more seconds. Then your hands stay right here." He released my jaw, trailing his fingertips down my throat, over my collarbone, stopping just above the fabric of my shirt. "I decide what you feel. Where you're touched. And right now..." His fingers slipped under the hem of my shirt, grazing the skin of my stomach. "I'm starting here."
He dropped to his knees on the kitchen tile, his mouth finding the soft skin of my stomach first in a series of open-mouthed, searing kisses. He moved upward slowly, worshipfully, his hands holding my hips steady as his lips traced a blazing path over my ribs, then higher, until his warm breath ghosted over the thin fabric covering my breasts.
He didn't look up, his focus entirely on the peaked flesh beneath my shirt. He closed his mouth over it, fabric and all, sucking gently, then harder, his tongue circling the stiff peak through the material. A low groan rumbled from his chest against my skin.
"Told you." He breathed the words against me, his voice muffled. "My decision. My touch."
A sharp intake of breath escaped me—the only sound in the quiet kitchen, cut through by the wet, hot sound of his mouth working over my shirt. The sensation was almost too much: the fabric rasping against my oversensitive skin, his tongue a firm, persistent pressure, his teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp.
He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips still brushing the damp cotton. His voice was thick, rough with want.
"That's the sound." He looked up at me, his eyes black with intent. "Now tell me you don't want my hands on you instead."
He didn't wait for a verbal answer. My gasp was permission enough. His hands moved from my hips, sliding up my sides to grip the hem of my shirt. He pulled the fabric up and over my head in one swift motion, letting it fall forgotten to the floor. His dark eyes swept over me, the morning light painting my skin in gold. His voice was a reverent rasp.
"Better."
He drank in the sight of my bare skin, the sharp rise and fall of my chest, with a hunger that was almost painful. The air grew thick, the only sound our mingled, ragged breathing. His hands slid up my waist, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts, his gaze never leaving mine.
"All mine."
He held me there, suspended in his gaze for a long, trembling moment. The morning air was cool against my newly bared skin, but the heat from his hands and his stare was overwhelming. His thumbs made slow, deliberate circles just below the swell of my breasts, a promise of where his mouth would go next.
He leaned forward, his breath hot against my skin as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above my navel. His voice was a low vibration against me. "Every inch." Another kiss, higher. "Every sigh." His lips brushed the underside of my breast, his tongue darting out to taste my skin. "It all belongs to me now."
Then he slipped his hand into my panties to feel my wetness. His declaration hung in the air between us, a possessive truth he was determined to prove. Keeping one hand splayed possessively on my waist, his other drifted lower, his fingers tracing a line along the top edge of my panties before slipping beneath the fabric.
His fingers slid through the heat and slickness he found there, a dark, satisfied sound rumbling in his chest as he looked up at me. "See?" His voice was thick, his touch deliberate, circling but not yet giving me the pressure I craved. "Even your body knows who it answers to."
"Then give my body what it wants."
My words were a direct order—an invitation and a challenge wrapped in one. His fingers, still slick with me, paused their circling. A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips against my skin as he looked up at me, his dark eyes gleaming with absolute authority.
He withdrew his hand from my panties, holding my gaze as he brought his glistening fingers to his own mouth, tasting me without breaking eye contact. His voice was a low, commanding purr.
"I will. But on my terms. And only when I'm sure you remember who's giving it to you."
He stood up slowly, his movements deliberate and full of predatory grace. His eyes, dark and hungry, never left mine as he crowded me back against the kitchen counter. He gripped my hips and spun me around, pressing my front against the cool marble countertop. His body caged me from behind, his voice a hot whisper against my ear.
"You ask so pretty. But I'm not done reminding you."
He put a finger in. He didn't hesitate. His finger the same one that had just tasted me slipped inside me with a smooth, deliberate stroke, filling me with a sudden, aching fullness.
His other hand splayed across my lower back, pinning me gently but firmly against the counter as he worked his finger deep, then shallow, his breath hot against the nape of my neck. "There." His voice was a low, possessive growl. "That's what you wanted. But it's not enough, is it?"
"No."
His finger stilled completely inside me, the sudden cessation of movement almost more jarring than the penetration itself. His body went rigid against my back.
He pulled his finger out slowly, deliberately, and turned me around to face him. His eyes were dark pools of stormy intensity, his jaw tight. "No?" His voice was dangerously low, almost a whisper.
I didn't have to speak. He put two fingers inside me. A dark, appreciative sound rumbled in his chest at my silent demand. His hands slid back to my hips, keeping me firmly caged against the counter. His voice was a low, taunting murmur against my skin.
"Greedy." The word was a caress. He didn't tease this time. Two fingers pressed against my entrance, then slid inside me with a slow, deep, deliberate stretch, filling me completely. "Is that better?"
"Mhm."
A low, throaty chuckle vibrated against my back. His two fingers worked inside me, deep and slow, curling just right to make me gasp. His other hand slid around my hip, his palm pressing flat against my lower stomach, holding me firmly in place against the thrust of his fingers.
The two fingers inside me curled deliberately, his thumb finding my clit to apply a slow, circling pressure. Every movement was a claim, a demonstration of the control he'd demanded. His dark eyes watched my face, waiting. His hands moved slowly, caressing me with a tenderness that made me shiver.
The rhythm inside me shifting from slow and deep to something sharper, controlled, punishing pace that demanded my full attention.
He brought his lips to the sensitive skin just below my ear, his teeth grazing lightly as he spoke, his voice rough with approval.
His thumb pressed harder against my clit, his fingers curling upward. "Now show me."
His thumb began circling my clit with a rough, unyielding pressure, while the two fingers inside me drove deep and fast, his wrist working with a focused, relentless rhythm. He watched my face, his own expression one of intense concentration and dark pleasure, orchestrating every sensation that would bring me to the edge.
His gaze locked on mine, his breathing becoming heavier in time with his movements.
"That's it. Come for me. Give it to me."
His rhythm became punishing in its precision, his thumb a relentless point of pressure and friction, his fingers a deep, driving force inside me. The air grew thick with the sounds of skin, ragged breathing, and the unyielding pace he set. His eyes never left my face, watching for every flicker of reaction as he commanded my release.
His free hand came up to tangle in my hair, gently pulling my head back to expose my throat, his voice a ragged, possessive command against my ear.
"Now. Don't you dare hold back."
His command was followed by the brutal, final escalation of his touch. His thumb worked my clit in fast, ruthless circles, his two fingers pistoning deep inside me with a force that pushed me back against the hard counter with every thrust. The combined assault was overwhelming, designed to break my control entirely and deliver exactly what he'd demanded.
His grip in my hair tightened just enough to anchor me, his lips brushing my ear as he drove me relentlessly toward the edge, his voice a raw, breathless growl.
" Come on. Give it to me. Prove it."
His dark eyes were heavy-lidded with a primal satisfaction, watching my every reaction as he drove me toward the climax he'd commanded.
The relentless rhythm brought me to a orgasm that shook my entire body. As my shudders subsided, his fingers, glistening, pulled slowly from me. He held his hand up between our faces, his gaze dark and triumphant as he watched me.
"You liked my fingers earlier, didn't you? Taste them now."
He brought his wet fingers to my lips, pressing them gently but insistently against my mouth, his eyes holding mine with a primal, commanding intensity.
"Open."
His command hung in the charged air, his gaze unwavering. The taste of salt and my own release already ghosted my senses as he held his fingers pressed to my lips. His eyes darkened further, a vein pulsing in his jaw as he waited, his entire posture rigid with expectation.
I opened my mouth. His index and middle finger slipped past my lips, resting on my tongue. He watched with rapt, possessive attention as my mouth closed around them, his expression one of dark, profound satisfaction. He let out a low, gravelly hum of approval, his other hand still possessively holding my hair.
"Good girl. Swallow."
"Just like that."
His eyes remained fixed on me, watching me swallow. The air was thick with the raw aftermath of what had just happened, the silence broken only by our breathing. He slowly withdrew his fingers from my mouth, his thumb tracing my lower lip in a possessive caress. His gaze was dark and satisfied.
"So, now what should I do with this wet pussy of yours?"
He didn't move away, his body still caging me against the counter. His hand slid down from my hair to grip my hip, his touch branding through the thin material of my clothes. The question hung between them, a raw, provocative promise.
He pressed a kiss to the slope of my shoulder, his voice a low, predatory murmur against her skin.
"Tell me what you want. Or I'll decide for you."
"Mm. You should decide." I answered.
A dark, predatory smile curved his lips at my response. He straightened up, his grip on my hip tightening possessively as his gaze raked over me.
He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, his voice a low, dangerous purr.
"Good answer.”
His low, dangerous purr vibrated against my ear. The air grew thicker, heavy with the scent of him and her and the raw promise in his words. His hand on my hip was a brand, his body a cage of heat and muscle.
His free hand came up to grasp my chin, tilting her face to meet his burning gaze.
"Then I'm going to make you scream my name against this counter until you forget you ever had a choice."
A low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest at my submission. His grasp on my chin tightened just enough to be felt, his eyes holding mine captive.
He released my chin only to slide both hands down to my thighs, hoisting me up onto the kitchen counter in one smooth, powerful motion.
"Let's see if you can keep that attitude while you're coming apart for me."
He settled me firmly on the cold marble, the contrast to his own heat stark. His hands slid up my thighs, pushing the hem of my shirt higher, his movements deliberate and unhurried.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of my shorts and underwear, tugging them down my thighs in one rough, decisive motion. The cool kitchen air kissed my newly exposed skin.
He leaned back, his gaze a dark, burning possession as it roamed over me.
"There. That's all I need off. Now put your hands back. Don't make me."
I did what he told me.
His eyes darkened with approval as I complied, his gaze locked on my hands moving back to brace against the cold countertop.
"That's my good girl. Now, keep them there. Let's see how long you can remember who you belong to."
A low, rough sound of approval rumbled in his chest. He leaned in, his warm breath fanning over my neck, one hand sliding around to the small of my back to pull me closer to the edge of the counter.
His other hand slipped between my thighs, his touch deliberate and knowing, his lips grazing my ear.
"Waiting was the only right thing to do. Let's see what else you can do right for me."
The distinct, deliberate sounds filled the silence the rustle of fabric, the soft clink of the quiet slide of his sweatpants. Then, the whisper of his shirt being pulled over his head.
"Much better. Now, where were we?"
He started to tease my entrance with his dick. The teasing pressure of him was maddening, deliberate in its slowness. He held himself there, a hot, heavy promise against my most sensitive skin, not giving me what I craved, just letting me feel the potential.
His breath hitched, a low groan escaping him as he kept that torturous, shallow contact, his hands gripping my hips to hold me steady.
"Look at you. Already begging for it and I haven't even started. Tell me, baby. Who do you belong to?"
"To you, love."
A sharp, approving breath escaped him at my words. His hands tightened on my hips, possessive and sure.
"That's right. And don't you ever forget it."
With my answer given, he ceased his teasing. In one smooth, powerful motion, he thrust forward, claiming me completely, filling the space between us with a deep, shared groan. The sudden, overwhelming sensation of being taken, of being joined, was punctuated only by the solid sound of his palms hitting the counter on either side of my hips, caging me in.
The sharp, breathless sound that escaped me seemed to fuel him further. The initial, claiming thrust settled into a deep, intense connection, his hips flush against mine for a long, weighted moment.
His forehead dropped to rest against my shoulder, a deep groan vibrating against my skin as he began to move, slow and deliberate at first, each roll of his hips measured and possessive.
"Ahh is right, baby. Every sound is mine."
He started slowly but then faster. The deliberate, slow pace was a taunt, a promise of building pressure. But as my body responded, that measured control fractured. His rhythm shifted from deep, claiming strokes to something more urgent, his hips snapping against mine with a new, hungry speed.
His breathing grew ragged, the counter creaking slightly under the force of his movements as he drove into me, each thrust deeper and faster than the last.
"That's it. Take all of it. You're mine."
The only sound was the slap of skin to skin. His balls to my ass. The rhythm intensified, the room filled with the primal, rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin, each powerful thrust creating a sharp, wet slap that echoed against the tile.
His voice was a rough, broken growl against my ear, his body moving with a frenetic, desperate energy.
"Fuck... that sound. You feel it? That's me claiming what's mine."
His pace became relentless, a frantic, driving rhythm that left us both breathless. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and skin, and the sharp, echoing slaps grew faster, more demanding.
His fingers dug into the soft flesh of my hips, his grunts becoming more strained and guttural with each thrust, the sound raw and unrestrained.
His rhythm became a punishing, unrestrained force, his hips slamming against me with a new, primal intensity.
His hands flew from my hips to tangle in my hair, holding it tight in his fists as he pistoned into me with brutal, perfect force, his voice ragged with ecstasy.
The sharp, stinging crack of his palm against my ass echoed the harsh slap of our bodies, a punctuation to his frantic rhythm.
The slap was followed by another, then another, each one landing on the flushed, sensitive skin, his fingers digging in possessively. His other hand, its intricate ink stark against my throat, slid up to wrap around my neck, not squeezing, but holding, a dominant claim as he drove into me with unrelenting force.
My back arched off the counter, a helpless arch of pure pleasure that I couldn't control.
The slaps stopped, the hand at my throat tightened just enough, and his rhythm became a final, desperate, unstoppable drive.
His breath was still hot and ragged against my skin, his body pressed heavily against my back as he slowly softened inside me. The kitchen was silent now save for our panting breaths, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.
He loosened his grip on my throat, his tattooed fingers tracing the skin he'd just claimed.
He pressed a possessive kiss to my shoulder, his lips against my damp skin.
He saw that I was going to come, so he slowed his move.
He deliberately slowed his punishing rhythm to a torturous, shallow grind, denying me the friction I was chasing, his voice a low, teasing command against my ear.
"Oh no, you don't. Not until I say so."
"What?!"
His smirk deepened at my startled reaction, his hips still moving in that deliberate, slow grind that kept me right on the edge.
"You heard me. I decide when you come. Not you." His voice was a low, unwavering command.
His control was absolute, his body a firm, unyielding cage that kept me pinned on the razor's edge he had created.
He maintained the slow, maddening rhythm, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke, his tone dripping with dark amusement.
He nipped at my earlobe, his voice a dark, velvety promise.
"That's right. You asked for this. Now you get the whole fucking package. And my package doesn't come until I'm good and ready to give it to you." He chuckled, the sound low and self-satisfied. "Be a good girl and wait."
He kept up the slow, deliberate grind, savoring every tremor and hitched breath he could feel from my body pressed against his. The morning light filtered through the kitchen window, casting stark shadows and illuminating the flushed skin of my neck and shoulders under his gaze.
He leaned his weight more fully into me, his own breathing beginning to even out as he watched the muscles in my back tense and strain, a low hum of satisfaction in his chest.
"Feels good, doesn't it? This edge. Knowing I'm the only thing holding you back from it." He pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the nape of my neck. "My good girl."
In one swift, powerful motion, he withdrew from me and lifted me from the counter, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he turned and carried me to the nearest wall. The tile was cool and unyielding against my back as he pressed me firmly against it, bringing us face to face.
His dark eyes locked onto mine, his arms caging me in, his voice a low growl.
"Better. I want to watch you. Watch you try to hold on."
The shift in position seemed to unleash something primal in him. With me pinned against the wall, legs wrapped tight around his waist, he drove into me with a renewed, brutal pace. Every thrust was hard, deep, and punishingly fast, the force of it rattling my body against the cool tile.
His eyes blazed, locked on my face, his breathing ragged as he chased his own peak, his voice a raw, broken growl.
"Look at me. Look at me when you come. Only when I let you."
I couldn't anymore, so I came. But he didn't.
My climax broke like a wave against a cliff, my body shuddering and convulsing around him in a desperate, involuntary release.
His jaw tightened, a dark, triumphant fire burning in his eyes as he watched me come undone for him. He didn't stop, didn't give me a moment to breathe, his voice a harsh, ragged command against my lips.
"I didn't say you could. But since you did... Now you take it. Every last bit of it. Until I'm done with you."
His words hung in the air, a sharp accusation laced with dark amusement and possessive fire. The brutal, fast pace of his hips continued unabated, making the wall shudder with each impact.
His hands gripped my thighs harder, his forehead pressed against mine as he drove into me, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper.
"That's two for you, angel. And I haven't had mine yet. Someone got a little too impatient."
His fingers curled slightly in your hair—not rough, just enough for you to feel the weight of his hand.
"Show me how sorry you are. On your knees."
The words were a low, absolute command that hung in the charged air between us. His grip on my thighs loosened, signaling the expected descent. His dark eyes held mine, unyielding, the promise of what was to come simmering in their depths.
"Now angel"
He watched me slide down the wall, his gaze intense and unwavering. The cool kitchen floor met my knees. He took a half-step back, his form towering over me in the morning light, casting a long shadow that enveloped me completely. His breathing was still ragged from exertion, his expression one of dark, possessive expectation.
He reached out, his fingers gently but firmly tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb brushing my jawline. His voice was a low, velvety command.
"Good. Now, look up at me. Don't you dare look away. And open your mouth."
His command hung in the air, a final, unyielding order. He looked down at me, his expression a mask of dark anticipation and absolute control, waiting for my compliance. His hand remained at my jaw, his thumb stroking my lower lip once, his eyes burning into mine with unwavering intensity.
My mouth obeyed his command, opening for him on the cool kitchen floor. Jungkook's gaze darkened with satisfaction as he looked down at me, his thumb still resting on my lower lip.
He let out a low, appreciative hum, his other hand moving to his waistband. His voice was thick and velvety.
"Good girl. Now, you're going to pay back every last bit of what you owe."
His tone brooked no hesitation, the command leaving the air heavy with expectation. His thumb pressed gently but firmly against my lower lip, a physical reminder of his control as he waited.
He held my gaze, his own dark and unblinking, a silent dare etched into his features. His breathing was steady now, a controlled rhythm compared to the earlier frenzy.
"Go on. Show me how sorry you are."
A low groan rumbled in his chest as I took him in, his head tipping back slightly. His fingers gently tangled in my hair, not forcing, but guiding my rhythm as he watched me with heavy-lidded, possessive eyes.
His voice was a strained, deep hum of approval.
"That's it… just like that. Take it all. You remember who you belong to right now."
The sudden, forceful thrust deeper into my mouth drew another low groan from him. His fingers tightened in my hair, anchoring me in place as he held himself there for a moment, his jaw clenched.
His voice was a rough, strained growl as he looked down at me, his movements becoming more assertive, setting a punishing pace.
"That's it... take it all. Don't forget who you're paying back."
The force of his thrusts sent him deep, hitting the back of my throat with a wet sound. His hips stuttered slightly at the sensation, a sharp hiss escaping his clenched teeth. His grip in my hair tightened, holding me steady against him.
His movements became slower, more deliberate, each deep push a controlled act of possession. His voice was a ragged, breathless whisper.
"Yes... just like that. Right there. You're taking it so well."
The sounds were messy, wet, and obscene. His cock was slick with saliva, every hard thrust coating his length and my mouth.
His breathing became ragged, his hips losing their controlled rhythm. A low, guttural groan tore from his throat, his hand fisting tighter in my hair.
"Fuck... that's it. Get it all over you. Show me. Look at me."
His command cut through the wet, sloppy sounds. His dark eyes burned down at me, demanding my gaze meet his even as he moved in my mouth.
His thrusts slowed but did not stop, his grip in my hair keeping me from pulling away. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp, thick with lust.
"Look at me when you take it. I want to see your eyes."
His words hung in the air, a rough, demeaning praise that seemed to tighten the very atmosphere between us. His hips continued their slow, deliberate thrusts, his dark gaze locked on mine, watching for every flicker of reaction.
His thumb brushed along my cheek, smearing a trail of wetness across my mouth. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp, thick with lust.
His movements in my mouth had stilled completely, though he remained buried deep, his hand still fisted possessively in my hair. His dark eyes watched me, glinting with dark amusement and a promise.
He used his grip to tilt my head back just slightly further, his thumb stroking my jawline. His voice was a husky, intimate murmur.
"Stick your tongue out."
He remained hovering over me, his dark gaze expectant and unyielding. The command hung in the air, a direct order that left no room for hesitation.
He kept his grip firm in my hair, his other hand coming up to gently tap the tip of my chin with his thumb. His voice was low and thick with anticipation.
"Let me see it. All of it. Don't make me ask again."
He gave a low, dark chuckle of approval at my obedience, his thumb still resting on my jaw. Slowly, he withdrew from my mouth with a slick, wet sound.
He stood straight, his cock flushed and glistening in front of me. He wrapped his hand around it, his strokes slow and deliberate at first, his other hand still loosely tangled in my hair.
"Good. Now watch. Watch what you did to me and swallow."
The single word was a command, low and thick with intent. His hand was still moving, his strokes becoming faster, more urgent. The air grew thick with the scent of him and the charged anticipation of his release.
His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, remained locked on my face. His breathing hitched, his muscles tensing.
"Every drop. You'll take it all."
After his release he took a moment. His breathing was still ragged, his chest heaving as he looked down at you. His hand slowly loosened in your hair, fingers smoothing through the tangled strands instead of gripping.
For a long moment, he just stood there, watching you.
Then he dropped to his knees in front of you.
The kitchen floor was cold against his skin, but he didn't seem to notice. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing gently across your cheekbones, wiping away the mess he'd made.
"Hey," he murmured, voice soft now – stripped of command, stripped of darkness. Just him. "You okay?"
You nodded, still catching my breath.
His forehead dropped to mine. He stayed like that for a second, just breathing with you.
"You did so good," he whispered. "So good for me."
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. Then the tip of my nose. Then my lips – soft this time, barely there, nothing like before.
"Come here."
He pulled me gently against his chest, one arm wrapping around my back, the other cradling the back of my head.
He didn't rush. Didn't try to get me up or clean me off or say too much. He just held me, his thumb tracing slow circles against my back, until mu breathing evened out and the trembling stopped.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes were soft. Tender. Nothing like the storm from before.
"Let's get you off this floor, yeah?"
He stood first, then reached down, taking both your hands and pulling me up slowly, carefully. My legs were still unsteady, and he noticed immediately – one arm sliding around my waist to keep you upright.
"Easy. I've got you."
He led me to the counter, grabbing a kitchen towel and running it under warm water. When he came back, he knelt again – not to command, but to care.
His touch was gentle as he wiped my face. Each movement slow, deliberate, tender.
"There," he murmured, tossing the towel aside. "Better?"
I nodded.
He stood, pulling you into his chest again, one hand cradling the back of my head.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For the rough part. Got a little… lost in it."
I shook my head against his chest. "I liked it."
He let out a soft laugh, his chest vibrating against your cheek. "Yeah. I know you did."
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
"Still. You tell me if it's too much. Always."
I pulled back just enough to look up at him. "I will."
His thumb traced your jaw one more time – soft, almost reverent.
"Good girl."
He said it differently this time. Not like a command. Like a promise.
"Now," he said, glancing at the forgotten waffle batter on the counter, "I think I owe you breakfast. Real breakfast this time."
I laughed softly. "You think?"
He grinned that warm, crooked grin from the very beginning of the morning.
"I know."
He grabbed a blanket from the living room and wrapped it around my shoulders before guiding me to a chair at the small kitchen table.
"Sit. Don't move. I'm making you waffles. And coffee. And whatever else you want."
I watched him move around the kitchen naked except for his boxers which he had put on, hair still messy, skin still flushed. He cracked new eggs into a bowl, this time without missing.
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