(this is a continuation of this fic. this was intended to be a drabble but i literally can’t shut the fuck up lmao - this contains heavy spoilers!!)
—
life was different for you now.
living a day-to-day routine where stress and fear were a norm had taken its toll in your bones, creating a sense of heaviness you truly believed would one day kill you. it had infiltrated your very blood stream, attacking anything that could ease your burden and instead multiplying it by a million, leaving you in a state of distress every waking moment of your day.
but life was different for you now.
you woke up to kisses. to warmth. to the quiet assurance that you would never flail around your damaged and hazardous apartment to get ready for a shift at the diner after only having a few hours sleep from finishing your night shift. gentle caresses would touch you head to toe, claiming, possessive, rough. a reminder. you don’t live that way anymore.
jungkook had given you everything you had never dared to dream of. you lived in a lavish house, adorned with sweet furniture and touches of pink, cream and ivory - a clash against the intensely masculine, blue collar worker he was. your garden stretched wide, rows of planted flowers, a weeping tree with a swing he had build for you attached. your wardrobe was overflowing merely due to his incessant need for you to spend as much as your pretty heart wanted, despite your complaints.
more importantly - jungkook had given you love.
though you wanted nothing more than his affection, he deemed it not to be enough. he could feel the gnawing pit in his stomach to spoil you rotten appear with each waking moment of his existence; one look at you and it was confirmation that you were the very person he was born to live for. your sweet nature alone had him grunting at work, reminded of his pretty girl waiting for him, always cooking despite his protests, making sure she fed her man well for his hard work.
even now, as you sat on the couch, nibbling on soft candy whilst he was away at work, you couldn’t help but feel your mind wander away to think about him. to anyone else, he had his faults - overy obsessive, too quiet and rough around the edges, possessive over you beyond belief. you didn’t care though, especially not when it was those very qualities that gripped you so deeply, intrigued you beyond belief.
you shut your thighs tightly at the thought of him jealous, want swirling in your stomach.
you reached for your phone, finger hovering over his imessage chat before indulging as you always did. stifling a giggle at his previous responses, you plopped another piece of candy in your mouth as you began to reread them like a high-school girl with her first crush.
it was just a collection of texts from you telling him what you were doing, how much you missed him, that you wanted him to come home already, excitedly telling him about what you were going to cook once he got home. his responses were short, curt, but you knew that was just how he spoke. he never, ever, forgot to tell you he loved you and that he missed you more, a juxtaposition to the roughness of his typical personality.
sometimes, when you were alone and needy, you’d take pictures of yourself just the way he had left you. often in one of his t-shirts, or a loose slip dress that hid nothing. paired with a sweet, “miss youuuu 💞” meant you’d have a video call pending almost immediately. it never failed to have butterflies erupt within your stomach as he’d look over you, sweat trickling down his forehead from a particularly gruelling day outside.
he wasn’t use to being soft, and you never asked that of him. it was an understanding between you that he was rougher around the edges, harsher, too much and too little all at once but it was exactly what you needed. you were the woman of his fucking dreams, the very angel he had only conjured up in the depths of sleep, now in his arms.
your gaze dropped slowly down to your lap, fingers idly playing with the lace hem of the slip dress hanging loosely on your body. it was one of the many he had bought you without looking at the price tag, lightly grunting at you in annoyance whenever you’d insist he put it back down due to how expensive it was. pale pink and barely there, it was a favourite of both of yours.
he loved so much about them. the way they’d run up your thighs, exposing you inch by inch, leaving little to the imagination. you couldn’t hold back the giggle in the back of your throat at the memory of him unravelling between your legs just at the mere feel of it.
god, you felt like an embarrassment.
how was it he had done this? completely unarmed you from every facet of your life, rendering you a useless sack of wandering obsession, begging for him to come home. waiting to perch in his lap as though it held the very secrets of life and joy, and perhaps in a way, it did.
it was ultimately the blistering bright ring on your left hand that forced you out of your thoughts, a shy smile forming wide on your lips. one look downwards had managed to drift you away to the best day of your life.
your wedding was a dream.
one so painfully perfect that everytime you recounted it, you’d find yourself sobbing away on the couch, so touched, indecently happy. people like you didn’t get fairytales like this, and yet, here you were, married to the love of your life, your own personal prince charming that was anything but a prince and only charming to you.
after he had proposed to you, all but forcing you to say yes, to choose him as he had chosen you, your excitement dampened when you realised you didn’t have anyone to even invite.
a bride stood alone, no bridesmaids, no parents to invite, no friends to sit in the stalls of the chapel to squeal in glee? a lonely affair, and hardly a wedding. jungkook was astute, and he didn’t need you to explain yourself when you one day burst out crying in his arms once he brought up the wedding. he understood. he knew. he saw.
overnight, he had made it an absolute mission to introduce you to everyone in his life. his six closest friends, some he had met in college, others worked in the same way of life, one had dabbled in that dark shit he no longer got involved in. all of them married, happily, wives who had been bustling to meet you.
it didn’t take long for them to fall in love with you, with yoongi’s wife, yejin, coming over practically daily at one point to help you plan, going wedding dress shopping and aiding you in your choices. as a result, once the wedding rolled around, your side was absolutely packed and squeezed whilst jungkook’s side remained modest, some distant family and friends from all walks of life.
anyone who had come within one metre of you had fallen in love with you. you were the definition of bride itself, flushed and loving, soft and ivory.
your dress was beyond anything you had ever dreamt of owning, and despite being spoilt rotten becoming a new means of life, this was different. it symbolised so much more, a new beginning and the end of a chapter you never had to return to. bouncing tulle and lace, and a neckline that cupped as though material was kissing your chest. you were a vision.
jungkook? he had transformed at the sight of you.
he watched as you walked down, arm in arm with his eldest friend, jin, who was more than happy to assist you. you were already teary eyed simply looking at him, but it was your macho man at the end that truly felt ruined.
jungkook could count on one hand how many times he had ever cried in his life, with the number falling close to three or four. in that moment, with a slight sheen on his lower lash line, he promised himself heartily that he would do everything in his waking fucking power to make you happy like this forever.
he neither smiled nor made a noise, in true jungkook fashion, merely staring at you in the familiar harsh way that had your stomach bouncing in excitement. once you were finally in his arms, his hands openly running over you as he took you in up close, he dropped his head down low, capturing your lips in a kiss, claiming you for the world to see.
“my bride.” he had whispered, with every inch of soul and comfort in his very heart.
—
the memory left you warm, a bashful sense of comfort filling your veins as you curled further into the couch, letting out an occasional smile.
your fingers brushed over the bright band on your finger, twisting it carefully whilst fully submerging yourself into the coziness of the pillows behind you. the house was quiet, the living room even quieter, with large beams of sunlight pouring in from the tall windows and stretching across your hardwood floors.
jungkook had demanded the new house have big windows.
“want you to have light.” he had grunted once, with a tone of finality.
you had laughed at the time, teasing him for his oddly sentimental words, but now you completely understood, finding yourself basking in it each and every day akin to a small cat. you’d wait for his return daily, excited, absorbing vitamin d just as he had intended.
you popped another candy in your mouth.
the sweetness erupted in your mouth as boredom began to style over you. unfortunately, your husband was the hardest worker you knew, and as a result, he left early and came home late, rendering you needy for a large majority of your day.
and so, you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, nibbling on your lip as you went onto your messages again.
jungkook.
his name sat high on your list, despite the continuous gossip sessions between you and the other ladies, and the group chats you had now created. you hummed lightly as you pondered on what to text him, the possibilities endless when it came to teasing a man like him. your mind drifted to the way he looked that morning before leaving you - damp hair and a hardened jaw, he had kissed you deeply three times before finally departing from your tired body, still wrapped in the sheets.
your thighs pressed together at the thought. fuck.
you were being ridiculous. you knew that. you typed, and then deleted a few times, before settling on something simple.
‘i miss you.’
you stared at it for a moment before adding another line, continuing to nibble on your lip.
‘wearing that pink dress you like <3’
the message barely had time to settle in the chat before your phone erupted, indicating an incoming call, with jungkook’s name flashing on the phone almost immediately.
through a small gasp, you answered excitedly. “hi!”
your voice came out bright, delighted at the prospect of hearing his voice earlier than you were usually afforded, sitting up almost immediately like a young girl on the phone to her high school crush.
there was silence on the phone. all you could hear was slight heavy breathing, and then the sudden clank of heavy metal on the floor.
so distinctly him.
“what're you doing?”
his voice was low, rougher than usual, spiked at the edges - his personal indication that he was more than pleased to hear you.
you smiled, cheekily. “nothing..”
you could practically feel him scoffing at the end of the phone.
“don’t lie.”
you stifled a giggle, playing with your hair. “just on the couch, that’s all.”
a beat of silence.
“doing what?”
you peered down at your dress, smoothening it over your thighs a little as your cheek pressed against the phone, listening to his voice.
“thinking about you.” you sounded breathless.
he sharply exhaled on the other end of the line. you would have done anything to be able to see him.
“fuck.”
“what?” you giggled.
“shouldn’t say shit like that, y/n.” his voice dropped even lower than usual. “i’m working.”
a hum left you as you twirled your hair further, pretending to sympathise. “i know.”
a beat of silence.
“which pink dress?” he loved them all on you. his favourite colour for you to wear, and lord knew you had a whole section in your closet dedicated to it.
another giggle left you before you could even say anything. “the one you literally got me the other week, silly!”
another silence. longer, this time.
you could hear him cursing under his breath, the sound of tools being pushed to the side, just as a door closed. your breath hitched for a moment as you could hear him shuffling, the familiar sound of his weight hitting a chair filling your head.
“send a picture.” the demand was instant.
“kook..you’re coming home soon..” you were beyond giddy.
“now.”
within seconds, you were doing exactly that, excitedly snapping a few pictures. the dress sat high on your thigh, revealing everything, your pebbled nipples, your hair pushed to one side, sweet skin on show whilst it did nothing to hide the weeping mess between your legs. you were both a vision and a minx, his personal brand of heroine here to get him high.
you could hear him grunting on the other side of the call, making you roll your eyes. “you’re so impatient!”
he scoffed. “hurry up, baby.”
you stared at the picture, anticipation building in your chest as you finally pressed send, putting the poor man out of his misery.
the sharp inhale of breath was all you got as a response.
“kook?” you purred, though you were met with silence.
and more silence.
and even more silence.
your cheeks were beginning to flush, knowing exactly what kind of state he was in - seeing it too often above you in nights spent in passion.
a low curse suddenly spoke through the speaker, causing you to grin further.
“do you like it?”
“jesus, y/n. you’re doing this shit on purpose.” he hissed, voice slightly faint.
you hummed once more. “hm? did what?”
“don’t play dumb.” he hissed once more, causing you to fully smile. you loved when he was rough like this, all bothered and frustrated with no real outlet that meant anything unless it was you. “sitting like that..fuck.”
“like what?” you loved doing this. drove him insane.
the sound he made was one half disbelief and another pure annoyance. “you know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
you tried to stifle a giggle, your legs coming up as you rested your cheek on your knees, phone to your ear all excited.
another breath left him, clearly trying to regulate himself despite doing nothing to tear his eyes away from your sweet body. he would get you more of these dresses. blues, greens, purples and oranges. anything and everything all at the same time.
silence filtered through the call only momentarily before it was broken by a single. “miss you.”
your heart stopped.
your big, strong man. your husband who knew nothing more in this life than hard labour and a good grind, earning to spoil you to an inch of your life, so that your head could rest on the finest egyptian cotton, and your food michelin grade. the love of your life, all tough, missed you.
“i miss you, kookie. can’t you come home early today?” you suddenly found yourself whining, sitting up a little straighter in hopes that he could. “promise i won’t bother you again at work if you do, but just for today. please, please, please..”
his voice came back, rough and harsh as always.
“be there in 15, baby.”
—
the low, familiar rumble of jungkook’s truck echoed from the end of your neighbourhood road, causing your head to jolt up in excitement, a breathless noise slipping out of your mouth as you sat up from your perched position, sweets still in hand.
your heart slammed harshly against your ribs as you excitedly stood by the window, peering outside, despite the immodesty of your current outfit. wasn’t like you cared, jungkook would hurt anyone that looked at you anyway.
then, the unmistakable sight of his truck finally reaching your shared driveway, the noise continuing to rumble through the house at a much louder level.
how had he gotten here so fast? it had hardly been 7 minutes?
the car door slammed just as you turned to walk towards the hallway, smoothening your tiny little slip in the mirror, correcting any creases. you wanted to be perfect for him, in every single way, despite the dishevelled look in your eyes, and the redness in your bitten lips.
the front door handle twisted, with jungkook walking in with his heavy work boots, each step bouncing off of the walls and straight into your body as your eyes immediately met.
you, stood, hair flipped to one side, messy - just the way he liked it. the thin spaghetti strap had fallen off of your right shoulder, slipping down your arm whilst your pebbled nipples sat visible underneath the completely sheer dress. it was an insult to even call it anything other than mere material, considering it hid nothing. your legs, your bare feet, the way your skin shon with the light peering in from each crevice of the house. you were a vision.
he, on the other hand, looked completely different and yet exactly how you had imagined.
broad shoulders filling the hallway in a way that had you salivating, so much larger than your own frame that he towered over you in every single way. his dark hair was twinged with sweat, stuck to his head in places whilst his shirt stretched across his muscles, desperate to accommodate his size. dirt sat all over him, no doubt due to a gruelling work day, with his tool belt low on his waist, filled to the brim with all sorts of shit you didn’t recognise.
he looked intoxicating and he wanted more.
the room went quiet. so quiet you swore the sound of your heartbeat was loud enough for him to hear openly.
you felt ridiculous for being so shy in front of him, as though you hadn’t been teasing him mere minutes ago, or that you didn’t share an entire life with the greased man in front of you. he made you like that, and you knew he liked it too.
you tucked a loose strand of messy hair behind your ear.
“that wasn’t 15 minutes. did you speed?” you whispered, tilting your head at him, though he didn’t bother to reply.
simply began walking towards you, nice and slow.
your breath caught as each step brought him closer, an anticipation growing before your very eyes, causing your stomach to tighten. you shrank into the scent of sawdust and sweat, a familiarity that had your shoulders soothing into him before he even got to you.
he stopped once you had to look up just to meet his gaze.
“you been sitting like this the whole time?” voice quiet, deceptively calm.
your lips curled slightly. “maybe.”
he broke your eye contact, looking you up and down once more, truly taking time when it reached your tits and stomach. the filth in his mind was beyond anything he could voice at that minute, for he knew it would have you running away in a heartbeat - that didn’t stop him from wanting it any less. his sweet wife, oh the plans he had for you. he was going to ruin you until you thanked him.
a low breath left his nose as he finally grabbed you.
you were pushed against the nearest wall just as his lips descended, capturing yours in an embrace that rendered you utterly useless. it was mean, demanding and rough all at once, your hands patting at his chest in shock as he consumed you, tongue in your mouth, tasting you and the sugared candy you had been consuming momentarily ago.
you struggled to keep up, but that was the norm between you. he always wanted it too fast, too much and you would drown giving it to him, just the way you both liked it. his hands on your waist tightened, bunching your dress up as he pressed against you firmly, making you feel him in every indecent way possible.
he pulled away for a moment, watching the way a string of saliva connected you both still, causing you to whimper. he grabbed your hand, pressing it against his hardened length. despite his thick work trousers, you could feel him perfectly, a clear indication of what you had done to the poor man.
“feel that? hm?” he hissed, other hand bruising your hip. “nearly crashed my fucking car driving here, couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
you moaned at his words, fingers caressing his cock despite the many layers. “want you already, kook. please don’t make me wait.” you practically begged.
who was he to deny his wife?
immediately, you were up in the air and in his arms, as he walked over to you shared bedroom, causing you to grab onto him with a small shriek of his name.
he dropped you onto the bed, causing you to bounce breathlessly as you peered up at his darkened gaze, only to notice the slip had been pushed up to reveal everything. one hand pushing meanly against your knee meant he was now face to face with your weeping pussy, a small sigh leaving him at the sight of it so messy.
“my girl. can’t think unless i’m making your pussy puffy, huh?” he condescendingly cooed at you, causing you to nod, spreading your legs further for him. “doesn’t feel as good when i do it, so always wait for you.” you whimpered.
the anticipation was making you feel sick, knowing he was here, under your fingers and inside you in ways that already had your brain crying out for him, it was driving you insane. you always got so delirious around him, hands shaking just at the feel of him underneath your hands.
“yeah? so good to me.” he nipped at your jaw, hands grabbing at the dress, pushing it up until it was bunched just under your chin, your naked body in full display for him.
he watched you nod eagerly, his mouth planting harsh kisses all over your breasts and down your stomach, all the whilst you squirmed in anticipation, whining as he got closer and closer and closer and closer.
by the time he was between your legs once more, he began to blow gently, watching the way your body jolted. you let out a loud whimper, slapping his shoulder gently.
“kook, stop teasi- oh!”
he wasted no time. his mouth found your clit, his fingers rubbing up and down to collect your slick as he began to suck, your body convulsing almost immediately. your loud moans echoed in the room as your chest heaved, hands seeping into his hair to pull just the way he liked it, the scent of your musk and his sweat heavy in the air, tied to one another as though they were lovers in a past life.
his tongue ran up and down your pussy, sucking, licking, rubbing, all the whilst he began to slowly pump his fingers into you, two immediately. he had little patience as a person, but when it came to you in a needy state? he was terrible. couldn’t think unless he was already stretching you open, the thought of you choking on the feel of his cock so deep inside you an utter dream.
“jungkook, i-i..” you squealed loudly as his pumping began to get faster, deeper, more precise. his fingers were curling into that little spot, the one he knew so well. “c’mon, baby. need to stretch this pussy out so i can fit.”
“i c..can take it..” you shook your head rapidly, causing him to peer up from his position, his cock straining harshly against his work trousers at the sight of you.
god, you were a vision. fucked out and he had barely even done anything to you yet, a clear indication of how wet you must have been this entire time. you needed this. you yearned for it. couldn’t cum anymore unless it was your brutish husband fucking you open in every single way, no mercy.
“yeah? won’t cry if i fuck you with my cock?” he cooed, condescending to you once more at the thought, knowing you would anyway.
“no! pi-pinky..pinky promise, god..” you almost let out another loud shriek at the feel of him pumping so meanly, with each and every intention to break you, something you knew he would achieve with ease.
“nah, sweet girl. gotta have you cumming on my fingers first. gonna be real mean to this pussy, alright? you need it that way, don’t you?” he hummed, voice muffled as his actions took precedent over his brain, sucking harshly.
your lip quivered at his words, a mixture of anticipation and excitement, tinged with fear taking over you. this was exactly what you wanted and how you needed it, and jungkook knew best.
the combination of his fingers and tongue had you spiralling. the heightened emotion in your stomach making your chest heave, your legs shake around his head and your hands claw at anything it could touch, his forehead, his hair, the sheets. it wasn’t long until your orgasm finally took a hold of you, grabbing you by the throat and forcing your cunt to clamp on his fingers and tighten.
jungkook moaned as he watched you cum, your body stilling for a moment before shaking, a loud moan ripped from your throat as he forced you to take it, pumping harder, sucking harsher, other hand on your hip to push you down into the bed.
by the time he pulled away, your core was throbbing and your legs twitching, your chest heaving. that look in your eye, however, was one jungkook recognised all too well.
“wan’you.” you slurred, hands reaching out for him as he leaned over you immediately, capturing your lips in another filthy kiss.
the taste of you sat heavy in your mouth as your fingers toyed with his belt buckle, pushing his tool belt to one side before pulling down his trousers and boxers in one go. the loud moan at the sight of his flushed cock was one jungkook wanted to replay in his mind over and over, the knowledge that you too were so utterly obsessed with him as he was you a thrill in his spine. he had met his match in you. he loved it.
he grabbed your hand before it could touch him, pulling away from your lips causing you to pout. the corner of his mouth twitched at the sight.
recently, you had both been using condoms, much to his dismay, due to you incessant plead to not get pregnant before the wedding. it was something that you wanted deeply, but you didn’t want to walk down the aisle with a bump, something he had no choice but to abide by despite it going against his very fucking chemistry. that pesky little thing had now trickled down to your day to day, with you rolling on a rubber onto his cock out of routine as opposed to want.
not today. enough was enough.
“b-but..” you whispered up at him, eyes widened as you watched the way he grabbed your hands, pinning them above your head.
“house is too fucking quiet.” he hissed down at you, nudging your nose against his own, peering down at your body. “need to fill you up properly, y/n. give you a baby, right here.”
his massive hand sat on your stomach, pushing down meanly causing you to whimper at his words, eyes closing momentarily as a shaky breath left you.
“gonna get you nice and full till you’re pregnant.” his voice was soft, but his eyes were anything but, a crazed look in them you knew he kept contained. you clenched around nothing. “but we just got married, kook..” you weakly protested, despite wanting nothing more.
“should have had you pregnant the day i fucking met you.” he hissed down at you again, head now pressed against yours as he forced you to listen to every word. “my pretty wife. built this house for you, our family. ought to fill it up.”
your heaving chest felt almost painful with need, causing you to nod up at him, feeling his passion for this, knowing how badly he wanted it, knowing how badly you yourself needed this. to be fucked full until you had a part of both of you growing inside of you was something that caused you to whimper up at him, legs suddenly wrapping around his waist and pulling him in.
“please, kookie. wanna be fucked full by you.” you begged so sweetly, causing him to press a chaste kiss to your lips.
he let go of your hands before sitting up once more, grabbing his cock and pumping it above you. your mouth watered at the sight, wanting nothing more than to have it down your throat for a moment but there were bigger things at stake, more important things to do. the head was red and leaking pre cum, angry and ready to break you.
by the time he was rubbing it up and down your folds, you had already wrapped your arms around his neck, head against his once more.
this was both of your favourite’s position. he watched your face as he began to push in, your poor little pussy breaking with each and every inch as he all but bullied his too large cock inside, your face contorting in a mixture of bliss and pain, his favourite emotion.
by the time he was fully inside, you swore you could feel him in your fucking chest, your legs already shaking as your core shuddered around him from overstimulation.
you were babbling away, making no sense, slurring words about him being too big, too much, so deep. it simply egged him on to begin fucking you just the way he liked, hard, fast, mean, rough.
you weren’t the type of girl to get fucked soft and slow. your mind and body were different to most, yearning for brashness and bruised hands all over your body, something jungkook was to the core. and as he caged you into his arms, hips pounding into yours without giving you much time to adjust, you knew you were exactly where you wanted to be.
“too much!” you squeaked so loudly up at him, causing him to growl in your face, only thrusting harder. “yeah? should have fucking thought about that before teasing me all day, you little slut.”
your back arched at his mean words, liking them too much to be deemed normal, and he knew it. knew what you needed before you could even conjure it up in your mind.
he grabbed at one of your legs, hiking it up higher on his waist as he stilled his actions, grinding his cock inside of you, forcing you to feel every inch, every last bit of his head poking at your cervix, tears beginning to gather at your lash line over how good it felt.
“right there..such a good girl, fuck.” he hissed, planting kisses all over your cheeks. “feel me baby?”
you let out a loud “uh-huh”, causing his heart to skip a beat over how cute you were. “c’mon, show kookie where you feel it.”
tears were now streaming, falling to the sides of your head as your lip quivered. you grabbed his meaty hand, pressing it against your stomach gently. “h-here.”
at that, he closed his eye for a moment, trying to hold off on cumming right then and there at how pathetic you looked. so adorable, the way you were grinding back down on him, wanting more, always so greedy. his wife, god he’d break you in half if you asked for it.
soon enough, he was picking up his pace again, this time managing to feel even bigger, faster, deeper. his thrusts were bullying, your poor pussy clenching around him as it failed to catch up, your brain a big jumble of words and begs.
“gonna make you a mommy, sweet girl.” he grunted in your ear, whilst you clawed at his shoulders. “gonna give you the family you deserve, get you nice and round. fuck..you’ll look so good.”
you let out a loud sob at his words, the emotion building up in your chest before you could even stop it.
a family. all yours. finally.
“wan’that.” you nodded through your cries, your nose beginning to turn a sweet shade of pink. “wan’it so..s-so bad, k-kookie.”
“yeah?” he cooed, kissing at your cheeks as though he wasn’t pounding into you. “c’mon. cum around my cock. cum for me.”
your brain completely stilled for a moment, as your body utterly exploded. with closed eyes, and breaking breath, you came hard, clenching around his cock in a way that had his thrusts stuttering, milking him immediately from how tight you had gotten. it crashed over you, running in waves, caging you into the feeling with no hopes of escaping as he forced you to feel every inch.
your loud sobs echoed around the room as he too began to cum, halting his movements with one final thrust, deep and mean, your poor pussy quivering around him. he pumped his cum into you, leaking from either side of your hole from how much he had came, your bodies sweaty and pressed against one another.
he captured your lips mid sob, kissing down your cry and holding you closer to him if that was even possible, cooing down at you sweetly.
“so good, sweetheart. did so good for me.” he whispered through kisses against your cheeks, your forehead, your lips, your nose, your eyelids.
you were nodding up at him, yearning for his praise as your shaking fingers tied their way into his hair, sniffling away.
the next ten minutes were spent with him taking care of you, whispering sweet nothings about how good you were to him, how much he loved you, how much he loved your ruined pussy. you whined with each word, enjoying it more than anything, like a cat being pet by its favourite owner.
by the time he was pulling out, he had grabbed your legs, pushing the cum back inside you as it dared to leak, your eyes meeting his.
he wouldn’t give up until you were full, and pumped.
—
life had changed once more in its typical quiet way. what you once knew, cruel landlords, leaking apartments, the fear and stress surrounding your multiple jobs just to make a living. just to survive the day, make it through the week - it was all gone now.
now, you lived.
the house felt warm that afternoon, sunlight kissing your skin through the windows as you let them open, letting fresh air waft through your home with a hum. you were waddling all over, busying yourself with different tasks whilst waiting for jungkook to come home as you often did. your friends had just left after throwing you a small get together in your living room.
your baby shower.
a soft grunt left your lips as you steadied yourself against the counter for a second, wincing just lightly. one hand on the wall, the other on your enlarged stomach, your baby kicking away.
8 months pregnant.
you couldn’t help the fond smile that grew as you looked down, giggling away whilst you found yourself cooing down at your bump as though they could hear you.
“i know, i know. mamma’s tired too, let’s go sit down.” you hummed, running a soft hand over the bottom of your stomach, waddling over to the couch just as the sound of a truck filtered through you driveway.
jungkook.
your smile brightened, excitedly waddling over to the hallway to greet him, despite your delicate state. even after all this time, your feelings for him truly never went away, your hormones only adding to them further and further with each passing thought of him.
the front door opened before you could get to it.
jungkook looked as he always did after work, big, intimidating - type of guy to punch you in the mouth for pissing him off. your brutish man. to anyone else he looked the picture of terrifying whilst to you, he was the epitome of home.
his eyes landed on you immediately; narrowing his stare dangerously as he looked over you, one hand on your tummy, your cute maternity dress stretched over your bump.
you smiled shyly. “hi, kook.”
his jaw tightened as he stepped forwards towards you, boots heavy on the ground.
“what’re you doing up?”
“walking..” you hummed innocently enough.
he frowned deeply. “should be sitting.”
before you could protest, his hands were already on you - one hand sliding around your waist, and the other going underneath your large belly, lifting the weight of it slightly to alleviate the pressure on your back.
you let out a soft moan of relief.
“mm..thank you..”
he simply grunted back at you; leading you slowly towards the couch where he wanted you to be quite literally at all times, as though you weighed nothing whatsoever.
once you were sat, he found himself crouching beneath you. big, scary man, folded by his wife’s feet. the love of his fucking life.
his hand rested idly atop of your stomach, peering up at you, taking you in hungrily. “she behave today?”
you smiled at that. “hm. mostly.”
almost on cue, the baby kicked hard.
jungkook stilled.
his eyes traced your stomach before he pressed a little more firmly, watching as your little girl kicked right where his hand was placed, causing his lips to lift in a rare, soft smile. slowly, he leaned forward, placing pepper kisses all over, cooing quietly under his breath.
“my girl in there.”
your chest tightened at the sight.
life used to be so heavy, so inexplicably cruel to you, and yet here you were, sat with the man of your dreams as he held you, took care of you in every single way all whilst making sure you were always happy. you never imagined you’d feel this content, and yet this life was yours and yours alone.
you had never thought you’d have a house filled with love.
a baby girl on the way, or a group of friends you cherished dearly. never imagined a man who looked at you as though you were the sole reason for his life, like you were the very moon and stars hung up in the sky, solely for him.
and yet here you were - married, loved, pregnant, fulfilled. safe.
you smiled as tears began to quip at your waterline, your bottom lip quivering though you tried to grin through it.
“what’s wrong?” he immediately asked, eyes meeting yours in confusion.
“nothing.” you shook your head through a sniffle, wiping at your eyes.
“don’t lie to me, baby.” he shook his head back at you.
you let out a little noise, fingers curling in his hair as you played with the pieces that framed his face so nicely.
“i’m just so happy, that’s all.”
jungkook’s eyes softened, and the smile that formed on his lips was one that managed to rid you of all breath, a rare sight that was growing more and more common with each passing day.
“good, sweet girl.” he whispered at you, taking your hand and kissing it. “i’ll make sure you always are.”
you knew it to be true.
months later, once baby yuna was born, babbling away as the weeks went by, you saw a side of jungkook you never realised he even had. he had pictures of you both in his wallet, showing every single person he could find, grunting whenever they didn’t give him the reaction he desired, causing the other person to cower in fear. or even when you’d walk in the park, he would wear a baby carrier, his little girl squeaking away at the passing birds and notions around her as he held her to his chest, his arm around your waist, holding you close to him.
for the first time in your life, everything felt exactly as it was supposed to, with every dream, every hushed prayer you had whispered into your pillow on nights of endless pain coming alive before your very eyes.
a home. jungkook. your family.
you were safe in the hands of the man who had chosen you from the very beginning.
—
handyman jungkook is officially over, and i’m already mourning this couple - aren’t they so sweet :((
if you liked this and want to support me paying my disgusting london rent lol feel free to show some love on my kofi <333
arranged marriage, yearning, SMUT, corruption kink go brrr
>14k
—
you had been prepping for marriage since the day you could walk.
being the daughter of the east mob’s leader meant you were good for only one thing, and that was alliance. you weren’t taught about marriage like the other girls in your life, no, you were taught omission. obedience. complete and entire control given to you by your husband, and not a single other. you needed to know how to sit up straight without fidgeting, cook meals for multiple families, how to smile without being overbearing or even speak in tones of submission.
you were bred to marry.
your parents rarely acknowledged you outside of this, if ever. your mere existence was a disappointment to them, for you were supposed to be a boy - your birth had been traumatic for your mother, meaning she couldn’t have any more children and your father couldn’t remarry due to the optics of it all. you were the wrong child, in the wrong body, and not a day of your life had gone by without you being told it.
and so, here you were. too quiet for your own good. secretly anxious, always going above and beyond in hopes someone would notice, not that they ever did. you’d retreat to your room, lock your door quietly and simply lay on your bed, cherishing all of your sweet plushies, and pinks and creams of your room as though it was your only friend. your only solace.
you were a prisoner in your own house, and yet your room had become your home, your jail cell that you felt a warped sense of comfort in. this was your space. no one was allowed in.
but, outside of it, you were of course victim to whatever whims those around you had wanted.
as a result, you were betrothed.
to a monster, some had muttered in your presence, making your chest tighten. to a man whose name was spoken carefully, even when people were alone - a name that demanded attention, respect and most importantly, acknowledgement.
jeon jungkook.
he was hardly just anyone. no, jungkook was head of the biggest mob in the country, with ties to multiple international groups that also saw him as their leader. power fucking oozed off of him in a way that had most shivering at the thought of fucking over a man like that, which is why your parents jumped at the opportunity of offering you up to him.
you were shocked when you heard he had accepted the offer. that was a few months ago, and a wedding was being planned without you ever have even meeting the man. you knew he was young in age, not yet touching his thirties, and some even had let you know he was handsome, though you weren’t sure if those were words uttered in fear or honesty.
it didn’t matter what you wanted. didn’t matter if you were scared, or unwilling; and certainly didn’t matter if you didn’t want this whatsoever. he was to be your husband, and more importantly - you were going to be his bride.
—
the dining room was already full when he arrived.
your parents had invited him, alongside a myriad of his men, over to your home, a dinner and celebration a few days before the wedding. that’s what they called it anyway, but you knew what it really was.
it was so he could see you. approve of you.
it made your stomach churn to think he could dismiss you. you truly weren’t sure what would be worse - his approval, or his rejection.
men had been arriving for hours now, many early in hopes to scope the room before he arrived, so they could understand the overall atmosphere of the place. tensions were high as you played with the hem of your sweet little dress. pink, with frills on the sleeves, a neckline that dipped just slightly, enough to entice but modest enough to be deemed appropriate given your status.
you could hear cars outside, feeling your chest tighten slightly before getting in position, just as you had been taught.
men rose from their seats instinctively, their chairs scraping backwards loudly whilst their voices halted mid sentences, unified by their attention landing on the figure walking through the door. jeon jungkook didn’t need to announce himself - his presence alone did that for him. black suit tailored to his body like it had been cut with intent, as opposed to fabric, shoulders so broad and posture unyielding. he carried power the way the other men in the room carried breath.
you stood beside your parents, your hands folded neatly in front of you, spine straight, chin slightly dipped.
pink. that was the first thing he registered.
a soft, babydoll dress in the palest shade, fabric floating around your thighs, sleeves brushing your arms like petals. your hair fell down your back in gentle waves, glossy, deliberate; too pretty for a house like this. you looked like something misplaced - a sweetness that didn’t belong among smoke, liquor and men who spoke in threats disguised as deals.
his gaze locked onto you and didn’t move.
you felt it immediately.
the way his eyes were grazing up and down your body, resting on your face whilst his jaw tightened visibly. you couldn’t tell if he liked the sight of you, and you could feel the familiar churn of your stomach return. your lashes lowered, a shake beginning to overcome your hands as you all walked into the dining room to be seated properly.
jungkook’s seat was supposed to be at the head, with your father at the other side, a symbolic seating plan. instead, he picked the chair beside you.
not in front.
not the head.
but a measly, centre seat.
the chair scraped as it dragged against the floor, the room suddenly quiet, and your shoulders sat high in anticipation. his thigh brushed yours underneath the table as he took his seat, subtle. deliberate. his knee then pressed into the soft inside of your leg, claiming space you hadn’t offered. you stiffened slightly, fingers tightening in your lap and breath suddenly coming out shallow.
he didn’t look away, his gaze firmly on the people around him, and you.
his hand rested on his own thigh at first, before shifting. just slightly.
fingers brushed your knee once. twice, before they began sliding upwards, curling around the delicate hem of your dress. the contact was light enough to be deniable, yet slow enough to feel intentional. you trembled, thighs pressing together instinctively whilst your heart continued to pound loud enough for him to hear.
he watched as your lips parted, clinging to every micro expression you gave him.
you didn’t move his hand away. you weren’t aware you were allowed to.
conversation carried on around you, men chatting, laughing, glasses clinking and food being eaten. jungkook remained quiet, rarely conversing, eating to be polite but refraining from a drink. he was controlled in every single thing he would do, and yet his fingers continued to flex against your skin, as though it was his every right - he had yet to even converse with you.
the world felt reduced to the heat of his touch and the weight of his attention. you could hardly eat, forcing yourself to nibble as much as you could but you were shackled to the growing feeling in your stomach, it was both foreign and terrifying. you stared at your plate without seeing it, caught between something far more dangerous than you’d anticipated.
want.
eventually, the shift happened. the women stood.
it was automatic, rehearsed - chairs sliding backwards and napkins folded, heads bowed lightly as they retreated from the table. the men were beginning to get rowdier, as they breached the topic of illegal crime, weapons sat on the table leisurely as though it was normal.
you followed once your mother rose, legs unsteady as you stepped away, his hand lingering until the very last second before slipping from your skin. both of your eyes connected, for a second and nothing more, but it was enough to have your throat visibly constrict.
you all but bolted up to your room once you were out of sight, your heart pounding and eyes closing shut tightly.
upstairs felt unreal.
your room welcomed you like a held breath, familiar and soft, pinks and creams wrapping around you as you shut your door quietly and leaned against it. your chest rose and fell too fast, fingers trembling as you crossed the length of your room and climbed onto your bed.
you curled in on yourself, knees drawn up, dress riding high on your thighs without you even realising. the fabric bunched at your waist, exposing the simple but sweet cotton underneath - innocent, unguarded.
downstairs, jungkook endured.
he couldn’t stand the men around him, your father making him feel sick to his very stomach. a pathetic man, one he had only humoured when he had actually looked into his marriage proposal. he wanted to reject, scoffing at the idea of marrying into a family like this, only to look into you and finding the sweetest thing he had ever laid his eyes upon.
big eyes and soft hair, your lips were the first thing he noticed. always so bitten, plump - he wanted to ruin them with his own immediately. he dreamt of you for weeks before proceeding with your father’s proposition, and hallucinated you for the months leading up to today. he wanted to introduce himself sooner, he needed to - but he lived across the country, and he was an insanely busy man.
being here. touching you. smelling you. god, it was ruining him.
and so, he pushed his chair back, catching the attention of everyone immediately.
“excuse me.” his tone firm. polite. “i’d like to speak to my bride. alone.”
the response was immediate - hurried explanations, men too eager to please him in hopes he would remember their loyalty. “upstairs, first room!”
jungkook didn’t hesitate. he turned around, and ascended the staircase with ease, a controlled speed that made each step creak. he reached your door, pale and large, and pushed it open without bothering to knock, dark eyes noticing the warm lighting that illuminated your space.
the click of it behind him startled you, as it caused a sense of finality, causing you to look up with a soft gasp that had his shoulders rolling.
he filled the room.
his gaze dropped down to you - curled on your bed, cheeks pink, lashes fluttering, dress hiked up just enough to reveal the sweet bow on your panties. there was something dark across his face, his jaw tightened whilst his eyes traced you slowly. possessively.
he stepped closer to you.
you shrank back instinctively, fingers curling into the sheets, heart racing as he looked over you. too close, too solid, too real. he smelled like smoke and leather, something sharp to his expression that secretly did everything other than scaring you. it was intoxicating.
his hand reached out. not gentle.
firm as it closed around your thigh, thumb pressing into soft skin as he pulled you toward him without effort. your breath stuttered, body yielding automatically as he sat and drew you onto his lap, positioning you like you belonged there.
he looked towards the other side of your bed, hand reaching out to grab one of the cute plushies that were lined delicately in a row. his too large hand took your sweet, pink bunny and placed it in your arms, your back pressed against his chest as his arms engulfed you entirely.
your legs were spread, indecently, your dress hiked up to your upper thigh giving him full view of the small wet patch sat in the centre of your panties. the cute bow on top felt like a gift to him, one he knew he’d roll over thinking about for years to come. his own legs and thighs accommodated your weight as though you were no more than a feather, as though this was natural, primal even.
you couldn’t breathe. your brain was whirling at a thousand miles per hour as you felt his fingers trace directly over the gentle cotton, soaked exactly where you wanted to be touched, but knew you shouldn’t. he wasn’t your husband yet. this wasn’t allowed. this went against every teaching, every harsh threat your parents had taught you in the name of purity. he wasn’t supposed to touch you until you had a ring on your finger and yet here he was, fingers beginning to rub gently against your clit without so much as introducing himself to you.
slow. idle. possessive. he rubbed like a man who had all of the time in the world, as though the conversation downstairs hadn’t quietened down in hopes of hearing whatever you were both talking about upstairs. jungkook wasn’t much for words. he had a mere purpose.
your hips lifted without even realising, and you froze for a moment once you noticed what you were doing. you couldn’t stop yourself from doing it again, smaller this time, tentative. as though you were testing the waters to see if you were allowed.
his chest rose behind you. a quiet, pleased sound left him, one that had your eyelashes fluttering for a moment, unaware how deeply he was staring at you.
you buried your face into your sweet bunny, fingers curling into its ears as the pressure on your clit grew deeper and deeper, the pads of his fingers rough, friction from both his touch and the cotton of your panties only adding to the feeling growing in your stomach. no one had ever touched you like this, never even looked at you.
his other hand slid slower, fingers continuing to tease your upper thighs until he found himself pushing the soaked material to a side, grunting lightly at the sight of you. his wife’s pussy. made to be ruined by him.
your chest was heaving now, quiet puffs of air leaving your body as you clung to one of his arms, cheeks redder than they’d ever felt. he leaned down; nuzzling his nose into your cheek as he rubbed your entrance, teasing the tip of his fingers as though this was more pleasurable for him than for you.
“that’s it.” your eyes shut at the sound of his voice, finally. so deep. his finger pushed inside of you just as the thrill of his tone hit your spine, causing you to whimper quietly, already feeling fuller than anything you’d ever attempted. “feel that?”
you peered up, finally meeting his gaze, a glazed over shift in your eyes as your lips parted. puffs of air were leaving you, whilst you nuzzled into your teddy, his finger thrusting in and out and thumb circling your clit. he nudged your nose against his, sickeningly sweet, as though he wasn’t fucking you with the same hands that had killed others.
it was then, he added another finger, causing you to let out a louder whine, to which he grunted, feeling his own cock poke at you from underneath, hardening from the way you clenched so tightly around his digits. he watched your eyes close, head lolling against his shoulder whilst you buried your face into your bunny, a sight cuter than words. his innocent slut.
his fingers were mean, and the way he nudged your nose was even meaner, causing you to reopen your eyes, forcing you to stare at him.
“do you touch yourself?” he whispered down at you, voice so heavy you could feel it in your stomach.
the words sank into you like a bruise, his fingers halting; though they remained deep inside of you. you whined a little, hips lifting, the feeling of fullness aching you from the inside in. you tried to look away, but he followed your gaze, almost meanly. you were forced to look at him as he stared at you, waiting for your answer.
you couldn’t run away. couldn’t hide. and so you nodded, so faintly, only once, blinking in slight fear at his reaction. you weren’t supposed to, you knew that, had it drilled in your head that you were supposed to stay pure, even from your own thoughts and yet the only thing that was bearable in your life was the fingers that would find their way over your clit every night. you weren’t even allowed to have him touch you right now, and yet here you were, moaning up at a man you had feared up until now.
“yes?” he repeated, an almost hiss that had you cowering slightly, thighs beginning to close.
your face burned. your lashes fluttering away whilst you nodded, nibbling at your bottom lip. “i-i know..i’m not supposed to..i’m sorr-”
you were cut off immediately by a drop of his face, his nose tilting yours before he pressed his lips against yours.
his lips were moving against yours hungrily, and you struggled to keep up. this was your first kiss, and he could feel it, could taste it in the way you were gasping, your tongue lapping against his in a bid to reciprocate his skill. he could feel his brain twisting painfully at the thought of you, surrounded by the sweetness of your room, hand over your mouth, toying with yourself and bringing yourself to heights with closed eyes. fuck. it killed him.
you pulled away, struggling to breathe, eyebrows furrowed whilst looking at him, completely taken aback by his response. he was panting too, and he looked like he was in pain, only for him to drop down and kiss you once more, whilst resuming his merciless attack on you.
his two fingers were touching that spot inside of you, something you’d never been able to reach with your much smaller fingers and it was driving you insane, moaning into his mouth, hands still clutching your bunny as though your life depended on it.
“fuck.” he whispered once he pulled away, forehead pressing against yours. “want you to keep touching this pussy for me, hm? every day, every night. want you to remember how deep my fingers feel inside of you, how i’m stretching you out, how good it feels. and when i have you, and you’re all dressed in white, i’ll make you feel even better on my cock, you hear me?”
your eyes were wide as you stared up at him, his pace too rough for your poor virgin pussy, but a warped part of you yearned for more as your toes curled, panting, crumbling, whimpering. with a final whine, your body arched into his as your orgasm ripped through you at the mere thought of being split open on his cock, feeling something impossibly bigger deep inside your stomach, knowing in only a few days that very concept would become a reality.
jungkook fucked you through it, fingers not letting up until you began to shake, and only then did he slowly pull out, once you were whimpering into your bunny.
the sudden loss had you letting out a small noise of despair, one that had him hissing slowly as he watched your much smaller hands cup his own. he tilted his head towards you, his free hand grabbing your chin, so you could watch as he inserted his fingers into his own mouth.
jungkook let out a small moan himself, eyes shutting tightly at the taste of what was soon to be his, and for once, the man held himself back from what he wanted most. you.
you were panting as he straightened his back, your big eyes peering up at him, too shy given the fact he had just kissed you, and made you cum on his fingers before ever even conversing with you properly. your legs were like jello as he stood up, picking you up with him, suddenly up in the air which had your arms tightening around his neck, your bunny falling to the ground.
he pressed another sweet kiss to your lips, to which you responded, trying to keep up once more, despite the fact this one was much slower, much quieter, without the charged energy despite the fat, hard bulge visible in his trousers. he laid you on your bed properly, your hair sprawled around you and your now crinkled dress still pushed up.
“i’ll see you soon, baby. just a few more days, then you’ll be my bride.”
with a single kiss to your head, you watched your soon to be husband walk out of your room, your bunny in hand, and your panties in the other.
—
the morning of your wedding does not begin with congratulations.
it began with silence.
the servants moved carefully around you as you slept in a home that did not belong to you. you had travelled to jungkook’s city, the journey taking hours and now you were in a hotel room where the bed, although lavish, felt empty. cold. you weren’t surrounded by the familiarity of your typical warmth, and it did nothing to lessen your nerves.
no one around you met your eye. no one wished you well. they dressed you due to duty, not because they wanted to.
your mother was the last to enter.
her eyes swept over you critically, lips tugged into her typical usual frown as she sharply assessed you, as though you weren’t her daughter, but a mere investment finally ready to be unveiled. her fingers reached out without warning, pinching the material at your waist harshly.
“this is too loose.” she said coolly. “tighten it.”
the seamstress looked up from her crouched position, hesitating with furrowed brows. any tighter and it would hurt you.
your mother noticed her uncertainty, gaze snapping to her. “did i ask you to think?”
the woman murmured a rushed apology before obeying, pulling until the corset began to bite at your ribs. your breath caught, shallow and painful, but you refused to complain. you were taught long ago that discomfort was hardly something worth acknowledging.
she stepped back once you were fully adorned in white, unable to properly breathe, arms folded.
“you look acceptable.” she says at last. no mentions of your beauty or radiance, merely acceptable. “remember your place today.”
you nodded. you always nodded.
your father arrived then, already dressed, already impatient with how long it was taking to doll you up to perfection. he didn’t bother greeting you, his attention fixated on his expensive cufflinks as he adjusted them in the mirror.
“do not embarrass us.” he said flatly. “no crying. do not hesitate. don’t forget that this union is the only reason you were kept.”
the words landed with practised precision, hitting you right where it hurt most.
you lowered your gaze with another nod, fingers curling into the material of your dress.
he finally looked at you then. not in pride, or awe, but with warning.
“you’re fortunate.” he continued. “men like him do not take damaged things lightly. if you fail, there will be no coming back.”
as if you ever could.
your mother stepped forward to adjust your veil over your face, sheer lace barely hiding your features as it draped over your body sweetly. you looked like a vision, more beautiful than anyone could ever anticipate and how intrigued they were to see jungkook’s bride, the sole woman that had him ready to marry.
“smile,” she murmured under her breath. “you’re about to become very expensive property.”
property.
the word echoed around in your head, even as you stood in front of the double doors you were about to walk through, your father gripping your arm much too harshly to be deemed normal, whilst your bouquet sat comfortably in your free hand.
you could hear him before you could see him. not his voice, but the mere reaction to him.
the murmur inside the venue dulled, like sound being swallowed whole. chairs shifted, men straightening instinctively, shoulders squaring, heads turning towards the alter not in curiosity, but recognition. fear. respect.
your fathers grip tightened on your arm. too tight.
a warning disguised as support.
the doors ahead of you loomed, tall and carved, polished to a shine that reflected a distorted version of yourself - white and trembling, veiled and small. your heart beat so loudly you were sure it could be heard over the music in the room, each thud crawling up your throat and settling behind your eyes in a gentle sting.
the doors opened.
light flooded in, blinding you for a moment, but all you could see, all you could focus and notice was him.
jeon jungkook stood at the altar like owned the very ground beneath it.
black suit, cut sharp and severe, tailored to perfection. fabric clung to his body in a way that looked like it had been built for violence. his shoulders sat so broad, so wide, so tall - he was everything, with his hands loosely folded in front of him. he commended the very audience, and they watched as you began ascending in obvious awe.
the moment he saw you, something changed. something that sat far enough from subtlety that it caught your attention immediately.
his gaze locked onto yours with frightening immediacy, dark and unblinking, stripping the room of everyone else. you remembered the last time you saw him as a pang of pure want hit you deep in your stomach, rendering you breathless for a moment as you walked towards him in practised perfection, all whilst he did the same, his jaw tightening visibly.
his eyes were dragging up and down slowly. he was the epitome of hunger.
your steps almost faltered for a moment, only to have your father dig his fingers deep into your arm, an action that was caught by your betrothed almost immediately.
each step felt unreal, like moving through water. your dress flowed around you, white silk and lace trailing behind whilst the fabric whispered against the floor like it was telling secrets. the veil softened the world but it did nothing, nothing at all, to dull him.
it made him sharper.
he watched you like a predator watched something special precious. your bouquet trembled faintly in your grasp.
your parents had done their job well - your chin was lifted enough, shoulders relaxed but not loose, expression calm, serene, perfect.
a bride carved by cruelty - seen by her groom.
you reached the alter, your father releasing you almost too abruptly and it caught the eyes of those around you as your cheeks flamed in shame. jungkook stepped forward almost immediately, gaze severe as he pointed it towards your family whilst taking a hold of your hand, too soft to be anything deemed to be from him.
his thumb was over your pulse as you guided you to the middle of the alter, positioning you beside him, too large back covering you slightly from the piercing eyes of the people around you. it was his first act of protection, and immediately, you melted in his touch, seeing it. recognising it for what it was.
you were no longer a product on display. jungkook was openly claiming you.
it was the only thing churning in your brain as the officiant spoke, going through ancient vows that were imperative to your mob culture, carved through loyalty and expectation. your eyes were flickering to his broad chest, his jaw, his face, your interlocked hands. you were nervous, it was clear, but you weren’t afraid - something you could have never expected.
you spoke after he did, doing everything exactly as you were supposed to, and you knew the important people in the room were pleased with the sight of you. you truly were worthy of the man beside you.
and soon enough, you were turned to fully face him as your hands interlocked properly. for a moment, you let out a soft breath. he reached for your veil, lifting it, his eyes searching your face fully for the first time that day.
you looked up at him. wide eyed, flushed, obedient. his own breath caught, a rarity for him.
his hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up as if it were the most natural thing in the world, before pressing his lips to your own. the kiss was hardly gentle, and not soft at all - it was an open claim for everyone there to see clearly. the control, the deliberate harshness was a message that delivered clearly.
you were his. under his protection. his wife.
the room erupted.
applause and cheers - approval was chanted loudly as it echoed around the hall, everyone stood on their feet to display their loyalty to jungkook, and show respect to you as you were now an extension of him. you were no longer y/n y/ln. you were now a jeon.
you barely registered it, too busy revelling in the way his hand pulled up your own to his lips once he had pulled away, turning to face the crowd alongside you. he dipped his head, whispering something in your ear only for you to hear it.
“my wife now.”
later, your reception boomed with noise, ranging from glasses clinking to loud cheers. a true mafia wedding; with some of the richest, powerful men in the entire world celebrating the wedding of the century. you sat beside jungkook, having taken your seat only a few seconds before whilst he leaned back, his gun openly on the table, eyes dark, lips parted as he looked around.
your hands were shuffled in your lap, as you watched with a glass filled with champagne that you left untouched. you were told it wasn’t womanly to drink on your wedding, despite knowing it would ease the heaviness in your stomach, and so you stayed away. it was what you did best.
jungkook’s hand sat heavy on your thigh, claiming, whilst he openly watched everyone celebrate you both, though he remained quiet. not laughing, stoic even, and your heart banged. did he have regrets? he was the most powerfully man in the room and yet even he was bound by honour; you knew he couldn’t divorce you so soon, but you really didn’t have anywhere to go if he decided he didn’t want you. maybe your dress wasn’t to his liking, or the incident in your room a few days ago had painted a different picture in his head of you?
“deep in thought on your wedding day.” he murmured quietly, suddenly leaning into your space, causing your doe eyes to widen further as you peered up at him. “s-sorry.”
he simply observed you, holding your gaze. “what are you thinking about?”
you nibbled on your lip immediately. you couldn’t lie to him, but there was no way you could tell him all of your insecurities, on your wedding day no doubt. it would send a man like him running. “my dress is tight.” you quietly lied, though it tasted poor on your tongue.
he leaned back slightly, jaw tightening as his eyes wandered over you. “didn’t take you for someone who lied, y/n.”
your gaze snapped back to him as you opened your mouth, and shut it immediately, feeling uncomfortable suddenly. he was displeased with you..you had already messed it up, and you were only an hour into your marriage.
little to your knowledge, jungkook could read you like an open book. you were pristine, polished to perfection, but he could see cracks. could see the way your fingers clutched your dress, mere millimetres away from his own hand, itching to be comforted, desperate for the gnawing anxiety to go away. he had an odd sort of attachment for you, something he had never seen coming and yet one sight of you in your bed had changed him for life.
he’d never ever let you fucking feel small again.
he noticed the gulp in your throat, and slowly lifted his hand from your thigh until they took a hold of one of your hands, squeezing it softly. “i’m playing with you, y/n.” he quietly murmured. “no one is watching us. you can relax.”
you met his eyes, and for a moment, you let him see. let him see the turmoil of emotion behind your eyes, the way you nibbled on your lip and the way your fingers shyly curled around his own as though it was both foreign and uncertain. were you allowed to? he was your husband after all.
“is this okay?” you whispered up at him so sweetly, voice so quiet he had to strain to hear you.
big, mafia boss jungkook sat there staring at you, heart beating so wildly in his chest it took everything in him not to pounce on you then and there.
“more than okay.” he assured for a moment, causing you to give him a shy smile, still unsure, but almost hopeful. your fingers curled even further into his, interlocking and cupping his hand whilst your flushed cheeks only turned more red.
your smile had undone him, but he felt unsettled at the prospect of you having to ask, especially considering his fingers had been inside you so deeply a mere 72 hours ago. a fucked up part of him liked it, liked the fear and curiosity mixture you exuded, it made him harder than anything he could conjure up. you were the sweet lamb locked up in a cage with the big bad wolf.
around you, men were laughing too loudly, glasses clinking as some voices carried throughout the reception. you couldn’t help but flinch, making eye contact with a few but hastily looking away, feeling uncomfortable as you immediately squeezed jungkook’s hands out of your mere subconscious.
he reacted immediately, eyes landing on the same man that dared to look at his wife, watching the way they recoiled, looking away immediately. he grabbed your chair suddenly, and dragged, making you yelp quietly as you grabbed onto him whilst you were manhandled closer to him. one arm slid over the back of your seat, and the other sat back in your hands, firmer this time.
“let them look.” his voice was rough. as though the thought boiled his blood. “they’ll do it anyway. but they won’t get a fucking taste of you.”
your eyes hooded at the implication of what he was saying, remembering the orgasm he had given you. how could you forget? you had spent the last 3 days trying to replicate it to no avail, spending hours with your own fingers inside you only to be left a sloppy mess.
your heart pounded. “..and you do?”
something flickered in his eyes with a slight twist at the end of his mouth. he met your gaze.
“i’ve been watching you for a long time now, y/n.” his voice was too calm for the admission he had given you. “had my eye on you, i’m a patient man when i need to be. need you to understand this very clearly when i tell you i chose you because you’re mine. you were supposed to be mine, and you are fucking mine.” his tone grew rougher with each word, his thumb drawing deceptive circles into your hand. “understand?”
your chest was heaving, eyes beaming up at him as your brain began to melt. to know someone wanted you this much, to the point of watching you, observing, stalking. it was so fucked up, even you could admit that, but it didn’t lessen how badly you could feel the warmth in your body grow at the mere admission. you nodded along to his words, panting lightly as your body turned to him.
“you want me?” your eyebrows were furrowed, words foreign in your mouth, as though it was something you had never dared to ask anyone in your life for you already knew the answer. in this case, you couldn’t believe it.
he grabbed your hand firmer, grunting lightly. “you belong to me.” he reiterated, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips, pressing sinful kisses to your knuckles.
hours passed as you sat there, and you both conversed lightly, though it was minimal as men came up to him, often talking business whilst you ate silently, watching people, avoiding the gaze of your parents who were quietly seething at the way you were taking sips of your drink and nibbling on food, everything they told you not to do. but you weren’t theirs anymore, were you?
jungkook stayed seated the way he always did - spine straight, shoulders squared, presence immovable. his hand remained wrapped around yours, steady, grounding, as though he’d decided this was where it belonged and saw no reason to move it.
you were deep in thought, and the intrigue in his chest was beginning to muddle his brain. he was a man that prided himself on how composed he was and yet you were ruining him completely, in front of multiple men that would take the chance to take him down if they could. they couldn’t, of course.
“what’s on your mind?”
your head tilted, blinking. “hm?”
his eyes flickered to yours, your faces much too close. his gaze was dark and unreadable. “it’s just us.”
just us, your brain chanted.
you hesitated, visibly. his gaze was direct, almost intrusive, and it had you opening your mouth before you could even think.
“you’re a..bad man.” you whispered.
the words landed between you.
you had been watching him converse and interact for the past few hours and it was settling deep inside your stomach, scaring you, intriguing you, making you curious. it was everything you’d been forced to look away from, hearing it from the confinements of your room as your father bellowed downstairs. women weren’t allowed to be privy to it in your life, and yet jungkook was here, newly married, sharing it with his bride.
jungkook didn’t react the way you expected - didn’t stiffen, bristle. he merely leaned back into his seat, still touching you.
he exhaled as he tilted his head at you. “yes. i am.”
your lashes fluttered. you hadn’t expected him to agree so easily.
he turned further into you, your knees touching. “does that scare you?”
you shook your head before you could overthink it. a tiny, almost imperceptible movement but he caught it. always did.
“no..” you admitted softly
his gaze sharpened. not unkind, curious. amused even. “why not?”
your fingers tightened in his, betraying your feelings. “i don’t know..” you whispered, looking down at your hands “i just..feel like-“ your words were trailing, embarrassed suddenly by your own boldness.
“say it.” he commanded.
you took a breath, still look in downwards. “feel like..you wouldn’t..be bad to me.”
something dark and satisfied flickered behind his eyes, his chest inflating slightly. he leaned in, voice dropping even lower. “do you like that i’m fucked up?”
your breath caught, heat fluttering up to your cheeks so fast it made you dizzy. you didn’t answer - couldn’t bring yourself to. the way your fingers tightened into his grip said enough.
jungkook watched you for a long time before speaking.
“i’m not a good man. i kill, i’ve got blood on my hands and i’m not going to stop. this is how this works, and you won’t get a say in that.” he watched the way you nodded, though he couldn’t help but notice the way your fingers were tracing his palm, as though his words had a completely different effect than he anticipated. “but i’ll come to you every night. that’s my promise to you, alright? i come home clean.”
“promise?” you surprised yourself with your boldness, despite your shyness.
he nodded in response, grunting lightly at the way you seemed so flushed.
“promise.”
—
your wedding had come to a close, and you were finally sat in the backseat of your private valeted car, alongside your now husband, hands touching. your heart was beating out of your chest, a new norm it seemed, as jungkook’s eyes ran up and down you like a man in heat.
a twisted part of your brain couldn’t wait. you felt excited, anticipated what he would do to you, how he’d do it, as though you weren’t about to be locked into a room with a big, bad, wolf - an apex predator known for little mercy. you were his wife, though, and one thing he had made clear in the little time you had spent in his presence was how much he enjoyed the concept.
and so, his hand sat on your thigh, cupping it through your heavy dress, veil still attached to your head as you shyly played with his fingers, the perfect vision of a coy bride. he had been hard all night, and frankly, for the past few days. seeing you today, a physical and external claim to the world that you belonged to him and him alone, god. it ruined him.
the car pulled up to a large home, larger than anything you’d ever seen and you too had come from wealth. you knew jungkook was in a different ballpark entirely, but the small gasp that left you as you looked out of the window pleased him greatly. he felt smug knowing he could lavish you.
“this is where you live?” you asked him in a quiet, awed tone, facing him with large eyes.
he watched you instead of the view he had grown too accustomed to, taking in the way you were in shock at your surroundings. he liked the contained excitement emitting from you, he couldn’t wait to see it further.
“for now.” he merely replied.
your brows knitted. “for now?” you repeated.
his thumb pressed into your thigh momentarily, slow and deliberate. “you’ll decide whether it feels like home.”
your heart kicked harder at his choice of words, a shy smile slowly forming on your face as you both shared eye contact for a second or two. for the first time in the short period you’d met him, the side of his mouth lifted slightly, matching you in your amusement.
soon, he was leading you inside, hand folded into your own as he lead you through room to room, pleasure gripping his chest at the sight of you so giddy, in awe of each and every thing that belonged to him.
jungkook was hardly someone who had experienced much outside of his work, and though he had an extravagant house, he had no time to spend in it. he’d come home to empty rooms, and eat dinner quietly after his housemaids had left, with only his security outside heard. it was lonely. silent. a curse well fitted to a man of his immoral standing.
but seeing you, still in your wedding dress, squealing over the size of the bath, or gasping loudly at the range of kitchen appliances he had truly never used a day in his life - it brought him a sense of intrigue, comfort. like you were the one thing that had been missing all along.
“i’ve never been to a place like this before.” you admitted, still shy at the prospect of being so honest to him despite knowing you weren’t supposed to be so open to him. your mother would be screaming if she knew.
“i know.” his gaze softened a little, feeling the way you were struggling to word it to him. “and..we really get to live here?” you asked once more, eyes too doe-like to be anything but innocent, causing him to internally hiss.
he was leading you upstairs as you spoke, dark eyes capturing you over his shoulder. “everything here belongs to you. this is yours now.”
you wish you weren’t so giddy, but the prospect of it all was just so exciting. despite your naivety, and the real fear that you truly didn’t know your husband whatsoever - he could be a cruel husband to you and you’d have to endure it in the name of your community but..deep down, you knew that wouldn’t be the case. he held you differently, touched you, looked at you.
“this is our room.” he turned to you as he opened the double set of doors to reveal your new living space.
you followed a step behind him, the sound of your high heels almost too loud on the delicate floor, and you could feel his eyes watching over ever inch of you. it exhilarated you. made you feel things you knew you weren’t supposed to.
your new bedroom was anything but warm. black sheets, dark walls - everything was cleaned to perfection. the bedding had been steamed, prepared delicately for the both of you, whilst the room itself had been stripped of anything to give it any sense of personality. it was a wild juxtaposition to your room, where you had creams, pinks, trinkets and books.
the only thing that had you letting out a soft gasp, was the sight of your sweet bunny, sat perfectly against one of the pillows.
you immediately began walking over to it, almost excited to see a taste of the only home you’d ever known well within reach, just as he closed the doors behind him. a sense of finality. for the first time, it was just you and jungkook and that was a scary thought - being in a room with a bad man who had no qualms for human life was a terrifying thought, but to be wanted so primarily by him? that was electrifying.
he loosened his tie as he watched you sit cutely on the side of the bed, holding the plush you. he tugged it free and pulled it off, before moving to his cuff links. every movement was deliberate, intentional, and by the time you were looking up at him, he too looked down at you with a hooded expression.
“come here.” he commanded.
you did exactly that, without even thinking, only to be turned around. your back was gently brushing against his chest as he breathed in your scent, watching the way your chest rose and fell, as though he was about to break you in half. it was his very intention.
rough hands grabbed your veil, lifting it out of your hair, before grabbing the ribbon of your corset in the back. he was a patient man for most things, but for you? he grabbed the pocket knife he kept in the console table beside him, cutting through each strand with a harshness that had you bristling, your dress becoming loose almost immediately.
he watched as it began to slide off of your body, leaving you in no more than the pretty white set you adorned solely for him. you were nibbling on your lip, still extremely nervous though the wet patch growing in between your legs, soiling your panties, was a big enough indicator of what you really wanted.
he turned you around once more, openly checking you out. from the way your tits had been pushed up by your bra, or the tiny panties he knew he’d keep for himself the second you took them off. he already had plans of taking them with him to work so he could fuck his fist to the memory of tonight, and it was doing nothing to calm the raging boner that was poking against his slacks.
“i don’t plan on being gentle with you.” he said.
your eyes flick to his, watching the way he took your own hands and lifted them so they were touching his chest, giving you agency to touch him, wanting you to feel comfortable in doing so.
his own hands slid over to your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer, so you were looking up at him with a bent head whilst he bent down to look at you, both equally as intrigued. a dangerous mix.
“i can’t give you softness. if that’s what you want, you need to tell me now.” his voice was quiet.
your throat tightened, fingers digging into his chest just to feel his skin. “that’s okay.”
he stilled.
silence. then - a breath, as though he was recalibrating, figuring you out.
“yeah?” his murmurs were soft. “you sure about that?”
you nodded, shy, small. certain. “I don’t think i’d like you gentle.”
to that, jungkook’s lips lifted slightly, in a tense snarl as suddenly, he pushed you back until you were dropping onto your bed, a small noise of surprise leaving you. your body bounced, whilst he climbed on top of you, pinning your hands above his head and grunting.
before you could even respond, his lips met yours, drowning out any noises or surprise whilst he pressed his body against yours so you could feel the hardness of his body. your fingers curled against his one hand, his strength barely on display and yet it had you whimpering at the feel of him so easily dominating you without even trying. the sight had your thighs visibly pressing together.
the kiss was harsh. mean, even, and it resembled that of the one in your bedroom only a few nights ago. he had made you cum without even introducing himself to you, letting your first impression of him being cruel fingers inside of you, curling and making sure your poor pussy would remember every inch as though it was the mere beginning for what was to come. now feeling his hard boner against his slacks, you knew that sentiment to be true.
his tongue was exploring your mouth, and despite being inexperienced, you were trying your hardest to keep up. you felt good, so much better than what you anticipated and he had barely started. everyone around you had been telling you how cruel the wedding night was - always the man fucking his new bride with no care to her pleasure, and yet here jungkook was, equally as cruel and yet basking in the pretty moans you were letting out.
once he pulled away, a string of saliva separated the two of you, the sight making you shudder as you looked up at him. he was on top of you, removing his suit jacket, unbuttoning his shirt whilst you watched, shivering from anticipation.
scars littered all over his chest, arms and shoulders. some deep, others faint, as though time had healed them into obscurity whilst thick tattoos also covered the majority of his right arm. you’d seen glimpses of them on his hand but you had no idea how high they went, spanning across half of his chest and shoulder. he watched you gulp, fingers faintly going over a particular scar on his stomach with furrowed eyebrows.
despite being deeply immoral, mobs had a clear code of conduct. that meant the women and children of these crime families weren’t used as pawns, nor were they made privy to the heinous things their husbands, brothers and sons would do in the name of work. you had been oblivious to the true nature of it all of your life, despite getting abused openly by your parents. the sight of jungkook in front of you scared you more than anything else you’d been subject to - the scars you were openly looking at were no doubt a result of punishments, or being caught.
you knew he was powerful, the only name that mattered, and yet seeing it had your eyes widening.
he was now all yours.
one hand shot down to grab your bra, removing it off of you in expert skill as though he had practised this very motion in his mind over and over, leaving you half exposed.
soon, your positions had changed, with him sat, back to the frame of the bed with you laid in his arms, panties slid to the side, and his fingers pumping deep inside of you. this was a mirror to what you had experienced when he had forced himself into your presence in the safety of your room, forever tainting the last bit of innocence you had left.
“did you do what i asked you to do?” he hissed down at you, as he fucked you with his two fingers, watching the way your pussy sucked them in hungrily, despite them feeling too much for you in that moment.
his other hand was around your neck, tightening just slightly, whilst two of his fingers pushed into your mouth, forcing you to suck, rendering you utterly helpless.
you nodded, through a small whine and sniffle, thighs shaking as he grunted in approval. “yeah..” you sucked harder, the feel of him heavy on your tongue whilst taking your breath away almost too much for you to handle.
the thought of you in your bed, fingering yourself with your too small hands, moaning quietly in hopes of not being caught simply because your soon to be husband had asked you to was fuel for him to pump harder. knowing you were constantly wet and thinking of him, pushing your fingers in even when it felt like too much - fuck. you would be the death of him.
“such a good girl, aren’t you? did it feel good?” he was grunting against you, now only in his boxers that were straining harshly against his cock, but he paid it no mind. he wanted to ruin you first.
you nodded, shy, ashamed. it went against everything you’d ever been taught.
“b-but..didn’t..couldn’t cum..” you managed to choke out, big teary eyes staring up at him, whilst he abused your poor virgin pussy, desperate to be stretched even further. “fuck, needed me didn’t you?” your admission had his eyes closing, a rare sight of jungkook being made undone. “you liked being fingered by me, y/n?”
you nodded, lip beginning to quiver at his choice of words. so dirty. so fucked.
“filthy fucking girl.” he hissed once more, though he was pleased beyond words. “you were made to be ruined, weren’t you? cumming like that on my fingers. i’m a stranger to you, never even met me and you’re here leaking on me, begging me to break you.”
your chest heaved, as you felt your orgasm impending. you could feel it growing, and it felt like an ache you had tried to get rid of for days, finally ready to disappear. you sucked on his fingers whilst his others tightened around your neck further, practically cutting off your breathing bar a few puffs, watching the way your back arched deeper into him. you looked so sweet, so gentle. he fucking loved it.
it was when he dipped his head down, nose brushing against yours as though you weren’t a slobbery mess, both inbetween your legs and around his fingers, eyes dark. “you wanna be my good girl? want me to be pleased with you, baby?”
you nodded quickly, yearning for his approval, desperate for it. you’d do anything to have it, and he knew it - had his cock ready to burst.
his fingers quickened, before he released his fingers from your mouth, instead properly tightening around your neck. “then cum for me.”
and so you did.
your vision went white as you struggled to breathe, your orgasm exploding inside of your body, back arching off of the bed. his fingers didn’t slow down, keeping up the brutal pace whilst your body shook, unable to take a breath, forcing your lungs to work overtime to compute the rippling orgasm taking away your air.
he pulled away from your neck, watching you collapse back into his chest with broken breaths, desperate whines filling the room once his fingers left your pussy, only for him to suck on them immediately, groaning quietly over how good you tasted.
your eyes were closed, as he manhandled you, pushing you further up the bed. he stood, taking off his boxers, and the slap of his hard cock hitting your stomach was what echoed alongside your pants, causing you to look up immediately.
the first thing you did was whine at the mere sight. thick, long and fat. his tip looked angry, a deep shade of pink, with dribbling precum smearing all over his shaft as jungkook pumped it over you, causing your eyes to flutter. you struggled taking your own fingers, but knowing you were about to be practically impaled by him had you almost scrambling away.
“come here.” his voice was rough as you shakily turned to him, legs already jelly as you sat on them.
he dropped his cock onto your face, slapping your cheeks, your lips, nose. the juxtaposition of your sweet, innocent face whilst he smeared his precum all over your lips was delicious, and he wanted to forever remember you like this - his pretty whore. his wife.
the weight of his cock had your brain fizzling out, unable to compute anything in that moment other than the feel of him.
“want you like this every day.” he whispered suddenly, pulling your hair closer to his cock, making you open your mouth in surprise. he took that as his chance to insert the tip, letting it sit heavy in your mouth. “on your knees, mouth open. letting me use you. you’ll be good for me, won’t you?”
“mhm.” you hummed immediately, the thought causing another wave of wetness to appear between your legs. “wan’that.”
he hummed back, pleased with your answer. he wanted to fuck your throat, make you memorise the exact length of him down until you couldn’t breathe, until you were tapping his legs in desperation, crying all sloppy and wet. he’d save it for another time, almost hopeful that you’d misbehave soon so he’d get a chance to ruin you further. for now? he had every intention of fucking you.
“ass in the air.” he grunted down at you, before pressing a kiss to your lips, grounding you. “let me see your pussy.”
and so you did exactly what your husband asked of you. you sniffled a little, almost in anticipation as you leaned down, arching your back so your face was gently pressed against his pillow, revealing your already puffy core. it was begging for him, desperate to be touched, ruined, broken - whatever he had planned for you, anything he’d give you.
jungkook let out an uncharacteristic groan at the sight, huffing a little at the sight of you so ruined, before he positioned himself nicely. he rubbed his tip over your slick folds, watching the way you shuddered at the size of him, nervously nibbling on your lip.
he leaned over you then, causing you to still in confusion, only for him to shove something in your hands.
your pink bunny.
“hold it.” he wasn’t asking you, but rather making you.
he wanted you holding on to your last bit of innocence as he fucked it out of you. a cruel, cruel man indeed.
you grabbed it, just like he asked, nuzzling your face into it for comfort as he lined himself up to your hole, and began pushing in.
your eyes closed, loud gasps leaving you at the feel of being stretched. one inch, two inch, three, four. it felt like it was going on forever until he had his entire cock inside of you, causing you to shake, whimper, and scratch at the sheets. he was too big, way too big for you to handle and yet here you were, stretched impossibly around a cock that had bullied its way in regardless.
he grunted loudly as he dropped down, his chest now against your back, cupping your body. your face was pressed against your sweet bunny, tears beginning to leak from your eyes whilst he remained still, forcing you to adjust whilst also catching your gaze from above.
“feel that?” he whispered, shaking himself. “gonna make sure you feel like this everyday. such a tight, perfect pussy.”
it felt like a threat, one that had your legs shaking, making them completely give out as you dropped down onto the bed, causing him to thrust inside you.
you let out a loud whimper, his eyes rolling back at the sound before thrusting again. and again. and again. you were being fucked so meanly, whilst he whispered utter filth into your ear, kissing your cheeks, your head, your back - he bit against your shoulder whilst his deep thrusts hit the most intimate parts of you.
the pain remained, but the pleasure was growing immensely with each and every thrust. it was cruel how good it felt, how fucked up your brain was beginning to feel at the thought of such an evil man being the one to take your virginity, and before you could even comprehend what your body was doing, you were matching his thrusts. you knew he was holding back, you just didn’t want him to.
“faster.” you begged him with watery eyes and a soft sniffle, cheek curling into your bunny so sweetly he wanted to marry you all over again.
he let out a moan at your words, giving you exactly what you wanted.
his thrusts felt like a punishment in itself, one that had you moaning out his name, over and over and over. the sound of skin hitting skin was loud, his arms caging you in tight, making you take each thrust much to your secret delight.
“s’good.” you slurred into your teddy, eyes shutting tight. “want it..”
“yeah?” he was biting hard on your neck, leaving purple marks anywhere he could reach. “such a perfect girl. taking my cock like you were born for it, huh? you like your pussy being broken in?”
“like it so much.” you tearily moaned back, salty beads beginning to leak down your face quicker than you’d anticipated, pleasure beginning to overcome any pain you had initially felt. “want it all the time.”
to that, he closed his eyes, breathing in the strawberry scent emitting from your hair, grunting loudly. “i’ll give you the fucking world, baby. anything you want, you hear me? swear, i’ll make you feel so good, never let you wake up without a pussy full of cum.”
your legs were shaking, orgasm already impending and he could feel it, could feel the way your pussy was tightening and clenching. he halted his thrusts, resulting in a loud, bratty whine from you as he pulled out, making him spank your ass hard.
he twisted you around, your teddy still in your arms before he pushed back in, so you were facing him in missionary. his head dropped to yours whilst your ass still stung, your arms wrapping around his neck almost immediately, craving him closer and closer and closer. you wanted him deport, wanted to feel him inside your very blood stream, overcome with a feeling of want.
“dreamt about you. used to go to bed at night hard thinking about all the ways i could make you cum.” he was growling in your ear. “knew i had to have you. didn’t fucking care if you didn’t want me back, you’re mine anyway, you understand me? you’re mine, y/n, and i’ll put a bullet in anyone’s head who thinks otherwise.”
your teary eyes looked up at him as you let out a small sob, his thrusts growing harder, faster, deeper. “promise?” you cried up at him, the feeling of being wanted running so deeply through your veins, healing the single part of you that made you cry each night.
it was all you’d ever wanted. you just wanted someone to look at you, choose you and be happy. you were deprived of it for so long, not knowing what it felt like to be the cause of someone’s need or want, only to have your husband hovering over you, cock deep inside your fucking stomach as he professed his primitive need for you.
“promise, sweet girl.” he assured, capturing your wobbly lips in another brief kiss before pressing his head to yours, looking down at your teddy. “good girl. keep holding your bunny, baby.”
his girl was such a good listener, as you nodded through your sobs, nuzzling your face so sweetly into it as though you weren’t being pounded into, your virginity stolen away by a man that had no intention of being gentle with you during your first time.
you could feel the familiar feeling in your stomach, causing your legs to wrap around jungkook’s waist, feet digging into his back, almost begging him to be harsher with you. you were just as fucked up as he was, begging for the pain since it made the pleasure so much better.
“you wanna cum, baby?” he condescendingly asked, voice mocking you as you nodded up at him anyway, letting out a loud sob. “yeah? want me to fill up your pussy too? make it nice and milky?”
“please please please..” you chanted, tits bouncing with each thrust much to his enjoyment.
before either of you could think, your second orgasm rushed through you harsher than your first, rendering you utterly speechless. whilst your vision had gone white with the first, this time, it had gone black - causing you to drop into an overwhelming sense of unconsciousness for a few seconds as it ripped through you entirely.
jungkook watched, the sight hotter than anything he’d ever seen before, causing his own balls to tighten, his orgasm impacting him immediately too.
“fuck, fuck, fuck..take it.” he was growling at you, pumping through his orgasm as he released his cum inside of you, fucking you both through your highs.
you felt even fuller than before, cum leaking out from either side of his cock as he plugged it all inside of you, causing you to shake desperately in his arms, whilst you cried still, much to his enjoyment.
by the time you were both coming down from your highs, your face was a blotchy mess, makeup completely ruined whilst his back, chest and shoulders were littered with new red marks that stung with each movement. he loved it. he slowly pulled out of you, watching the way his cum leaked out of you almost immediately, the sight intoxicating.
his fingers pushed it back in with haste, lifting your legs slightly to make sure it wouldn’t leak again, and the action had you whimpering. he wanted the cum to stick. wanted to get you round and plump, pregnant with his baby so he could keep you forever.
he knew he was a relatively cruel guy, but he sincerely had plans to be good to you. he pulled you into his arms immediately, holding you sweetly whilst kissing over your wet cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips, nuzzling your nose, stroking your hair. he whispered sweet nothings, telling you how proud he was, how good you were for him, each phrase causing you to whimper louder than the next.
his sweet wife. god, you were everything and more and you had no idea. he’d make sure you were to never see your family again, even if that meant wiping them out for what they had done to you - he had to work on removing the conditioning they had done to your brain, make sure you were happy. that you were safe, as free as you could be with a guy like him.
one look up at him, with your teary eyes and sniffling nose, as though he had the answers to each and every single thing in the world had him completely undone.
he’d give you everything and more.
—
the house felt too quiet. too still.
two months of marriage and the rhythm of life with him had settled into something closest to perfection. you were experiencing joy, happiness, love - to be loved and to provide it in ways you simply didn’t think you could ever see for yourself.
he came home each night at exactly 9pm, his strict punctuality something you had grown accustomed to. he’d leave a bouquet of flowers for you on the table, fresh and fragrant whilst he’d pick you up and kiss you senseless, feeling you melt in his arms. you’d eat together whilst you sat on his lap, chattering away about your sweet day that mainly consisted of tending to your garden and shopping with your security guards, always so excited to tell him about the new things you had bought him with his card.
you didn’t cook, didn’t clean - things you’d been trained in by your parents, a misogynistic reminder that you were worth nothing more than what you could offer your future husband and yet jungkook absolutely forbade it. he refused to have you spend your days doing something your house help could do instead.
instead, he had you spending your days in silk and satins, wandering large rooms that belonged to you now, sprawled on couches that were too big and decorating the luxurious house so it would feel like a home. every indulgence was a gift from him, a testament of his care for you, and though he was one who often kept his emotions to himself, even when they pertained to you, you could feel it deeper than any word he could express.
jungkook loved you.
it was in the way he moved, the way he’d catch you by the waist every time you walked past him, or the way he’d thrust into you to make you cum each morning. he had claimed you in body, soul and mind and you were happier than you’d ever been.
tonight was different.
the house felt silent. the clock had hit 3am no longer than 5 minutes ago, the glow from the tv being the only thing to illuminate your living room, whilst you anxiously bit down on your lip, chest beating and head swirling. you weren’t much of a drinker, but you had finished a glass of wine to calm your nerves only for them to heighten further once the clock ticked further.
he was late.
your stomach twisted again.
you knew that his line of work made him a target, all of the men in the profession were, but he was different. he was jeon jungkook, the most dangerous, the head apex - it terrified you to think he could potentially be somewhere bleeding out, shot, alone. you couldn’t bear the thought, a new wave of tears washing over you as you hid your mouth with your shaking hand.
you couldn’t get it out of your brain.
flashes of him in a pool of his own blood, gunshot wounds to the chest - your father had once detailed to some of his friends about a kill he had achieved in gruesome detail, unaware that you were just outside the room listening in. it had haunted you for months, and even now, years later, it sprang to life knowing what kind of cruelty existed in this world.
your padding feet had gone out to your personal security team, sweet men called seokjin and taehyung, desperate to know whether they’d heard anything, but they were just as clueless as you. they weren’t allowed to leave their posts until he arrived, and they had grown to care for you - you were so sweet, they liked protecting you.
it was taehyung who told you that they were on lockdown, that all of their phones had been asked to be turned off, that something was wrong and in case of trackers, they needed to be alert and safe. that made you cry into your hands as you retreated to your living room, holding a pillow to your chest.
that had been an hour and a half ago, your eyes shutting tightly at every wave of fear that rushed through you.
and then, suddenly..the sound of the lock.
your heart jumped into your throat.
the door burst open, hitting the wall with a loud thud that violently cracked the silence in the air, a heavy tension following through as jungkook walked into the room.
he didn’t enter like a husband coming home to comfort. he came in like a predator ripping back into his territory, wild eyes scanning, shoulders tense and body coiled like he was seconds away from snapping. his suit jacket was crooked and his once, pristine shirt that you had only bought him a mere week ago, showed large spots of darkness making your stomach drop.
blood. not a smear, not a little. enough. enough to know the night was violent.
the sight of him, his scent, the blood, iron, sweat - the danger. it all hit you at once.
your legs moved before your brain could compute what you were seeing, a loud and harsh sob raking through your body as you all but launched yourself into his arms, fingers digging deep around him, clutching him to your own smaller body.
the second he felt you, everything stopped.
his head jerked up, eyes dark and black, scanning, searching, computing what was happening in front of him as though you were a mere figment of his imagination and not a real person. the warmth on his body so sudden and confusing before he looked down and realised what was occurring.
he froze for a moment.
“why are you up?” his voice was low, dangerous, shaking through the room.
you couldn’t answer, your cries stealing your breath away as you clutched him tightly, your hands on his chest smearing with the blood that had soaked through his shirt, one that did not belong to him.
his eyes swept over you. you were trembling from evident fear, causing him to search your body, his hands rough as they grabbed you by your shoulders, pulling you away just so he could examine you, despite the shake in his own body.
you managed to control your sobs, though the hiccups and desperate gasps for air were still charging through you. “n-no..” he let out a sigh of relief. “i-i didn’t..didn’t know where you..you were and..i thought..”
he cut you off immediately.
“shit went sideways.” he grunted, visibly still reeling from his anger. “shipment fuck up. some guy tried to double cross me, wrong city, wrong people. i handled it myself.”
her stomach dropped as she finally took in his appearance. the blood smeared all over him, and as a result, now her too.
“yourself?”
“this is our world. what did you expect?” his eyes narrowed, unable to think, comprehend. he could see you crying, but he couldn’t compute it, not after the night he’d had. “don’t look at me like that.”
your lip trembled still. “i thought you were dead..”
that snapped him out of it.
he grabbed you then, properly, both bloody hands cupping your face, harshly making sure you could meet his eyes with your own. “don’t ever say that.” he was growling, chest heaving. “don’t put that fucking shit in your head, y/n.”
you nodded through your sobs, clutching him tightly still. “i couldn’t stop it, you didn’t come home on time and it got so late, and no one knew what was happening. i thought someone got you..” your chest was heaving.
his thumbs were swiping your tears like he was mad at them personally, shushing you quietly.
“it’s not that easy. can’t get rid of me like that, baby, i’d never fucking leave you. you hear me?”
you nodded again, before he held you tight to his body, rocking you gently, breathing in your scent, his previous anger he couldn’t control now turning inwards, plaguing him from the inside. he couldn’t believe it.
he’d had one of the worst nights of his life, so many men had died over a single betrayal, and he rarely got his own hands dirty anymore - but seeing you? crying, chest heaving, shaking, desperate and afraid? that was the worst of all. his anger had blinded him so deeply that he hadn’t even recognised it at first, brain still whizzing from the adrenaline of before until he realised what was in front of him.
his precious little wife, crying for him.
“listen to me.” he pressed his forehead against yours once he lifted you up into the air, your legs wrapping around his waist. “i lost track of time. i fucked up, y/n. that’s on me, okay? but i’m here, and you need to remember that i come home. i always come home.”
your fingers were pulling at the back of his head, tangling in the strands of hair you loved to play with so much as you absorbed his words, your sobs slowly but surely calming down.
“i-i don’t..care what you do.” you confessed, sniffling through your hiccups. “but you promise you’ll come back?”
“i promise, baby. cross my heart, swear to you.” he assured immediately. “my pretty wife, look at you. fuck, no more crying, c’mon. i’m here.”
in the quiet aftermath of your sobs, he still stayed there. holding you up in his arms as you calmed down, holding him as though he was the most precious thing in the world - to you, he was. the blood had began to dry on him, fury still deep in his veins whilst he cherished the feel of your body like a mad man returning from war, you were so fragile. his one and only possession.
he didn’t put you down straight away.
his grip shifts, fingers digging deep into the hold of your ass as he made sure to ground himself. not gentle, but firm. careful. like he needed to feel you were safe, and real, and in his arms.
“fuck, y/n. you scared me.” he admitted, a tinge of vulnerability he had never shown you before tweaked in his voice.
“i scared you?” you pulled back, nose pink, eyelashes wet, heart wrecked.
his jaw tightened just looking at you, his heart clenching. fuck. you were such a liability, his one weakness and your place in his heart was growing day by day. he needed to amp up your security.
“you’re shaking.” a flat observation, but you knew his objective. he wasn’t talking to you, but to himself, and so, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting him hold you for as long as he needed in that moment, whilst you held him just as tightly.
he began walking down the hallway, to your bedroom’s bathroom, still clinging to you like a little baby as he turned on the shower. navigating the hallways of the home you now shared felt so much bigger, heavier even, given the situation - it was only a home when he was here with you.
he placed you on the counter as he began to undress you first, stripping you from your flimsy pyjama top and bottoms, revealing the bitten skin he had ravished just that morning. your breasts dropped from your tank, sweet pussy on display as he observed you. he began to undress too, desperate to rid himself of today.
“look at me.” he says.
you listened.
he studied your face as he unbuttoned his shirt, checking for any hidden cracks, for damage. for something that couldn’t be undone.
“did anyone come near you tonight?” he asked again, slower this time. controlled.
“no.”
“did anyone call you?”
“no.”
“touch you?”
“no..”
“you stayed inside?” his eyes were dark.
“yes.”
“good.”
he was shirtless now, ridding himself of his slacks, leaving him just as naked as you, cock half hard as it sprung to attention, charged immediately at your mere presence. the blood from earlier had stained into his skin, his chest and abs painted a deep red, hands still splattered.
the sight struck your heart, and you fought back a whimper as he once more grabbed you, taking you into the shower with him.
his hands began to move, once you were placed on your feet. over your waist, your stomach, your arms, your breasts, your back, your pussy, your ass. the water stained red as it washed everything away, whilst he explored you like he tended to do, though this was an amalgam of the events that had just transpired.
he was possessive in every single thing he did, forcing himself into your chest, making sure you could feel his presence deep inside your body even without him being there. he wanted you just as fucked up as he was, just as desperate, just as secretly ruined. he had no idea you already were.
his now clean hand dipped inbetween your legs, spreading them immediately as his fingers found home against your clit. you let out a soft sigh, easing against his arm in comfort as you felt the tension leave you in waves of pleasure.
“you don’t wait up like that,” he said, almost harshly, as he rubbed slow, soft circles into you. “you don’t sit here thinking yourself sick.”
“i couldn’t sleep.” your rebuttal came immediately, causing him to slap your ass in a mean spank, making you mewl, leaning into his other arm, feeling the way he kept you up with his rubbing fingers.
“i don’t care.” he leaned in, pushing you till your back was against the wall. “you sleep. you trust that i’ll walk through that door.”
your fingers curled over his bicep.
“i needed to know you were okay.” your admission came through closed eyes, as pleasure waves through you.
even in moments like this, jungkook couldn’t keep his hands to himself, the prospect of making you cum simply too high. considering he could still taste his earlier anger, he needed this. needed to have you break and mewl for him.
“i will be.” he nudged your nose, prompting you to look at him through hooded eyes. “i’ll always come back to you.”
the rest of the shower was spent with him teasing you, fingering your poor core until you came, despite still feeling stretched from your early morning session. the feeling of him so intimately against you was everything you needed in that moment, and both of you knew it - it was his way of telling you exactly how he felt.
and later, when you were on his chest, deep in the early morning, neither of you able to sleep as his cock sat hard inside of you, you both embraced. you kissed like you had both been promised to one another - you, the one constant in his life, untouched by the nightmare that was his reality, the brutality of his workforce and him, the protector you had longed for for years.
he pressed his hand against your stomach, feeling him inside of you before bringing you impossibly closer, nose brushing against your own.
“i love you, sweet girl.”
it was then you could finally breathe again.
—
my mafia jk is here, and isn’t he so filthy 😢 i love a dirty, cruel man and he truly is in all of the best ways. okay brb as i go change my panties
if you liked this and wanna show some love, here’s my kofi, love u guys bad <33
if you had to describe your relationship with your roommate to quite literally any other person on earth, you’d be floored.
you weren’t necessarily friends, just something in between. your best friend and his best friend had been in a relationship for 2 years now, both madly in love, forcing the two of you to interact. the first time you met him, you couldn’t help but think he was absurdly attractive. still, with how quiet he always seemed, you assumed he wasn’t all that interested in anything - or anyone.
when your apartment flooded and left you completely unable to live within your safe space, he had let you move in overnight despite barely knowing each other. he was with taehyung when yejin had received your teary call, desperate for advice on what to do - you were an emotional person usually, but in situations like this? you completely shut down, unable to think and certainly not able to proceed.
he had a spare room, and was about to list it when everything happened so he felt no qualms about letting you move in. you were clean, organised, and although vastly different to him with how chatty and sunshiny you were all of the time, he knew he’d enjoy living with you.
jungkook even charged you less than half of what he would ask anyone to pay for rent, which in itself was odd and unusual. his response? he didn’t need the money. confusing considering you were both in your early to mid twenties, navigating life. one would assume you were both inseparable, considering all of the preferential treatment, but alas, they couldn’t be more wrong.
you both spoke politely, exchanging niceties here and there, and even would go so far as to do things to make each other’s lives as easy as possible. you knew that he was quiet and enjoyed his silence, so you tried your hardest not to be too overbearing considering you were quite the opposite. you liked warmth, chatter and life - you wanted to feel it in every crevice of your routine, so your differences were clear and direct.
despite this, it was painfully obvious to everyone but you that jungkook was painfully in love with you, to the point where it felt like you were being purposefully obtuse. of course, you found him incredibly attractive, with a face so pretty and a body chiseled in every way, but you just assumed you weren’t his type.
tall, bulky boy who worked at the tattoo shop down the road with his friends. the guy who liked to eat the same thing for breakfast every morning, who spent more time at the apartment gym than elsewhere and that would knock on your door to say goodnight out of what you assumed was mere politeness. you, of course, were an idiot.
—
“i so did not do that.” yejin grumbled to her boyfriend, taehyung, as she sat perched on your couch with her legs swung over his lap. his fingers were brushing up and down her legs as he laughed, enamoured by her.
“you did! she got my order wrong and i thought you were going to leap over the counter and fight her.” you responded in your own fit of giggles. “honestly, i was prepared to just drink whatever she handed to me, but she was so assertive. it was so cool.”
yejin rolled her eyes, a little grin betraying her real feelings of amusement. “you don’t like lemon flavoured drinks.” you grinned back at her. “yeah but i would have drank it anyway to be polite.”
you were sat with your best friend and her boyfriend as they lounged with you, detailing a random thing that happened to you today. a forgotten sitcom sat playing on the tv as ambient lighting sat around your shared apartment, the three of you chatting away.
the door swung open with jungkook waddling in with bags in each hands, taehyung rushing over to help him. “about time you arrived.”
jungkook didn’t respond, mouth drawing into a line as the older boy reached for the beer and snacks he had brought, excitedly bringing them over to the table you were all sat around. you all cheered at the assortment he had brought, making him grin slightly.
“no way, how did you get these?” you all but squeaked as you pulled out your favourite swedish candy, knowing they only really sold them at the shop at the far side of town. “they never have these in stock when i go in.”
jungkook watched as you excitedly rummaged through, finding so many of your favourites, completely unaware that it was an act purposefully done. you didn’t need to know that he had ordered them weeks ago, even going so far as to pay the shopkeeper double to keep them in stock.
“got you these ones too.” he murmured quietly, pulling out the gummy bears you liked from his coat pocket and handing them to you, watching you practically squeal.
yejin watched him with an eager eye, grin so wide it practically rivalled the cheshire cat - all knowing, entirely cheeky. he had let her know about his affections for you on one drunken night and she was practically elated to hear it, knowing you harboured a massive crush on him despite also knowing you would never act on it out of uncertainty.
“my roommates the best, seriously.” you muffled through a mouth full of candy, finger wagging at him in appreciation. his cheeks dusted pink as he took a seat at the couch beside taehyung, getting a full view of you rummaging like a raccoon.
“finish the ones in your mouth before you choke.” yejin warned, laughing lightly as you stuffed your mouth. taehyung opened beers for you all. “okay, seriously, now we’re all here, what is the plan for saturday night? is it a gathering, is it a party?”
“bit of both, i guess.” her boyfriend responded. “namjoon invited all of our old university friends, so i guess it’ll be like a reunion for a lot of us. me and jungkook haven’t really kept in touch with anyone aside from the guys at the shop and hoseok.”
you’d all been invited to namjoon’s house, who co-owned the tattoo shop jungkook worked at. him, taehyung and 5 of his other friends were all university friends who still remained in close cahoots, often meeting up with both you and yejin invited too.
“ew, wonder if that weird guy that tried to get with you is gonna be there.” yejin grumbled to you, making you grimace. “probably, he’s like a rodent you can’t get rid of.” you huffed back.
jungkook’s eyes narrowed. “who?” he asked, voice inquisitive but clearly loaded.
yejin’s head turned slowly, grin forming widely as she made eye contact with him. you glanced up at him, letting her explain as you began eating more candy.
“oh, you remember changmin, right jungkookie? the computer scientist guy?” she all but cooed, clearly teasing him although it was lost on you. “he was obsessed with y/n, tried to get with her every chance he got but he could never get the message, she had to hide from him all the time.”
his eyes narrowed even further, flicking to you. you were nodding along, grimacing. “i told him to leave me alone but he never did. i guess it’s my fault for not telling joonie, he’ll probably be there and i’ll have to hide all night like it’s final year at uni again.”
“just stay with me.” jungkook grumbled, already feeling annoyed at the mere prospect of a man making you uncomfortable whilst he could be there to protect you.
your eyes flicked up at him, lips parting slightly. you hated when he did this, leaving you all breathless without even realising it. it made you feel things in multiple places, between your thighs especially.
yejin’s grin was comical, and taehyung was enjoying every second of this. “you promise? guys like that only respond to other men, so you need to make sure you really send him a message, okay jungkook? protect y/n, and all of that..”
jungkook wanted to deadpan at her obvious meddling, but wanted to further pass away at your genuine obliviousness.
“stay with me, y/n.” he reiterated, after giving the couple a dirty look when you weren’t looking. his eyes met yours and you nodded almost shyly.
you all spent the night laughing and chatting away before they decided to leave, simply going down two streets to their own shared apartment. you and jungkook both cleaned in silence, something he relished in whilst you sneakily stole glances at the tatted boy.
once you were both done, you retreated to your rooms, both facing each other with a mere metre separating them.
“goodnight, y/n.” he softly whispered to you, as he did every night, lingering near your door whilst he watched you walk in.
“nighty, night.” you responded in your usual chirp, grinning at him in a way that left him breathless. “sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
he gave you a small laugh despite hearing you say this every single night. his eyes roamed over your face for a moment, longing clear for anyone to see with the exception of yourself before turning to his own room.
you collapsed on your bed, heart thumping and head spinning. you weren’t above admitting you wondered what jungkook looked like when he slept in his bed, shoulders so wide and sleep shorts hung low on his waist.
the mere thought drove your brain in a haze and made your fingers linger at the waistband of your own panties, leaving you groaning into your pillow.
——
when people first met you, they would never assume you worked in a finance office. your bright, excitable personality felt like the complete opposite of the capitalistic, torturous environment you endured day in day out. you hated every single one of your colleagues, with the high majority being sexist men and the women there having no interest in being your friend - it was all in all a horrible place.
even now, you sat at your desk at a whopping five hours after your shift had ended because one of your colleagues had sneakily not done his portion of your shared project, and simply left it to you. you were literally the only person here, the cleaners downstairs doing their nightly job. so here you were, outwardly crying, tears streaming down your face as you typed, sniffling away.
you were incredibly sensitive, and situations like this were enough to drive you over the edge. you hated feeling taken advantage of, and it happened more times you were comfortable with. it wasn’t that you couldn’t stick up for yourself, but more so you were never given the opportunity to.
whilst you poured your heart out to your computer, jungkook sat on your shared couch nibbling his lip. it was extremely late, and you still weren’t home from work. you were notorious for being home on time, especially when it came to your job, considering you hated it so much.
he had even made your favourite. he was the cook of the house, always making you meals you’d find on tiktok, and you knew he was making the pie you loved so much. had even begged him that morning before you both left, though there was no reason for you to, he’d do anything you asked. it was all so entirely out of character.
“hey, what’s up?” taehyung asked as jungkook called.
“hey, are you with yejin?”
“yeah, she’s here.”
“can you ask her if she’s heard from y/n? she’s still not home and i’m stressing the fuck out.” jungkook confessed, running a hand through his hair.
yejin took the phone from her boyfriend. “she’s still not home from work? she text me a few hours ago saying she was staying late because her coworkers a dick and didn’t finish that project she was talking about.”
he sighed in relief. “okay, i’ll head down, just to make sure she’s all good.”
the two agreed, making sure he’d keep them updated before jungkook got up. he packed your dinner in your favourite, sanrio tupperware box that you’d paid a fortune for. he put it in a little bag before grabbing his coat, zipping it up and putting his beanie on before walking the short journey to your office.
15 minutes later, he had managed to flirt his way into your building, using certain choice words with the cleaners by the door who let him up to your floor. he emerged from the elevators, eyes falling to your sunken little body in the heart of the office immediately from the glow of your computer monitor.
the first thing he noticed was the way your eyes flickered up, gasping out loud at the sight of him. the second, was the mascara running down your face. it made his blood run cold to know you were here crying, something he tried to make sure you would never do - he knew you were sensitive, so he did everything in his power to accommodate it.
“jungkook?” you asked, hands shaking to wipe your under eyes although it was entirely futile. “what are you doing here? how did you even get up?”
he didn’t answer you immediately, simply walking towards you and holding up the bag of food. “made you chicken pie. couldn’t let it get cold at home, could i?”
your chest tightened before it began rising and falling again, lip jutting out in quivers. you couldn’t help the tears, they simply flowed so naturally.
“don’t cry.” he gently assured, putting the bag down whilst you sat in your seat, sniffling hard.
“i’m so mad jungkook! my colleague has had months to do this and now i’m sat here doing it because he forgot to do it and didn’t tell me, and we have to present it on monday and it needs to be sent over before midnight. and now i nearly missed out on chicken pie.”
your rambles were making his heart burst, you were so cute it drove him insane. “sounds like a prick. but don’t let him make you cry, hm? how about you eat, take a little break and then we can do the rest together. how’s that?”
you sniffled again; taking one of the napkins he brought to wipe your eyes. “okay.” you nodded, watching him open up your box. you nearly wailed at the sight of your favourite tupperware, knowing it was a conscious choice.
he placed it in front of you with gentle hands, scooting you closer to your desk so you could eat comfortably. he sat beside you, pulling someone else’s chair to you whilst he let you ramble over your colleague and dynamics whilst you ate, sniffling the entire time.
he poured you a drink of the oolong milk tea he brought with him, knowing it was your favourite. he pulled it up to your lips, to which you took a sip without even acknowledging the action for what it was, causing him to grin softly. you were so sweet, so cute - he had plans for your colleague, but that was for another day.
another hour and a half passed before you were finally done, the two of you walking besides one another until you finally reached your apartment. he immediately went to the kitchen to wash up your empty box, whilst you sighed loudly.
“have a shower and go to bed, hm?” he murmured quietly, sparing you a warm glance.
“okay. nighty night jungkook.” you nodded, longing to wrap your arms around him in a tight hug but you’d never really done that before.
he noticed your stare and unmoving feet, looking up to meet your gaze. “left some swedish candy in your snack drawer too.”
you were gone before he could even blink, squealing away in a new found excitement that had him laughing under his breath. fuck, he was so whipped.
——
jungkook wasn’t sure what he had expected attending namjoon’s party, but he wanted to bow down to the older man in thanks in hindsight.
he had finished work and headed home immediately, knowing you were probably already getting ready. sliding into his apartment, he could hear you shuffling around, so he quietly slipped into his shower, getting ready himself before heading out to the living room and waiting for you there.
“jungkook, are you home?” you called out from your room, making his head snap up. he headed to your door, murmuring a quiet “yep” in response.
you sighed in relief. “can you come in here? is this too casual?”
he did exactly that. his eyes weren’t quite sure where to look first, to the mount of clothes piling in each corner of your room, which was entirely unlike you and indicated that it was recent, or to the short outfit you had on, barely grazing your mid thigh as you looked at yourself in the mirror.
his throat ran dry, gaze raking up and down you hungrily, taking in each crevice you would offer. “jungkook?” you called again, snapping his attention to your face where you had a small pout on your face.
“what?” he asked, clearing his throat as heat dragged up his throat.
your own eyes were roaming over the expanse of his chest, his shoulders so wide in the black t-shirt that sat baggy on his figure. god, you wanted to do unholy things to him, wanted to know what noises he’d make. you snapped yourself out of it, realising that it was now you being awkwardly silent.
“um, do you think i look okay? not too casual?”
jungkook watched you bounce from foot to foot, an indicator of your uncertainty. “you look good.” he affirmed, unsure of what to say. you looked better than good, and it made a horrible feeling sink into his stomach knowing how many eyes would be on you tonight.
“i can’t look good. i need to look perfect.” you groaned, eyes shutting tight. “yejin texted me saying minho’s gonna be there and i haven’t seen him since everything went down, i need to make him choke.”
jungkook’s face visibly changed at the mention of your horrible ex. the man that had left you crying for weeks in your room, forcing jungkook to go into pure caregiver mode, taking care of you in hopes you would realise you were so much more than the subpar man.
“y/n, you look good. really, really good.” he assured whilst taking hesitant steps towards you. “he won’t be able to take his eyes off of you, or anyone for that matter.”
your eyes peered up at him whilst nervously chewing on your lip. “promise?”
“promise.” he nodded, eyes shamelessly running down your body once more, just to indulge. “but don’t waste your time on him tonight.”
“i won’t, i just haven’t seen him since the whole cheating thing and i..i don’t know, i just wanna look good.”
he wanted to scream. couldn’t you see? you were both moon and star, ground and sky and minho was just..well, minho. nothing remarkable, hardly handsome, a mouth that chattered too much and was used mostly to pit you down whatever chance he got.
he remembered how quiet you became at the end of your relationship with him. you’d just moved in, and it felt like your sunshine personality had taken a sudden shift, completely quiet and so upset all of the time. jungkook knew it wasn’t his place to say anything, but he all but begged yejin to make you see sense. of course, you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to anyone until minho had then done the unforgivable.
“you’re staying with me tonight, remember?” jungkook gave you a small, comforting grin. “so don’t worry about anyone else. we’ll have fun whilst we avoid him and that changmin guy.”
through your response of giggles, jungkook felt his heart tighten. one day, you’d see - one day.
it wasn’t long after that that you were walking into namjoon’s house, much busier and livelier than you anticipated. you clung to the back of jungkook’s t-shirt in a bid not to lose him, but it was proving futile considering the busiest spot in the house was the entrance, finding it difficult to catch up with him.
he noticed, turning his head to look at you only to find you stuck between two groups of people, frowning as you tried to get them to notice. he didn’t think before walking over to you, taking a hold of both your hip and wrist, pulling you tight against his chest whilst giving the guys around you a dirty look.
you were too busy feeling every inch of jungkook’s chest, knowing this was the closest you had ever been to him. he smelled so good too, it took everything in you not to reach up and smell directly and moan, but even you realised that was probably a weird thing to do.
“thanks.” you loudly exclaimed over the pounding music, whilst he walked you over to your friends, hand still latched onto your wrist comfortably. he simply nodded in response, and you could see a slight pink hue on his cheeks that made you feel awfully giddy for some reason.
soon you were all in a little huddle, all 8 of them in front of you as you watched them drink to their hearts content. you were a little bit of a lightweight, but your desperate attempts to pace yourself in an environment like this was of course futile.
“this might be the worst playlist i’ve ever heard.” jin complained.
“i let one of the guys sort out music. i don’t even know what’s happening right now.” namjoon all but slurred, his arms around jungkook who laughed under his breath.
jin raised an eyebrow. “is he even coherent right now? how many drinks have you had?”
“speaking of drinks, need a top up?” yejin asked you; bumping your shoulder a little to which you nodded, arm slung around her shoulder. “let’s go!”
the two of you slipped away from the group; jungkook cheekily watching the way your hips swayed from behind with a quiet groan.
hoseok grinned, yoongi catching him in the act.
“one of these days, a guy is going to catch her interest and she’s going to give up on you because you couldn’t just tell her that you like her like a normal adult.” the older guy grumbled, whilst taking a sip of his concoction.
jungkook glared at him. “shut up.”
“what a pity.” hoseok teased, arm resting on yoongi’s shoulder. “so many guys staring at her already, you sure you want to play the game like this?”
“if she liked me, i’d know, okay? she’s not shy about her feelings.” he huffed.
“you’re right, which is why it’s so fucking painfully obvious to everyone else. god, you’re an idiot.” jimin laughed loudly, joining in on the teasing. “this weird, business casual relationship you guys have is going to go up in flames one day and you just need to make sure you’re in a good spot.”
“is this an intervention?” he huffed again; taking another sip of his drink whilst his eyes wandered to where you had disappeared to.
“this is us making sure you actually get the girl you want.” yoongi tapped his cheek gently whilst the others took turns giggling away.
—
“god, that tastes like shit.” you complained to yejin as you took a sip of whatever she just created in the kitchen, drinks lined up on the table with red solo cups waiting to be used. namjoon had planned for every type of drink and it was exciting.
she agreed, grimacing. “the nastier the taste, the quicker we get drunk.”
you smirked in response, the two of you chattering away. you turned to face the entrance of the kitchen, catching sight of no other than your horrible ex walking in alongside the girl he had cheated on you with, the two whispering things to each other, unaware you were in the corner just yet.
it felt hard to breathe, all of a sudden, yejin’s eyes widening at the sight before narrowing tightly. it was embarrassing to admit that you knew minho was never the one, he wasn’t even a momentary passing of time, but rather someone who was supposed to simply exist accessibly to you. you were okay with that arrangement, until he began being horrible. everything he would do was plainly mean, and it was clear he felt intimidated by how easily you made friends, and how naturally you integrated into groups, but you knew you didn’t deserve to be punished for it. you just couldn’t bring yourself to be alone, which in hindsight felt stupid.
when he cheated on you, you almost felt half relieved at the thought of being finally rid of such a horrible man. it was ruined, however, when you were reminded by the fact you had wasted so much time being berated by him, that you had lost a big chunk of your identity. when your flat flooded, he hadn’t bothered to help or offer any solution. in fact, he had the cheek to feel annoyed at you, as though it was somehow your fault your entire life had been tipped upside down, as though it was an act purposefully done for his attention. moving in with jungkook was made out to be the worst thing in the world, he even went so far as to use it as his justification for cheating, suggesting you had probably done it first.
“fuck, he’s so ugly.” yejin grumbled, taking a hold of your hip gently as a reminder she was beside you. your eyes flickered slightly, watching as he turned slightly, a look of shock forming on his features when he noticed you there.
you looked away immediately, focused on making your next drink, but minho was already walking towards you. yejin audibly groaned, his mere presence enough to annoy her as she stood with her arms crossed.
“what do you want?”
“what, i can’t say hello?” he asked, tilt of his head. forever an idiot.
you looked up, eyes flickering to the girl beside him. the complete, and entire opposite of you. it made that horrible, nasty creature crawl up your throat and take it hostage, unable to speak as you examined the differences between you both.
“the fuck do you want to say hello for? are you stupid?” yejin growled, stepping forward to him.
he rolled his eyes, as though her bite had no effect. “just being polite. you here alone, y/n?”
you hated the way he asked you, as though he was making fun of the way you were stood there simply watching.
“no.” you blurted, eyes narrowed. you knew you were lying, but you weren’t thinking rationally, you hadn’t seen or been with anyone since him, but a childish part of you refused to let him win.
the look of surprise on his face was notable, enough to cause a stir in your stomach. stupid, you wanted to wipe that smirk off even if it was the last thing you’d do.
“yeah? who you’d come with?” he asked, half curious and other half in annoyance.
minho liked toying with you. he liked making you want him, so the thought of someone stealing that away? it sickened him.
you opened your mouth to answer but were unsure of what to say. you gulped visibly, feeling uncomfortable. “jungkook.” yejin answered for you, scoffing. “an actual man, more than you ever were anyway.”
minho face entirely dropped.
the girl latched onto his arm peered up at his face inquisitively, looking you up and down a few times, almost wondering what had him so worked up.
“the fuck, you’re seeing jungkook?” he hissed, with narrowed eyes. “thought you said you were just friends.”
your cheeks were flushed pink, your fingers shaking. “yeah, well, you also said you’d never cheat so.”
“i don’t believe you.” he rudely interrupted, taking a step towards you. he looked genuinely angry.
yejin stepped forward too, shielding you from him. “yeah, and what’s it to you?”
he ignored her, eyes dangerously locked onto yours. “prove it to me.”
your mouth fell open slightly. “why should i prove it to you? you mean nothing to me.” you huffed back.
his face resumed its normal position, a look of genuine relief washing over him. it made you feel physically sick. “you should get better at lying, y/n, doesn’t quite suit you. always looked like a child whenever you did.” he spat before turning around, pulling his new girl alongside him as he left the kitchen.
yejin was saying something to you, but you could hardly hear her. his words, his voice, it rang in your head. you’d had enough of his taunting, his bullying, enough to last you a lifetime. your legs were moving before you could think, your brain unable to rationalise what you were about to do and the consequences of your actions.
you rudely bumped shoulders with minho as you left the kitchen, yejin confused but on your heels. his attention remained on you as you found your target. jungkook.
you walked over to him, half determined and half a tipsy haze, watching in real time as his eyes met yours, a slight tilt to his head as he examined your features. if only you had caught the way he visibly softened at your mere presence, watching you strive over to him with a determination he couldn’t quite place.
in moments you were in front of him, the other boys watching curiously on the side whilst minho’s eyes glared, almost challenging. your head reached jungkook’s chest, eyes almost pleading as your hands came to rest hesitantly on his stomach.
“please..just play along.” you whispered, to which he nodded instinctively, a curl of confusion to his eyebrows.
you reached up onto your tippy toes before pressing your lips to his.
jungkook was frozen.
you were kissing him. you, y/n. his roommate. the love of his fucking life. kissing. him. now. right now.
before he could really think or react, you had already pulled away with a deep red to your cheeks, mouth quivering slightly and hands shaking visibly. his eyes roamed your face before looking up, noticing minho’s confused glance on the other side of the room.
it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening, and though he was still half in a daze from the kiss, he ignored the pang in his chest and lurched forward. he grabbed you by the waist comfortably, tilting your chin and pressed his lips to yours again.
kissing jungkook was odd. it was unnerving how naturally your lips moved in unison, and it felt strange how the once incredibly loud party felt no more than a dulled buzz in yours ears. your blood felt like it was pumping harder than ever, your fingers clutching his t-shirt as though it was a lifeline. it scared you, how right this felt, how good.
you found yourself desperate to keep up, the two of you kissing passionately, hardly appropriate for the environment you were in. your lips moved in unison whilst jungkook pulled you in close, your chests touching each other tightly. you could feel every inch of him, could feel his heartbeat on his mouth and it was driving you insane.
by the time you were pulling away, the rise and fall of your chest was enough for jungkook to leave little pecks. over and over and over on your lips until he was fully satisfied, eyes glazed over at the mere sight of you.
minho was the last thing on either of your minds, and everyone around you felt like they were watching the grand finale of something big. even changmin, the boy who’s entire life mission was to get your attention, had watched the entire thing with an agape mouth whilst you both stared at each other, clouded in want and something so much deeper.
you were all but bullied out of your trance as you noticed minho leaving the party, clearly angry and agitated. you watched as he pushed his way through, a face of pure distaste adorned before he finally left.
before you could open your mouth and explain yourself, jimin reached over to you both and wrapped his arms around either of your shoulders.
“about time, that was hot as fuck.”
jungkook finally looked away from your face, gaze flickering to his friends who looked over at him excitedly. yejin, although excited, looked slightly solemn - she just hoped you realised what you had done.
you, stood, heart racing and hands shaking. you couldn’t believe what you just did, and frankly, how badly you wanted to do it again. you could feel your fingers absentmindedly reaching for jungkook, to which he of course noticed. the ever observant man brushed jimin off, who giggled his way back to his other friends whilst jungkook took a hold of one of your shaky hands, forcing you to look at him.
“let’s step out.” he gently said. not a commandment, but a plea - one you were happy to oblige by as you walked after him.
soon, you were in namjoon’s front garden, stood in the grass whilst the thumping of inside bellowed into the night sky. you nervously looked up at him, unsure of what to say.
“i’m sorry.” you whispered, shuffling from foot to foot. “i..he was so mean and..i don’t know, i wasn’t thinking and you were there and i just..i don’t even know.”
jungkook simply observed you, his face neutral. you wished in that moment you could be able to read his mind, get a sense of what he was thinking. you wanted him to speak. please, you wanted to beg.
a few minutes of silence passed before he finally did. “do you regret kissing me?” he asked. voice so gentle, so kind and warm. never accusatory.
your eyebrows furrowed. you felt many things in this very moment but regret had no part in any of it. the only thing you longed was to do it again, to reach out and have him kiss you longer, tongues clashing and lips connecting.
“no.” you whispered again, shaking your head. “absolutely not.”
“good.” he confirmed, stepping closer to you. “i have every intention of kissing you again y/n, would that be alright?”
you all but nodded, lips parted in shock and eyes wide. you looked comical but jungkook swore you were everything and more.
“but..you’re not mad?” you asked, eyes peering hopefully at him.
he pursed his lips. “i’m mad that minho is the reason we kissed, madder that he was my motivator. but no, i’d never be mad at you.” he assured, his head dropping to your forehead.
your heart was beating so fast, you felt so overwhelmed. was jungkook confessing to you? was this a clear indicator of how he felt, you hardly knew. it was as if he could read your thoughts, a small smile forming as he pulled away, after pressing a little kiss to your head.
“come on. let’s go back inside, still have to protect you from changmin remember?”
you couldn’t help the light laugh that left you, your shoulders easing. this was still jungkook. your jungkook, your roommate. the thought left you at ease as you both slipped back to the party, lips tingling with want.
—
you really had no idea that the kiss at the party would now have you in this position, sat on jungkook’s lap on your shared couch, hands in his hair, and his hands on your hips. your lips were moving in unison, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, tongues clashing and moving against one another.
you pulled away for air, chest rising and falling as he rested his head lazily against the couch. his eyes roamed over your face, and below, watching the way your legs were cocooned around him, your lips red and hair messy. he knew he probably looked the same.
neither of you could keep your hands off of each other. the party was over two days ago now, and yet every single chance you both got, you’d have your lips against one another, kissing, biting, pulling. it was intoxicating. the problem? neither of you were addressing the elephant in the room.
“jungkook.” you all but whined as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip, enamoured by the way your tongue gently brushed it.
“hm?”
“everyone will be here soon, we need to clean up a little.” neither of you made an effort to move, his eyes trained on you, pushing your hips closer as a bid to hold you tighter.
“you’re right, we should.” he murmured, before sitting up again with you still on his lap. he leaned in for another kiss, lips clashing again as you both kissed one another.
you couldn’t help the breathy little moans that left you as he circled your tongue with his, to which he enjoyed very much. he loved the feeling of you so close to him, it felt right, something he had longed for much longer than he was openly willing to admit.
you pulled away again, with much difficulty as jungkook groaned, chasing your lips and planting pecks before you could stand up straight, giggling away. “stop, kookie, imagine they walk in any minute now.”
he grinned slightly. “can you blame me? lips are so pretty, can’t get enough.”
the flush on your cheeks represented the pang in your chest, nervously fiddling with the neckline of his t-shirt before he gently picked you up; placing you back on your feet as he stood. it always drove you insane how easily he was able to manhandle you, touching you with genuine ease as though it was nothing.
soon, the door knocked and your friends were piling in for your monthly movie night, yejin and yoongi in the kitchen with you preparing snacks whilst the other boys chattered loudly.
“so..are we going to address the elephant in the room?” yoongi’s asked, bumping your hip, whilst plating food.
you all but nearly started choking. “we haven’t addressed it, but i think..everything’s fine.” you shook your head, feeling warmth creep up every crevice of your body.
yejin grinned wide. “you know, you’re so much more obvious than you think.” you peered up at her through your lashes, fighting your own smile. “considering your lips look bruised, and you’re this giddy, you guys have definitely been kissing recently.”
yoongi gasped, hands putting the plate down and turning around to face you. the three of you looked at each other before squeaking, the two asking a million questions whilst you gushed about the situation.
“he does this thing with his tongue, god.” you whispered to them, the two hanging on to every word. “i genuinely have no idea why he’s single.”
yejin deadpanned at you, eyebrow raising. “y/n…are you being serious?”
you tilted your head a little in response.
“you know he’s crazy about you right? i feel like he makes it pretty obvious that he’s in love with you, but surely you know that now more than ever?”
your entire face changed, eyes widening and then eyebrows furrowing in confusion, looking at yoongi who nodded in confirmation. he loved you? love? you?
jungkook, tatted and tall, soft and sweet, hard and quiet. the boy who worked quietly at the tattoo shop, known for his incredible designs and how fucking attractive he was. he loved you? it felt strange, you assumed he was interested in you, considering the situation you were in now, but prior to the kiss, you could name on one hand how many long conversations you had ever had and you were roommates.
“but..” you began, in genuine confusion. “we’ve never…we barely even…?”
yoongi grinned. “i’ve known him since i was 13. he’s always been really quiet, just more of a doer as opposed to a talker, you know?” you nodded, carefully. “listen, we love you sweetheart but you genuinely might be the most oblivious girl in the world.” yejin added with a small laugh.
“when the whole minho thing happened, do you know how many times we had to stop him from fucking him up? he was genuinely ready to end his life for you, it was crazy.”
you felt like a curtain had been pulled from your very eyes, as though the truth that was sat patiently waiting for you was now being accessed.
“or when you moved in for the first time, you guys had spoken what, like 2 times personally at that point? do you really think a guy like jungkook would just offer anyone a place in an apartment like this?” yoongi deadpanned. “literally the only reason he even charges you that rent is so you don’t feel guilty, he knows how you are. pretty sure he just uses that money to buy you things for the apartment.”
“but..he never..he’s never said anything or done anything..” you whispered, heart beating fast. you hardly realised your hands were shaking so much.
“can you blame him?” she gave you a soft grin again. “i think he was happy to be in your presence in anyway he could have you, he’d never wanna make you feel like you have to reciprocate, especially given the fact you guys live together.”
the next few moments felt like a blur, the two walking out to leave the snacks on the table whilst you gave yourself a moment. once you were composed, you walked out only to spot the only free spot on the couch was now next to jungkook, who looked a little too smug.
your eyes connected as you walked over, carefully sitting down. the spot was a little tighter than you anticipated, forcing you against him. “comfortable?” he whispered down at you.
with this new found knowledge, every single one of his actions felt different to you. the way he was glancing down, or even the way his hands twitched, clearly desperate to touch you but unsure and anxious. you nodded up at him, eyes slightly glazed over, parted lips and fingers reaching for him.
jungkook couldn’t look away from you. you looked…different? had something happened in the kitchen? yejin and yoongi looked completely fine, the two fighting over the last piece of chocolate as everyone had already devoured the rest. he watched as one of your hands reached for his, gently bringing it to your own lap where your fingers brushed against his.
his heart was beating out of his chest despite the small action. light touches, thumb brushing over his skin, his eyebrows furrowed at the look of genuine yearning spread over your features, and it made him want to scream. beautiful, y/n. his y/n.
“you okay?” he whispered down at you once the film started, having shuffled so your body was turned towards him slightly, leaning in to rest on him.
you couldn’t focus on the film. not now you knew that every action he did represented so much more. instead, you peered up at him again with a small smile. “meet me in the kitchen in 5?”
he stared at you for a moment, lips parted before he gave you a slow nod. would it be so bad if he gave you a kiss here, now?
you got up, shuffling away without anyone noticing as the film had been one the group wanted to watch for a while now. jungkook was the most excited, but right now, it couldn’t have mattered less even if it tried. he obediently waited 5 minutes, to avoid suspicion before heading to the kitchen, taking a few plates with him to look busy.
the second he walked in, he closed the door behind him, watching as you twirled to face him. in two strides, he was over to you, hands on your hips and lips on your own.
your mouths weaved together, as he crouched to meet your height, your hands locked into the gentle wave of his hair. he was addicting, something you couldn’t get enough of now you’d had a taste.
“fuck, what are you doing to me.” he whispered as he pulled away, leaning in for another brief kiss to which you happily gave him.
“says you. i feel like you’re ruining me.” you teased making him laugh quietly, fingers tightening around your hips again.
he straightened up, looking down at you with a look you now knew could be nothing other than adoration. you wanted to pull your own hair for your self induced idiocy - looking up at him, it was clear as day. jungkook could sense a change in you, but couldn’t quite pin point it.
“we should go out there soon, we’ll never hear the end of it if we’re caught kissing during the film you’ve been begging to watch for the past three months.” you giggled.
he grinned. your laugh was his favourite sound. “one more kiss?”
—
over a month later, your routines remained strangely familiar. the two of you interacted much more than you usually did, spending time with one another, having conversations every chance you got. jungkook would find himself constantly pushing against what would usually make himself comfortable in a bid to engage with you. you, also, found yourself adapting to the silence he adored so much, often curling against him on the couch whilst you both simply enjoyed your shared presences.
the problem? despite this, nothing had changed and it was driving you insane. you would both spend morning till evening kissing, often times even getting quite steamy and touchy, but it would end there and the two of you would return to your bedrooms before the cycle began again in the morning.
you weren’t sure of what was happening, what you were, what you weren’t but it confused you beyond anything. you’d been told so openly by everyone around you that he was smitten, in love and what not - yet you had no inkling of that from him directly. it was difficult trying to understand the depths of jungkook’s feelings when he was so quiet, a trait you enjoyed thoroughly, but one that proved futile in his pursuit of you.
little did you know, jungkook felt similar. it was confusing to him whenever he tried to dissect what you might feel for him. he assumed he had been more then clear as despite you being the one to kiss him first, he continuously sought you out. he was the one to kiss you again, to affirm to you he wanted to proceed doing so, the one who would actively reach for you when you would both wake up. he wasn’t sure of what to do.
you were energetic and loud, often saying exactly what you thought with no care. it was his favourite thing about you, your sheer authenticity - it was both addicting and admirable. it also made him question your relationship; if you felt a certain way, he assumed you would simply say it. it was confusing, and frankly made him deeply disheartened - you were it for him, he just wished he could be the same for you.
this budding tension was driving both of you insane, a constant push and pull that neither of you could decipher. even now, you sat in his tattoo parlour amongst all of your other friends, jungkook and jin in their retrospective rooms doing their jobs.
it was irrational. completely fucking stupid and yet you couldn’t help it. knowing he was in a tight, enclosed space with another woman was something that usually would never agitate you, but you were already feeling annoyed.
tall, leggy and gothic - the gorgeous girl sat on jungkook’s chair was everything you imagined would look good beside him. they were visibly attractive, and looked like a solid pairing, forcing a deep insecurity to rear its head in your stomach. you couldn’t help but peer upwards every now and then, the visible glass pane of his room showcasing the two laughing and chatting, something that felt rare and particular when it came to jungkook.
the rest of you were sat in the reception area, as you always did whenever you all visited. you were all going out to get casual drinks at the local bar by your homes, but your mood soured immediately seeing the interaction being had in front of you.
yejin had noticed immediately, a frown on her face as she placed her hands in your lap, letting you fiddle with her fingers as a means to distract.
“you alright?” namjoon asked beside you, the entire group noticing how quiet you were being, a complete and entire 180 to your usual presence.
you peered up from your lap. “hm?”
jimin’s head tilted. “you’ve been quiet all afternoon, are you okay?”
“just not feeling too good, i guess.” you murmured, shrugging slightly. you opened your mouth to continue, only to be interrupted by aloud laughs coming from jungkook’s room, all of you looking over to see the two in a fit of giggles.
“yeah, i wouldn’t feel good either.” yejin grumbled, clearly agitated by the exact sight you were all watching. you looked away after a moment, unable to focus without feeling your heart pang.
you knew it was irrational, but insecurity was warping down your throat. he was supposed to like you, to love you even, and yet you were in the same position from last month. reduced to kisses and stolen touches, with no commitment and no mention of anything else. now you were watching no doubt jungkook’s type, leggy and tatted, make him laugh hysterically as though he wasn’t the most quiet person you knew.
after another 25 minutes of enduring horrible thoughts that were doing nothing other than ruining your mood, jungkook finished up with his client, saying bye to her as she got up to leave. it wasn’t long until he joined you all, waiting for jin to finish cleaning up his station.
“hi.” he grinned at you, sitting beside you on the couch as the others chatted away.
“hi.” you mumbled back, avoiding eye contact as your fingers fiddled with each other.
jungkook prided himself on his observation skills, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out something was upsetting you. his eyebrows furrowed immediately at your response, leaning into you as he urged your chin up so you’d look at him.
“what’s wrong?”
“nothing.” you pushed his hand away.
his eyebrows furrowed. “y/n?”
“nothing, jungkook. i’m not in the mood right now.” you huffed, being quiet.
you knew you were being unreasonable, it made you feel sick watching the content on his face entirely drop to genuine confusion. he looked lost by your response.
“did..did i do something?” he asked hesitantly, making your heart pang.
embarrassment creeped up into every crevice of your being. you felt fucking humiliated feeling like this, especially when he was sat beside you with eyes so big, all but pleading. “no, kookie..just not feeling good, that’s all.” you assured, your voice cracking a little at the end.
he knew you were lying, but he genuinely didn’t know what to do. he frowned deeply, eyes flicking up to see jimin who observed you both. the older boy shook his head lightly, indicating a small “not now”. you needed space to figure out whatever was happening in your head instead of speaking in emotion, something you all knew would be something you’d regret deeply after.
it wasn’t long until jin joined you all; and you all made your way to the bar across the street. jungkook felt like a lost puppy as he watched you shuffle next to yejin and yoongi, confused as he pulled jimin to aside.
“did something happen? did i say something?” he asked him, in genuine confusion.
jimin ordered drinks for everyone before turning to face him, sat on a bar stool. “we all had to endure an hour of watching you and your client flirt and you’re asking me if something happened?”
“what the fuck? we weren’t flirting.” jungkook stood up immediately, face distorting.
“hm?” jimin peered. “maybe you weren’t, but i guess that doesn’t really matter when the optics say otherwise.”
“jimin, are you being serious?” the tatted boy looked genuinely distressed. “she was being nice, we were talking about y/n. i swear it wasn’t like that. fuck.” he ran his hands through his hair. “is that what y/n thinks? from what she saw?”
“listen, jungkook. we all know you’re opposites, and that’s fine, you guys mesh, but a month ago, you guys used to live in the same apartment and talk occasionally here and there, do you really think it feels good for y/n to watch you interact so easily with a girl she assumes is your type?” he deadpanned.
jungkook pulled at his hair, wanting no more than to rush over to you and explain. “but i love her, she knows i love her, i’d never want to make her feel like that.”
“does she know that?” he asked, paying for the drinks. “because again, a month’s gone past and nothings really changed. do you guys talk to each other about what you even are?”
his eyes shut closed tightly for a few moments before he opened them again. looking over at you sat beside your shared friends, smile not quite meeting your eyes, much quieter than you’d ever been. he felt sick.
“i assumed she didn’t want anything more, she’s always so open about how she feels and we’ve never really talked in depth about any of this so i..i don’t know, i guess i just thought if she didn’t want me in that way, i’d still take anything she wanted to give me.”
“god, you’re both so stupid.” jimin laughed suddenly, with a shake of his head. “how is it you’re both so different and yet the exact same?”
jungkook flushed. “what are you talking about?”
“jungkook, seriously. you do realise the only reason she hasn’t said anything is because you haven’t? you’re the one that’s in love with her, why wouldn’t you then make the next move you idiot?”
his eyebrows furrowed. “because she doesn’t love me.”
“do you genuinely believe that?”
“she would have said if she did. it’s y/n.”
“idiots.” the older man groaned. “i’ve given you enough of my free therapy. help me with these drinks, get some liquid courage in your system and go fix this because one of you has to step up.”
jungkook felt genuinely lost. he’d spent so long dealing with his feelings in silence, accepting that they were for him and him alone only to be given a part of you so suddenly - he was scared of losing it in a bid to get all of you. not that it mattered anyway, knowing you were upset was enough to practically debilitate him.
the two walked over to the table again, handing everyone their drinks. you peered up, only to see his eyes already on yours, forcing you to look away immediately, embarrassed to have been caught.
the night was spent pretty much spent like that, quiet glances, with neither of you addressing each other. not that jungkook didn’t want to, but every time he’d try, you’d suddenly engage in a conversation with someone else as though you could sense it coming.
you felt guilty, you knew you were being irrational but insecurity had a mind of its own and, frankly, you didn’t care if you were being ridiculous. your feelings had merit, you just had no idea how to bring it up. selfishly, it annoyed you to even have to.
soon enough, everyone was heading home, leaving you and jungkook in an uber in silence. you could feel his eyes on you the entire time as you looked out the window. it continued as you left, walking to your apartment, even as you stepped in and toed your shoes off. the cherry on top of the cake was watching you walk to your room without wishing him goodnight, something you had done without fail since you moved in.
his heart ached. had he truly upset you this much?
before he could think, his legs were forcing their way through your door, where you were preparing for a shower, getting your cute pyjamas and scented products out - the ones he loved so much.
“y/n, can we talk? please?”
“i’m gonna have a shower.” you murmured, peering up as though it was a viable excuse to hide your vulnerability.
he walked over to you, taking your clothes and gently placing them on the bed. “shower after we talk, this is important.
you mutely obliged, watching as he sat you down on the bed. instead of doing the same, he slotted between your legs, crouched on his knees so you were peering down at him. an act so passive and yet it changed the entire dynamic completely - he was putting you in charge, making sure you felt in power, a complete and entire vast difference to your other ex’s and situationships who thrived on making you feel small.
“i made you feel uncomfortable today, i realise that now and for that i’m sorry.” he began. “and i know that it’s so much bigger than that, and it’s not just about whatever was happening at the shop, but before we continue, i need to make that clear with you.”
you simply stared at him, cheeks flushed at the memory of him laughing so casually with his client. the feeling of jealousy was returning, making you feel sick.
“i have eyes only for you, y/n. fuck, you’re all i think about constantly, it’s always gonna be you.” he shook his head.
“but..” you began, voice already beginning to quiver. you stopped yourself, thinning your lips to a line as you desperately tried to keep your vulnerability at bay. “all we do is kiss. we have nice conversations and then that’s it. you were laughing so much with her and you guys were chatting the entire time, it looked so easy.” you admitted in a small voice.
his eyes shut for a moment, genuine despair across his features at the sound of you so small. “i’m so sorry for making you feel like this, y/n, over my own stupid cowardice.”
you peered up. “talking to you comes naturally, i don’t have to think, i can be entirely myself and i’ve never felt that with anyone else, i don’t feel like i have to perform for you, you make me feel seen.” he admitted, hands cupping your own. “this conversation is a long time coming and i feel stupid now i know we’ve clearly been on the same page without realising it.”
“what do you mean?”
jungkook watched you, your eyes were a little teary but you were holding your own. his heart ached again. “i want more, so much more than this.” he breathed, head dipping a little as he closed his eyes. “fuck, y/n, if it was up to me, i’d be yours, i’d do it all, the dates, the love, all of it. i didn’t want to pressure you into anything, especially with our living dynamic, i assumed you’d wanna take it slow but i’m an idiot.”
your eyes were so big, so hopeful as you both looked at one another, your chest heaving a little as your emotions began getting the better of you. you were the most sensitive person he knew and again, it was something he adored, but right now? he wanted to combust knowing he was the reason for it.
“i want that too.” you said through sniffles. “but then you didn’t say anything after and we just kept going, i figured that’s all you wanted but yejin and yoongi told me about your feelings and i don’t know, i know you feel something for me but it’s hard to believe it’s as strong as they’re saying when all i get are a few kisses and cuddles and then we don’t really talk about it.”
he nodded, gently running his thumb over your hands, urging you to go on. “and..i like you so much, always liked you kookie just didn’t think you’d like me like that since we’re so different, you know?” you sniffled. “cause i know you like your space and you like the quiet and i’m always around being loud and stuff so just didn’t think it would ever happen, but now that i have a little part of it i just..i want more and it’s scary.”
jungkook genuinely couldn’t breathe. his head was swarming with so many different things, so many ways he wanted to scream and explain to you that you were everything and more and yet he had no idea how to.
he gave you a moment before responding. “i struggle with expressing what i feel through words.” he whispered, tilting your chin so your eyes would meet again. “it’s something i’ve never really been able to do, but i’ll work on it. for you. never ever want you to be in doubt about my feelings for you, y/n, because i’m in love with you.”
you breathed out, tears spilling down your face rapidly.
“you’re everything to me. there has to be an irony to this considering the entire 3 and a half hour session with that client today was me just telling her about how i feel for you, all of the things i find cute or pretty, the way you refuse to cook a single thing, or when you use my shower instead and think i won’t notice even though you leave half of your stuff behind every time.” your little gasp was enough to bring a little grin to his face as he wiped your tears.
“it’s not fair that she gets to hear and see that, when it should be you. i’m rectifying that now, however you wanna proceed after that, i understand.”
“you are the love of my fucking life, you sweet girl. i swear, when taehyung told me him and yejin were together, i wanted to scream because i knew you’d get to be around so much more and i’d get glimpses of you. was happy just to be around you, fuck.” he breathed out. “and when you moved in, and you were still with that bastard minho, had to stop myself from going out and fucking him up every single night, only thing stopping me now is i don’t wanna scare you.”
“you’re it for me, you’re everything and more. i know you might not feel the same and that’s okay, i don’t need you to, i’m happy just knowing you and being around you, but i can’t have you thinking otherwise. i’m yours, entirely.”
you were all but sobbing at this point, clutching him tightly to you as you nodded throughout. multiple boyfriends and countless flings, all in which had tainted the idea of love entirely to you - you’d never known it to be anything other than painful and cruel. yet jungkook sat, crouched between your legs, ready to give you the world and more - was that not an indicator of how he felt alone?
“you’re so silly, kookie.” you shook your head whilst he wiped your face, coping. “want you, want all of you, like you so much it makes my head spin.” you were getting closer and closer, your bodies practically pinned against eachother. “of course i love you, fell in love with you ages ago just never properly realised it and i’m sorry for making you feel otherwise.”
he shook his head desperately, clutching the back of your hair. “no, no, don’t need to apologise. this is me, should’ve expressed this from day one, shouldn’t have heard it from anyone else but me directly.”
the two of you embraced, holding one another as you quietly cried. jungkook’s heart was broken and yet mended in y/n coloured ribbon, cured and kissed. you were his, his everything, and the fact you felt the same meant everything to him.
soon, you calmed down, whilst he pressed soft kisses to your hands as a bid to relax you. “does this mean..like we’re together?” you asked, always one to speak your mind freely without thought.
jungkook grinned into your hands, giddy and cheeky. “you’re my girlfriend.” he confirmed, kissing your knuckles over and over. “mine, all mine, swear i’ll give you the world.”
you sniffled, enjoying the attention he was giving you. it felt so good to finally know, and even better knowing it was exactly what you hoped for and more. it finally felt right.
—
“are we going to address this?” jin asked, currently stood in your kitchen with his hip popped and an apple half bitten into.
yoongi scratched his head. “this causes for a celebration, feel like i’ve been made an old man through the will they, won’t they.” he grumbled.
the two watched as you giggled together whilst chatting away on the couch, your legs sprawled on his lap whilst he curled into you, your fingers playing with his hair. they had come over to pick something up for the shop, though neither of you made any effort into getting up initially.
you eventually did, humming excitedly as you went to grab a drink from the fridge. “hi.” you eagerly greeted the boys, grin a little too wide.
they both blinked at you.
“don’t you think my boyfriend is so handsome?”
the two blinked again. it dawned on yoongi first.
“namjoon owes me 200.”
“what the fuck? he owes me 50, i didn’t realise we were doing high bids.” jin complained, huffing.
jungkook’s eyes narrowed. “you guys bet on us?”
“obviously. you’re easy money.” yoongi smirked, patting his shoulder before picking up the box they needed. “come on jin, let’s leave the love birds to it.”
jin continued to grumble the entire way, giving you a little hug before leaving you both in your shared silence, the door closing behind them. you both looked at one another before giggling a little.
“can we make out in your room now?” you asked, always a bundle of excitement.
“i still don’t understand why you say it like that.” he laughed as you led him there. “because, smells like you in your room so it means we kiss better, duh.”
he grinned again, happy to oblige in whatever his girlfriend wanted from him. he pulled you down onto the bed, hovering over you in a matter of seconds, not allowing you to get your bearings before he pressed his lips to yours.
it always got steamy whenever you were in here, though you hadn’t actually done anything yet. at most, you’d felt him through his shorts once, being rudely interrupted by a knock on the door from jimin meaning you couldn’t do anything. you’d never forget how he felt though.
your lips moved in unison, moans and whimpers leaving you as he caged you in. shoulders wide and biceps large, this felt like heaven and more. your hands were roaming through his hair, tugging causing him to grunt. your tongues explored whilst your hips moved upwards, desperate for anything he’d give you.
his lips soon trailed down your chin, and to your neck, sucking and biting almost instantly. your moans were driving him insane, so breathy he swore he wouldn’t last. he pulled away slightly, the sight of you on his bed, hair messily discarded over his pillows whilst your cheeks flushed red, lips swollen and eyes hazy. he wanted to fucking ruin you.
“you’re going to drive me insane.” he grumbled, hands at your side.
“hm?” you teased, legs wrapping around his waist. “but we just started…”
jungkook took that as confirmation that you were both on the same page, smirking a little before pressing his lips against yours once more. his hands travelled to the big tshirt you were wearing, hands pushing underneath as they travelled up to your bare breasts.
“no bra?” he groaned through the kiss, kneading and touching instantly.
you moaned into the kiss also, shaking your head slightly. “never wear a bra, kookie. thought you would have noticed by now.”
the cheeky remark was enough to make him want to scream. “i’ve noticed baby. tried to be good and respectful, be a good roommate but couldn’t stop looking, makes me feral.”
for someone so quiet, you were realising jungkook was a dirty talker and the thought made you pool between your legs. you liked that, a lot.
a moment passed and he was already pulling the tshirt off of you, leaving you in nothing else than your flimsy pyjama shorts.
“fuck, look at you.” he groaned loudly, head dipping before you could even respond. his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, biting and licking, whilst his fingers gripped either side of your hips harshly. you knew his fingers would leave bruises, but a sick part of you wanted that, wanting to be marked by jungkook in every possible way.
you were a moaning mess, though he was much worse. you’d never had anyone enjoy this as much as he was, growing and grunting against your skin, telling you all of the things he wanted to do to you in explicit detail.
he got up a little, lips releasing your boobs before dropping a small peck to your lips, hair wild from the way your hands were pulling at it. without notice, he pulled down your sleep shorts, leaving you in your cute cotton panties, a little bow at the front indicating you very much did not expect this to happen today.
jungkook grew harder at the sight, enjoying it very much. “you’re so cute.” he whispered under his breath, almost enamoured by you to which you found yourself blushing pink, hiding your face a little.
you watched him kneel between your legs making you flank your thighs immediately. “you don’t have to do that, kookie.”
he raised his eyebrow. “you don’t want me to?”
“just..i know most guys don’t like it so don’t worry.”
jungkook’s face was the response you got. half confused and half annoyed. he scoffed a little before grabbing your legs and harshly pulling you closer, making you gasp out loud. “i’ve wanted to eat you out since the day you moved in, y/n.”
your brain was scattered, unsure of how to even respond as you watched him move your panties to the side. the groan he let out was enough to make you throb, watching as he blew air gently on your clit. “prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen, fuck.”
you opened your mouth to say something but was cut short immediately as he latched his tongue around your bundle of nerves, sucking and licking up and down. the moans that escaped you were louder than ever, getting airier with each passing second.
jungkook was moaning too, as though your very taste was enough to drive him insane. his hands pulled you in closer, his nose bumping your clit as his tongue pushed inside of you, thrusting and sucking every inch of you he could get.
hands pulled at his hair as you moaned his name, legs shaking. “my pretty girlfriend, hm? can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me.” he grunted, finger slowly inserting into you. “need you to sit on my face every day of my life.”
you felt so full from one of his fingers alone, so much thicker than any of yours. you’d used them so many times, thinking of him in the quiet of your room, completely unaware that he was in his own pumping his cock to your moans.
“feels so good.” you moaned out, making him let out a small breathy laugh against your clit before he resumed. “yeah? want more baby?”
you nodded, whimpering pathetically before he added another finger. you moaned loudly; hips lifting. “feels so big.”
he couldn’t help the smirk that formed. “gotta loosen you up baby, need you to take my cock.”
he was pumping fast, whilst he sucked at your clit, grunting hard whilst you both fell into a rhythm. he wasn’t being gentle by any means, rough licks and thrusts just how you liked them - he was meant for you.
it wasn’t long until you felt your orgasm approaching, and judging from the way your breathy moans were getting higher and louder, jungkook knew it too. “gonna cum for me baby?” he cooed, picking up his pace.
in a moment, you came. your hips lifted and your eyes widened before shutting tightly, moans caught in your throat whilst your legs shook. you felt like you were teleported elsewhere, never having cum from oral before.
by the time you were coming down from your high, jungkook was still practically making out with your clit, causing you to whimper and push him away. he parted reluctantly, sucking on his two fingers that were coated with you. the sight made you want to cum again, eyes hazy.
you got up at the same time as he did, reaching for his shorts as you crouched down. “baby, i love you, but i won’t last if you give me a blowjob.” he airily laughed, making a grin form on your face. it gave you an ego boost to know he was just as much on his knees for you as you were for him.
in response, you simply laid back down, lifting your legs as you took your panties off properly before chucking them somewhere in his room. you spread your legs; watching his eyes darken whilst he took in the sight in front of him.
he took off his shorts, his cock in clear view for you to see. hard, long and so very thick. it made you throb at the sight of it, knowing you’d never taken anyone as big as him. “kookie, you won’t fit.” you whimpered, fingers touching the tip in awe.
“i’ll make it fit.” he responded, leaning down to give you a little peck as he ran it down your pussy, his cock head collecting your slick. it caught onto your clit a few times, forcing little shudders to go through you that he enjoyed thoroughly.
before long, he began pushing in, the two of you moaning loudly in unison. this was everything he had dreamt of, and god knew, it was all he could ever think about. “you’re too big.” you huffed, nails digging into his shoulders.
his ego was being boosted beyond measure knowing he was only half way in, continuing to push in whilst he forced you to look at him. you closed your eyes for a moment; making him nudge your nose with his own so he’d be able to watch you again. this was euphoria at its finest, seeing you fall apart in realtime on his cock.
by the time he was fully inside, you were shaking, never having felt so full ever before and despite the painful stretch, the pleasure was unlike anything. you rolled your hips experimentally whilst he waited for you to adjust a little, causing you to moan out loudly.
“fuck, look at you baby. doing so good.” he groaned. your chest was falling up and down as you let out little breaths, leaving scars up and down his back. “so big, kookie, i can feel you here.” you whimpered as you took his hand, guiding it to your stomach where there sat a slight bulge.
“you like it, pretty girl? looks so good.”
you were going insane. once he started thrusting, you were an even bigger mess, with tears streaming down your face from the intense pleasure - unlike anything you’d ever felt whilst the stretch still allowed for a burn. it hurt in all of the best ways, and you didn’t want him to be gentle.
“h-harder.” you begged, forcing him to groan as he happily obliged. the sounds of skin against skin filtered through the entire apartment and he knew your nosy neighbours would be more than annoyed at the sound of his bed banging against the wall so loudly.
he gripped your hips, pulling your legs around him. “you have no idea how many times i’ve thought about this.” you whimpered up at him. “always touch myself thinking about you kookie, feels so much better than i dreamt about.”
he audibly cursed, grunting loudly at your words as he picked up his pace, unable to be soft and gentle despite his earlier intentions. “yeah? use to be able to hear you, baby. could hear when you were rubbing your little clit in your room, use to drive me insane.” he swore again. “amount of times i wanted to break you over and over and over is insane, but didn’t wanna scare you.”
“wanted that so bad.” you whimpered back, shaking your head. “needed it.”
you clenched around him. “my pretty girlfriend, never gonna let you go. always gonna make you feel good.” he promised you, lips pressed against yours harshly. “wish you knew how deeply i love you, wanted you for years and now i have you. all mine.”
your back arched as you moaned loudly at his words, tears streaming from how overwhelmed you felt. “promise? don’t ever want you to leave.”
jungkook’s pace grew harder if that was even possible, pushing your legs, bending you in two.
“how do i prove it to you hm? gonna fucking put a ring on you finger one day, baby, you hear me? going to make you my pretty wife.”
his words cut through you like an electric shock, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm rushed over you out of nowhere. jungkook swore loudly, feeling you grow impossibly tighter as he found himself bracing, feeling your hands pull at his hair, scratch his back and everything else.
he thrusted, keeping your high going for as long as possible, until you were shaking from overstimulation. jungkook moaned as he felt his own high approaching, clutching your thighs tightly. “cum inside me, kookie, wanna feel you.”
that was enough to drive him over the edge as he cursed, his eyes shutting tight as he orgasmed. he came for what felt like minutes, thrusting through his thigh. the two of you breathed deeply, lips hovering over one another as you shared a look.
he lowered your legs, running his hands over your thighs to soothe the ache whilst he remained inside of you, rubbing his nose over your own. “you were so good, baby. so so good.” he whispered, planting kisses over your eyelids, cheeks and chin.
you whimpered, already feeling achy from the rough session, and yet yearning for more. the intimacy was more than just sex, it felt like you both had finally reached a point where you became one, and you knew you were now addicted.
he slowly pulled out of you, a noise of protest leaving you at the feeling of being so empty. he let out a breathy laugh at your reaction, before swooping you up and taking you to his bathroom, carrying you bridal style. he placed you on the counter whilst he made sure the water was the heat you liked it at.
he turned around, your eyes trained on his making him grin a little. his heart was pounding out of his chest but he was desperate to make it appear as though he was calm despite this being everything he had ever wanted. “you okay?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your head.
“yeah.” you confirmed, matching his grin before you pulled him in. soon you were both under the water, a giggling mess as you joked and embraced, the two of you entirely inseparable.
once you were done, you both opted to head to your room. your bed was considerably smaller than his, but he loved it, loved making you sleep on his chest as opposed to next to him - he liked feeling every inch of you, it made you both feel closer.
“i love you.” you whispered to him quietly whilst you traced circles into his chest.
there was a moment of silence, forcing you to peer up only to find him staring down at you with a smile. you reciprocated, your gaze locked onto his.
“i love you so much more, y/n.” he promised.
you couldn’t help the little laugh. “yeah? even had you wanting to put a ring on me earlier.”
he laughed loudly, giving your ass a spank. “jeon y/n. sounds good.”
“good. i want that.” you teased. “and i want a big house and we can have a cute cat too. you have to build a really big fence, to prove you love me.”
“i’ll build you two, baby.”
you squeaked, planting a big kiss to his lips before snuggling into him again.
after years of uncertainty with men who had continuously taken advantage of you, this was the first time you genuinely felt seen. you were being loved in a way you didn’t think actually existed outside of books or film, but jungkook was adamant on making you believe it. to think, your quiet roommate who you found insanely attractive was the same man who was secretly in love with you was a concept unbelievable to you. but curled in his arms, you finally felt safe.
your wandering brain took place, your mouth moving before you could even stop or comprehend it.
having a big friendship group was something that most people couldn’t understand. the dynamics between each and every person were important, like a well oiled machine that churned out a mixture of jokes and joy.
you had been friends with namjoon and yoongi for years, meeting taehyung, yejin and jin in your first year of university. yoongi introduced hoseok, who in turn introduced jimin, who of course, introduced jungkook.
you were incredibly close to them all, with the exception of the bambi eyed boy, who for some reason, you just couldn’t crack. it wasn’t that you didn’t get along, on the contrary - you were the most alike and he was always extremely kind towards you. it had been years and years since you first met, and you were able to have small conversations but there was an air of tension that followed you both that neither of you understood. well, you pretended not to anyway.
it was a secret to no one, except jungkook, that you were head over heels in love with him. yoongi would groan every time he’d see the starry look in your eyes once the conversation shifted towards the younger man, with yejin and jimin giggling like their lives depended on it.
“you should just get married and leave the rest of us to finally recover from your rambles.” he grumbled, once, laid out on your sofa with biscuit crumbs on his chest.
you rolled your eyes at him, frowning. “shut up yoongi, that would require him to actually like me back.”
he groaned so loudly that you found yourself grabbing the nearest pillow and plowing it into his face. “god, you’re both such idiots.” he muttered with a shake of his head.
———
jungkook had an aura around him that most described as electrifying. he knew he could walk into any room and make a friend, or have eyes stay on him for the duration of the night - he knew he had presence and it was something he enjoyed.
one thing he didn’t know, however, was how to tell the girl he had been in love with for multiple years, his feelings. add the fact that she was also in his friendship group, he knew he was utterly hopeless.
years of knowing and seeing one another weekly, but he still struggled to hold a 10 minute conversation between you both. between stuttering words and clenched jaws - he could speak to everyone else in the room as though it was a god given talent, but you? for you, he was hopeless.
every girlfriend, every fling and every message in his inbox was a way to rid himself of you, but you plagued his thoughts and every inch of his desires.
———
“right, why are you saying this to me again?” jin questioned as he cooked.
the entire group were at namjoon’s house to celebrate his new promotion, with bottles of wine sitting in the fridge and laughter heartily coming from the living room.
“jin, please.” jungkook groaned, leaning on the counter beside him. “yoongi won’t listen to me anymore. says i talk too much.
jin looked straight at him. “you do.”
“what? this is the first time i’m opening up about this to you.”
jin looked over again, more pointed. “first time this week.”
jungkook groaned once more, overgrown pout on his face as he rubbed over his eyes.
“listen.” jin began. “you can walk, or in your case run, in circles all you want. why can’t you just be honest with her, tell her how you feel?”
“i can’t even have a conversation with her without feeling like i’m going to pass out.”
yejin walked into the kitchen, hair messy and lipstick smudged from the wine she had been drinking. her eyes fell on the pout on jungkook’s face before giggling.
“let me guess, yoongi won’t let you confess to him anymore, now you’re terrorising jin?”
“bingo.” the older man grinned.
jungkook frowned. “is this just a running gag, now?”
“hard to feel sorry for you when you’re the reason for your own problems, kook.” yejin slid next to jin, moaning over the scent of multiple little dishes. “i mean, have you tried asking her out? even platonically? have you guys ever purposefully been alone with each other?”
jungkook’s frown deepened, he hated being friends with intellectuals. stupid yejin, stupid namjoon, jin and yoongi. the rest weren’t to be trusted with this knowledge; they’d blab to you in a heartbeat. little did you know, you had taken them for yourself. they were yours informants, sworn to secrecy.
“well, i guess not but…i don’t think she’d be entirely comfortable with just me.” he confessed. “she gets shy and quiet when i speak to her. she doesn’t laugh or joke the same as when she’s with all of us.”
the two looked over at the tall boy, eyes brows furrowed. they then turned to look at one another, both shaking their head. “god, why did you curse us with idiots for friends.” yejin grumbled, allowing jin to feed her ahead of everyone.
“you guys are mean.” jungkook grumbled. “at least yoongi pretends to be nice at first.”
with a roll of jin’s eyes, he handed him a few plates before shoo’ing him away, yejin following with her hands full. in the living room, you were stood by the tv, glass in hand, giggling away as you watched yoongi and taehyung battle it out on mario cart. the former was grunting and yelling, uncharacteristically, whilst the latter grinned wide as he won another round.
“you’re getting old.” tae smirked.
yoongi gave him a glare, before standing up to help yejin put her plates down. “you don’t get hit enough for my liking.”
the wine was beginning to make your brain hazy, and you felt slightly tipsy. it was no secret that you were the lightweight of the group, which was why you were on a strict one glass policy whenever you were with your group.
the living room table was set, adorned with finger food and a bowl of larger dishes, everyone tucking in. jungkook took a seat on the coach on the left, leaving a space beside him before his eyes flickered up to you, hovering over the table behind hobi, waiting to be given a plate. his eyes stayed trained to your face, a reddish flush evident on your cheeks that made his heart beat painfully. fuck, you were so pretty.
“okay. this weekend, what are we doing?” yejin clapped, as you began filling your plate. “you know i love pigging out with you guys, but we should celebrate joonie properly. you’ve really been waiting for this for so long.”
the dimpled boy grinned, blushing slightly. “i’m happy to do whatever, this is enough for me.”
“boring.” jimin groaned, shaking his head. “we need to go out.”
your eyes brushed over the seating arrangement, noticing the only free spot was between yejin and jungkook, the latter already staring up at you with too large eyes and parted lips. you wanted to scream, the little girl in you clawing her way through your body at the thought of sitting next to your crush.
with a tinge in your cheeks, you made your way over, wobbling slightly as you began to sit down. jungkook’s reflexes were fast, one hand on your thigh and the other taking control of your wine, letting you sit down comfortably.
his touch didn’t register with your brain immediately, but once you sat down and looked, noticing his hand remaining on your thigh whilst he looked up to join in on the conversation with the others, your brain began to short circuit. he was touching you. his hand. on your thigh. touching.
you had never noticed how big his hands were until now, your eyes flickering over every inch and knuckle, core clenching and mouth watering. you wanted him in a way that was neither healthy nor acceptable, but right now, who could blame you?
jungkook wasn’t fairing any better. his heart was beating so loudly, he swore he could feel it in his throat. he hadn’t even thought before touching you, it felt like second nature and once his hand found home on your thigh, he simply couldn’t bring himself to pull away.
you both sat, tense and head swirling, his hand firmly where it belonged.
“what do you think y/n, you down?” yejin murmured next to her, bumping her shoulder.
“down..” you cleared your throat, fixing your position. “down for what, sorry?”
her eyes flickered down, before meeting your gaze with an all knowing smirk. “the new club downtown on saturday.”
“isn’t it kinda expensive? i hear the drinks are pricey.” you cringed.
jimin scoffed. “with a face like yours, you won’t be spending a penny, don’t you worry.”
you exchanged giggles, the group going back to exchanging conversations as you all drank. the wine was getting to you, so much so, you hardly noticed jungkook’s hand flexing on your thigh, gripping tighter and higher.
——
saturday had finally come and you went all out. everyone was dressed nicely, excited to go christen a new club, the electricity palpable and running through you. you knew you looked good tonight, you had gone the extra mile - sleek hair and dress both tight and perhaps too short. your heels made your legs look longer than usual and your makeup sultry - you had one single goal tonight. jungkook.
you were sick of this cat and mouse game. you liked him. maybe a lot more than like, but regardless, you were going to get a few shots in you, tell him how you feel whilst you felt confident, and then get black out drunk so you wouldn’t remember it tomorrow. solid plan.
unfortunately, said plan meant nothing once your eyes fell on him.
broad shoulders and piercings catching the light of the club, drink in hand as his t shirt stretched across his chest. every plan, thought and idea fluttered away from your head, leaving a hollow echo chamber in which all you could hear was a repeat of his name.
he turned to look around, noticing you walking towards the group with hugs and greetings. he blinked once or twice, before turning around and openly groaning. fuck.
“yeah, yeah. pack it up lover boy.” yoongi scoffed, before you walked over to give him a hug too.
jungkook spun again, meeting your gaze as you shyly reached over to hug him as per usual. he never let you get far, always closing the distance himself and wrapping his arms around you as he held you tightly.
“hm. you smell good.” he murmured next to your ear, leaving a shiver down your spine.
“is that it?” you cheekily asked, eyebrow raised.
he smirked wide and broad. “you look good. better than good.”
you grinned up at him before letting him go. he, however, let his arm rest loosely around your waist as you turned to the group, gushing with yejin about how good she looked. you tried to ignore how badly your heart was thumping, he was never this bold - sure he could be touchy but that was jungkook, he practically resided on namjoon’s lap. this felt different, but you couldn’t bare yourself to get your hopes up.
his eyes flickered downwards, observing you and wracking over your body. you looked better than ever, and it both excited and angered him. he knew he’d have to have his wits about him tonight, if a man even approached you, he was sure he’d combust.
“okay, drinks!” taehyung exclaimed over the music, clapping his hands.
you and yejin took a seat at the table whilst the boys filtered down to the bar, the loss of jungkook’s arm both palpable and healing to your racing brain.
your eyes travelled to across the club, where your boys stood, jungkook ignoring evident glances and women sauntering over to him. you couldn’t help the grimace.
“you’re too pretty to frown.” yejin cooed, moving your chin so you were facing her. “especially over a boy.”
you blushed. “wish he wasn’t so handsome, can’t believe everyone sees what i see.”
“ah,” she grinned wickedly. “funny. you’ve had guys trailing you and watching you from the second you walked in, and believe me, he’s not happy.”
your eyes widened at her comment, eyes flickering to jungkook again, who’s gaze was already on you. you broke the contact, embarrassed before turning to her properly.
“enough jungkook talk, what’s on the agenda tonight? what is yeji doing?” you asked, hands in hers.
“i’m not leaving empty handed.” she wiggled her eyebrows, causing a fit of laughter that remained as the boys came back, looking at you both inquisitively.
yoongi reached over to hand you your drink, to which you thanked him gently, sipping slowly.
you felt the seat beside you dip, focused on your conversation with the boy and girl beside you, until you felt a warm hand press against your bare thigh. yejin and yoongi continued, unaware, as your head turned to face the tatted boy beside you, who drank his drink as though this was the most casual thing he had ever done. the thump in his chest argued otherwise.
you were sure your cheeks were flaming red, and your thigh began to tremble beneath his touch. you wanted him to go higher whilst also let go, you were sure your brain would wither away soon with how hazy you felt.
“like your drink?” he asked, suddenly getting closer to you so you could hear him over the music.
“mm, fruity.” you nodded, eyes never leaving his.
he grinned. “hm.” his hand flexed on your thigh. “have i told you how good you look, tonight?”
“only once.” you guys were flirting. the little girl inside your body was screaming so loudly.
he tutted, shaking his head as his grip tightened. “my bad, baby. you look stunning.” he whispered intimately into your ear. “love this little dress, new hm? would have remembered if you’d worn it before.”
all you could do is nod, as he pulled away slightly from your ear, your faces much too close to be deemed appropriate. just a little closer, he thought, eyes flickering down to your lips. just a little curve to your head and he’d take care of your tiny pout, he was sure.
before you could continue, however. “y/nnie, come on.” jimin shouted, from across the booth as he got up, forcing you to yank away from jungkook with wide eyes and parted lips. your eyes looked up to the blonde haired boy, a smirk on his face. “time to dance.”
“jimin i’m not tipsy enough.” you groaned.
“take this shot.” namjoon pushed the drink over to you, yejin giggling beside you.
you picked it up, hands still shaky, and tipped it back, grimacing deeply whilst everyone laughed and whooped around you. you shook your head quickly, as to rid yourself of the taste, before he grabbed your arm, pulling you up from your seat and guiding you down. you grabbed yejin on the way, who waved excitedly at the rest of the boys, shouting something about actually having fun.
it wasn’t long until you guys were dancing away, giggling loudly and twirling with one another. jimin was the life of your group, whilst yejin was the soul - if you ever wanted to have fun, it had to involve the pair who only ever seeked out joy.
the alcohol was already rushing to your head, leaving you a tipsy mess. being the worlds biggest lightweight never helped when you wanted to get drunk because you knew in two drinks, you were completely finished, but it was always nice to get a buzz whilst you were out.
hobi and jin soon joined, with the former’s arms around you as you danced and sang together, fits of giggles being shared.
“i don’t think i’m going to survive tomorrow, my heads already so gone.” you shouted over at him, music thumping.
“yeah, me neither - your little boyfriend is about to kill me with his stare.” he giggled louder, throwing his head back.
your eyebrows furrowed before turning your head to the side, catching jungkook’s heavy gaze.
eyebrows furrowed and a dark expression on his face, you could see the clench of his jaw and it made your core whine. he was so pretty despite being evidently bothered. the thought, the idea, that he would be this way over hobi dancing with you sent a million electricity volts through your body, your eyes never leaving his.
“we spoil him too much, now we can’t even dance with you without him planning our murder.”
you broke eye contact, looking at hobi with an excited thrill. “i want him so bad.” you groaned quietly, head falling to his shoulder.
“believe me. you could have him.”
——
the night was going strong, and you had slowed down with the drinks and paced yourself appropriately to match your friends. taehyung wanted to smoke outside, so you accompanied him.
you and jungkook had been playing a fine line all night, dancing around the tension, eye contact and fleeting touches but never anything more. it was driving you insane, you knew that maybe he wanted you in some way but if it wasn’t the way you wanted, then you couldn’t have him. you wouldn’t be able to move on and it wasn’t fair.
you both stood outside, taehyung taking out a cigarette whilst the wind nipped at your too warm skin, offering some calm to the night.
“fuck. forgot my lighter, i’ll be two seconds alright?” he groaned with a tip of his head making you nod, resting your head against the wall of the smoking shelter.
you watched him retreat, closing your eyes for a few moments before you heard a shuffling of feet behind you. your eyebrows furrowed, thinking nothing of it until a large hand gripped your hip, twirling you around to face them.
your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. why was he here? how could he be here? touching you so casually and without thought; hand bruising your hip with every passing second as he approached you with nothing but clear disrespect.
“missed me?” jaehyun, your ex, grinned down at you, lowering his head to meet your height.
your ex of two years, who had terrorised you to an inch of your life stood before you, hands on your body as though it was his every right. your relationship with him had been turbulent to say the least.
it had started once you decided you couldn’t see jungkook kissing another girl at a random party, you felt sick and you’d had enough, you were finally moving on from the schoolgirl crush you had on him. you met jaehyun and he was seemingly perfect at ridding you of jungkook’s lasting touch on your heart, until he suddenly wasn’t.
he’d get angry whenever you went out with your friends, despite knowing them and understanding the years long dynamic you all shared. the mere mention of namjoon, hoseok and jimin were enough to drive him into a rage that left you shaking all night, only for him to appear the next morning with flowers and empty promises that it would never happen again.
you’d once mentioned jungkook in a passing, harmless comment and had to nurse your face for the next two weeks as payment. he was violent regarding any man, but it was the bright eyed boy that set him off the most.
it only escalated, but by that point, you felt entirely trapped. it wasn’t until yejin had come over after months of silence on your part, and broke down at the sight of you. you’d never forget the way she wailed whilst examining the bruises on your arms and chest, holding you like a baby before packing your bags and taking you from your shared apartment with him.
you don’t remember what happened after that, it was traumatic and it had taken a year of therapy to even consider unpacking it properly. you remembered being sat with the boys, yejin holding you tight whilst they all promised to keep you safe. you’d spend a night at each of their homes in rotation for months and months, at the fear of night terrors and something worse.
the nights you’d stay with jungkook were the calmest, the scent of him imbedded deep into his home enough to lull you to sleep as he snored in the living room. your friends had supported you to an inch of your life, built up your confidence and protected you. you were no longer the meek girl jaehyun had forced you to be, you stood straight and you spoke clearly - but the sight of him; the feel of him, broke you out of it immediately.
“get off of me.” you shakily whispered, hand grabbing the hand on your hip and pushing it away with all your might, forcing yourself to step away. “you don’t get to touch me.”
his eyes darkened, the patronising grin falling from his face immediately. “you know, i thought i taught you better than that. made sure not to let you talk back, remember?”
his words made you flinch, clearly referring to the times he would plow a fist into you if you ever spoke up even remotely. you began inching backwards, throat bobbing and hands shaking.
“and that dress? so short, it’s like you’re begging for my attention. two years later and still acting like a slut, y/n?” his face contorted, as though even looking at you made him angry. “used to be such a good girl. used to fucking listen.”
“don’t speak to me. you’re..you’re not allowed to come near me.” you wheezed out as your hands shook and your stomach twisted, the horrible feeling of anxiety and fear beginning to take over you. yejin had helped you file a restraining order. he wasn’t allowed to do this to you.
“yeah? and who’s going to fucking stop me.” he growled, hand grabbing your arm tightly making you welp whilst his other pulled you forward to his chest. “fucking bitch. i’ll take you home, hm? teach you a lesson, teach you what you should have remembered.”
you couldn’t breathe. couldn’t think. eyes closing and body shaking. his hand began gripping your face tightly, spouting abuse at you as your brain completely slipped away, shutting yourself down as trauma gripped the edges like a vice.
suddenly, you felt his touch completely leave you, forcing you to open them up again to find jaehyun on the floor, jungkook pounding his fists into his face. you could see taehyung shouting something, namjoon pulling you away and hobi running back inside where the others remained, no doubt to bring them to you.
you couldn’t think, your brain disassociating as your body trembled, prints of jaehyun’s hands all over your body. were you crying? tears were streaming down your face and you weren’t even aware, trembling as namjoon took you to a quiet corner, worried beyond belief.
taehyung had rushed back to their table to get a lighter, when namjoon, hobi and himself agreed to step out too, needing a smoke and fresh air. within moments of being outside, his eyes had widened at the sight of your abusive ex attacking you. he’d never get used to the look of fear in your face that felt so constant years ago, but seeing it back was enough to make him see red.
he wasn’t thinking, grabbing the man and plowing his fists into his face, watching him fall back. he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, only doing so once both yoongi and jimin had managed to get him off, watching as jaehyun scurried away as fast as he could, despite bleeding heavily from his face.
turning around, seeing you sat with your eyes unmoving and tears streaming, he wanted to chase the fucker and do it again. his baby, his girl - how could he do this to you? how could he look at you and not see anything other than stars and moon?
“y/nnie, can you hear me?” he cooed as yejin sobbed beside you, holding you tightly. the boys were all a nervous wreck, yoongi shaking angrily and the others trying to regain your attention.
after a few moments, your eyes began to focus. you met jungkook’s gaze first, your gaze flickering over him in a momentary lapse of confusion. “he’s gone, y/n. jungkook took care of it.” taehyung sniffled, crouched beside you.
a moment of silence was shared between you, the sounds of both yejin and tae filtering the air as the others ran their hands through their hair nervously.
“promise?” you asked, voice breaking making the tatted boy almost whine in sadness. “promise you, he won’t bother you again.”
you simply nodded. you hadn’t noticed how hard you were crying, with tears ruining your perfectly applied makeup and your chest heaving in what could only be fear. “i’m sorry joonie, was supposed to be your night.” you choked out.
the taller boy tutted over at you, pressing a kiss to your head. “don’t be silly, y/nnie.” he shook his head. “jungkook, why don’t you take her home? stay with her, yeah? think she’ll feel the best with you there.”
you hardly registered what was happening, feeling jungkook’s hands taking hold of yours as he helped you up. everyone took turns holding you for a second or two, ensuring personally that you were okay. yejin pressed kisses to your cheek through her own tears, promising you that you were safe and that nothing else would happen before crying further into jin’s chest. jungkook watched, almost helplessly as he waited for the uber to arrive, yoongi patting him on the back. it wasn’t long until he received the notification on his phone.
he looked at you now, as you sniffled and walked back over to him, his arms wrapping around you protectively as you all bid your goodbyes. you slid into the uber first, his arms cradling you as you shuffled into his shoulder, breathing in the same familiar scent that would soothe you.
after a while of silence, your eyebrows furrowed, taking in your surroundings. “this isn’t the way to my house.”
he looked down at you, your little hand on his. he pondered before holding it up to his mouth, pressing a little kiss to your fingers. “i know baby. taking you to mine.”
your heart was thumping again, watching him as he caressed your hands, kissing each fingertip so gently you wondered if he was kissing them at all. an act so intimate you wondered what it meant.
it wasn’t long until you arrived, mourning the loss of warmth jungkook’s body provided as he pulled you out gently, taking you inside.
you’d been here a million times before but you never tired of how warm it felt, how much it resembled each bit of him. you pulled off your heels, your height dropping significantly before shuffling to the bathroom, intent on taking your makeup off immediately.
the joys of having two skincare obsessed women in the group meant yejin and yourself kept these boys stocked, considering sleepovers were a norm. jungkook let you take your time, no words exchanged as he grabbed you a t shirt from his wardrobe, knowing how much you liked sleeping in them.
“kookie, can i shower?” you asked, quietly as you peeked your head out the bathroom.
“course you can, i got you the rose body wash that you like the other day too.” he grinned over at you, hands roaming his hair. he handed over the oversized tee you loved so much, heart skipping a beat as you gave him a soft smile. “you’re the best.” you muttered back, hearing a little chuckle from him.
you watched as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets before closing the door, your eyes screwed shut for a moment. so much had happened tonight, from feeling utterly helpless one second to so safe and warm in jungkook’s presence.
you showered relatively quickly, wanting no more than to sink into the plush mattress of his bed. “you hungry?” he asked once you came out, having showered himself in his other bathroom, dressed in a similar t shirt and plaid bottoms. he looked so cute.
“no, i’m okay.” he looked over with a small double take, drinking you in, soft skin and barely hidden legs. god, you drove him insane.
he nodded. “okay, wanna head to bed? it’s been a long night for you.” you shuffled in your spot before nodding.
he’d usually sleep on his couch whenever you were round, considering it was quite large and comfortable - of course, he didn’t want to intrude either. he had too much respect for you to ever think about imposing.
“will you..will you stay with me? tonight?” you whispered quietly, looking down as you asked.
he didn’t reply, simply began walking over to you and gently taking your hands in his, littering your smaller fingers with kisses like he did in the uber. your breath hitched as you met his gaze, watching as he nodded before leading you over to his bedroom, hand clasped over yours.
you let yourself be pulled by him, watching as he rounded the bed, knowing you preferred the side closest to the window, before getting in; watching you do the same. you both snuggled into the warmth of his covers, a groan leaving your lips.
he turned to look at you, as you did the same. he couldn’t handle how cute you looked, fresh faced and cuddled into his pillow. he wanted to protect you forever, have you sheltered from anything that didn’t wish even a semblance of joy.
“i’m sorry you got hurt, kookie.” you whispered, the little pout he loved so much forming. “i had no idea he was there and i just froze..i don’t know.”
he cooed at you, inching closer before slowly pulling you in by your waist so the space between you had disappeared. your hands moved to his chest without thinking, the urge coming naturally.
“don’t apologise, y/n. should have killed him for how he was speaking to you, i’m so sorry he did that.” his eyes shut tightly for a second, as though the memory pained him. “he’ll get what’s coming to him, i’ll make sure of it.”
you looked away, eyes falling to his neck and the rise and fall of his chest. “how do you feel?” he asked.
his hands moved to cup your face. you were both inching closer and closer without even realising it. “scared, honestly. i’ve been doing so good and now he’s reappeared.” you all but whimpered. “just wanna forget.”
“yeah?” he whispered, lifting your chin again to look at him, his forehead gently pressing against yours. “want me to help you forget, pretty girl?”
“please.” you nodded slowly, your eyes flickering to his lips whilst he did the same, the two of you dancing around the tension but tonight was enough.
he looked between your lips and eyes once more, before brushing his nose against yours. you tilted upwards before you felt a faint brush of his lips.
he pulled away, only slightly, looking at the way your eyes fluttered close, all resolve fluttering away from him before he properly pressed his lips to yours again.
kissing jungkook felt like coming home. consisting of passion and years of yearning, feeling like it had finally come to an end. all compiled into this single moment.
you pulled him closer, mouths interlocking as you shared a sweet embrace, his arms wrapping around your entire body before you began pulling away. the kiss was only brief, but its impact left you reeling.
“fuck.” he whispered. your eyes remained shut for a moment longer, opening them up to find a look of hope pulling at his fingers. “i’m going to kiss you again, okay y/n? but before i do that, we need to talk.”
you nodded, eyes focused on his lips before meeting his gaze. “okay. you go first.”
he nervously laughed, sitting up slightly and giving him a moment to get his bearings. he opened his mouth a few times, before closing it, unsure of where to start. “sorry, just hard you know? telling the girl you’re in love with that..you’re in love with her.” he rambled, scratching the back of his neck.
you could have sworn that the earth stopped spinning. you looked up at him, sitting up a little too fast, causing him to stop his rambled muttering before raising his eyebrows.
“what did you just say?” you all but whispered, eyes wide.
his mouth was gaping now, confusion littered on his face as though to question what had he actually said. once it dawned on him, his eyes matched the size of yours.
“oh…i mean i guess i said it. i..i get it if you don’t feel the same, i don’t want you to feel like you have to return the same feelings, you know?” he began again, this time much faster, the two of you completely sat up in bed. “but like can you blame me? loved you second i met you, y’know? always wanted to tell you but just get so shy around you, and you’re so pretty makes my brain shut down..”
whatever you had done in a past life, god bless. you were sure you would thank every god and every goddess for this very moment, your hands shaking as you grabbed his face, yanking it towards you and pressing your lips to his.
jungkook’s breath faltered for a second before realising what was happening. he wrapped his hands over your hips, careful not to touch the bruised skin your ex had caused, pulling you onto his lap immediately.
this kiss was unlike the other. though it shared the same passion and tension, this felt like a promise and declaration of love - a certainty that had waited to be confirmed for what felt like eons.
your mouths moved in unison, your fingers gripping into his hair as he brought you closer. he groaned into your mouth, your tongues moving together whilst you both pushed and pulled, yearning for more whilst every emotion ran through you. the feel of his piercing against your mouth felt cool; an odd feeling at first touch but quickly becoming something your brain felt addicted to.
he pulled away slowly for breath, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenching as he looked directly at you, nudging his nose with yours. “is that your way of telling me you like me?”
“i love you, you idiot.” you whispered back at him, the both of you resorting to pecks. “loved you for so long, can’t believe you haven’t told me until day.” he grinned at this, nudging your nose once more.
“yeah, you didn’t either.”
you rolled your eyes, playing with his hair from behind. “does this mean we can kiss all the time?” you asked, pecking him whilst excitedly bouncing in his lap.
he groaned loudly, hands flying to grab your waist carefully as you smothered his faces in excited kisses. “yeah, won’t ever keep my hands off of you again.”
jungkook, although elated, was fighting the demons that were currently erupting through his chest. you, in no more than his shirt and your underwear, bouncing in his lap, conveniently over his crotch where he was already fighting his growing hard on.
“fuck, y/n.” he groaned again, holding you down a little firmer, unaware that the action was now directly pushing your own core directly to his crotch. you let out a little noise, half moan half whimper; eyes connecting.
neither of you dared to move. the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable, especially after the night you had which is shy he began to pull you up, to rest you on your side of the bed again.
only, you placed your hands on his shoulders, pressing your core against his bulge firmly before rolling your hips experimentally. you couldn’t help the moan that left you, a noise leaving his lips that rivalled it.
“still…still wanna forget kookie, you’ll do that for me?” you asked, unable to stop your hips from moving in circles, not when it felt so good.
he nodded, as though in a trance, guiding your hips as he shuddered against you. “don’t want you to feel like i’m taking advantage, baby, you’ve had such a long night.” he whispered, though your actions never faltered.
sweet, sweet boy. you couldn’t believe this was happening, the man of your dreams, both your heart and brain no longer at odds but instead connected finally in matrimony. “wanted you for so long.” you breathed out with a shake of your head.
this was beyond anything he could imagine. with direct confirmation from you, he captured your lips once more, hands planted firmly on your waist as he dragged you up and down his clothed cock. you shared moans, quiet and unsure at first before you found yourself matching his movement, the two of you closer than ever in a way you had Both only dreamt of.
“fuck. we have to stop, or i’ll cum.” jungkook whined as he pulled away from your lips, arms entirely wrapping around your body as if to stop you, closing his eyes tightly. “and i plan to impress you, so..”
you panted, with both a slight nod and slight giggle before whimpering at the loss of pleasure. this only lasted a few more seconds before suddenly, you found yourself flipped, a squeal leaving you. jungkook hovered over you, peeling his shirt from his body before swooping down to catch your lips again.
you couldn’t help your wandering hands, fingers twitching over his naked chest. you had seen him shirtless before, notably when you had all gone to the beach, but the memory was seared into the crevice of your mind. feeling his skin so intimately was completely different.
your lips moved in unison before he broke away, whining at his own action as he pulled his t-shirt you wore. he looked at you for approval, to which you nodded before he pulled it up over your head.
jungkook groaned, loudly. the sight of your bare breasts were enough for him to go clinically insane, but the way you were looking up at him, eyes big and lips bruised. you would be the end of him.
“fuck, look at you. so pretty.” he reached for one of your breasts, listening to the quickening of your breath as he wrapped his mouth around one. biting, teasing and licking, he proceeded to leave honeyed marks on your skin, whilst your moans and squeaks egged him on.
he moved to your other, making sure to physically leave his claim over them with hickeys adorning your body. “need you, kook.” you whined, impatient.
the side of his mouth flickered up at the sound of your impatience, and as much as he wanted to ruin you immediately, he had waited too long for this to just end up rushing.
“need to prep you first, hm? gonna be patient for me?” he cooed as his hands continued cupping your breasts. you nodded, eagerly, hands locking into his hair as he gave them one last kiss before easing down your body, trailing kisses from your stomach to your hips. he kissed over the bruised skin jaehyun had caused, making your heart clench for a moment.
the boy you loved, with wild eyes and bruised lips, searing love into every crevice of skin he could reach, ridding you of the pain that disgusting man had placed on you. he was freeing you with every touch, with every promise hidden behind passionate touches, you felt so safe.
he parted your legs, eyes flickering up to meet yours. he grabbed the hem of your underwear, sliding it down so that he was met with your core, a noise of pure defeat leaving him at the sight of you. wet and clenching for him, yearning for his touch just as much as he yearned to taste you. “all for me, baby?”
you nodded, as he parted your legs further despite how suddenly shy you felt. he dipped his head, planting a chaste kiss to your clit, watching as your body jolted. with a smirk, he dove in.
he couldn’t help the noises that were leaving him as he sucked and licked, intoxicated by your taste. “taste so good, y/n.” he’d moan in between your legs. “could die here.” he’d add. “addicted to you.” he’d all but growl.
you couldn’t help the moans, you’d never felt like this before. sure you’d been eaten out before, but never by a man who acted like this was his last starving meal. jungkook hoisted your legs wider, as your hips lifted, your hands tight against his scalp.
“need to stretch you, fuck. need to make sure i fit, hm?” he teased, eyes connecting with yours as one of his tatted fingers teased your entrance whilst sucking on your clit. you hated the thought of any woman before you in his life, but you thanked every higher power above that he knew what he was doing, feeling your high in your stomach already.
he instered a finger, pumping at a pace that had your toes curling. the whines that were leaving you made him dizzy, he wanted more. it wasn’t long before he inserted another, beginning to thrust them in unison whilst you chanted his name.
he groaned at the sight of you lifting your hips, desperate to reach your high. he had no idea he was grinding into the bed, chasing a high of his own as he watched you quiver and moan. “so tight, y/n, can’t wait to feel you on my cock. hm? won’t be able to think once you’re being fucked right, baby.”
you nodded, head empty and hands shaking. “w-want it, kookie, want it so bad.”
his fingers quickened, getting rougher and going harder as he sucked on your clit. he could feel you getting restless, knew you were on the edge from the way you were pushing his head closer without even realising. he could feel his sick obsession in his brain growing rapidly knowing you wanted him just as much, it felt like nothing else mattered than making you good.
“jungkook.” you let out a high pitched squeal, feeling your high rapidly approaching before your legs began to shake, and hips began to raise. your high ran through you like a shot of electricity, as your moans grew higher, his fingers pumped faster and his hand pressed down onto your stomach, forcing you to feel every inch of your orgasm.
he parted from you after you began quivering from overstimulation, plopping his fingers into his mouth to memorise your addicting taste. he hovered over you once more, the tent in his bottoms too large for you to ignore.
“i hate that you’re so good at that.” you panted, unable to meet his eyes as your focused on his bulge. he smirked, watching you, placing your smaller hand onto it so you could feel him fully. “i’m all yours now baby. gonna eat you out every chance you give me.”
your eyes met, a shared grin forming between you both before you pulled him in sharply for a kiss. hot and heavy, you could taste yourself on him which drove you insane - you reached for his pyjama bottoms, pushing them down almost desperately.
parting from him, with hooded eyes, you looked down at his cock. so big and thick, prettier than any you’d ever seen before you let out the cutest moan. he swore he could die happy. “how are you this perfect, and you have a pretty dick?”
“are you trying to inflate my ego? it’s working. i’ll get that tatted on my chest, don’t play.”
you giggled up at him before pumping him, both hands moving up and down as you sighed. “want you inside me, kookie.” you peered up. “don’t make me wait anymore.”
he pressed one last kiss to you, groaning at the feel of your hands around his already sensitive member. he parted your legs, one peek at your messy core enough to drive him insane before he began rubbing the head over you.
“don’t think you’ll fit.” you whimpered, the feel of him all encompassing.
“i’ll make it fit, was born for you baby.” jungkook promised, as he began pushing his cock in, your core instantly clenching around him. he began slowly, until he was fully inside, pelvis to pelvis, eyes fluttering shut.
you’d never felt so full in your life, the stretch both delicious and overwhelming. your fingers clawed at his large biceps, whimpers and quivers filling in the air as he held you tightly, whispering sweet nothings about how good you were for him, how incredible you felt. once you gave him the green light, he began thrusting.
he couldn’t believe this is what he was missing out on. he couldn’t believe how tightly and warmly you felt around him, felt like he was finally coming home.
his hips snapped against yours slowly, letting you feel every inch as your moans got louder and louder. “faster, kook.” you begged, though you knew you never had to, he’d give you the world.
“fuck, fuck, fuck.” he chanted, his pace changing as he began to thrust faster per your request, pressing his head against yours. “feel so good, my y/n, my girl.”
you clenched around him over his words making him airily chuckle, thrusting harder at that. “yeah, like that? like me calling you my girl?”
“yeah, wanna be yours jungkook.” you whimpered back, legs reaching up to wrap around his waist as he began to thrust deeper.
the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air and he knew his neighbours would be furious tomorrow, but could hardly begin to care. “you are, hm? was always my girl, you’re all mine and i’m all yours.” he promised, biceps flexing beside your face. “won’t ever let you go.”
you mewled loudly, hands finding home in his hair as you pulled against the strands. “feel so full.”
“yeah? pussy loves it baby, loves taking it.” he growled back, head hiding in your neck, leaving hickeys.
you could already feel your high approaching, but you couldn’t bare for this to end yet, lightly pushing his chest. he immediately pulled himself up and stopped thrusting, looking down at you with furrowed eyes. “wanna ride you.” you whimpered to which he threw his head back in what could only be a pathetic groan.
“you’re going to kill me, y/n.”
soon, your positions had changed and you were slipping him back inside, the two of you moaning loudly at the feel of one another in such a deeply intimate way. he felt so much bigger like this, and the feeling of fullness for you and your heat for him were enough to drive you mad.
he watched as you began to bounce, body contorting at the feeling of pleasure running through you. this was the hottest sight he had ever seen, your hands pressed against his chest to stabilise yourself.
“fuck yourself on my cock, that’s it.” he cooed, hands grabbing onto your ass before landing a harsh spank, to which you mewled and rode faster. you had no idea to what extent you were driving him crazy.
he watched as you rose, hands now held behind yourself as you practically used him to get off. the sight was severed into his brain forever, with his fingers rubbing your clit to bring you closer to your high. “already so close, feels too good.” you moaned.
music to his ears, jungkook thought. you were getting tighter and tighter, no doubt nearing your second high but he couldn’t bring himself to lay back anymore. he grabbed your ass again, before bouncing you up and down himself, your moans getting expeditiously louder.
“jungkook!” you squealed, feeling his cock fuck you in a way no one had ever managed to. you were addicted, you had no idea how you were ever suppose to live again after this, after experiencing heaven.
“fuck baby, can feel you getting close hm? wanna cum with me, wanna cum on my cock?” he cooed at you, switching your positions again. you were now on your side, one leg on his shoulder whilst he hovered over you, pounding roughly whilst rubbing your clit.
you chanted yes over and over, his free hand holding your own as he could feel his own high approaching. with the final rub to your clit, your breath stitched as your orgasm rushed through every inch of you, shaking your body beneath him.
the sight alone was enough to bring him to his own high, giving you one last sloppy thrust before cumming, his fingers on your clit not letting up as he chased you through your high, your moans twisting into one another.
his fingers fell, alongside your leg on his shoulder leaving you both a shuddering mess. he immediately found home, his forehead touching yours whilst your breaths mingled, panting at one another.
you spent a few minutes just like that, getting your bearings before he slowly pulled out, groaning at the sight of his cum trailing out of you.
“you okay, did i go too hard?” he cooed at you, his hands reaching for your face as he planted sweet kisses over your cheeks.
“felt so good, kookie. felt perfect.” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his neck immediately, pulling him down to properly meet you beside him.
he could hardly believe it. the love of his life, cuddling into him after a session of pure passion and lust. he was addicted to you; sure that no other drug would be as potent as you. completely ruined from the inside out.
you both stayed silent for a while, simply caressing and kissing each other. it felt so pure, so right that you felt ashamed knowing you hadn’t told him your feelings earlier. you had long forgotten everything that happened that night, your brain totally encompassed by the thought of him.
“i’m never going to live down the fact i should have confessed to you earlier.” he frowned at you. “we wasted so much time.”
to this, you giggled, holding him close. “we were idiots, but i guess this means we have to make up for it, right?”
jungkook grinned widely at your words, taking your hand in his and lightly kissing your fingertips. “firstly,” he began, sitting up slightly so that you could look at him properly. “i love you, love you so much i can’t breathe when i look at you.”
you took him in, a bashful smile forming. “secondly, know i didn’t properly ask but this makes you my girlfriend, right?” he asked, smiling wider as he watched you nod excitedly with a squeak. “not for long though, i’ll put a pretty ring on that finger in no time.”
your mouth fell open at his words, eyes widening. “jungkook, you can’t say that!” you giggled, evidently very giddy at his words. say more, your heart screamed.
“please, i’ve learnt my lesson y/n. not wasting any more time.” he teased back, the two of you embracing and sharing a sweet kiss.
this was everything you both had wanted and more, spending the rest of the night talking, embracing and perhaps dabbling in other pleasurable activities. soon, you both fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. home, at last.
——
“you owe me like 50.” namjoon grinned widely at jimin.
the group had walked into jungkook’s apartment, each bringing breakfast assortments and flowers for you to make sure you were alright. they had been so worried last night that they’d gone straight home, each of them unsure of what to do but all understanding that the safest place for you to be was with jungkook.
when jin had seen yoongi and examined the redness of his knuckles, he couldn’t help but grin, knowing full well the boy had probably paid jaehyun a little visit sometime in the night. neither party said anything, but an understanding was shared. you were the youngest of the group, and of course, they were incredibly protective.
what they didn’t, expect, however was to see you cuddled up in jungkook’s arms, the two of you snoring away, evidently naked considering the duvet was hardly doing anything for modesty. upon sight of this, they all silently cheered, filtering out into the living room.
“no way, you ALL owe me 80, i said they’d fuck, you guys just said they’d confess.” yejin chimed in with a grumble, prodding a figure into the taller man’s chest.
hobi couldn’t help his giggles as he began unpacking breakfast. “whatever, can we all just be glad that this ordeal is finally over?”
taehyung nodded. “no more y/n pining.”
“no more jungkook whining.” jin added.
“no more will they, won’t they.” namjoon grinned, grabbing a seat at jungkook’s kitchen table.
“no more does she lo-“ yejin began, before shutting her mouth immediately. all eyes furrowed, including hers, straining their ears to hear the sudden noises forming in the bedroom as their heads snapped, looking over.
a moan filtered out into the air to which everyone groaned, realising what had instead replaced it. “pack it up, lovebirds.” jin shouted loudly. “breakfast on the table in 5, i expect you out and showered.”
You and your boyfriend have a little argument, so he suggests something filthy and demented to decide who has to apologise first.
genre – mutual pining, smut, fluff.
pairing – jungkook x fem reader.
warnings – explicit language & smut.
word count – 7k+
in the confined space of the elevator, you stand with your arms tightly crossed over your chest, staring at the doors, refusing to look at him. jungkook leans against the opposite wall, his one ankle over the other with his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. his jaw is clenched and ticking every now and then. neither of you have spoken until you both left the car.
the argument you both had started off quite small, and stupid – highly unnecessary. you had a terrible day at work today, you don't even want to think about it. to make things even worse for you, jungkook had decided to show up ten minutes later to pick you up. he apologised in the parking lot sincerely, but you were already too mad to listen to what he had to say.
you snapped at him. "if you can't be on time, just tell me so i can take the damn train."
his eyes narrowed at you, brows furrowing. "i'm here, aren't i? i always come get you. i don't know why you're acting like i left you stranded."
"oh my God, jungkook. it's not just about that. i was out waiting in the cold like an idiot while you-"
"while i what? work my ass off all day too? fuck's sake, y/n, i'm not your chauffeur."
and yeah, that's what caused it. whatever negative feelings you've both been feeling in the week all surfaced. by the time he parked in the garage, your voices were raised and yelling at each other.
now in the elevator, the silence between you feels worse. you can feel him staring at the side of your face, and as much as you hate to admit it – it intimidates you.
when the doors finally open, you storm out first. jungkook follows a step behind you with the house keys jingling in his hand. when you reach the door, you wait with your arms crossed refusing to turn around. he unlocks the door without a word, pushes it open and lets you walk in first. the second he locks the door; you turn around furiously to look at him.
"i actually don't think i'm done talking about this." you say while kicking off your uncomfortable work shoes. "you think just because you showed up eventually makes it okay? i'm exhausted, jungkook. i always am, and the one thing i expect from you is that you're there when you say you'll be."
he basically throws the keys onto the counter, the unnecessarily loud sound it makes emphasises his own anger.
"and as i told you, i got held up at work. it isn't like i was out drinking with my friends. i was working. you know, that thing we both do to pay for the apartment you're currently yelling in for no good reason?"
you laugh bitterly, reaching behind to unzip your skirt, "oh, what the hell are you trying to say, huh? you think i don't work just as hard as you do? well i do, and i would never do something like this to you."
you pull your skirt down your legs until it pools at your feet. you step out of it, so you're left in just your blouse and underwear. jungkook's gaze wanders over your figure and his eyes darken. you see the way his tongue licks across his bottom lip, and it pisses you off more because he's clearly not interested in what you said since he's checking you out.
"why the hell are you looking at me like that?" the disapproval is clear in your voice.
he takes a step closer, shrugging off his jacket and carelessly letting it fall on the floor. "like what?"
"like you wanna fuck me instead of talking about this."
he huffs out a low laugh. "can't help it. you're sexy as hell when you're mad."
you roll your eyes and turn towards the bathroom to get away from him, unbuttoning your blouse as you go. he's right behind you, and when he catches up with you, you feel the hardest, most possessive smack on your ass. you gasp and spin around, hand flying to your ass cheek that now stings deliciously,
"jungkook!"
he doesn't even look sorry, he just stares down at you with dark, heavy eyes with a smirk on his face. "i can't even lie. i wanna fuck you," he says with genuine honesty in his deep voice. "been thinking about it since you started raising your voice in the car."
your face heats up at that, and your body traitorously feels aroused too, despite how angry you still are.
"no," you say firmly. "not happening until you apologise properly ."
he scoffs and runs a hand through his hair. "you want to apologise for something that isn't my fault, something i already apologised for anyways? fine. i'm really sorry y/n. now come here."
"that's not a proper apology, you're being cynical." you turn again, walking into the bedroom, opening the last buttons of your blouse. once it's fully unbuttoned, you take it off so you're left in your bra and panty. even though it's freezing cool, you purposely take ages so jungkook can see you like this and wish.
you hear his footsteps behind you again, and then his hands are on your hips, pulling you back against his chest before you can move away. he's warm and you feel his erection pressing against your ass. he dips his head down, so his lips brush your ear.
"i want to fuck you." he murmurs again needily. one of his hands slides up your stomach to graze the side of your breast. "wanna bury myself inside you and make you forget why you're mad."
you shiver, hating how good that sounds, hating how much easily he gets you weak for him.
"no," you say, and it comes out embarrassingly weak. you turn in his arms and push at his hard chest. "not until you actually mean that you're sorry,"
his eyes search yours, frustration is evident in his eyes, but of course the hunger is more noticeable. he lets out a slow exhale, looks as if he's contemplating something, then he gives you a little smirk.
"okay," he says calmly. "let's make a deal, hmm?"
you narrow your eyes, growing suspicious. "what kind of deal?"
he steps back and starts unbuckling his belt. your throat goes dry as he opens a button before unzipping it.
"cock-warming. you sit on my dick," he says, eyes locked in yours. "just sit. no moving or anything. we stay like that until one of us can't take it anymore. whoever thrusts, grinds or anything too physical has to apologise. properly."
your breath hitches and you feel some wetness at your core at the thought of his filthy ultimatum and the challenge in his voice.
"you've lost it. why would i do something so demented?"
he pushes his jeans and boxers down his legs enough to free his cock. it's so hard and lengthy, it's got you mentally salivating. he holds it in his hand, giving himself a few strokes, and damn you're jealous that you're not the one doing it for him.
"scared you'll lose, baby?"
you swallow hard, you're stubborn but then again there's an ache between your thighs wishing to be satisfied. this is probably the dumbest deal you're about to agree to, but it does sound interesting in way you're unable to comprehend.
"fine." you say firmly.
"get on me then."
you stand there for a second, re-thinking your decision. where on earth does one even come up with this idea? jungkook walks back to sit on the edge of the bed. your eyes voluntarily drift down to his cock, hard against his stomach with the tip glistening. he carries on fisting himself while looking up at you with a little smirk. your pride is screaming at you to leave and not give him what he wants, but of course, the demon inside you is ovulating and very curious.
you huff out a breath and approach him, climbing on his thighs to straddle him. you're stubborn as ever, so you don't touch him more than you have to. your knees sink into the bed on either side of his thighs. once you're properly on him, he reaches out for your panties to help you get them off. his little touch is enough to have you aching for more of it, and that pisses you even more because you don't feel like being a sucker for him tonight.
"don't" you snap, slapping his hands away. "i don't want you looking at me, i don't want you touching me. let's just do this stupid thing."
his eyebrows shoot up, surprise and maybe a little bit shock evident on his face. "yes, ma'am." he murmurs.
he tilts his head back immediately, looking at the ceiling like it's the most fascinating thing to exist – which of course, it isn't. you are. you're undoubtedly the most fascinating thing jungkook could lay his eyes on. but now, he has to make believe that the ceiling is interesting since you're forbidden him from looking at you. his drops his hands on the mattress, fingers fisting into the sheets.
you sit up a little to get your panty off, and it sticks to your core, showing you how pathetically soaked you are already. you feel your arousal dripping down the inside of your thigh, landing on jungkook, just above his knee. his throat bobs hard and his jaw clenches tightly. he moves a bit so the tip of his cock brushes against your inner thigh leaving a small smear of pre-cum.
you glance down and he's painfully hard, his veins standing out today. your mouth goes dry. you're annoyed that your first instinct is to hold him in your hands and tease him before giving him the sloppiest head. instead, you sit back on his thighs, keeping some space between your core and his cock. his eyes are still glued to the ceiling, lips slightly parted as he breathes slowly, trying to remain neutral.
you slide one hand down your stomach, going down to your clit. jungkook quickly glances at what you're doing and his breath hitches when he sees your fingers rubbing yourself slowly. you're drenched enough that when you circle your clit, the sound is very audible to him. you let out a little moan as your fingers move through your folds, you're very sensitive so your touches feel so good. jungkook's hips involuntarily jerk and he lets out a low, frustrated groan.
"fuck," he whispers softly, squeezing his eyes shut.
you slip a finger into yourself, pumping inside slowly. the wet and filthy sounds fill the room, tormenting jungkook. you add another finger inside, imagining that it's him. though your fingers are absolutely nowhere near as pleasant as jungkook feels. he finally brings his head forward to watch you finger-fucking yourself. he makes a noise that makes you clench around your fingers. he drops his head back down on the mattress, letting out a shaky breath.
even though you're enjoying the pleasure you're giving yourself, you pull your wet fingers out and bring them up between you. without a word, you press them to his lips. he doesn't hesitate; he opens his mouth so you can insert your fingers inside for him to lick them with a satisfied groan. he licks them clean while finally staring into your eyes, sucking harder on your two digits.
when he finally lets your fingers go with a soft pop, he hoarsely speaks, "fucking hell, you're so soaked."
you don't answer him, you move forward, rising on your knees until you're hovering over him. he gets the hint and wraps a hand around his cock, holding it steady for you. you lower yourself onto him torturously slow, coating him with your arousal. he hisses, head falling back again. you finally sink down, and the stretch is perfect. your breath catches in your throat, and you moan out shakily as jungkook groans loudly.
"f-fuck," he breathes out. "so warm and perfect."
once you're all the way down, neither of you move for a while. he's buried so deep inside you, pulsing while you clench around him. your hands find his shoulders for balance, nails digging into his skin – it stings a little, but jungkook loves the feeling. his eyes are locked on your face now, gauging your reaction to this, taking note of the pleasure you're unable to hide, and the way you're clearly displeased with just sitting on him. you're his girl, he knows you through and through. you're always in the mood to fuck him or to get fucked by him, he knows very well that you're eager for some action. but of course, you're way more stubborn so you both end up sitting still, staring at each other.
the atmosphere between both of you is very tense. considering the fact that you're both still quite pissed off at each other. you're both still frozen in place, bodies intimately joined together but refusing to move. his cock throbs deep inside you and every time you clench around him, you both let out frustrated noises, putting much effort into staying still.
jungkook leans back on his elbows so he can get a good look at you. the movement causes his hips to move a bit, making his cock shift inside you, nudging a spot that has your toes curling. you whimper softly, nails digging harder into his shoulders.
"don't move."
he grunts lowly. "trying not to, baby. fuck, this was a stupid fucking idea."
his eyes are dark and glassy, fixed on you in a way that makes you feel very intimidated. you can feel the way he's obviously holding back, see the way his abs flex and the way his thighs tense under you and the way he's trying to remain perfectly still. you lean forward, trying to steady yourself on him and the movement causes him to drag along in your walls.
"shit," he curses. "you're dripping down my balls, y/n. tell me the truth, does fighting with me get you this wet?"
he asks huskily with some teasing in his voice, and maybe even some triumph as if he's just found out something dirty about you. your cheeks burn, but you won't let him win that easily. you lean in close, lips brushing against his.
"oh, please. look at you. you're hard as fuck. literally throbbing inside me like you're about to come from me just sitting on you. so don't act like you're not just as turned on by this."
he narrows his eyes at you, tongue in his cheek as he stares st you for a moment before speaking. "i'm a guy. you're naked, soaked and sitting on my dick. of course i'm hard."
he admits shamelessly, perhaps his excuse is valid, but you're still feeling the need to be bitchy. 'bullshit." you say.
your hips move the tiniest bit, enough to make both of you feel tingles, but not enough to count as moving. he sucks in a sharp breath, eyes fluttering.
"you were hard in the elevator. you were hard the second i started yelling at you in the car. admit it - you like it when i'm pissed at you."
he lets out a low laugh, elbows digging into the bed as he sits up a bit more. you both let out moans when the shift causes his hips to roll again.
"fine," he rasps. "yeah, i like it. i like when you get all fired up and talk back to me. turns me the fuck on. happy?"
you swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your body responded to his confession by clenching hard around him. his eyes darken and a groan slips out of him.
"but that doesn't mean i'm gonna apologise first," he adds quickly, matching your stubbornness. "you're the one who started going off about me being a few minutes late."
"those few minutes felt like hours when i was freezing my ass off waiting for you- " you abruptly stop because he purposely flexes inside you, making your thighs tremble.
"jungkook," you warn but it comes out needy and desperate.
he smirks at you. "what? i didn't move, did i?"
"you're so damn infuriating."
"really?" he licks his bottom lip when his eyes drop to where you're both joined, before looking back up at your face. "come on, baby. move. i know you wanna ride me. i can feel how bad you want it."
yes, you absolutely do want it. you want to slam down on him and ride him hard. your pussy is throbbing, swollen and desperate. but you're not about to break first.
"no. you move, you apologise."
he groans again, closing his eyes shut as if he's praying for strength. when he looks at you again, his eyes are dark.
"you're pure fucking evil." he mutters.
his hands twitch at his sides and he has to fist them to prevent himself from grabbing your hips and fucking into you.
minutes pass by, both of you are breathing hard while staring at each other, trembling with the effort of not giving in. your hands ended up on his hard chest, feeling his heartbeat. jungkook's hands hovered uncertainly for a long time, but eventually they settled on your hips, caressing with his thumbs. you're trying not to clench around him, but every time you do, his eyes flutter and his fingers tighten on you.
you bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying hard to stifle the little whimpers trying to escape you. the still feeling of him is so overwhelming, it's making you insane, every time his cock pulses inside you has the demon inside you wanting to move.
jungkook's jaw clenches so tight you can see the veins standing out on his neck, and the sweat dripping down his forehead despite the cool weather. jungkook looks completely ruined, and the sight of him like this would have you feeling so victorious if you weren't feeling just as tortured as him.
finally your pride cracks and you plead with him. "move," you whisper. you didn't mean to say it out loud, it just slipped out.
for a moment you think he might put you out your misery and fuck you, but he doesn't.
"no," he says roughly. "you move and apologise first."
you laugh, but it's frustrated and annoyed. "you know you want this, jungkook. even more than i do."
"says the girl who's shaking on my dick." he shoots back. "you want this more than me, angel."
to prove that he's right, your body betrays you by tightly clenching around him again as if you're trying to pull him deeper inside you.
"y/n, stop fucking doing that-"
when you look at him, you notice that his eyes are almost wet, like he's on the verge of losing it. seeing him like this – jungkook, who's always so controlled and usually dominant – almost knocks the air out of you. you're so wet, it's embarrassing, arousal coating his cock, dripping down onto his skin.
you lean forward so your forehead touches his and lips brush against his as you speak . "this is killing you, isn't it?"
he swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing. "you have no idea."
"i do," you admit. "because it's killing me too."
his hands slide up your sides, caressing your skin and stopping under your breasts. you bite your lip harder, feeling the urge to roll your hips and please both of you.
after a long while, both of you still refuse to give into each other. you just stay there frustrated in place.
"i don't get it, y/n." he mutters, eyes searching yours. "why are you so fucking stubborn? i didn't do anything wrong. i was late one time. traffic was shit, i apologised in the parking lot. why can't you just say sorry and let this go?"
he raises his voice, startling you since he never ever does that. you get the urge to cry. your shoulders drop, and the fight suddenly drains out of you. your eyes start to sting and blink a few times, trying to keep it together. but your tears fall anyways. jungkook's expression breaks, his anger and frustration are replaced by deep concern and regret.
"baby-?"
you shake your head, voice wobbly when you speak. "today was awful." you whisper. "everything went wrong. my boss made me look stupid in front of the whole team, he always does that to me... i don't even want to talk about it. and then i waited out in the cold forever, and i just... i didn't mean to take it all out on you. i've been so stressed, jungkook. i'm tired. i'm sorry."
+you've never mentioned your boss and the hardships you face at work to jungkook. knowing that he'd lose his shit. but today had been a lot, too much for you. thinking about what happened causes your tears to fall faster.
jungkook sits up fully, his cock shifts in deeper and both of you want to moan at that, but now isn't the time. his hands go around you to pull you against his chest.
"hey, hey, no-don't cry. shit, i'm sorry." his voice is soft and guilty. "i didn't know it was that bad. i should've asked and listened instead of getting defensive."
he cups your face, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, but more keeps coming. he leans in and kisses them away, kissing all the way down to your jaw.
"i'm sorry, baby," he murmurs against your skin. "sorry for being later. for raising my voice just now. for not seeing that you weren't okay. i'm really fucking sorry."
he kisses you properly after his most sincere apology. his lips are soft and gentle against yours, tasting the salt from your tears. you sigh into his mouth, your hands sliding around his neck to pull him closer to deepen the kiss since you've been desperate for it. you start moving, rolling your hips and grinding down on him making you moan into each other's mouth.
"i'm sorry too," you whisper against his lips, as you lift up and sink back on him, taking him deeper. "i love you. i love you so much."
he groans, hands tightening on your waist to help guide you now as you start riding him faster now.
"fuck, i love you," he says, eyes locked into yours. they're dark and wild, making your breath hitch. "i love you, my stubborn, infuriating, perfect girl."
you laugh softly and he kisses you again, swallowing the sound. your hands are everywhere, holding his shoulders, caressing his abs and chest. his hands roam just as greedily as yours. one cups your breast, thumb playing with your nipple, the other grips your ass, fingers digging in as he helps you bounce on him.
you ride him for a long time. both of you let out loud, pleasant sounds, whispering filthy praises and apologies between kissing.
suddenly, he lifts you up and flips you over. you're on your back now, he holds your thighs firmly and makes you wrap your legs around his waist as he settles between them. he thrusts back inside you deeply, making your back arch off the bed.
"jungkook-oh-God-"
he groans at your sweet sounds, his forehead dropping against yours.
"need to fuck you properly." he murmurs.
he starts moving faster and harder, the feeling of him has you seeing stars. he grips your thighs, bringing your leg higher around his waist and grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing it hard as he pulls you against him to match his thrusts.
you touch him everywhere – hands in his hair, nails raking down his back. his mouth is everywhere on you, sucking marks onto your skin, kissing your lips hungrily. he doesn't stop fucking you perfectly. every time he pulls out and slams back in has you moaning his name out loud.
after a while, you release first, practically screaming against his shoulder. he follows a few seconds later, thrusting into you sloppily now before burying himself deep inside you and staying there while filling you up.
he half collapses on you, though he's careful not to crush you. his forehead rests on yours as you both of you pant into each other's mouths. for a while neither of you move from that position. eventually he pulls out, you both groan at the feeling of how sensitive you both are. he rolls onto his back beside you, hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you against him. you turn in his arms to place your head on his chest and throw your leg over his thigh. he holds you tightly, leaving kisses on your temple and the top of your head.
soon, you fall asleep in what you think of as your favourite and safest space – wrapped in jungkook's embrace.
୨ৎ
the next morning, you stir awake slowly, eyes fluttering open. once you're fully conscious, you notice jungkook's gaze on you. he's propped up on one elbow, his head resting on his hand, watching you with the softest expression you've ever seen on him. his hair's a mess, and the sheet has slipped down to his waist, revealing the red marks you left on his chest and abs. he looks so peaceful, possessive and utterly in love. it's like he's been staring at you for a long while, watching you sleep.
you smile sleepily. he leans in slowly clearly wanting to kiss you, you mumble something about not brushing your teeth yet, but he clearly does not care. he kisses you deep and hungrily, tongue sliding inside your mouth. you a soft, embarrassed sound but he just hums, pleased and kisses you harder. his hand caresses your cheek before going under the covers to hold your waist and pull you right against him. you melt into the kiss despite your earlier grumbles about not brushing your teeth and your worries from last night about his absence.
when he finally pulls back, your lips are swollen and you're both breathing hard.
"morning," he says in that rough morning voice you love, his nose brushing yours.
"morning," you whisper back, cheeks heating up.
right after that, his mouth trails down your jaw and neck, licking and nipping at your skin. he goes down lower, kissing your collarbone, between your breasts and your nipples. you gasp at the sensation, arching into him.
"jungkook-"
"shh. let me make you feel good." he murmurs.
he disappears under the sheets, moving down your body. once he's settled between your thighs, he pushes them apart gently, then kisses along your inner thigh, teasing.
after his gentle kisses, he licks you all the way from your entrance to your clit. you moan out loudly, hands gripping the sheets when you hear his hum in approval. he goes straight to work, licking you hard and circling your clit. you're soaked, arousal mixed with his saliva. you grip his hair, needing something to hold. he slides two fingers inside you, finger-fucking you slow and deep while simultaneously sucking on you.
soon enough, you're releasing while moaning his name. he doesn't stop, only when you're weakly tugging at his hair from oversensitivity does he crawl up your body, kissing wherever he can as he comes back up. once he's back up, hovering over you, he kisses you slowly. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss him even deeper.
"let's take a shower, hmm?"
he doesn't wait for you to answer him, he just picks you up and carries you the bathroom for a shower. in the shower, he helps you by washing you up, soaping your body, washing your hair and massaging his scalp. you return the favour, soaping his back, his chest and down his abs, teasing him by going lower until he catches your wrist, pins you to the slippery wall and kisses you dizzy.
soon the both of you finally come out the shower, wrapped in towels while trading lazy, loving kisses that he tries to turn dirty. you playfully swat him away so you can get ready for work.
every single morning, jungkook is always much faster than you are – already dressed in suitable work clothes while you run around like a headless chicken. he makes you coffee while you dry your hair. and every time he comes to check on you, you notice how he looks at you in the mirror. it's not like the playful and flirtatious way he usually does, instead it's more observant and watchful.
when you walk into the bedroom to get dressed, he's already sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone in his hand. he dims his screen as you step in and his eyes lift to you immediately. he watches you as you change into your work clothes, eyeing your body with an intensity that makes you heat up.
"you're staring at me, you creep." you play it lightly.
he huffs out a small laugh, since keeping his eyes glued onto you. "can't help it. you're beautiful."
you smile shyly and reach for your blouse. as you button it, jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, fingers laced together.
"hey," he says softly. "can i ask you something?"
you nod, glancing at him in the mirror. "yeah?"
"your boss." he says carefully. "the one you say has been giving you a hard time. what exactly does he do to you?"
you stomach drops at the question and mention of him. some stupid part of you hoped that jungkook wouldn't have asked. but of course, he would. he's so protective over you, way too protective. you finish sliding your arms into the sleeve, focusing on the buttons so you don't have to meet his eyes.
"it's nothing," you say, trying to brush it off with a little shrug. "just typical superior bullshit, deadlines and nitpicking. the usual."
"Y/N."
the tone he uses makes you glance up at him again. his expression is calm, but there's something deeper underlying.
you force a smile. "really, kook. it's fine. and i don't really wanna talk about this. can we not do this right now?"
you focus on changing into your skirt and neatening up your hair. in the reflection you see him still watching you, his tongue is his cheek - the thing he does when he's usually pissed off and holding himself back. he relaxes himself and nods slowly.
"okay." he says without looking away.
you finish getting ready, and when you lean over the dresser to put your earrings on, he stands up and walks behind you. his hands settle on your hips, chin resting on your shoulder as he meets your eyes in the mirror again.
"you look perfect," he says, nibbling on your earlobe now.
you lean back into him. "thank you." he leaves a deep kiss on your neck before letting you go.
inside the car, he drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other tracing circles on your thigh just as he usually does, except this time his hold on you is firmer and feels more protective.
────୨ৎ────
it's been a few nights since yours and jungkook's silly argument and the insane deal that followed. at home, with him, things have been great. he's been on time for you every evening after work – sometimes waiting outside your workplace minutes before you even clock out. you know that being early for you might be challenging for him, because realistically his workload is a bit more demanding than yours is. but he loves you more than enough to go to that length to please you. of course, in return you reward him with sloppiest head or whatever else he finds pleasant. and whatever he finds pleasant – you do too. so basically, you two have spent the last few days fucking like rabbits.
you wake up slowly and a bit disorientated. your body is aching in best way possible. of course, the first thing you do is reach out for jungkook craving his warmth, but you're met the feeling of the empty sheets instead. you lift your head, seeing that the time on the clock is 2:18AM. his side of the bed is empty and cold, as if he's been gone for a long time, it makes you feel uneasy.
you sit up, rubbing your eyes, trying to listen for any noise to indicate that he's around. but there's nothing, just silence. you get off the bed to stand up and head toward the door with the intention of going downstairs to hopefully find him there. but just as you open the door, jungkook's already opening it from outside. you scan him immediately, sensing something off. even in the dark, you notice that his attire – he's in outside clothes, like he's just been out somewhere.
when he notices you, he jumps, startled. your stomach drops, not liking his reaction.
"hey," you say softly. "where were you?"
he's stunned for a few seconds, then forces a small smile. "just stepped out for a smoke. couldn't sleep, didn't want to wake you."
you instantly catch in that he's lying. he doesn't smell like smoke. he could've gone to smoke on the balcony. and who in their right minds would dress up just to go out to smoke?
you step toward him anyways, reaching out for a hug since you're still desperate for his warmth you couldn't have due to his strange absence. but he doesn't meet you halfway to bring you into his embrace, instead he leans in to press a quick kiss to your forehead, then your lips before you can fully process it.
"go back to bed, baby." he murmurs. "i'll be with you in a minute."
you search his face in the darkness with your heart beating a little too fast. "kook..."
"i'm just gonna shower quick," he says, already walking past you toward the en-suite bathroom. "just wanna wash up. go lie down, okay? i'll be right there."
he closes the door behind him before you can say anything. you stand there, staring at the closed door, listening to the shower starting up...
soon, you climb into bed and pull the covers up to your chin, lost in thought. where has he really been? and why is he lying to you?
୨ৎ
later on, you wake up feeling jungkook's lips on your shoulder, he leaves a kiss there, then another on the nape of your neck. his arm is over your waist, fingers drawing patterns on your stomach.
"morning, beautiful." he murmurs in his rough voice.
he leans in to kiss the tip of your nose, your forehead then your lips. you hum into the kiss, enjoying it, but your mind wanders to how he lied to you in the early hours of the morning – how he was supposed to be in bed cuddling you but was absent in bed, and walking in from somewhere else instead.
but right now, you don't want to think of that, he's kissing you so affectionately and loving, it has your mind going blank.
he breaks the kiss to speak, "sleep okay?" he tucks strands of hair behind your ear.
"yeah," you lie a little, but smile anyway. "you?"
"slept so good after having you back in my arms." he kisses you deeper again, rolling you onto your back so he can hover over you, one of his thighs slide between yours. "you feel so good in the mornings. i could stay here all day."
you laugh softly, fingers threading into his hair. "we have work, unfortunately."
he groans loudly at that, burying his face in your neck. "unfortunately, we do."
he kisses you one more time, then rolls out of bed, stretching - you eye his delicious figure as the shirt rides up, revealing his body underneath it. you watch him walk out the room and down the hall. your suspicions from the morning aren't so worrying now. maybe you just overthought it, maybe he really just needed air.
you get up eventually, already dreading this day. you love your job, just hate your boss. over the past few years, you've been working at your job, he's tormented you and made most of your days a living hell. all because you refused to sleep with him. you could've reported him to hr, but it's unfortunate that the old hag is too powerfu. any of the poor other women who had gone through what you do and were brave enough to report it ended up jobless.
you've worked so hard to get to where you are, yes, you're qualified and deserving of a higher position, but the bastard has rejected you many times. your current position is forced to suffice, and it's something you can't afford to lose, so you have to endure all that he puts you through. the idea to tell jungkook has always called out to you, but he's way too crazy over you. if he knew what goes on, you're sure he might end up a killer. so, you've stupidly decided to keep to yourself.
you shower, do your hair and change, and by the time you're done, jungkook is as well. he's leaning against the counter sipping coffee, eyes lighting up when he sees you.
"fuck," he says quietly, setting his mug down. "you look way too good for that place."
"flattery won't get me to call in sick."
he steps close, hands going to your hips to pull you into him.
"worth a shot."
jungkook fixes your collar while you button his sleeves, you neaten his hair while he zips your skirt up properly, his fingers lingering on your thighs as you two have a small make out session.
by the time you make it to the car, you're both a little untidy and laughing at nothing. he drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other intertwined with you to leave kisses on your knuckles every now and then.
once he parks outside your workplace, he turns to you. "come here," he instructs.
you lean over the console, expecting a quick kiss but it's definitely not quick. his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you deep. his tongue slides into your mouth, tasting you. you gasp into the kiss, fingers fisting into his shirt, making him groan before kissing you harder. he squeezes your thigh, pulling you closer.
your lipstick is definitely smudged and your hair's probably a mess. you giggle breathlessly when he pulls back to let you catch a break.
"jungkook," you laugh, wiping his bottom lip with your thumb.
"you're gonna make me look unpresentable."
"that's okay," he says before stealing one deeper kiss from you. "then everyone will know you're mine."
you roll your eye with a racing heart, but of course you have to leave with one last peck. afterwards you get out the car, neatening yourself up before making your way inside. he watches you the whole way with a soft, possessive smile on his face.
the office feels different when you walk in. it's quiet in a weird way. your desk is still the same, everything exactly in place. but it's devoid of its usual tense, suffocating atmosphere. people glance at you as you pass, some offer small smiles. but no one is gossiping as they usually do. your boss's office door is closed with the lights off.
"hey," your only friend here at work says as she appears at your cubicle holding two coffees. "you okay?"
"yeah?" you say, confused. "why wouldn't i be?"
she leans in, lowering her voice when she speaks. "did you hear about mr kang?"
your stomach tightens at the mention of his name. "no...what happened?"
"i heard he called in this morning. said he had a 'family emergency' and won't be in all week. but-" she glances around before whispering softer. "someone said he was at urgent care last night. bruised and bloody... looked like he got attacked or something."
your heart stops, lia keeps going, oblivious. "weird, right? he's never missed a day...and hr sent an email - assignment of duties. everyone's freaking out a little."
you stare at your computer screen, fingers frozen on the keyboard. for some unknown reason jungkook's face flashes in your mind... or perhaps, deep down the reason isn't entirely unknown, but you're choosing not to consider it.
୨ৎ
during the day, you've buried yourself in emails and reports. at about 3pm, you receive a new email, subject : reassignments. the email comes from director park – director park who's levels above your boss. to say you're nervous to meet with him is an understatement, but anyways you smooth your skirt, and make your way to the executive floor.
director park's assistant smiles when you arrive and waves you right in. inside, director park stands to greet you before gesturing to the chair across from his desk. the kindness and bright smile on his face eases your nerves immediately.
"y/n, thank you for coming. i'll get straight to it." he slides a folder across the table.
"effective immediately, you're being moved the senior strategics projects role. heard it's something you've applied for before."
your soul leaves your body – from hearing the greatest news. that role. the one you've always dreamed of getting. the one your prick of a boss rejected you for, even though you were perfectly qualified for it and suited for the roll.
"i... i don't understand," you manage to say in disbelief. "i thought the decision was already–"
he holds up his hand. "things changed. after an incident that i'm unable to get into detail about, i've done reviews on the workers here and find that your work is exceptional. you've really earned this, miss y/n."
tears prick at your eyes, you blink hard, trying to keep it together.
"this is... this is everything i've wanted. thank you. thank you so much."
he smiles, sliding a tissue over to you.
"congratulations. hr will send the formal letter this afternoon."
୨ৎ
by the time work is over, you're practically on cloud nine. you rush out the doors, eager to see him and bear the news. jungkook is leaning against his car in the pickup zone with his hands in his pocket with a smile already on his face as if he knows a little secret.
you start running toward to him, he pushes off the car just in time, catching you as you launch yourself at him. your legs wrap around him and he holds you steadily under your thighs as you bury your face in his neck.
"i got it, jungkook, i got i," happy tears fall onto his neck. "the promotion. the one i've always wanted."
he pulls back to look at you, grinning happily. "baby–" he laughs, spinning you around before setting you down but keeping you close. "holy shit, i'm so fucking proud of you."
you're crying happy tears again, laughing through it. "i can't believe it, kook."
he kisses you hard and you kiss him back, not thinking for a second that he may be one of the reasons you've so suddenly gotten this promotion.
୨ৎ
at home, jungkook cooks your favourite dinner and gets out the most expensive wine you have to celebrate properly. you both eat together then sip the wine until you're both tipsy and giggly. after some time, you both sloppily kiss each other. jungkook can't stop touching you, pulling you onto his lap with his tongue down your throat. when he pulls back, he's looking at you as if you're his everything and more.
"you're glowing," he says, staring at you with glassy eyes. "i've never seen you this happy."
you straddle him fully then, arms around his neck with your forehead against his. "because of you too. with you, everything is possible." you slur a bit.
his hands tighten on your hips; he looks so utterly satisfied hearing those words. again, he kisses you deep and passionately.
later on, when the wine bottle is empty, he carries you to bed. both of your clothes are taken off in record speed since he's eager to fuck the living daylights out of you.
he fucks you slow at first, eyes locked on yours as he said the sweetest things to you, about how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how proud he is of you and how no one else could ever compare to you. after that, he goes faster and rougher. his hips thrust into you so passionately, you screamed out.
he'd take you in so many positions, had you in so many different angles, you discovered just how flexible you are. you and jungkook are always adventurous in bed, and with him you've discovered just how feral you truly are in bed. but tonight you've shocked yourself by how long you're going on for, you've released so many times. yet you can still go on.
he's got you on your back again, thrusting into you. his forearms are braced on either side of your head, caging you in. he's sweaty, the red marks you left on his chest are standing out completely - you don't think you've seen something so ethereal in your entire life. again, his eyes don't leave yours, he's staring down at you with that proud and possessive lovesick look he's had all night.
you're already so close, thighs trembling around his waist. gasping every time he bottoms out. your hands grip onto his shoulders, sliding up to tangle in his damp hair to pull him down for a messy kiss. he groans into your mouth, pounding into you harder.
"my perfect girl," he rasps against your lips roughly. "you're finally getting everything you deserve."
you whimper, arching into him, too lost in the overwhelming sensations to catch the weight behind his words. he slows down a bit, just to get in nice and deep and stay buried for a while. his hips circle in a way that feels so good, it has your eyes fluttering shut.
he speaks close to your ear, licking your earlobe, "no one's ever gonna stand in your way again, baby," he murmurs. "no one will ever hurt you and get away with it, i'll make sure of it. just like i did with him."
your eyes snap open, he doesn't stop moving. he cups your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek tenderly.
"i told you i'd take care of you," he whispers. "and i always keep my promises. i'm just sorry i didn't take care of it sooner."
────୨ৎ────
I love writing short stories like this, it takes my mind off things. So, you can send me requests for short stories and drabbles. ♡
You get your boyfriend mad and instead of apologising, all you do is argue with him – so he decides to fuck the stubbornness out of you.
genre – SMUT, dating au, mutual pining, fluff.
pairing – bf jungkook x gf fem reader.
warnings – arguing, y/n is stubborn and bratty (she's kinda the reason of the argument), a lot of pussy eating , jungkook's freaky, jungkook teases y/n a lot, denied orgasms, fingering, dirty talk, counter sex¿, cock sucking/throat fucking (he makes her get on her knees), worshipping, spanking, titty sucking, rough sex, etc...
wc – 5k+
Jungkook grips the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles whiten. He’s angry, so damn angry, but at this moment, he knows better than to say too much to you. You’re fuming, outraged and yelling at him from the passenger seat.
You’re the sole focus of Jungkook’s life. In the two years of dating you, you’re his everything and more. The one person who drives him mad in the best and worst ways. He’s stupidly and crazily in love with you, but tonight that undying, never-ending, obsessive love is twisted into ugly jealousy and frustration.
Earlier on in the evening you had happily skipped into the living room as he played video games. You twirled in front of him, wearing a very pretty, short, tight and silky black dress.
“Do you like it, Kookie?” you asked mischievously.
Jungkook’s attention switched from the screen to focus on you. When he saw you in the attire, he gulped hard, but forced a smile. “You look gorgeous, baby. But isn’t it a little short?”
You huffed and rolled your eyes at him. “Jungkook, it’s a club night with my girls. I wanna look hot.”
He let you go, of course. He’s not some controlling boyfriend that makes a huge fuss out of things. And he trusts you completely. Yes, he was overprotective and hated knowing other guys would be ogling over what’s his, but he had to believe that you’ll be okay.
When you left, he kissed you and told you to have fun, and to at least text him every hour or so. Just so he knows that you’re safe. Once you were gone, he spent the next few hours trying to distract himself. He gamed, chilled, spent time in the gym down in the basement. But none of it helped his worry, especially when you did not text him. Not even once. He spammed you for hours, but he heard nothing from you. And that might’ve triggered him, because what could possibly have you so busy that you couldn’t even let him know that you’re okay?
Jungkook did the only logical thing a loving, caring, doting and completely normal boyfriend would do. He tracked your location and drove to the club you were at. It had taken him about a minute to find you. And when he did, he felt his blood boil. You were laughing with and getting too close to another guy. The guy was tall with slightly blonde hair, being a bit too touchy with you.
“Y/N.” Jungkook called out sternly, causing you to turn to him with widened, surprised eyes.
“Kookie? What are you doing here?” you asked, confused.
“We’re leaving.” He grabbed your wrist to bring you toward him, clearly frustrated and trying to stay calm. He didn’t want to do anything stupid, make a scene, or beat the shit out of this guy for touching what’s his.
You tried to protest, but Jungkook decided to bend down and throw you over his shoulder and walk toward the exit. It was barbaric and awfully embarrassing. Your friends seemed concerned, strangers mumbled and laughed, watching as your boyfriend carried you away like you were a sack of potatoes..
You squirmed and yelled at him, but he didn’t stop until he reached his car, where he then gently deposited you in the passenger seat before walking over to the driver’s side.
“Are you serious right now!?” you yelled as he started the car and began to drive. “You just embarrassed me in front of everyone! How could you drag me out like that? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You weren’t answering your phone.”
“So you stalk me to the club? Real healthy, Jungkook.” you say, annoyed.
“And why the fuck did I walk in to see you all cozy with some random guy?” he asks as his anger flares at the remembrance of the prick.
“It wasn’t even like that! You always do this!” you yell angrily. You know it’s kind of an exaggeration, but still. “You go out with your friends all the time. Going to clubs, parties and things, and I never say a word. I always trust you. But the second I wanna go somewhere, you make it into an issue. You’re such a hypocrite!”
From then on, Jungkook decided to keep quiet. He’d say what he needed to say at home when he’s not distracted by the road. He never ignores your calls, he always texts you, whenever he’s out there’s not a single woman involved. You’re not drunk, you’re very sober. He surely hopes by the end of the night you’ll come to your senses and see that you’re in the wrong here. He hopes that you’ll explain your side of the story properly and apologise for stressing him out.
By the time you’re home and Jungkook’s parked the car, you’re still fuming at him. You unbuckle your seatbelt and storm to the elevator, eager to get inside. Jungkook follows you with his hands in his pocket, trying to keep calm and quiet, but he cannot.
Once you’re both inside, he finally snaps at you, asking the question that’s been worrying him during the whole ride home. “Who the fuck was that guy, huh?”
Jungkook hovers over you, his eyes boring into yours. The sight is so hot and intimidating.
“He’s a friend, Jungkook. We went to the same college and we were catching up. And might I also add that he’s gay?”
Jungkook exhales and rubs a hand over his face. Okay, now that he’s a little bit at ease, he can admit it to himself – maybe his reaction was a bit overboard. But even so, there are more issues here.
“You didn’t answer me for hours. You went out in that tight, revealing dress when that club is actually full of weird assholes–”
“Oh, here we go again!” you push past him and storm to the kitchen for a glass of ice water.
“You’re out with the guys all the time. Drinking, going to places surrounded by women, but I don’t say anything, because I trust you. But I barely go out, and the one night I have fun, you lose your mind!”
You take a sip of water, but a few droplets of water fall down onto your chest, onto your cleavage. Jungkook’s eyes follow the movement. You’re a vision, even when you’re angry. Fuck, he thinks you’re so hot when you’re angry. He leans against the counter opposite you, folding his arms over his chest. He’s listening to you, well kind of. As you yell at him, his eyes wander over your body. Is he stupid? How could he let you out the house in that short, little dress? No one’s supposed to see you like that but him. He pressed his tongue into his cheek, a habit he often has whenever he tries to hold himself back.
You keep going off at him, oblivious to the way he’s looking at you. “If you can’t trust me, then maybe–”
You look up, making eye contact with him. His eyes are filled with love, frustration and need. His expression causes your stomach to flip, even though you’re so mad at him. Before you can say anything else, Jungkook walks over to you, invading your personal space. One of his hands goes around to grab the back of your neck, the other grabs your waist as he smashes his lips against yours in a hungry kiss.
You stiffen at first, caught off guard before melting into it, making Jungkook groan at the response. Your hands fist into his shirt as you kiss him. The kiss is sloppy and filthy, you both pour your frustration into it. Jungkook pins you against the counter with his body, allowing you to feel his growing erection against your core.
Jungkook breaks the kiss for a millisecond so he can reach back and yank his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor carelessly. You don’t have time to admire your boyfriend’s broad chest, his tattoos or his abs as he crashes his lips onto yours again with a groan. Your hands flatten on his chest, caressing there and down his abs while his hands caress your cheek and hip.
You pull back a little to speak against his lips. “I’m still mad at you.”
He scoffs, staring down at you. “Then be mad.” he murmurs.
Before you can fire back, he spins you around with strong hands now on your waist so you’re facing the counter. You gasp and your hands slam onto the counter for balance. Your short dress rides up, revealing more and more of your skin. Jungkook presses himself against you, his bare chest against your back and his hard bulge against your ass.
“I’m fucking mad too.” he says, roughly against your ear
He dips his head so his mouth can latch onto the side of your neck. He licks, sucks and bites on it, leaving a thick, visible mark on you. You exhale shakily when you realise that he is now dropping to his knees behind you. He caresses your sides reverently as he makes his way down to the floor. He pushes your dress up around your waist. The sight that greets him is that of your pretty pink, damp panties. Jungkook grunts before leaning in to bury his nose against the damp fabric. He inhales your scent deeply.
“Fuck…” he curses, muffled against you. “Gonna take it all out on this sweet pussy.”
He hooks his finger into the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs, letting them pool at your ankles. His hands grip your thighs firmly, spreading them. Your eyes flutter closed in anticipation, waiting for him to devour you. But Jungkook doesn’t start off like he normally does, he doesn’t dive right in like he’s starving for you. He starts off torturously slow, way too slow. He leaves deep, wet kisses on the back of your thighs as his warm breath fans over your exposed core. He then leans in to teasingly circle the tip of his tongue around your entrance. He doesn’t fully give you what you crave. You do try to push back against him to let him know that you’re extremely needy, but he just tightens his grip on you, holding you in place.
“Kookie… please.” you whine. Because you’re more horny than mad, the sound isn’t as embarrassing as it would be if you were feeling the contrary.
He hums against you, but he keeps teasing. Over and over again, he gives your folds long and slow licks before returning to gently suck on your inner thighs, leaving little marks. You’re aware that he’s doing this because he’s trying to frustrate you like you’ve frustrated him. You’re his woman, he knows you better than anyone in the world. He obviously knows that you can be a little demon when you’re horny so of course the best way to rile you up is through sex.
The teasing becomes too much for you so you try to pull away from him, but his hands are too strong and firm. He yanks you right back where he wants you and gives your inner thigh a warning nip.
“Stay still,” he murmurs roughly. “You wanted to drive me crazy, didn’t you? Now you take this.”
He continues teasing you until you’re whimpering and your legs are shaking. Upon hearing a cute plea from you, Jungkook finally gives in. He buries his face between your thighs and starts to devour you. His tongue plunges in deep, lapping at you filthily and eagerly. He eats your pussy with devotion that has you moaning loudly.
Jungkook loves this, he loves making you crazy while pleasuring you. He sucks on your clit then fucks you with his tongue, groaning at your taste – since you are his favourite thing to munch on. The wet and dirty sounds fill the kitchen as Jungkook devours you, his nose presses against you and his hands spread you open wider.
You moan for him louder, “Oh, Jungkook–”
You grip the counter top for dear life and your hips rock against his face as much as his grip will allow. Jungkook alternates between licking you slow and deep, and fast suction on your clit. You’re already so close, you feel your orgasm approaching. You’re certain it’s here, but suddenly he pulls back. You let a loud and frustrated whine.
“No, Kook. Why?”
Jungkook stands on his feet behind you, licking his lips slowly. With the back of his hand, he wipes his mouth, staring at you with dark and satisfied eyes before smirking at your trembling form. You turn around and face him to smack his bare chest, hard.
“You jerk!”
Jungkook hums again, amused. He catches your wrist gently before you can smack him again. You yelp when he suddenly moves his hands to grab the backs of your thighs and lifts you off the ground. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist before he sets you down on the cold kitchen counter. He stands between your thighs, gripping your hips to pull you closer to the edge so your bodies are flush together. You feel his hard cock against your core, straining against his pants. He rubs himself against you slowly, making you feel his erection.
It feels incredible having him grind against you like this, but it’s still not enough, especially when you’re so needy tonight. Jungkook watches your reactions the whole time, watches as your eyes flutter shut, as your mouth parts to let out shaky breaths. Even though he’s rock hard and throbbing, he’s doing his best to restrain himself. His main goal right now isn’t his release – it’s the punishment you deserve, sweet payback for the worry you put him through tonight.
“Feel that?” he asks roughly, rubbing himself harder against you, causing you to whimper.
You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin while trying to grind on him, chasing more pleasure. One of Jungkook’s hands grabs your thigh hard, holding you still so you’re unable to get the friction you so desperately want.
You pout at him, your lips a little swollen from the kisses earlier. “Why are you being so bad to me?” you whine, annoyed.
Your hips twitch uselessly in his grip. Jungkook huffs out a sarcastic grin that forms into a cocky smirk. You feel like slapping him, you feel like kissing him. The first option does seem more enticing at the moment.
“Me? I’m the one being bad?” he leans closer, his nose brushing against yours as his throbbing cock continues to grind against your core.
“You’re the one who’s bad, baby. Dressing the way you did, making me chase you down…”
He presses forward more firmly, letting you feel his thick length drag against your wetness. He does that a good few times, making you salivate before pulling away again. You glare at him, but before you snap again, he brings two of his fingers up to your mouth and taps your bottom lip. Your eyes stay locked on his as you part your lips and take his fingers into your mouth, twirling your tongue around them obediently, coating them with your saliva. When Jungkook pulls them free he brings them to his own mouth to lick them before dropping them down between your legs.
He rubs your swollen, wet clit making your eyes roll. Again, he alternates between slow and fast – teasing you yet again. Your hands fly to his hair, tugging on it so he can look at you.
“Jungkook. Stop teasing me.” you demand, sounding cute and whiny despite your anger.
“Stop being a brat first.” he says, rubbing harder on your clit now.
Your eyes narrow at him. “I won’t suck your dick ever again if you keep doing this.” You threaten, trying to sound serious through the shallow moans you let out.
Jungkook gives you a bored look, raising an eyebrow, obviously not bothered by the threat. You love sucking his cock just as much as he loves eating your pussy. And trust that he loves eating your pussy a hell of a lot. It’s one of the best things he spends his time doing. He obsesses over it, it’s got to be an addiction to him. So of course he knows that you will never stop sucking his cock.
“You will.” he says, simply.
Without any warning, he slides two fingers into your pussy, pumping them deep inside you. The sudden feeling makes you cry out and arch your back. He fingers you relentlessly while his thumb works on your clit. His other hand grips your neck possessively so he can leave new marks on it.
You moan loudly right near his ear and your arms wrap around his shoulders. “Kook, fuck–”
“You had me so stressed,” he growls between kisses on your neck. “So fucking angry and worried. I couldn’t even eat, baby. Just losing my mind thinking about you out there, not answering me.”
“You’re too overprotective,” you say between moans while bucking your hips to meet his fingers. “I was okay. I was–”
Jungkook’s jaw clenches. He curls his fingers hard, deep inside you, against the perfect spot.
“Jungkook!” you gasp.
“Why the fuck do you like arguing with me so much, huh?” he asks, while keeping his pace.
He fucks you good with his fingers until your walls start fluttering around him. Your moans become louder, you’re close, so so close. Jungkook pulls his fingers out completely just as you were about to come. You let out a frustrated cry.
“I was so close!”
You try to squirm away from him, but he doesn’t let you go anywhere. Instead he hoists you up and tosses you over his shoulder again. Since your bare ass is right near his face, he uses the opportunity to smack one of your ass cheeks hard. The sting makes you yelp
“You’ve been bad. You don’t get to come that easy.” he says as he walks to the bedroom, spanking you one more time.
Once in the room, he tosses you on the bed. Your body bounces on the mattress before settling. Jungkook then hovers over you, his eyes locked on yours before he leans down to bite your bottom lip and then soothe it with his tongue. Afterwards he descends downwards, his nips and licks his way down your jaw, your neck, the swell of your breasts still trapped in your dress.
You arch into him as his hands slide behind your back, finding the dress’s zipper. But he doesn’t unzip it, instead he grips the fabric and rips it straight down. The dress tears and Jungkook pulls it down, exposing you completely.
You gasp loudly and push at his shoulders. “Jungkook! Why’d you do that?! I liked that dress!”
He smirks against your collarbone, discarding the torn dress. “I’ll buy you a new one.” he promises. “I’ll buy you whatever you want if you’re a good girl.”
You want to say something, but you decide not to. You let out a shaky breath as he goes down lower, settling between your thighs again. He presses his nose right against your pussy. Inhaling your scent deeply. He groans, sending sparks through your body. He pulls back, looks up at you and spits directly onto your clit. His spit trails from your clit down to your entrance.
His thumb rubs in his saliva, spreading the wetness, combining it with your arousal.. Your eyes flutter closed and your hips twitch up toward Jungkook’s face. He leans in and sucks your clit into his mouth hungrily, making you arch off the bed. He thrusts his tongue inside your hole a few times before yet again, pulling away. You huff out in pure frustration now, but your eyes also become glassy as you stare at him.
Jungkook feels a pang of guilt. No matter how pissed off he is or how much he wants to take all his stress out on you, he never ever wants to see you cry (unless you’re choking on his cock). He’ll make you come for sure. But first he wants to get what he wants.He stands up from the bed, towering over you.
You push yourself up into a sitting position. “You’re being an asshole.” you state.
Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah? Yet you’re the one who had me stressed as fuck the whole night.”
You roll your eyes and stand up, looking at him. “You’re being a fucking lunatic, Jungkook! I went out once. With my girls. I didn’t think–’
He cuts you off and steps closer. “It’s not about that. You’re supposed to message me and let me know you’re okay. That’s it. At least one text so I don’t spend the night wondering if something happened to you.”
You scoff and cross your arms over your chest – the movement causing your breasts to be pushed up. For a second there’s only tense silence as both process everything. You dwell over what you’ve done, which you do realise was wrong of you. Jungkook does the same, realising that his approach to the entire situation does kind of reek of lunacy.
After a moment, Jungkook speaks lowly. “Do you want me to make you come?”
You nibble on your bottom lip, glancing at the floor before nodding, slow and shy. He looks at you with his tongue pressed into his cheek, considering something.
“Then you better get on your knees.”
The sound of his belt being unbuckled makes your eyes widen. Your eyes flick down to the movement, watching as he undoes the belt and opens his zipper. You sink down to your knees, your eyes locking on the massive bulge straining against his pants. The sight makes your mouth water. You help him push his pants and boxers down. His cock springs free, slapping against your cheek. Just looking at it makes your pussy clench. You lick your lips. Jungkook’s hand fists into your hair, tilting your head backwards so you have to look at him.
“You have a big fucking mouth, huh? Why don’t you use it for something good?”
Your lips part at his filthy question, he uses the opportunity to push his cock past your lips, filling your mouth with his thickness. He keeps a grip on your hair, guiding your head. He wants to fuck your mouth, to use your pretty lips that have been arguing with him all night. His hips thrust forward, pushing in deeper. He watches with satisfaction as your cheeks hollow and your eyes water from the stretch.
“Fuck, just like that.” he groans.
His grip in your hair tightens as he makes your head bob, sucking his cock. The sight of you completely naked on your knees with your lips stretched around his cock has his head spinning. He thinks that you’re so perfect. Even though you make him insane, you’re so perfect. You moan around his cock, the vibrations make him groan and thrust into your mouth harder. Your tongue swirls him, sucking him eagerly.
“Baby, fuck. You’re taking my cock so well. Such a good girl…” he thrusts in deeper, keeping himself there so he can feel your throat fluttering around him.
Your hands rest on his thighs, feeling the hard muscle as you look up at him. Jungkook’s breath hitches when his eyes lock onto yours. He might just bust right now.
“You’re so beautiful.” he praises before driving his hips into your mouth harder.
Your moans vibrate around him. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth, down your chin but you don’t care, you just suck him harder. Jungkook fucks your mouth for a while longer, he has you gagging and choking a bit. As soon as he realises he’s close, he starts guiding you again.
“That’s it. Just like that–” he murmurs.
Jungkook’s head tips back. He groans, getting closer and closer. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue. Soon enough, both his hands are holding your face against him as he comes down the back of your throat. You swallow all of it, enjoying the sounds of his curses and praises.
“Good girl, swallow it all. That’s my baby.”
For a moment, he just holds you there. His cock twitches in your mouth before he finally pulls it out. You pant, breathing hard. Jungkook wipes away your tears with his thumb before helping you up to your feet. The second you’re up, he brings you against his chest and kisses you deeply. You melt into it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, but before you sink in too deep into the kiss, he guides you back until your knees hit the end of the bed.
You lay back on the mattress and Jungkook hovers over you, caging you with his arms on either side of your head. He leans down and kisses you sloppily before ascending down again until he reaches your breasts. He lets out an appreciative hum when he gets to your breasts. Jungkook loves them. He starts slowly kissing the swell of one of them, does the same to the other before nuzzling his face between them with a content sigh.
He squeezes them gently, kneading the flesh as he leaves kisses on them. He sucks one nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue around it then biting down softly before soothing it with more sucks and licks. He gives the same attention to both, making sure they’re both covered in his marks.
“Love these so much. Could spend hours here.” he admits roughly.
You moan as he focuses harder on one nipple, sucking it thoroughly while his hand travels down back to your clit to rub slow circles on it. But still, he’s teasing you. He’s not giving you what you want. You thread your fingers through his hair and pull on it so he has to look up at you.
“You’re pissing me off now, Jungkook. You’re being too cruel and petty for no reason.”
He stops his movements and lifts his head fully. “For no reason?” he repeats as a question, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Yes.” you insist.
Jungkook pushes himself up so he can hover over you properly, his eyes flash with annoyance and hurt. “Fine. Next time I’ll go out for hours with the guys, ignore every single one of your texts and let some girl be in my space. See how you like it.”
You gasp and push at his chest. “Fuck off. I didn’t do that on purpose, and the guy was gay!”
“Yeah, right. My point still stands.”
Again, before you can argue more, he cuts you off. He speaks in the raspy tone that makes your stomach flip. “You wanna keep arguing with me, or do you want me to fuck you?”
You bite your lip and look down at his hard cock then back at his face. “I want you to fuck me.” you say softly.
“That’s what I thought.”
He reaches between your bodies and lines his cock up with your entrance. He inserts the tip in before reaching under your back to make you arch up into him, pressing your chest flush to his. His other hand grabs your thigh and hooks it over his hip and back so you’re open for him. He pushes into you slowly, watching your face the entire time. You let out a breathless moan at the stretch.
Since you’re so wet and eager from all his teasing, he slides in easier than usual. But still, his length and thickness has your eyes wanting to roll back. Once he’s completely inside you, he stops for a moment to let you adjust while trying to rein his leftover anger. He’s going to fuck you good and take out the rest of his frustration. He starts thrusting into you. He keeps his pace slow and deep for now. But you’re impatient. Your nails dig into his shoulders, urging him on.
“Faster, Kookie, please…”
He gives you what you want. He picks up his pace, slamming into you harder and harder so the sounds of your bodies meeting and your growing moans fill the room obscenely. He holds you securely while fucking you. His pace starts to become animalistic and the bed creaks beneath you both. You bring him down for a messy kiss even as you moan and whimper against his lips. Your mouths stay parted over each other’s, both panting while he fucks you.
Jungkook actually did not realise how eager he was to be inside you until now. All his teasing from earlier on has backfired. He’s feeling extremely needy and his cock throbs hard inside of you.
“Shit…I’m not gonna last.” he growls.
“Neither will I.” you say breathlessly.
Your walls clench and unclench around him as your orgasm builds fast. Jungkook thrusts harder. “Come with me.” he demands.
You both come together. You gasp his name loudly as you gush over his cock. Jungkook buries himself as deep as possible and finishes inside you with a groan. Jungkook stays buried inside you for a long moment, his cock still pulsing inside of you. Eventually, he pulls out slowly, watching your combined releases leak from your pussy. Jungkook isn’t satisfied yet though, and knowing you, you probably want another round.
“Turn around. Get on all four for me.” he says.
You look at him, searching his face. He does look pissed, his jaw is clenched and his eyebrows are furrowed. But you also notice that he also looks a bit hurt? Your chest aches with guilt. Jungkook isn’t dramatic, he doesn’t overreact unless something really bothers him. If you put yourself in his shoes, you’d feel the same frustration he does. Heck, you’d probably be worse than he is. You definitely should’ve messaged him like you said you could, you should’ve checked your phone instead of getting carried away by your friends or the music.
You don’t say anything yet, instead you listen to what he wants. You turn and get onto your hands and knees. Jungkook kneels behind you and he delivers another hard smack to your ass. A soft whimper leaves your lips. He then presses his hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you down until your face is in the pillow and your ass is up high for him. His other hand holds his cock, still hard and wet with your combined releases, and pushes it inside you in a hard thrust. He’s deeper than before. You moan into the pillow and your fingers twist into the sheets.
“Fuck.” you whine, turning your face to the side so you can breathe.
Jungkook doesn’t give you time to adjust, he just starts fucking you immediately. His hips slam against your ass so hard causing it to recoil against him. His pace is even more animalistic than the first time as he chases the remnants of his anger. Your moans spill out uncontrollably as Jungkook pounds into you, hitting the perfect spots inside you.His hand slides into your hair, grabbing a fist full and pulling you up until your back is almost against his chest.
While he pounds into you, he speaks near your ear hoarsely. “I’m gonna keep fucking you like this.” he promises, punctuating his words with thrusts of his hips. “Gonna fuck you until you can’t argue anymore. Gonna fuck all that stubbornness right out of you, baby. You hear me?”
You clench around his cock, feeling even more aroused at the threats. He keeps the rough pace for a very long time. He grunts when you moan his name so needily, while gripping your hips and bringing you back against him in time with his thrusts so he’s able to penetrate you deeper if possible.
“I’m so close, baby.” you whisper.
“Come. Come on my cock.” he orders
You gush over him again with a pleasant moan, feeling him bury himself deep inside you again, filling you with his come once more. He keeps fucking you after your release, making sure to fuck his come into you thoroughly.
After a moment, he pulls out and moves to sit at the edge of the bed, catching his breath. He’s sweaty, with messy hair, swollen lips and reddened shoulders. He looks so fucking good. You gaze at him, again feeling guilty for what you’ve made him feel tonight. Jungkook’s crazy about you, you should’ve also taken that into consideration.. You move over to him and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his strong back.
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Kookie.” you whisper softly. “I really didn’t mean to ignore your texts. My phone was on dnd and I just got carried away with the girls. I’ll never do that again, I promise.”
Jungkook stays quiet for a second, but his face soon breaks into a smile as he feels the tension leave him. He reaches back, grabs your arm gently and tugs until you move closer until he’s able to pull you onto his lap, so you’re straddling him.
He leans in and pecks your lips. “I’m sorry too. For being a little crazy and overreacting.” he says against your lips.
You smile as well. “I forgive you.”
Jungkook holds you close to him, content now that you’ve both sorted out the tension and apologised to each other. “We should take a shower, hmm?”
Before you agree, he stands up with you in his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. On the way to the bathroom, you both giggle against each other’s lips while trading kisses…
hiii pookies!! this was supposed to be a little drabble i had no intention of posting, but anyways..... i thought it would be like 2k-3k words at most, but not 5k words of smut💔💔 i'm so so so sick, so i'm sorry if some things just don't make sense here :( anyways, i hope you guys like this little one shot¿ oh and btw, it's heavily inspired by a ni-ki (my man my man) and sunghoon edit!!
jungkook's reaction to their s/o having a really bad panic attack
warnings: angst, fluff, comfort, mental health
— the first time jungkook witnesses one of your panic attacks, it scares him more than he'll ever admit. not because he thinks you're overreacting or because he doesn't understand that anxiety can be serious, but because seeing someone he loves in that much distress immediately puts him on edge. he's the type of person who pays close attention to the people he cares about, so he would notice something was wrong long before you were able to explain it.
— at first, he might not recognize it as a panic attack. he'd simply notice the subtle changes in your behavior: the way your breathing becomes uneven, how your hands begin to shake, or how your responses gradually become shorter until you stop answering altogether. whether you're sitting together at home, walking through a crowded place, or having a completely ordinary conversation, jungkook would pick up on the shift almost immediately. the moment he realizes you're struggling, his focus would move entirely to you.
— his first instinct would be to figure out what happened. he'd ask if you're okay, try to get your attention, and look for some explanation that makes sense to him. but once he realizes you're having a panic attack, his priorities would change. instead of trying to find a solution, he'd focus on helping you feel safe enough to get through it.
"hey," he'd say quietly, moving closer. "look at me for a second."
— not because he expects eye contact to magically make everything better, but because he'd want to give you something familiar to focus on while everything else feels overwhelming.
— one thing jungkook would learn very quickly is that panic attacks aren't moments that can simply be talked away. he wouldn't overwhelm you with questions or pressure you to explain yourself while you're struggling to breathe. if anything, he'd become quieter. his voice would soften, his movements would slow down, and he'd try to create as much calm around you as possible.
"you're okay," he'd remind you gently.
"i'm right here."
— he'd encourage you to focus on his voice if it helps and reassure you that you're safe without forcing you to respond.
— because jungkook is naturally affectionate, physical comfort would probably be one of the first things he thinks to offer. however, he wouldn't assume that touch is always helpful. if he knows that holding your hand, rubbing your back, or simply sitting close helps ground you, he'd do it without hesitation.
— if you're comfortable with touch, he'd hold your hands and gently remind you to focus on him.
"just stay with me for a second, okay?"
— but if you've told him before that physical contact makes panic attacks worse, he'd respect that boundary immediately. the last thing he'd want is for his attempt to help to make you feel trapped or overwhelmed.
— what would affect him the most is the helplessness of watching it happen. seeing someone you love struggle for air, watching tears form in their eyes, or hearing the fear in their voice is difficult for anyone, and jungkook would take it especially hard. there would be moments where he wishes he could somehow take the panic away from you himself. he'd hate knowing that you're hurting while being unable to fix it. for someone who cares so deeply about the people around him, that feeling of powerlessness would be frustrating.
— over time, though, he'd begin to understand that supporting someone through panic attacks isn't about fixing them. it's about being present. once he learns that difference, he'd become much more confident in the way he helps you. he'd pay attention to your triggers, remember the grounding techniques that work best for you, and learn the signs that a panic attack might be coming before it fully develops.
— he'd know when you need reassurance and when you need silence, when you want company and when you need space. rather than relying on generic advice, he'd learn what specifically helps you because he'd genuinely want to understand your experience.
— if you're in public, he'd move instinctively. whether you're in a restaurant, an airport, or surrounded by dozens of people, his only concern would be getting you somewhere quieter. he wouldn't care if people stare or if plans have to be canceled.
— once you're away from the crowd, he'd stay close enough for you to know he's there, but not so close that you feel trapped.
— when you're alone at home, he'd be much calmer on the outside. your apartment, his apartment—it wouldn't matter. familiar surroundings would help him focus entirely on you instead of whatever is happening around you.
— he'd sit beside you on the floor, the couch, or the edge of the bed and stay there for as long as necessary. even if the panic attack lasts much longer than expected, he wouldn't rush you to feel better.
— after the panic attack passes, jungkook wouldn't expect you to immediately return to normal. he'd understand that even after the worst part is over, you're often left exhausted, emotionally drained, and physically worn out.
— instead of acting as though nothing happened, he'd stay with you while your body slowly recovers from the adrenaline. he'd make sure you have water, help you get somewhere comfortable, and quietly check in on you without making you feel pressured to talk before you're ready.
— he'd also notice the small signs that you're beginning to come back to yourself. the moment your breathing starts slowing down or your hands stop shaking quite as much, he'd visibly relax too.
— what would hurt him the most is hearing you apologize afterward.
— whether you're embarrassed for crying, worried you've ruined the day, or feel guilty for needing help, he'd immediately shake his head.
"why are you apologizing?"
his voice wouldn't be frustrated. Just confused.
"you don't have to be sorry for that."
and he'd mean it.
— most importantly, he would never make you feel ashamed of what happened. he wouldn't treat you like you're fragile, nor would he act as though your panic attacks are an inconvenience. if anything, witnessing them would only deepen his understanding of what you're carrying when nobody else can see it.
— afterward, he'd become surprisingly attentive without making a big deal out of it. bringing you water, finding a blanket, putting on your favorite show, or simply sitting beside you in silence—anything that makes the aftermath a little easier.
— he probably wouldn't talk much about how scared he was during the panic attack. instead, it'd show in the way he keeps checking on you throughout the rest of the day, asking if you're okay every hour without even realizing he's doing it.
— jungkook isn't a therapist, and he wouldn't always know the perfect thing to say. there would be times when he worries too much, times when he makes mistakes, and times when he wishes he could do more than simply sit beside you. but his support wouldn't come from having all the answers. It would come from his consistency.
— no matter how overwhelming the panic feels or how chaotic the moment becomes, he'd stay with you through it. he'd remind you that you're not facing it alone, and he'd remain there for as long as it takes until the world feels manageable again.
꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ i'm not really confident about this one but i hope you like it.
since this post discusses panic attacks and mental health, i just want to gently remind everyone to take care of themselves. if you're struggling, please consider reaching out to someone you trust or seeking professional support. you don't have to go through it alone.
as always, comments, asks, likes, and reblogs are very welcome ♡
SUMMARY. Life after high school has been pretty mundane. Give or take a few breakups, a few quarter life crises, you’ve done well for yourself. Enter Jeon Jungkook: a blast from the past and your ex-Chemistry tutor, except now, it seems he's traded in his glasses and textbooks for a lip piercing and tattoos. The universe is clearly testing you... or maybe it's giving you one last shot to get it right.
pairing. jeon jungkook x reader
word count. 21.7k
warnings/genre. ex-cheerleader!reader, oc used to be a mean girl, ex-nerd!jungkook, jungkook used to be OBSESSED with oc, like clinically obsessed (what is wrong with him), slight sexting (kinda maybe) alcohol consumption, jimin instigating but what’s new, making out in dirty club hallways, fingering in an uber, he’s HUNGRYYY, he has a d*ck piercing!, oral (f receiving), you bounce on it, he fucks you while carrying you, idk read the rest they have sex, he cums inside you
note. WE NEED TO BRING BACK THE DYING ART OF A 10k+ WORD ONE-SHOT. the concept of publishing a 7k celly when my 6k celly hasn’t even been posted yet… i hate me too. i hit 7k a few days ago but this has been in the works since man’s best friend dropped. i’m quite proud of this, if i do say so myself. also before anyone yells at me, this was NOT on the to-do list but when there’s a will, there’s a way (or in my case, if you get a little tipsy, your brain starts thinking of ex-nerd!jungkook and this happens). this is just a fun little thing. porn with plot! but anywho, thank you all for following me, for engaging with my work, for continuing to give me a platform to share my passions. i love you all. here’s to many more celly’s!
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| when did you get hot? by sabrina carpenter
banner creds | masterlist
Saturdays. 3 PM. Brunch. It’s been carved in stone since the day you met Park Jimin during your freshman year at Yonsei University, when he was still closeted and you were still treating every night like your last on earth.
Today, he’s on a rampage about his fiancé of two years, Kim Taehyung.
“Do you know what he did? He bought a twelve foot cactus. Twelve. Fucking. Feet. And guess where it is now?” Jimin waves his fork dramatically, almost stabbing two nearby patrons in the process. “In the middle of our beautifully crafted living room. He’s lost his fucking mind.”
You hum, twirling a straw in your iced latte, half-listening and half-focused on the couple next to you who seems to be arguing. “So sorry, Jiminie. I don’t know how you do it.”
“Thank you.” He sighs. “It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen when I inevitably walk into it. You know, when I told Tae to pursue art, I didn’t think it meant this.”
Taehyung and Jimin have the kind of love story that makes romantic comedies look documentary-level realistic. By comparison, your love life is a blooper reel that never made it to air. They’ve been disgustingly in love since senior year of university, and you’ve been their trusty little third wheel. While it’s comforting to hang out with a couple that has a dynamic as healthy as theirs, you do have to fight the pang of jealousy that hits you everytime.
“Last week it was the sculpture made of kitchen utensils. This week, desert plants. Next week? Probably something with a blow torch,” Jimin carries on, poking at his salad mercilessly.
You snort. “Tae doesn’t know how to work a blow torch.”
“He could, is my point. He’ll try anything once.” Jimin’s eyes light suggestively, and the gag reflex hits fast and mercilessly. “Like that one time he wanted to try out suspension and—”
“Jimin. Please. I am trying to enjoy my coffee,” you plead.
He rolls his eyes. “Like you don’t love us.”
“I do,” you reply quickly. “But please spare a girl the details of your sex escapades.”
“Maybe you’re bitter because you need some sex escapades of your own.” Jimin shrugs. He’s not saying it to be rude—the man doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, unless someone’s rude to his fiance.
Poor Park Jimin has been running a one-man campaign to get you laid for months. The last time you remotely showed interest in a man was a year ago, and that catastrophe ended with you sobbing on their couch for 72 hours straight while Taehyung made you soup and Jimin burned sage to ‘cleanse the toxic energy.’
You have no interest in any of it.
Sure, sex is cool and all, but the idea of the emotional turmoil that comes with the territory seems like something you can do without.
“What did I say about bringing up this topic again?” you groan.
“C’mon, please tell me you have something new that’ll make me feel better about my cactus situation.”
Your fingers collect the condensation on your plastic cup, pretending to be deeply engrossed by it. “I have nothing.”
“So as exciting as my cactus?”
Your foot kicks his ankle under the table and the noise he makes in retaliation is enough to get dirty looks from the other patrons. “Jesus Christ. Aren’t you a ball of fucking sunshine?” he moans in agony. “This is why you need to have sex. You get all crabby and violent when you don’t. When’s the last time you had sex again?”
Okay—there was that guy from the marketing conference in March…. No wait. That was last year. February? No, that was the guy who ghosted you after two dates. January? You weren’t even in the country in January. December feels like a decade ago but that was... oh god, was that really eight months ago? Nine? The guy with the man bun who worked at the bookstore and couldn’t find your—
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Yikes.” He gives you a dramatic side-eye, one that screams you are a pathetic loser, but lovingly. “You need to stop getting coffee with me and go get coffee with a man.”
You frown. “Well, you’re a man?”
He rolls his eyes. “A man who doesn’t enjoy the good ol’ cock up his ass.”
Fair play. Jimin leans back in his chair, studying you intently. Never a good sign. “You know what your problem is?”
You pick up your latte, taking a few sips. “Enlighten me, Park Jimin.”
“You’re too picky.”
Coffee snorts out of your nostrils, landing right onto the table. Jimin flings napkins at the mess, disgusted. “I’m sorry, have you met me? I’ve went out with some weirdos.”
“No, no, not the weirdos.” He waves a hand in the air. He;s about to go on one of his famous monologues, and all you can do is sit back in horror and watch. “I’m talking about the good ones. The ones you actually like. You find one tiny flaw and suddenly it's ‘oh, he chews too loud’ or ‘he uses the wrong there, their, they're.’ Like, relax. Nobody’s perfect.”
“Really? Says the guy currently plotting his fiance’s death over a home decor choice.”
“That’s different.” Jimin’s pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, something he truly only does when you’ve exhausted his last nerve. “Taehyung and I are past the point of no return. We're in too deep. You, my dear sweet angel, are sabotaging perfectly good opportunities because you're scared.”
Of course, you’ve had this conversation with your therapist numerous times, and you’ll do anything to avoid the topic in your personal life.
But before you can open your mouth to argue, a voice cuts through. It’s low but polite, maybe a little uncertain.
“Jimin-ssi?”
You don’t bother looking up to see who it is. Jimin knows everyone and their mother, their cousin, probably their dog too. Walking down the street with him is no easy feat, considering half of Seoul stops to talk to him. So, you do what you always do: focus on your phone and ignore the small talk about someone’s new job or whatever mundane life update they’re dying to share.
You scroll through Instagram, half-listening as they exchange pleasantries. Something about the gym, mutual friends, weekend plans. Standard small talk that you've heard a thousand times.
“Yeah, bro, it’s been forever,” Jimin’s saying. He sounds happier than he normally does when he talks to these people. “I saw your LinkedIn update. How’s the new job treating you? Still insane?”
“Better now that I’m settled in,” the mysterious voice responds, and there’s something familiar about it that tickles the back of your brain, but you’re too busy watching someone's Instagram story about their breakfast to pay attention. “The team’s chill, and I don’t have to be on call on weekends anymore.”
“You deserve it after all that overtime hell,” Jimin laughs. “Oh, hey, you should totally meet my friend [YN] here. [Y/N], this is Jeon Jungkook.”
Your head snaps up. Your phone falls to your lap.
What. The. Fuck.
You haven’t heard that name since high school.
High school you, to put it mildly, was kind of a bitch.
You were a cheerleader, top of the social food chain. Naturally, you failed a few classes because you were too busy making out with Kim Mingyu behind the bleachers and planning which party to hit up on Friday night to care about things like academic integrity.
When your GPA started looking tragic enough to threaten your spot as cheer captain, the guidance counselor assigned you a tutor. And since the universe loves to have fun with you, you were paired with Jeon Jungkook. Lanky, awkward Jeon Jungkook, with messy brown hair that looks like he cut it himself with safety scissors, thin silver glasses that slid down his nose every five seconds, and wide, innocent boba eyes.
All that to say—you did what any mean girl would do and took advantage of him. Batted your eyelashes, laughed at his terrible jokes, and suddenly your chemistry homework was getting done without you having to lift a finger.
Tests? He'd leave his answer sheet just visible enough for you to copy.
Lab reports? Practically wrote themselves, if by ‘themselves’ you mean Jungkook wrote them while you filed your nails and complained about how boring science was.
So, this? This has to be a comedic joke. This is a prank. Jimin is pranking you—it’s an elaborate one, you'll give him that. That's the only logical explanation because there is absolutely no way that the scrawny, stuttering kid who used to turn tomato red everytime you asked him to explain a chemistry problem is now standing here, towering over your table.
The man who stands before you has a lip piercing, one that hugs the curvature of his pink lips. A sleeve of tattoos that curls down his arm in vivid ink. His hair is perfectly tousled, dark chestnut locks falling into each other.
And most importantly, those arms. Biceps. He could probably bench press you. Why are you thinking about him bench pressing you? Stop thinking about him bench pressing you. Oh god, you're staring. You're definitely staring. Say something. Anything. Be cool.
He is—there's no other word for it—buff. Like, really buff.
And he's looking right at you with dark eyes that definitely weren't that intense in high school, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“[Y/N] [Y/L/N]...” His voice has a deeper timber to it, with a confidence that high school Jungkook could never have. His tone alone is enough to send a shiver down your spine. “It’s been a minute.”
“Uh, I—yeah,” you gulp down a quarter-sized lump that magically appears in your throat. “It has.”
Smooth. Incredibly smooth. Someone needs to hand you a medal for conversational excellence.
His eyes narrow into slits, like he’s analyzing you and your pathetic life. Sizing you up to discover that you’ve lost all importance in the world, and are now just another girl in the world.
Jimin, completely oblivious to everything, beams at the two of you. “Amazing! You two already know each other.” He claps his hands together. “Jungkook, you should sit. [Y/N] and I were just catching up on her sad little love life.”
Damn you, Park Jimin.
Maybe ten years ago, you wouldn’t have cared if he knew about your romantic failures, but with the black shirt hugging his biceps so perfectly, you resent Jimin’s openness.
“I was not—” you protest, but Jungkook’s already got a hand on the empty chair between you two, plopping into it.
“Was she now?” Jungkook tuts, looking over at you expectantly. “How sad is sad?”
“Okay, not sad.” You roll your eyes. “It’s just… quiet.”
His eyes dance with amusement, and you sink into the chair. “I can’t imagine you having trouble in this department.”
If only he knew the half of it.
You open your mouth to combat the embarrassment, maybe to come up with some elaborate lie about how you have three dates lined up tomorrow night, but a server interrupts you before you get the chance. She smiles at Jungkook, and you can't help but note how her eyes twinkle when she realizes how utterly attractive he is. You sink one inch lower into the chair.
Please don’t order, Jungkook. Ordering means staying and your brain (or your ego, for that matter) can’t take a second more.
She asks what he wants, pearly whites on display, and he replies smoothly, “Just a black coffee is fine. Thanks, sweetheart.”
He turns back to you and Jimin, smiling lightly. Behind him, the server trips over her own two feet a bit before adjusting her shirt and walking off. You watch the whole exchange with a weird feeling in your chest. It's not jealousy—you have no claim to be jealous. But it's something. Maybe annoyance that she was so obvious about it. Maybe annoyance that he didn't seem to notice.
“So, how do you two know each other?” Jimin’s smile resembles a mischievous cartoon villain who just tied someone to railroad tracks. Vibrating with joy, eyes gleaming, the whole nine yards. You don’t even need to hear him speak to know what he’s thinking.
“High school.”
You and Jungkook both say in unison, surprising even yourself. He glances over at you before elaborating. “I was her Chemistry tutor.”
The memory alone sends shivers of disgust down your spine. You can still picture it so clearly: high school you in your cheer uniform, sitting across from him in the library with phone in hand, texting Mingyu about whose parents were out of town that weekend while Jungkook explained electron configurations. He’d push his glasses up his nose, stumble over his words when you’d sigh and lean forward, watch him turn crimson red and stutter through the rest of the explanation.
Evil. Pure, unadulterated evil.
“You needed a tutor in high school?” Jimin snorts, taking a long sip of his drink.
“Hey, that shit isn’t easy.” You push his shoulder playfully.
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, leaning forward in his chair. “Definitely not easy when you’re too busy with cheerleading practice to study.”
“And you were a cheerleader?” Jimin gapes.
“Okay, that’s enough reminiscing for today.”
Jimin raises his hand. “I’m not done reminiscing. I want to hear more about cheerleader [YN].”
Your face falls flat. Luckily, before Jungkook can embarrass you more with tales from a decade ago, the server comes back with his coffee, making sure to toss him the widest smile her pearly whites can muster.
Jungkook’s lips wrap around the cup. Your eyes just so happen to fall on the movement, on the way they hug the rim. Were they always that kissable or did he get lip filler?
He meets your gaze.
Shit.
You turn back to Jimin, who’s eagerly awaiting more from Jungkook. “What else don’t I know about high school [Y/N]? She’s never told me anything.”
“Well,” Jungkook starts, and by the way his lips curve upwards, you can tell the next anecdote won’t be endearing. “She did ask me once if we could ‘skip the math parts’ of chemistry.”
Jimin bursts out in laughter. “You’re kidding me.”
“In my defense, chemistry is like, ninety percent math,” you retort. “That’s a reasonable request.”
“It really wasn’t,” Jungkook counters, and his grin widens. There’s something almost… predatory about it. Like he’s enjoying watching you squirm. “But then again, you always did think the rules didn’t apply to you.”
For a moment, you can’t do anything but stare at him. This confidence, this self-assured way he’s teasing you without a hint of anxiety that used to color every interaction, is foreign.
The absolute worst part of it all is that if he wasn’t currently roasting you for being a shallow human being, this might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever witnessed.
The eye contact, the slight smirk playing at his lips, the veins poking out of his biceps. All of it both excites and confuses you.
“What do you mean?” You tilt your head, feigning innocence.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head, laughs to himself. “Just that some things never really change.”
A pregnant pause fills the space. Jimin’s eyes dart between you two like he’s at the US Open and this is the match of the century.
“You know, she also once asked me if atoms were contagious," Jungkook adds, turning to Jimin like you’re not even there. It’s a fucking power play—one that high school you invented—and you hate how effective it is.
A long exhale leaves your mouth, and you have to bite back a thousand venomous words in retaliation. Jimin laughs. “Oh, don’t worry. In college, she asked me if square roots were plants.”
Okay, so math wasn't your strongest suit. Sue a girl.
Jungkook’s hands wrap around his cup, taking a quick sip. They’re bigger than you remember, rougher, with calluses to match.
Truthfully, everything about him is just… more. Bigger, broader, bolder.
You shift gears, clearing your throat to interrupt whatever powwow Jungkook and Jimin have going on regarding your academic life. “What do you do now?”
“Software development.” Jungkook almost seems surprised that you have an interest in his life. “Started at a startup, but I just moved to a bigger company.”
“What kind of software?” you ask mindlessly, happy to have the attention finally off you.
“Mobile apps. Some web development.” Jungkook shrugs like it’s nothing, but you catch the hint of pride in his tone. “Nothing crazy.”
Jimin chimes in, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know, [Y/N] works in marketing for a tech company. You guys probably have tons in common now.”
You want to sink through the floor. Actually—scratch that. Sinking through the floor isn’t enough. You need the floor to open up, swallow you whole, digest you, and then launch whatever remains into the sun.
You can see exactly what's happening here. You can see the gears turning in Jimin’s pretty little head. He’s planning your wedding, probably picking out centerpieces. He thinks this whole encounter is fate, some kind of romantic star-crossed lovers nonsense where the nerd gets the girl who was too stupid to notice him the first time around.
He’s going to be insufferable about this. Probably loop Taehyung into this delusion as well. There will be betting pools on when you finally hook up with Jungkook.
Which—okay, fine—you wouldn’t be completely opposed to. Hypothetically. In theory.
“How’s that going for you?” Jungkook turns to you.
“Good. I’ve been at my current company for a few years now. I just got promoted last year.” Your chest puffs out a little. There’s nothing you need to prove to him. But it doesn’t hurt, especially as he validates your words with a slight nod in approval.
“That’s awesome. I’m happy for you.”
Not said with even an inch of malice.
“Thank you.” You flip your hair over your shoulder. “See, and I didn’t even need math or chemistry to be successful.”
He chuckles. “Fair enough.”
“I know how emotionally tolling it was to tutor me, so at least your efforts didn’t go to waste,” you joke, and he cracks a smile at that, bunny teeth poking out.
“It wasn’t that emotionally tolling.” He shrugs, lifting his coffee to his lips. “It was fun. Y’know, when you weren’t texting that guy you used to date.”
He maintains eye contact with you as he takes one, two sips, and you have to clench your thighs to ignore the second heartbeat that’s beating in your vagina.
Jimin opens his mouth—probably to ask approximately eight thousand invasive follow-up questions about your high school love life—but his phone buzzes violently against the table, the vibration loud enough to rattle his fork.
Glancing down at his phone, his expression shifts from pure glee to actual panic. “Shit, I need to head out. Taehyung’s making dinner and if I’m late, he’s gonna put that weird purple pesto in it again.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Purple pesto?”
“You know how he is, babe.” Jimin frantically flags down the waiter, motioning for the check.
You and Jimin always split Saturday brunch. It’s a tradition, one that you don’t plan on breaking. You reach for your wallet in your bag, prepared to pull out your trusty debit card.
But before you or Jimin can get too far, Jungkook smacks his AMEX Platinum card down like it’s nothing.
You blink at the shiny metal. “Jimin and I always—”
“I’ve got it,” he says, all casual, like dropping 100,000 won on lunch for three people is normal for him.
To your left, Jimin has the biggest shit-eating grin of all time. “Thanks, Jungkook. You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s my treat. It’s nice to run into old friends.” He tosses you a side glance when he says the word friends, because that’s hardly what you two ever were.
Jimin’s phone buzzes again, and his eyes widen as they scan the new message. “Oh no. No, no, no.”
“What?!” You lean forward, trying to peek at his phone.
“Yeontan threw up all over the new rug. Taehyung just sent me a picture, it’s…” He makes a sour face. “I gotta go. Code red dog situation.”
“Is he okay?” you ask, because despite Jimin’s dramatics, that little ball of fur is your ray of sunshine.
“He’s fine.” He stands, shrugging on his thin sweatshirt. “He probably ate something he should have. This was great though! We should all hang out again soon!”
And then he’s sprinting out of the cafe, leaving you all alone at the table with none other than Jeon Jungkook.
If you didn’t know better, you’d say Jimin planned this. Although, to be fair, you do know better, and he one hundred percent planned this. You're going to kill him. You're going to actually murder your best friend.
The waiter comes by, charging Jungkook’s card while you sit there awkwardly, twiddling your fingers. You don’t know what to do with yourself, quite frankly.
“Jimin isn’t very subtle,” Jungkook says, signing the receipt and placing it aside.
“Jimin doesn’t do subtle.” You fidget with your napkin. “He probably planned this.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, really? You think so?”
“I know so. He’s been trying to set me up with someone for months.”
Crossing his bulky arms over his chest, he leans back in his chair. “How’s that working out for him?”
“Well,” you begin, “Considering the last attempt was one of his coworkers who turned out to be married, I would say pretty terrible.”
“Jesus.”
“I’m not really into the whole polyamory thing,” you joke.
Jungkook laughs and stands, and you follow suit, realizing how much taller he is than you. Not that he hasn’t always been tall, but now he has the ego to match it.
“Want me to walk you to your car?” he asks.
You bashfully look down at your feet. In your years of living in Seoul, you’ve never once been embarrassed about taking the bus before. The Korean bus system is efficient and better for the environment. But Jungkook, with his fancy tech job, probably has some sleek car that makes the bus system look like a clown car.
“I took the bus, actually.”
Immediately, without so much as a second thought, he goes, “I’ll drive you home.”
“You don’t need to—”
“I know I don’t need to.” He strolls towards the exit, holding the door open for you to glide through first. “I want to.”
Wait. Is he… is he flirting? That was definitely flirting, right?
If he is very specifically flirting with you, that means he either has a terrible memory or some kind of revenge plot in the works. Both options seem likely and panic-inducing.
When you finally get outside, the crisp afternoon air dances across your skin. The autumn leaves crunch beneath your feet. You keep a few inches for God between you and Jungkook, and he falls into a comfortable pace beside you, matching you.
His hands are nestled into his pockets, kicking leaves as he walks. Now that you two are alone, he’s returned to some of his old habits, like being quiet around you when there’s nothing to fill the noise with.
“How do you like your job?” he finally decides upon asking, and your head lifts to peer at him. He’s gazing at you intently, clearly waiting for an answer.
“I like it. Most days, it’s creative, but we do a good amount of analytical work too.”
“Why did you choose marketing?” He seems genuinely interested in your answer, which sends tingles down your spine. It’s been a while since someone has cared enough to ask about your life beyond the standard two questions.
“Well, you know I suck at math,” you start, and he laughs at that. A deep sound that reverberates in his chest and makes your insides mushy. “I also hate science, so that wasn’t an option. I like being creative, and I’m a visual person. I took an intro class and it stuck.”
He nods, soaking it in. “Was college you the same as high school you?”
You know what he’s asking. Was college you also the biggest bitch alive, or did you grow out of that phase?
“Nah.” You shake your head. “I’m not as shallow… or annoying.”
He smiles. “Good to know.”
You reach his car—a black BMW that looks like it was ripped right off the set of Fifty Shades of Grey—and he unlocks it with a soft beep.
“Your car is nice,” you note, and his cheeks turn a soft pink at the compliment.
“Thanks. I figured I should probably upgrade from the bus at some point.” He opens the passenger door for you, causing you to almost trip getting in at the sheer thoughtfulness.
You frown. “Hey! I still take the bus.”
He raises his hands up in surrender. “Not hating on the bus. I took that bad boy for years.”
Jungkook closes your door, rounding the car to the driver's seat and hopping in. the inside of the vehicle smells like leather, mixed with the faint scent of his cologne. Your brain can’t help but go a little fuzzy—scents are your weakness. Any man who smells good deserves to get their dick sucked, period.
“Address?” he asks, starting the engine.
You give it to him, and he inputs it into the GPS. Fifteen minutes, it spits back. Fifteen minutes in a car alone with Jeon Jungkook, the most confusing blast from your past.
Peeking over at him, you take his appearance in. His jaw is defined and sharp. Could probably cut glass on that thing. His nose juts out, big enough for you to wonder if he’s ever let a girl sit on his face. God, you really need to get laid. You’ve resorted to sexualizing the man you used to tease in high school like some kind of medieval man who just saw an ankle for the first time.
The guilt of your past sits heavy in your chest, but your body doesn’t seem to care. It wants what it wants, ethics be damned.
You don’t deserve to be this turned on by someone you treated like human furniture for two years. But here you are, wondering about the logistics of his face between your thighs, and maybe that makes you exactly as terrible as you’ve always suspected.
Your eyes wander down to his biceps, down to his arms that are cluttered with tattoos. Different designs snake down his skin, some with color, and it takes all your might not to reach out and trace them. Fuck, now you’re thinking about his hands gripping the steering wheel. The veins. Those long fingers—
“You have a lot of tattoos,” you blurt out.
His eyes remain on the road, but his lips curl upwards. A little bit like a smirk. “I do.”
“When did you start getting them?” you wonder aloud.
“College. I started with one, but then I got addicted and kept going.” He glances at you for a second before turning his attention back to the road. “You disapprove?”
“No! No, they’re… they look good. Really good.” You want to die. “But it is different from what I expected from you.”
His gaze hardens. “A lot of things are different from high school.”
Silence fills the air as you two continue along the highway in the direction of your neighborhood. Your town is quaint, not too far outside of the main downtown area of Seoul. It’s so peaceful that your neighbors are two elderly women who treat you like their daughter.
You wonder where Jungkook lives. If you had to guess, he probably lives in Gangnam, the upscale area in Seoul. Fancy tech job, fancy car… he must have a fancy house to match. Or a fancy girlfriend.
“Do you live near here?” you ask, hoping to sound as casual as possible. Although, realistically speaking, there is nothing casual about interrogating your ex-Chemistry tutor.
“Not too far. I’m about ten minutes by car.” His grip loosens on the wheel a little. “Near Hannam-dong.”
So, you were kind of right. Hannam-dong, where all the celebrities and rich people live.
Before you can stop yourself, you say, “Do you live alone, or…?”
It’s possibly the least subtle question in the history of subtle questions, but you need to know.
Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tautens, and when you look over at him, there’s a scarlet flash creeping up his neck. “I—yeah. Alone. It’s just me.”
Is he… blushing?
“Oh, cool.” You try not to sound too pleased by the information. “That’s really cool. I mean, not cool that you’re alone if you don’t want to be alone, but cool that you have your own space and— y’know, everything.”
Nailed it.
“It’s—yeah, it’s good.” He clears his throat, and suddenly, you get a glimpse of the man you remember in high school. Less like the confident, macho guy from the cafe, and more like the boy who used to stumble over his words when you asked him questions. “No one to, uh, bother me or anything. Not that having anyone would be bothering, I just meant—I live alone. No girlfriend or—”
He stops himself, like he’s just realized what he’s saying, and the flush spreads to the tip of his ears. Oh my god. He’s flustered. Jeon Jungkook, with his tattoos and lip ring and his whole sexy confident energy, is flustered because you asked if he lives alone.
The ex-mean girl in you rises to the surface, bubbles in your throat. It’s been a while since you’ve activated her. Not since college, that one time when Park Eunji threatened your spot as sorority president. That version of you knew exactly what to do: touch his arm, squeeze once, watch him stutter. Make him want you so badly it hurts, then pull away. It's muscle memory, this kind of manipulation. You hate that it's still there, your instinct to weaponize attraction.
You want him to be nervous around you. It’s a sick, twisted thought you have, and you don’t know where it comes from, but you want it. “No girlfriend,” you repeat, trying to hide your smile. Reaching out, you place a small hand on his bicep, squeeze once. His bicep is firm under your palm, and the second you make contact, you realize what you've done. That was flirting 101. High school you would’ve done that without thinking twice, but current you? Current you doesn’t have that kind of game anymore. Abort mission. Abort.
You yank your hand back to your lap like he’s made of volcanic ash.
“I didn’t—that’s not—” He runs a hand through his locks, messing it up even more. “I’m just giving context about my living situation.”
“No, I got it.” You keep your eyes trained on the road, even though your heart is doing somersaults in your chest. “Though, I have to admit, I’m shocked.”
He gulps thickly. He pulls up to a red light, finally looking over at you directly. There’s vulnerability in his expression, polar opposite to his earlier reactions to you. “Are you making fun of me?”
Huh. You don’t know why, but the fact that old, anxious Jungkook still lives somewhere deep within him makes your stomach backflip. “I would never,” you reply dramatically, waving your hand for emphasis. “I’m just speaking aloud.”
Jungkook hums at that, focusing his attention back onto the street. It’s quiet again, if not for the sound of the engine purring and the awkward tension that’s loitered in the car since you stepped inside.
He doesn’t need to ask you anything else anyway, since Jimin did a good job of outing you as the most single girl in the history of single girls. He might as well have just admitted you’re a born again virgin.
The familiar road of your neighborhood looms ahead, and a pit of despair swallows your stomach whole. You really don’t want to get out of the car that smells like him. It would be embarrassing how you’ve begun to thirst over him, but after not getting laid in a while, you’re about ready to unzip your pants and jam your fingers in there.
“Is it the building up ahead?” he questions, pointing to the cream apartment complex that you reside in. You nod sweetly, smiling brightly. You dial up the ol’ high school charm.
“Thanks, Jungkook. I really appreciate it.” Another quick flutter of your lashes as he puts the car in park, taking a deep breath and angling his body to look at you.
“Of course. Anytime.” His face remains stoic, probably hoping to not look like you affect him anymore than you already have.
Your fingers land on the handle, pushing it open to let the brisk air in, replacing the suffocating tension in the car. “Well, I wish you the best. It was nice running into you today.”
Maybe you should invite him to come up. Maybe you should invite him for a nightcap? Granted, it is midday and there’s no actual alcohol in your home, but you can think of something real quick.
But he doesn’t move toward you, or show any other inclination of interest. In fact, you’re feeling kind of slutty right about now. He probably thinks you’re some kind of embarrassing gold digger—which like, yes, you might be. For him only.
Quietly, he says, “You too,” and that’s the end of that.
And just as you’re about to slam the passenger door shut and head upstairs to scream into your pillow, Jungkook abruptly speaks. “[Y/N].”
You whip around as fast as your body will let you. “Yeah?”
His big eyes twinkle under the sunlight rays reflecting on the car, two bunny teeth poking out as he sheepishly smiles. You’re going to have fantasies about that mouth later.
“Just so you know, today wasn’t planned. But I’m really, really happy I ran into you.”
Huh Yunjin’s birthday bash has never been an easy feat. Every year, without fail, there’s a table bought at an exclusive club, and your entire friend group blacks out within the hour. You’re not sure how she gets away with it, but your love for her and mild fear of disappointing her clearly gets her very far.
Hence why you’re standing in a shopping mall at 3 PM, trying to decipher what makeup product she would like best. Her birthday gift needs to be top notch, because you’re up against Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin, and those two have some kind of gaydar for gift-giving. Last year, Taehyung got her a vintage Chanel bag he “just found” at a thrift store. The year before, Jimin surprised her with tickets to see Beyonce. You’re operating at a disadvantage here.
You pick up another lipstick, eyeing the two intensely. A salesperson loiters over your shoulder, waiting to pounce at any given moment. In the end, you opt for a sleek red lip gloss, one that you know will pair well with her peachy skin. The relief that washes over you at finally securing her gift is endless.
Pushing past the doors of the shop, you blend into the rest of the mall-goers. It’s pretty packed for an afternoon, but you figure it has something to do with the sales going on. 50% off for shoes… hm. Across the way, you see a sign for 25% off scarves, and you squint to try and make out the tiny writing. Buy one, get one free—
“Oof!”
Your body collides into something firm, something warm. It’s fleeting, and you jump back several feet, immediately armoring yourself with numerous apologies. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going—”
A deep chuckle. “I’m not mad about it.”
You know that voice. That voice has been haunting your wet dreams and your poorly-written mental fanfiction.
When you were ten, you got chosen to attend a unicorn retreat. It was a glorified horse camp, but it was five days of pure magic. Horses walking around with plastic horns on their head, offering unlimited rides to anyone who wanted one. Magical doesn’t even feel like the proper word to describe it.
You thought that was the most enchanting moment of your life. But this… this rivals any stupid pony. This makes those ponies look like donkeys. In fact, with the luck you’ve been given, you might rent a unicorn and a castle.
In front of you stands Jeon Jungkook, looking somehow more scrumptious than he did a few days ago. Defying the damn laws of hotness. You’d spent a good few hours tossing and turning in bed, dreaming about his lips, his eyes, his veiny hands. He looks like he stepped straight out of your wet dream, adorned in a zip-up sweatshirt and black t-shirt, fluffy hair askew.
His eyes still carry that same twinkle from the last time you saw him, and you wonder if they’re like this all the time, or if it's just for you.
“Hi,” you exhale breathily.
“Hello.” He smiles at you, and it’s sweet, just a little dopey, and so decidedly adorable that you want to gnaw on his cheeks like a dog with a chew toy. “Must be my lucky day to run into you again.”
“Clearly.” He is flirting. Sure, there were doubts in your mind before this, but anyone who says those kinds of things, is someone who wants to be balls deep inside you. “I don’t normally treat pedestrians like bumper cars, though.”
Jungkook laughs at that, a melodic sound that sends vibrations from your head to your toes. “If I was a better man, I might’ve moved out of the way to make room for you.”
“Well, then I guess it’s my lucky day you’ve decided to not be a better man,” you counter, and he takes a step closer to you, allowing the people behind him to filter around. A mom of three tosses him an evil glare, but you could care less.
“I was actually hoping to talk to you again so I could ask you a question.” His eyes bore into you, the eye contact making the walls of your vagina contract incessantly. His confidence from the cafe has returned with a vengeance, and you’re not sure what’s gotten into him, but you hope it never leaves.
“I might have an answer,” you tease.
His lips quirk upwards into a soft smirk, one that would normally disgust you but doesn’t whatsoever. “I was thinking you and I should get dinner sometime. Maybe catch up one-on-one.”
If this were a game of tennis, you just won match point. He served, you returned, and now the ball’s sitting in his court while he watches it roll away. Checkmate. Victory. Crowd goes berzerk.
But you know how to play this game. Even though you’re a little out of commission, you still invented half the rules in high school. And rule number one: never let them see you sweat. Rule number two: make them work for it.
Tilting your head, you pretend to consider it like you haven’t thought about what underwear you would wear to this hypothetical one-on-one time. “Maybe,” you say, drawing out the syllables. “I’ll have to check my calendar.”
Your calendar is wide open. Your calendar has been wide open for months. Your calendar is begging for plans. Your calendar is weeping with joy at the possibility of having something on it besides ‘therapy 2 PM’ and ‘don’t forget your lexapro.’
But here’s the thing: if you say yes immediately, if you're too eager, too easy, he’ll figure it out. He'll realize you're still that girl who only wants things because they're shiny and new, who gets bored the second the chase is over. Except this time, the thing you want isn’t a spot on the homecoming court or the captain of the basketball team’s attention—it’s him.
“Maybe?” He’s grinning now, full teeth, like he’s finally been let in on how the game works. “I pour my heart out and I get a maybe?”
“You didn’t pour your heart out. You asked to get dinner.”
He scoffs, “Same thing.”
“Not even remotely close, lover boy.” You migrate an inch backwards, so miniscule he hardly notices.
Something flickers across his face at the nickname—amusement, or something darker, more interested. His eyes track your movements like a predator watching prey.
“I feel like you’re just testing fate at this point,” he jokes. You can see the gears turning in his head, shifting and transforming to try and get to his end goal: you.
“It’s worked once before already.” You shrug, taking a few more steps back.
“Alright, well, can I at least get your number? Not really feeling like leaving it all up to the universe.” The color drains from his face slowly as he realizes you’re really, truly, going to walk away. His voice raises a little at the end of the sentence.
“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”
With that, you turn on your heel, bags in tow, and make your way towards the exit of the mall with what you hope exudes confidence, and not like someone who’s about to sprint outside and scream into the void. His eyes burn into your back the entire way. Don’t turn around. You’re doing so well. You’re a mysterious enigma. You’re unattainable.
You trip over your own two feet and have to do some weird stumble-hop recovery move just so you don’t eat shit in the middle of the mall.
Okay, so maybe not entirely mysterious. But you do make it outside with a goofy grin on your face, caught in some kind of daze, all because your ex-Chemistry tutor has made it abundantly clear he wants to see you again.
The following Saturday, you and Jimin cozy up at a nearby cafe—a different one than last week’s. You suggested it over text a few days ago, after you had run into Jungkook, because there was some perverse thrill to testing fate and the universe’s weird way of working. Jimin, who could care less where he got his cup of coffee, agreed with a shrug of his shoulders.
“So, tell me again why you didn’t give him your number,” Jimin furrows his brows, picking at his limp salad in disgust. He’s trying this new diet that only allows for 1000 calories a day, and it’s made him even more judgmental than usual. “Walk me through your thought process here.”
You sigh. “Jiminie, I told you already. I’m playing the game.”
“The game… I hate straight people.”
“Hey, you did the same thing with Tae when you guys first started out,” you frown, taking a prolonged sip of your iced latte. Senior year, Jimin refused to see Taehyung more than once a week in fear of seeming too desperate and clingy, even though he texted him every five minutes anyway.
Jimin lets out a long-suffering sigh, pushing the soggy lettuce into the corner of his plate. “Tae and I are different. We’re homosexuals. There’s no rules when society already hates you anyway. But you are playing a dangerous game with him.”
Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “I’m not. I’m playing hard to get.”
“How do you know he won’t get bored?” It’s an innocent question that, when asked, makes you want to bash your head into a concrete wall. “I mean, you’ve seen the guy. He probably has a roster of girls throwing their phone number at him.”
You pause mid-sip, straw frozen against your lips. You… hadn’t actually thought about it like that. In your mind, this whole thing has been about you trying to regain an inch of the upper hand, about making Mr. Cocky work for it. But Jimin's right—Jungkook isn’t the same nerdy kid who would wait around forever for a crumb of your attention. You’re also not the cheerleader that everybody’s dying to get their hands on. He could have anyone, and yet his sights are set on you (or well, as far as you know).
“Then I guess we’ll just have to see how into me he is.” You shrug, but no ounce of you feels calm.
Jimin quirks an eyebrow. “Really? Off of one conversation after ten years, he’s supposed to be magically in love with you?”
“Okay, first of all, it was two conversations, and second of all, do you have no faith in your hot and sexy best friend?” You swish your hair for good measure, but Jimin doesn’t buy it for a second. Your charms have no effect on his gay self.
“I do have faith in you. However, I can’t recall the last time you’ve successfully kept a guy around after the first kiss…” he trails off, pretending to count on his fingers. You gasp, appalled by the insinuation.
“Park Jimin,” you scold. He bursts into a fit of laughter, wiping faux tears from his eyes, and you really can’t help but follow suit at the hysterics of it all. “You’re the worst.”
“I’m honest, babe,” he says through another fit of giggles. “You hate to see it.”
“Jimin? [Y/N]?”
The laughter dies down within a millisecond. Somewhere in the distance, you swear you hear a record scratching.
Tentatively, you crane your neck upwards. Lo and behold, Jeon Jungkook stands before your table, holding an iced coffee and looking between you and Jimin in bewilderment. He must have a tracker planted inside you, because although you had daydreamed about this scenario approximately ten times in the past few days, never did you actually think it would come to fruition.
“Why are you here?” you blurt, and Jimin throws you a glare, facepalming. You slap a hand over your mouth. You have the sudden, embarrassing, debilitating urge to vomit.
Jungkook laughs, and you notice the tip of his ears turning pink. “I could ask you the same thing. This is my regular spot.”
“This is—” You glance around the cafe, like the answer will appear written in invisible ink. “Since when?”
“Since I moved to the area?” He’s donning a massive grin now, one that lights up his entire face.
Your face falls flat. In your frantic search for a new cafe, you neglected the fact that the new spot you selected is located in Hannam-dong. Exactly where he told you he lived last week.
Jimin’s completely forgotten his salad, jumping in to save you from the depths of shame. “Jungkook! Join us.” He’s already pulling out an empty chair before he can protest.
Jungkook shakes his head, the hoop earrings in his ear moving with him. “I don’t want to interrupt—”
“Don’t be silly,” Jimin retorts quickly, shooting you a look that both screams: you’re an idiot and this is fate knocking at your door. “Come, sit here.”
Jungkook hesitantly sets his drink down, sitting down in the chair. “So, what were you guys laughing at before?”
You blink a few times, utterly speechless. There’s no universe in which you admit to Jungkook what you two were discussing before his appearance.
“Nothing crazy,” Jimin starts, and he has this glint in his eyes he only gets when he’s about to do something so diabolically crazy you’ll have to second-guess your friendship. “She was just telling me about this guy she’s playing hard to get with. Real shame, honestly. He sounds great.”
What the fuck is going on? you ask yourself silently. Your mind is shooting blanks.
Jimin sips his water nonchalantly as if he didn’t just throw you under the bus.
You finally muster up the courage to speak. “Jimin’s being crazy,” you say, trying to recover some dignity. “There’s no guy.”
“Really?” Jungkook’s smirk is unrattled. “At the mall, you said you had to check your calendar. It sounds like you’re pretty busy.”
Oh, he wants to play this game.
“I am busy.” You lift your chin in defiance.
“Doing what?” Jimin chimes in. After this lunch date, he’s lucky if you ever respond to one of his texts ever again. “You texted me yesterday saying you were bored.”
“I hope you die, Park Jimin,” you mutter.
He turns to Jungkook, a conspiratorial grin plastered on his face. “She’s playing hard to get. I told her it's a terrible strategy, but does she listen? No.”
Jungkook’s eyes don’t waver from your face. “Hard to get, huh?”
“That is not what I’m doing,” you huff, even though that’s exactly what you’re doing, and all parties present at the table know it.
“No, it makes sense.” Jungkook nods, leaning forward in his chair. “After all, you have that busy calendar… you know, the one you need to check.”
“Exactly,” you agree.
“And have you? Checked it, I mean?”
You stare blankly at him.
“I’ve been meaning to.”
“Mm,” Jungkook hums, sipping his coffee. The white t-shirt and grey sweatpants combo he’s wearing today makes you feel like a rabid animal who’s been deprived of food for too long. “Who’s the lucky man?”
“Get this,” Jimin jumps in eagerly. “She met him at the mall.”
“The mall?” Jungkook asks incredulously, dropping his chin into his open palm.
“And she didn’t even give him her number.” Jimin continues this charade as if you’re not even sitting there. Which, you really wish you weren’t. In fact, you might just bury yourself six feet under this cafe after everything’s said and done.
“Wow,” Jungkook tuts. “I hope that guy gets her number somehow.”
“Seems like a long shot.” You shrug, fiddling with your straw.
“Right. I mean, we can’t forget about fate, because fate’s probably working in that guy’s favor.”
It hits you square in the chest, that Jungkook really does know exactly what he’s done, that he is perfectly aware of the effect he has on you.
There's a pause. A long pause. Jimin is grinning like the Cheshire cat, and you're seriously considering faking a medical emergency.
Jungkook’s biceps strain against his shirt, tongue darting out to play with his lip ring. “You know what I think?” His voice drops several octaves, low enough for you and Jimin to hear. “I think this guy should just show up at your door. Skip all the games.”
“That would be weird,” you quip.
“Would it?” Tilting his head, Jungkook observes you. Feels like he’s seeing right through you with x-ray goggles. “Even if you’ve been thinking about him too?”
You’re painfully aware of how close he is, how his knee is almost touching yours under the table, how his eyes keep dropping to your lips. Your brain is short-circuiting. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything except stare at him and wonder what would happen if you just gave in.
“There’s rules to be followed,” you finally mumble.
“Rules for what?” Jimin snorts.
In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the smartest excuse you could’ve conjured up. No one seems to understand the dying art of playing hard to get anymore.
But, really, it was only a matter of time before you lost your temper and threw in the towel. You were never good at winning anything besides cheerleader championships, anyway. “The game, Jimin. The fucking game I explained to you already. Just so we’re all clear, by the way, I was trying to enjoy my lunch before you two decided to gang up on me, so thank you both very much.”
Jimin and Jungkook deadpan, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.
Embarrassment courses through your veins, choking your throat. It’s not like you meant to have an outburst and openly admit you’re playing the game with Jeon Jungkook, a man who you used to ignore as if he were invisible. Sometimes a girl gets sexually frustrated and it manifests in interesting ways.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” you grumble. You speed-walk as fast as your legs will take you, all the way to the restroom, locking yourself in one of the stalls and plopping down on the toilet. You can’t pinpoint why you’re suddenly overcome with some silly desire to win this ‘game’ you conjured up in your head, why you won’t just give in to what he so clearly wants to offer you.
But maybe—and you don’t want to admit it—there’s a residual guilt that lives deep inside you. One that when you really face, reminds you of just how cruel you were to others in high school. There was a time in your teenage life where you thought being the queen bee of high school meant you were at the apex of the universe. Now that the tables have turned, and you’re not as big as you once were, maybe you don’t deserve what the universe is trying to offer you.
Maybe you don't deserve what Jeon Jungkook is trying to offer you.
It’s Sunday, but it’s hardly peaceful or restorative. Saturday night was spent partying with Yunjin and Chaewon at some club in Gangnam that served drinks comparable to battery acid, which is why you’re currently battling the worst hangover of your entire life. Your head is pounding so hard you can hear your heartbeat in your eyeballs. And you're pretty sure you're still drunk, which means the real hangover hasn't even hit yet.
There’s no one to blame but yourself. Your brain was a broken record last night: Jungkook, high school, the game. The only way to stop the endless loop was to wash it down with copious soju shots.
Groggily, you roll over and unplug your phone from the charger. A quick scroll through your missed notifications and it’s the usual suspects: Jimin, Yunjin, Taehyung…
Wait.
Your eyes squint into slits, trying to make sense of the unknown number that sent you one message at 8 AM. You don’t recognize it. Spam, probably. Or maybe someone from last night asking if you got home okay. You don’t remember giving your number to anyone, but then again, you don't remember much after midnight.
You unlock your phone, rub your eyes, and adjust to the bright white light of your messages.
+823137565798 waited ten years to run into you again, [Y/N]. im not really interested in waiting another ten to see if fate brings us together a fourth time
It doesn’t take much time for you to put together the puzzle pieces.
You gasp, nearly flinging yourself off your bed at the realization. You reread the message one, two, three times, just to confirm he really said your name in it. You try to do a little excited kick under your covers, but your legs are tangled in your sheets and you nearly fall off the bed.
After yesterday’s temper tantrum, you had exited the bathroom to see Jeon Jungkook no longer present at the table. Jimin shrugged, said ‘he was tired, so he went home,’ and that was the end of that. You were under the impression that you ruined the entire charade, that you wouldn’t have to worry about the game because you already lost anyway.
But here he is, in your messages, contradicting your worst fears.
you who’s this?
Squealing, you throw your phone to the side, but within a few seconds, it lights up again with a new message.
+823137565798 wild guess?
you my amazon package?
You snort as you watch him read it and begin typing.
+823137565798 close. even better
An unwarranted smile sneaks its way onto your face.
you enlighten me
+823137565798 it’s your ex chemistry tutor from high school. that weird dude
you weird dude is how you’re choosing to introduce yourself?
+823137565798 trying to be humble
+823137565798 so about yesterday
Your hangover creeps back into your skull, your head pounding to the beat of a drum.
you we don’t need to talk about yesterday
+823137565798 why not?
you because i embarrassed myself?
+823137565798 you didn’t. thought it was cute
+823137565798 may have also told your best friend i needed your number in the name of saving you from your drought, so you’re not the one who embarrassed themselves
Staring at the message, your alcohol-riddled brain struggles to make sense of the words in front of you. Heat spreads from your chest to your neck to your cheeks. The guilt tries to claw its way up—you don’t get to feel this giddy, not about him—but your body overrules it with a decisive vote. Your hangover is completely forgotten now, replaced by a warm flutter in your stomach that has nothing to do with last night's tequila.
It’s so unlike him, the polar opposite of what Jeon Jungkook used to evoke in you, but the mere thought of him ending your sex drought sends a tingle down your spine.
You’re grinning like a foolish schoolgirl now, dignity be damned. You save his number to your contacts, makes it official in your brain.
you are you offering to get me out of my drought?
You fling your phone to the opposite side of the bed, and scream into your pillow.
The buzz causes you to shoot back up, heart thumping in your throat as you read his response.
jungkook possibly
Somewhere in the sky, your guardian angel is doing backflips.
Hands shaking, heart pumping blood erratically, you type back:
you take a girl to dinner first
The three dots pop up almost immediately, and then:
jungkook tried that already. the girl ran away from me :/
Technically, he’s right. You did run away. And now he’s resorted to joking about it, like it doesn’t bother him. But it should bother him. Should annoy him that the girl who didn’t acknowledge his existence in high school is now playing games with him like she has any right to.
You don’t know how to let him be nice to you, how to let him want you, when all you can remember is a younger you rolling your eyes while he patiently explained molecular bonds. You were cruel. Mostly in small ways that probably hurt more than massive shows of dismissiveness, but harsh nonetheless.
Guilt sits burdensome in your chest, a thorn in your side. Deep down, you’re terrified that when he finally sees you clearly—really sees you, not the filtered version you're trying to present—he’ll realize what you already know. That you were never worth the wait.
Your fingers loom over the keyboard, twiddling. The guilt is there, always there, always a dark cloud hanging. You were cruel to him. Casual about it, even. Used him like a tool and never once considered that he was a person with feelings that could be hurt.
But maybe—and this is the thought that's been needling at you since the cafe—maybe the worst thing you could do now is waste his second chance on you by playing games. Maybe the cruelest thing would be pretending you don’t want this when you so obviously, desperately do.
On the one hand, honesty is terrifying and vulnerability makes you nauseous.
But, on the other hand…
you well maybe the girl wants to see if you’re full of shit or not
Your heart speeds up behind the confines of your ribs.
jungkook i’m not the same guy from high school. i don’t play about what i want
With bated breath, you type your response. It’s a question that you know the answer to, and you don’t know why you need him to say it, but he will anyway.
you and what is it that you want?
jungkook you.
The night of Huh Yunjin’s birthday creeps up slowly on you, amidst a week busied with work, adult errands, and most stupidly, thoughts of Jungkook. The thoughts of him play, pause, tape spooling, and then rewind on a constant loop, unrelenting in their nature.
You hadn’t spoken to him much after your last exchange, minus some ‘good morning’ texts from him that you responded to politely. It’s foreplay, if nothing else, because even a few words from him are enough to leave you giddy for days to come.
You fully intend to take him up on his offer, you just don’t know when. .
Sinkhole is packed to the brim, sweaty bodies colliding in an attempt to feel human intimacy. A disco ball hangs loosely from the ceiling, transmitting silver light across the dance floor. The DJ is spinning up cringy Top 40 hits you haven’t heard since college, but the amount of soju shots you’ve consumed within the past hour masks the embarrassment you feel.
“Cheers to my 28th!” Yunjin yells in your ear, raising her shot glass in the air. Jimin abandons making out with Taehyung in favor of lifting his shot glass with hers, and you can’t help but join in on the festivities.
Yunjin keeps toasting to things that get progressively more unhinged. ‘To being 28! then ‘To my IUD!’ then ‘To tax evasion!’
You're not sure she's even joking on that last one.
You’ve lost count of how many you’ve taken, but the liquor burns less with each passing shot.
“Happy birthday, baby!” Jimin leans over the table you’re all perched at, pressing a chaste kiss to Yunjin’s cheek. She giggles in delight, smiling brightly in the way only a drunk person could.
“Oh, why thank you, Jiminie,” she laughs. “And thank you, Tae and [Y/N] for buying the table!”
It was 75% Taehyung and 25% you, but you’ll accept her gratitude. Buying a table at the club with unlimited alcohol was also part of your master plan to get absolutely obliterated and halt all thoughts of Jungkook, at least for the night.
“[Y/N], we need to find you a hot guy tonight. That dress is doing insane things to your legs,” Yunjin whines, pushing your shoulder. “There’s soooo many boys here.”
Jimin and Taehyung share a meaningful look, one that you don’t miss. Rolling your eyes, you say, “I’m not looking for anyone tonight. I want to spend it with you.”
“Booooring.” She pokes your side, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of Usher. “If you ditch me on my birthday to fuck a hot dude, I won’t be mad.”
“But I don’t want to fuck a hot dude—”
Jimin clears his throat. “Well, actually, you do. He’s just not here right now.”
There goes your vow to ignore all Jungkook thoughts this evening.
“Jimin.”
“What? It’s true,” he giggles, cozying up into Taehyung’s side. “The guy practically sexted you last weekend.”
Feeling caught, you busy yourself with the hem of your black bodycon dress. “Whether I fuck him or not is nobody’s business but my own,” you mumble.
“Oh, please,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “You’ve been needing to get laid for months. We’re your best friends, which makes it our business.”
“She’s just upset that she ignored him in high school and now he’s this big, hunky guy,” Jimin snickers.
Taehyung frowns. “Bigger than me?”
“Okay, enough,” you snap, pouring more soju into the empty shot glasses. “I just wanna get drunk and enjoy my night.”
“I’m sure you would enjoy your night more if you had a big, sexy man to take care of you. I know I would,” Jimin chuckles. Not in a mean way, but your heart does sink a little as you watch him give Taehyung an open-mouthed kiss.
Yunjin turns to you. “Why haven’t you fucked him?”
You don’t know when this became an intervention, but everyone seems arduously interested on whether or not you fuck Jeon Jungkook.
You shrug. “I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t want to—trust me, I do—I just… feel a little bad about how I treated him in high school.”
Your friend snorts, rolling her eyes with an affectionate smile playing upon her lips. “If he felt bad about how you treated him, he wouldn’t be pursuing you.”
“She’s right,” Jimin jumps back in, and you fight the urge to slam his head into the table. He picks up a soju shot. “It’s kinda cute how desperate he seems for your attention. That’s a guy who’s gonna eat you out like his life depends on it.”
The mental image of his moist, plump lips wrapping around your clit has your thighs trembling under the table, but you clamp them before anyone can notice.
“I’m gonna fuck him,” you promise. “I swear.”
Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “I hope you do, before someone else snatches you up.” He tilts his head in the direction of a man eye-fucking you, and your stomach queases.
“He’s cute,” Jimin takes his shot, and you follow suit. There’s no way you’re getting through this night without getting absolutely obliterated.
“Oooo, there’s a really cute guy over there. 12:00,” Yunjin leans into the group, whispering as lowly as she can over the sound of Kesha.
You refuse the desire to look. Taehyung, however, lets his eyes wander to who she’s talking about. Luckily, Jimin is too entranced by pouring himself another soju shot to care. “Oh fuck me. He’s fucking sexy. I would let that man give me a rimjob.”
You slump into the chair. Somehow you have a feeling you’re about to undergo the world’s least subtle setup.
Jimin’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his skull. Slowly, he angles his body to see who his boyfriend is talking about. “He can’t possibly be that hot—oh my god. Oh my god.”
“What?” you and Yunjin say in unison. If you had to guess, based on Jimin’s track record and the specific tone of that ‘oh my god,’ he’s either spotted a celebrity, a firefighter in uniform, or someone from his legendary whore phase. And given that you’re at a nightclub, you're betting on option three. Jimin’s whore phase is the stuff of legend—a six-month period during sophomore year where he worked his way through half of Seoul's gay club scene. He doesn't talk about it often, mostly because Taehyung gets a very specific look on his face when it comes up, but every once in a while someone from that era will resurface and Jimin will make that exact noise.
“Who is it?” you press on, heart thumping in excitement.
Jimin’s blonde hair sways as he turns to look back at you. “Okay, don’t panic.”
Furrowing your brows, you start, “Don’t—”
“That’s Jungkook, you idiots. The fucking guy from [Y/N]’s high school we’ve been talking about,” he says in a hushed tone, punching Taehyung’s shoulder.
There’s a warm feeling hugging your chest, your body feeling as though it’s been lit on fire. It might be the alcohol, or the sheer joke of it all. Out of all the scenarios you’ve conjured up in your daydreams, this wasn’t one of them.
You turn your body to track where your friend’s eyes were just a minute ago. Even though Jimin already confirmed it, there’s a tiny part of you hoping his eyes deceive him. But there he is, Jeon Jungkook, in the flesh, talking to one of his equally attractive friends. He’s wearing all black—black t-shirt that sculpts his biceps, black baggy jeans that sit tightly on his slim waist. His hair is ruffled, hoop earrings dangling from the holes in his ear. And really, the most sickening part of it all: he has two lip rings instead of the usual one. You’re gonna be sick.
“Earth to [Y/N]...” Yunjin waves a shot in front of your face, and without preamble, you take it from her, swallowing it in one easy sip. The alcohol travels down your throat, but you barely feel the burn.
“You good?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow.
“Just peachy,” you lie. You smile at your friends, but they don’t seem convinced.
Jimin guffaws, leaning back in his chair with an evil grin. “Is that why you just downed another shot?”
“I’m thirsty.”
“For alcohol or for Jungkook?” Yunjin bursts into a fit of giggles, high-fiving Jimin across the table.
Groaning, you let your head fall into your hands. “I hope all of you die a slow and painful death.”
“He’s gotten even hotter since the last time I saw him,” Jimin notes, sipping his untouched margarita. “How is that possible?”
“Can we please talk about anything else?” You reach for the soju bottle, pouring the last of the clear liquid into your glass. Your second in thirty seconds. A new personal record.
“We will do no such thing,” Jimin’s eyes are gleaming with elation. “You need to go talk to him.”
You nearly choke on the liquor. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Go. Talk. To. Him.” Jimin enunciates each word like you’re a toddler.
“Are you insane?” you deadpan. “Like, actually stupid? Have you suffered a brain injury I don’t know about?”
Both Jimin and Taehyung share another unspoken look. “I’m trying to help you.”
“But I don’t want help—”
“[Y/N].” Jimin doesn’t often get very serious, but the expression on his face makes you squirm. “I’m not letting you fuck this up.”
“I;m not fucking anything up by staying exactly where I am.” You cross your arms over your chest. Realistically, you know he’s right. If you were more drunk, maybe you would bite the bullet, march over there, and plant a kiss right on those lips you haven’t stopped thinking about. But you’re not, so at the table you will stay.
“This is fate. This is the universe putting him a few feet away.” Jimin gestures vaguely at Jungkook.
“The universe can fuck off, honestly.”
He sighs, “I’m doing this for your own good.”
And before you can process his movements, a lag in your brain, Jimin turns in his seat, arm raising in a wave, mouth opening to call out his name.
“No!” You lunge across the table, knocking over Taehyung’s drink, causing him to groan. You latch onto Jimin’s arm, yanking it down forcefully. “Don’t you fucking dare, Park Jimin—”
It’s too late.
Because in your desperate scramble to stop Jimin from committing social suicide on your behalf, you've made a scene. Swiveling your head slowly, you see Jungkook staring directly at you.
His eyebrows are raised, a hint of a smirk playing upon his lips. His tattooed fingers toy with the straw in his drink. It feels as though time drags on for hours, as if the hands of a clock are being lugged through molasses.
You slowly extract yourself from on top of the table, slinking into your chair with as much dignity as you can muster. Your hand comes up in the world’s most awkward, tentative wave. The tiniest flutter of your fingers.
Jungkook’s lips stretch wider, raising his hand in return. It’s a proper wave, filled with that newfound confidence of his. Then he turns back to his friend, resuming their conversation. It’s not like you expected him to drop everything for you—or well, you kind of did. You exhale a deep breath. “Oh my god.” You slump in your chair. “That was horrible.”
“That was… bad,” Jimin tiptoes around the word, twiddling his thumbs.
“I’m going to have to fake my death and move to a different country—”
“Stop being a drama queen,” Yunjin cuts in, sliding a shot towards you. You don’t even know or care where it spawned from, but all you know is you need it. “He waved back. He probably thought it was cute.”
Sighing, you shake your head. “There is nothing cute about what just happened.” You down the shot, and you’ve completely lost count at this point of how many you’ve ingested.
“Okay, new plan,” you announce, slamming the glass down. “None of that happened. We enjoy Yunjin’s birthday. We do not make eye contact with Jungkook, we do not speak about Jungkook.”
“Yeah, about that,” Jimin trails off, eyes glued to somewhere behind your shoulder. “It’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“He’s coming over here.”
Your entire body halts all movement, rigid like a statue. “What?”
“He’s coming here. Right now,” Taehyung repeats, and your heart drops to your feet. A hornet’s nest of anxiety swarms your stomach, filling your body with buzzing fear.
You shake your head frantically. “Please say you’re messing with me.”
Yunjin turns to see where Jimin and Taehyung are staring, and the moment she touches your arm, you realize you’re trapped. There’s no way out but through.
“[Y/N]. It’s nice to see you here.”
His voice is deeper, a low timbre that makes your brain go all fuzzy around the edges. He stands in front of the table, and you peer through your eyelashes to look up at him.
Fuck. Fuck, he looks even better up close.
The two lip rings catch the light of the disco ball. A silver chain dangles from around his neck and you briefly wonder what it’ll look like hanging over you while he pounds into…God, get a grip. You can catch a whiff of his cologne, something citrusy and woodsy that causes a pool of arousal in your underwear.
“Hi,” you manage a smile, struggling to hold the intense gaze he’s sporting.
He breaks it for a moment, turning to your best friend, nodding. “Jimin, good to see you again.”
“You too, Kook. You should join us!” He scooches closer to Taehyung, patting the minimal space beside him. Jungkook stares at it, then looks back at you with a hunger in his eyes that almost has you keeling over.
“Actually,” Jungkook begins, “I was hoping I could steal [Y/N] for a drink. If that’s okay with you all?”
He wants to... what? Steal you? For a drink? Alone? You turn to Yunjin, eyes pleading. Help me. Save me. Make up an excuse. But she was never going to let you escape where he’s involved. She looks you dead in the eye, smiles sweetly, and says, “No, she’s all yours.”
You’re going to remember this. You’re going to bring this up at every possible opportunity for the rest of her natural life.
Jungkook’s hand extends towards you, palm up, awaiting yours. For a brief second, you stare at it, at his long fingers, at the veins running down his forearm, at the silver rings stacked on his nimble fingers. The hand that's now being offered to you, in public, in front of all your friends.
You can either take his hand and let whatever this is happen, or you can make up some excuse and run away for the fourth time.
Your heart starts cartwheeling in your chest. You can’t look away from his hand, the one you desperately want to take. Jungkook watches patiently, confidently, like he knows just what you’re deciding between.
Fuck it.
You place your hand in his, let your fingers intertwine with his warm ones. It’s secure, and his fingers tighten around yours as if to remind you he has you. Jungkook pulls you to your feet gently. He doesn’t let go as he guides you through the crowd toward the bar, and you’re trying very hard not to think about how right it feels, how you never want him to let you go.
He parks you at the bartop, where a woman who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else is serving alcohol to a group of minors. Jungkook pats the stool beside him, and you’re more than grateful to take the chair. Your heels have been hurting like a bitch all night. When you sink into the chair, his eyes follow the way your dress hugs your thighs, revealing more skin than your old cheer uniforms. You debate tugging it down, but a warm feeling is flooding your insides at the thought of him wanting to see more of you. He towers above you, his AMEX hanging loosely from his deft fingers.
“What do you like to drink?” He leans down, whispers it directly in your ear. The heat of his breath makes your entire body feel like molten lava.
The bartender begins to make her way over, eyes gleaming when she spots Jungkook. If you were less tipsy, you might come up with a witty response, but your current state only allows you to say, “A dirty shirley, please.”
He doesn’t make a face at the girly drink, nor bats an eyelash when the bartender touches his arm four times while he recites his order. You can only watch in awe as he hands over his card and turns his attention back to you, body angling toward you as if to shield you from every other patron who might be able to see you. The slight possessiveness he’s exhibiting would normally make you hurl, but he’s so unapologetic about it that you could care less. You hope he puts his mark on you so no man will ever speak to you again.
Jungkook fiddles with his fingers on the counter, unsure where to put them. The only glimpse of high school Jungkook you’ve seen in days. His hand hovers near your thigh, then his jeans pocket, then back to the counter. For all his cockiness over text and possessiveness, still lies a man who’s intimidated by the thought of truly having you.
The soju in your body hums through your veins, making everything feel hazy and like a really good idea. Liquid courage, Yunjin calls it. Liquid stupidity, sounds more precise.
But right now… you’re thinking liquid courage might be onto something.
Because he’s standing so close you can smell his cologne, something that smells like grapefruit and lemon. Because he angled his body to block out the rest of the bar like you’re the only person here. Because his hand is right there, inches from you, and looks like he wants to touch you so badly it’s causing him physical pain.
And you’re tipsy enough to think: yeah, liquid courage is real.
Before the sober, anxious part of your brain can intervene with a thousand reasons why this is a horrible idea, you reach out. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, and his eyes snap to yours, surprise written across his features.
You don’t utter a word, just simply guide his hand until his palm settles at the small of your back. Every place where his skin connects with yours seems to tingle.
“Is this okay?” he asks, voice low and chest rumbling with the sound. Again, his mouth is right by your ear, and you can’t think, can’t breathe, can't hear anything but him.
“Would I have moved it there if I wasn’t?”
His thumb strokes once against your side. “Just making sure.”
“I’m tipsy, not drunk,” you clarify, only because you need him to know this is a choice. This is something you tried to talk yourself out of over and over again, but you want this. Liquid courage is making you brave enough to admit out loud what you only ever thought to yourself sober. “I know what I’m doing.”
“And what are you doing?” His breath hits your cheek, the side of your mouth, and it’s laced with peppermint and whiskey, and you’re dizzy with need.
“Giving you the green light,” you say, tilting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are hooded, trained on your lips that are coated in shiny gloss. “That okay with you?”
His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you incrementally closer. He doesn’t need to say anything.
“Very okay,” he murmurs into your hair.
The bartender returns with your drinks, but Jungkook doesn’t move his hand. He takes your dirty shirley with his free hand, passing it off to you. His grip becomes more secure, more selfish, like now that you’ve given him permission, he’s never planning on letting go.
Good, you think. You don’t want him to.
Jungkook’s hand wraps around the glass of whiskey, taking a slow sip. “Seems like fate was on my side tonight.”
You take a gulp of your dirty shirley, the sweetness coating your tongue. “I’m starting to think you might be stalking me.”
His eyebrows raise, a tiny upward twitch in his mouth. “How do I know you’re not stalking me?”
“Oh, you would know.”
“Really?” He leans in, brown eyes sparking like pools of chocolate. “And how’s that?”
“Because I’d be better at it,” you proclaim, emboldened by the alcohol. “You wouldn’t catch me three times in two weeks. I’d have a whole system. Disguises, a wig collection..”
He laughs loudly. You notice that his dimples pop when he does so, eyes crinkling. “A wig collection.”
“At minimum. Maybe some fake glasses and a trench coat.”
“Clearly, you’ve thought about this,” he hums.
You raise your hands in defense. “I’m just saying, if I were stalking you, you’d never know it unless I wanted you to know.”
“Should I be concerned?” he questions, but he’s grinning.
“Depends,” you tilt your head. “Are you worth stalking?”
His fingers spread across the expanse of your spine. “I’d like to think so.”
“Confident.” Another sip of your dirty shirley snakes down your throat, your lips toying with the straw as you peer up at him.
His gaze never leaves yours. “Besides, you’re the one who guided my hand to your back. If anyone's being forward here…”
That almost makes you choke on your sugary drink. “I was just—”
“Giving me the green light,” he finishes. “I remember. Trust me, I remember.”
Your mind stumbles, then short-circuits.
You resort to drinking more alcohol, needing something to do with your hands that’s not touching him. “This is crazy, right? Us, here?”
“Crazy how?”
“You know how. I mean, ten years ago, I was copying your chemistry homework, and now you’re so… you’re…”
There’s not a single English word that properly describes what present day Jeon Jungkook does to you, with his tattoos and lip rings and expensive cologne and platinum credit card and… fuck.
“I’m what?” He leans closer, waiting, expecting.
“This.” you say helplessly. “All of this.”
“Is there something wrong with.” he uses his free hand to motion over his toned body, “this?”
“No. Nothing. That’s the problem.” It slips out before you can stop it. “It would be easier if something was wrong with it.”
The hand not looped around your waist moves from the bartop to your dress, fingers finding the hem where it’s ridden up on your thigh. He plays with the fabric absentmindedly, rolling it between the pads of his fingers. “If no one’s told you, by the way,” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear him over the music, “this dress looks insane on you.”
The wind is knocked out of your chest, a jolt of electricity flashing through your core. “No one’s told me yet. You’re the first.”
His eyes drag up from where his fingers are flirting with your dress, traveling up your body until they meet yours. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he says. “There. Now I'm the second to say it.”
It’s hard to breathe, hard to swallow. Even harder to find words, or form a coherent sentence.
“You—I—you can’t—”
“Can’t..?” His hands don’t dare move from your dress, knuckles occasionally brushing against your thigh. “Can’t tell you the truth?”
“You know what you’re doing, Jungkook.”
“I do,” he agrees. “Is it working?”
You want to lie. Want to play it cool. Want to maintain some semblance of the upper hand.
But your downfall was inevitable, right from the moment you saw him standing in the cafe. Like a champagne bottle that someone shook a little too hard, a balloon pressed against a thumbtack. It was always meant to explode.
“Yes,” you admit.
“Good.” Both of his hands move to grip the side of your barstool. In one smooth movement, he turns you to face him completely. His legs spread, creating space, and he guides the stool forward with his toe until your thighs slot between his. He’s caging you in, hands landing atop your thighs, palms warm against your bare skin.
You’re practically pressed against him, his face level with yours, “Is this okay?” he asks again, fingers digging into the flesh.
Suddenly, it’s like you’re painfully aware of all the places where he isn’t touching you. Your faces, your chests. You want more, need more.
“Stop asking me that,” you mumble, looking away, but he guides your gaze back with a finger under your chin.
“I need to know, princess.” His tone is serious, but you want to smile from the pet name. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
“It’s not,” you whisper. “It’s not too much.”
“No?”
“No.”
His hands slide up your thighs, hiding underneath the fabric, pushing a boundary that hasn't been tested in a long time. “What about now?’
You’re going to combust. Right here, in the middle of Sinkhole, surrounded by people, you're going to burst into flames.
“Still okay,” you exhale.
For one exhilarating second, his eyes drop to your lips, and you think you’ll get what you’ve been seeing in your dreams the past few nights. You need to get out of here. Away from the crowd, away from the noise, somewhere you can actually hear yourself think—or not think. Preferably not think.
“Do you want to…” you start, then hesitate. The words die on your tongue.
He cocks his head, hair flopping into his eyes. “Do I want to…”
Your heartbeat reverberates in your throat. “Talk somewhere more private? It’s loud here.”
His composure shifts, and you watch the realization hit him. What you're suggesting. What that implies.
“Private,” he repeats. “To talk.”
“Yes.”
“About?”
You deadpan, brain racking for a subject, any subject. “Stuff,” is what you come up with.
A dry laugh escapes him. “And maybe things as well?”
You pout. “Important stuff.”
“I’m sure.” His smile is lopsided, goofy and full of light. He pulls you up from the barstool until your feet touch the ground again. His hand finds your fingers, easily lacing them. “Whatever you want, princess.”
Where the fuck did that come from? When did he become the type of person to use pet names? And why is it working? Why is that single word making your entire nervous system light up like a Christmas tree?
Tugging you through the crowd, he peers behind him every few seconds to make sure you haven’t floated away. His hand is firm around yours, guiding you through the mass of bodies, and you try and catch a glimpse of any of your friends.
Unfortunately, you do spot Jimin and Taehyung, pressed against a wall, entranced in a makeout session so intense that they’re definitely not coming up for air soon. At least you won’t have to explain to them where you went. Yunjin is nowhere to be found, probably on the dance floor or already home with one of her many flings.
Jungkook pulls you through another section of the crowd, leading you down a side hallway that’s mercifully empty. The music is muffled, bass still thumping through the walls but not deafening anymore. You lean back against the cold concrete, the chill a shock against your overheated skin. The wall vibrates with each bass drop, humming in your chest.
Jungkook stops in front of you, and you have to tilt your head back to see his face. “What did you want to talk about?”
Your mind shoots blanks. In this dim hallway, you’ve become aware of how completely the tables have turned. Ten years ago, you held all the cards. You were the girl who made him nervous, who had him stumbling over words, who could get him to do anything with a smile and a flutter of your eyelashes. But now you’re the one who’s heart is racing, who feels like you might explode from a single touch. He has the upper hand, utterly, entirely. And you handed it to him willingly. Put his hand on your waist, guided him here, and now you’re putty in his hands and he knows it.
“You make me nervous,” you blurt out.
The silence that engulfs you feels like punishment. Your mouth goes dry, palms sweating under the guise of his stare.
He takes a step closer. There’s little to no space between you. “That’s interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?” Your back is pressed against the wall. Nowhere to go.
“You used to make me nervous,” he says, bracing his hand on the wall. His bicep strains and you have to fight the urge to ogle at them. “For years.”
“That was different, Jungkook.”
“Was it?” He studies you. “In what way?”
“Well, because now you’re you, and I’m—“
“I’m me?” His eyebrows raise an inch, lips curling upwards in a smirk. “What does that mean?”
Why did you drink so much alcohol? Why, why, why? Maybe if you hadn’t, your lips wouldn’t be so goddamn loose. Your filter would still be in tact. You wouldn’t be staring at him like you want to devour him whole.
You peer up at him, eyelashes fluttering. His cheeks are flushed from the amount of drinks he’s consumed, and he’s close enough that you can see the moles that litter his face. The one under his lip. The one on his nose. You want to kiss each and every single one of them. Map them out with your lips until you have them memorized.
You give up on any pretense of playing it cool. “You know you’re hot, Jungkook.”
“Do I know?” The smirk on his face grows tenfold, and god, you want to kiss it off him. “You’ve never told me this before.”
“High school was different.”
“You’ve said that a lot, but it’s actually not that different,” he murmurs.
“Hm?”
His gaze drops to your lips for the hundredth time tonight. “Because I’m still so fucking unbelievably, out of my mind, attracted to you.”
Your brain struggles to process it—that he’s felt this way for years. That it never went away. That all the confidence and cockiness is built on top of the same desire that made teenage Jungkook stutter around you.
“You’re just saying things,” you whisper. But you’ve known. You’ve always known.
His hand falls from the wall to cup your jaw. “You think I begged Jimin for your number because I was just being polite? You think I showed up at three different cafes hoping fate would bring us together because I’m casual about this?”
“But you said that cafe was your regular spot—”
He fights to hide the smile creeping onto his face. “I’ve wanted you since I was a teenager.” His thumb brushes across your cheekbone. “Somehow, impossibly, I want you even more now.”
Your heart is trying to break out of the confines of your ribcage. “Jungkook.”
His forehead is almost touching yours. “What’s different is that now I’m not terrified to tell you.”
You don’t know what else to say to him, so you smile as brightly as you can, letting your happiness live on your face.
“How many drinks have you had tonight?” he asks.
You scrunch your brows together. “A lot of soju. That dirty shirley. Why?”
Bluntly, he says, “Because I want to kiss you. But not if you’re too drunk to remember it tomorrow.”
You squeak, back slightly arching off the wall. You’ve never wanted anything more, never ached to feel someone the way you do him. Heat travels through your veins, burning you to your core.
“I told you, I’m tipsy,” you rush to protest. “I’ll remember this tomorrow.”
It should be embarrassing how quickly you reassure him, how the words tumble out of your mouth.
His forehead presses against yours, and it’s a miracle you don’t dissolve into a puddle. “Then can I—”
“Yes,” you interrupt. If he doesn’t kiss you in the next five seconds, you might actually die.
“I didn’t finish the question.” His lips ghost over yours, a gentle taste of what you yearn for.
“I don’t care what the question is,” you exhale. “The answer is yes.”
And then his lips are on yours.
Never in your high school years did you imagine how Jeon Jungkook kissed. Never thought about how his lips would feel against your own. Never cared to think about it.
This past week, however, you’ve spent more time imagining this exact scenario than you’ve spent breathing. But reality is superior to whatever your brain could conjure up. Your imagination could never describe Jungkook’s demanding kiss, or the way his lips melt into yours with utmost certainty. His hand slides from your jaw to your cheek, cradling it. The other hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against him.
A mix of a gasp and a moan falls from your lips, and he swallows it wholly. Your fists find his shirt, tugging on the fabric, pulling him closer even though there’s no space between you. His lip rings are cold against your mouth, a contrast to the heat of his lips and the heat between your thighs. Parting your lips, his tongue sweeps in, tastes just like you smelled earlier—whiskey and peppermint. Your lip gloss is definitely everywhere at this point—on him, on you, probably on the wall behind you—but you couldn’t care less.
His strong hand travels from your cheek down, down, fingers wrapping loosely around your throat. Claiming, holding. The possessiveness of the gesture sends heat pooling low into your stomach. Jungkook’s thumb presses into your pulse point, feeling how your heart is racing.
And when you do finally pull away, your heart is still going berzerk. His lips are shiny with your gloss, pink and swollen and thoroughly kissed. You can't help but giggle at the sight.
“What?” he asks, breathless. The tips of his ears are tickled pink.
“You’re wearing my lip gloss,” you giggle again, reaching up to wipe it with your thumb. But he doesn’t let you get far, catches your wrist and presses a kiss right where your flowery perfume is sprayed. He takes a deep inhale and smiles back at you like you hung the moon and stars. Your heart is pumping so wildly you’re worried it might actually burst out of your chest.
Then his lips are on your neck, trailing down to your exposed collarbone, finding every sensitive spot with ease like he already knows you, like he holds the map to your body. He holds you tight to him, grounding—and thank god because your legs are shaking so badly that you're not sure you could stand without him holding you up.
“Jungkook,” you gasp, and he hums against your skin. His mouth finds your jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to pass out. Your fingers thread through his unruly dark brown locks, tugging slightly at the nape.
And you can’t really help the intrusive thoughts that leap in your mind, the tidal wave of desire that keeps lapping at your core. He’s insatiable, and you feel gluttonous. “Do you wanna—” you start, but his teeth graze your pulse point and your brain turns to mush. “maybe—ahh—go to mine?”
He halts, pulls back enough to look at you. “Is that what you want?” His voice is strained, the thread of self-control growing weaker and weaker.
Your brain is fuzzy from alcohol and kissing and the feeling of his hands on your waist, but you know what you're saying. You know what you're offering. You’re done fighting whatever decade-old guilt lives inside you, because you deserve him. Maybe you’re finally ready to accept it. To trust that you’ve grown, that you’re growing, that you’re not done growing and thats okay. You deserve all the good that Jeon Jungkook has to offer. “Yes,” you breathe, “I want—I want you.”
His eyes search for hesitation. “You’ve been drinking, and I don't want you to feel like you need to—”
“I’m sure.” Cupping his face in your hands, you cut his sentence in half. Don’t even let it slip between you. “I know what I want.”
Somehow, his eyes have gone darker, fingers tightening for purchase. “Say it again,” he murmurs.
“I want you, Jungkook.” Your thumb brushes against his bottom lip, catching on his lip rings. “Take me home.”
“Fucking hell,” he practically moans, and then his lips are on you again with an urgency that wasn’t there before. “We should probably tell your friends we’re leaving.”
“Jimin’s busy.” If you had to guess, he’s on his knees at home, getting topped by Kim Taehyung. “And Yunjin will understand. Your friends?”
“They know who you are.”
A swarm of butterflies kick up in your stomach.
You tug on his shirt. “Now can we please go before I lose my mind?”
His answer to that is another quick kiss—but still thorough, because who is he if not a man starved—and he pulls you through the hallway, back into the club, into the thick of the chaos still lingering this late in the night. You hardly register any of it. The lights, the bass of the music, the bodies pressing against you as you squeeze by. None of it matters.
You feel like you’re floating, like your feet are moving but you can’t feel the ground, like you’re walking on clouds. His hand is wrapped around yours, pulling you forward, and you’d follow him anywhere right now. To the ends of the earth. Off a cliff.
Once the crisp night air hits your skin, Jungkook is already scanning the street, hand raised to hail a taxi. One pulls up within seconds—it’s got to be fate, or the universe supporting your agenda to get laid—and he opens the door, ushering you inside with a hand on the small of your back.
Jungkook shuts the door forcefully, immediately snuggling into your side, leaving little to no room for you to create space between you two. Not that you wanted to, but you want to giggle at how utterly fearful he seems of distance from you.
“Where to?” the driver asks, eyeing Jungkook in the rearview.
You rattle off your address, and the cab pulls off into traffic. Seoul at this hour is never quiet—in fact, it’s usually more lively, since clubs stay open until the wee hours of the morning. But all you can really focus on is Jungkook beside you, his thigh pressed against yours in the cramped backseat. His fingers lace through yours. An innocent, sweet gesture, a complete contrast from what was happening ten minutes ago against that hallway wall.
You look down at your intertwined hands—his so much larger than yours, rings cool against your skin. A smile bestows upon your lips. When you glance up at him, he’s staring at you with this fond expression that makes your heart stutter.
“What?” you ask, giddy.
“Nothing,” he replies, but the smile on his face doesn’t disappear. “I just can’t believe this is happening.”
“Me neither,” you admit sheepishly.
His hand reaches over, tugging the hem of your dress down where it’s ridden up your thigh. The action would be chivalrous, if not for the way his fingers linger, if not for the way his jaw clenches, if not for the way his fond expression darkens into something sinister.
“You need to stop moving,” he says, a deep exhale following his words.
You roll your eyes. “I’m not even moving.”
“Your… dress is moving.” His hand remains on your thigh, holding the fabric down. “I can’t hold it together if this dress rides up any more.”
“Oh.”
He shifts in his jeans, clearly uncomfortable. You have to fight not to avert your eyes to his crotch.
“Do you know how long it’ll take to get to her apartment?” Jungkook asks the driver. You snort loudly.
He shrugs. Clearly, the man has never shared Jungkook’s predicament, because he looks unbothered by the urgency in his voice. “About twenty minutes.”
Jungkook groans, leaning back into the seat, closing his eyes for a second. When he opens them again and catches your gaze, he has to close them to calm his friend down there. And it does make you giggle again, but what you want more than anything is to feel him. For him to give you a part of him that you didn’t know you needed until now.
You whisper in his ear. “I don’t want you to hold it together.”
His eyes fly open, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Don’t tempt me right now, [Y/N].”
“Why not?” And you pull out your tricks—you bat your eyelashes, tilt your head down, lick your lips to wet them. His face grows pale.
“Because we’re in a cab,” he murmurs, staring at your lips. “And I’m trying to be respectful.”
“Maybe I want you to disrespect me right now.”
The words are barely out of your mouth before he's kissing you again. His hand leaves your dress to cup your face, angling your head so he can kiss you deeper.
The cab driver clears his throat. You both ignore him, too hypnotized by the other to think about stopping. He pulls you as close as he can, and a frustrated noise escapes from your lips. There’s too many layers, too much distance, and he smiles knowingly against your lips.
He seems to know just what you need.
Jungkook’s large hand lands on your knee, caressing the supple skin.
“You know how to be quiet, baby?”
You nod meekly.
His voice brushes against the shell of your ear, hand traveling up your thigh to mask itself under the fabric of your dress. “Good girl. Spread your legs for me.”
Eyes widening, you stare up at him blankly. There is no way on this planet, Jeon Jungkook, the man who you were sure—up until now—never had his first kiss, is about to finger you in a taxi. But his hand moving near your lace panties says otherwise. You jolt forward at the feeling of his deft fingers swiping at the fabric as discreetly as possible. You gasp, and he tosses you a look before you slap your hand over your mouth. Luckily, the taxi driver seems more focused on the fastest route to your apartment than whatever debauchery is occurring in his backseat. It’s also dark in the car, impossible for the naked eye to see Jungkook’s movements.
He presses against the wet spot on your underwear, and heat creeps up your neck at the realization of just how turned on he’s had you since the hallway. Maybe even before then, if you’re being honest. He smiles at the revelation.
Your nails dig into the leather seat of the cab. Jungkook’s tattooed fingers push aside your underwear, his pointer finger collecting the arousal. A whimper escapes you, and when you look at him, the look on his face sends another round of wetness dripping down his finger. “God, baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he whispers into your ear, letting two fingers ghost over your clit, gently pushing the bundle of nerves. “Didn’t know public sex turned you on so much.”
You bite back a moan. The teasing pace he’s set over your clit would be fun, if you had a constant stream of sexual endeavors, but unfortunately, you’re as desperate as a raccoon sifting through trash. Gripping onto his wrist, you push him onto you fiercely. “Needy, aren’t we?” he mutters.
All you can reply with is a quick nod. He chuckles softly, rubbing circles on your clit with the pad of his pointer and middle finger. Your head falls back on the headrest, eyes squeezed tight, tight, tight as you try to calculate how he found your clit so fast. It’s so wet, dripping onto the seat, his hands, that you could cum just from the stimulation of it all.
“What do you want, princess? Hm?” Somehow, it sounds like he’s far away from you, like you’re caught on your own cloud of bliss. You want to ask for more, need more like it’s oxygen. His rhythm slows just a tad, enough to have your eyes flying open. “I asked you a question.”
Oh. Oh. So he’s that kind of guy.
“I want—I want your fingers,” you whisper feebly.
“Yeah? Where, princess? I’ll give you whatever you want.” he kisses your shoulder, your jaw, and it makes your brain fuzzy around the edges.
The tantalizing pace he’s set on your clit makes it hard to speak. “W-want you to fuck me with them.”
His lips curl upwards, eyes blazing. “You like my fingers?” Another nod. He removes his fingers from your clit, slipping back out underneath your dress. You’re about to protest, maybe even kick him out of the car, until you watch him make direct eye contact with you, and place his fingers in his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around the digits. You blink. What the actual fuck have you gotten yourself into?
“Please, Jungkook,” you beg, your nails scrambling to dig in his clothed thigh. He chastises you, laughs at you, before slithering under your dress again, plunging his fingers directly into your sopping entrance. You gasp, loud enough to make the driver look in the rearview, but you bite your bottom lip before any more can escape. “I know you can take it. If you can take that douchebag Kim Mingyu, you can handle me. Although, after I’m done with you, my name might be the only name you moan for the rest of your life.”
You should hate that. You really, really should. But clearly, your dignity has taken the night off, and in its place is a woman who is so endeared over being degraded by Jeon Jungkook.
His fingers pump in and out, achingly slow, making you feel every inch. You’re gripping his thigh so tightly you swear there’ll be claw marks. Your head rests on the back of your seat, chest heaving. If not for the sound of traffic outside, the driver might be able to hear the way your pussy squelches with each movement.
Jungkook’s lips press against your jaw, litter around your neck. “More,” you mumble, sounding drunker than you did in the club.
“God, you’re so fucking wet. I can’t wait to be inside you. Gonna fuck you all night.” Lewd words continue to spill from his lips. Sending waves of arousal onto his fingers, more for him to play with as he picks up his pace. He curls his fingers upwards, reaching that sensitive spot that far and few men have ever found. Your body trembles, thighs shaking, and Jungkook’s hand lands on them to try and steady you.
His thumb finds your clit, rubbing sloppy circles as he brings you to the brink of your orgasm. Your eyes fight to stay open, looking over at Jungkook—and holy hell. His arm veins are popping out, mostly from the amount of effort he’s putting into fucking into you to completion, his dark hair flopping over his face. His silver chain bounces off his chest, reflecting on the city lights outside.
And you don’t even realize how quickly you’re about to cum, tears brimming your eyes from the way his fingers pump in and out you wildly, thumb matching his pace over your clit. “So tight around my fingers, princess. You gonna cum?”
There’s no way you can be quiet about this. Not with how fucking good he looks, not with how easily his fingers slip in and out you, hitting your sweet spot. You bury your head in his neck, moaning into his warm skin, trying to muffle the sound as much as possible. “Fuck, Jungkook.”
“Want you to cum on my fingers, princess. Can you do that for me?” You nod into his neck.
Your walls clench around his fingers one last time, to the point where he can hardly move them, his thumb working you through the orgasm that ripples through your body. Your fingers claw at his arm, teeth biting at his neck. You can feel yourself lose control, heart beating erratically in your chest.
Jungkook’s fingers halt inside you, thumb coaxing you through the rest of your orgasm. “It’s okay, princess. I’ve got you.”
Your body completely slumps into him, still feeling full with his two fingers inside you.
Finally, after he allows you a moment to catch your breath, he pulls them out of your pussy, soaked with your creamy arousal. “Open,” he says gently, but when you look up at him, his gaze is hardly sympathetic. Your lips part for him, and he places his fingers on your tongue. You swirl it around, tasting yourself, sweet and salty and warm, foreign to you. Jungkook’s eyes never leave yours.
“Good job, baby,” he says as he removes his fingers, pressing one, two chaste kisses on your lips.
All things considered, you’re in absolute shock. Somewhere between high school and now, Jeon Jungkook learned how to kiss like he’s trying to ruin you for all other men. Where did he learn all this? Who taught him to do that thing with his fingers? How does he know exactly where to put his hands, exactly how much pressure to use to make you lose your mind?
The thought of him practicing on other people—other girls—makes something ugly twist in your stomach.
You’re an evil, evil girl. “Where’d you learn all that?”
He raises an eyebrow, tucking a strand of your loose hair behind your ear. “Are you asking about my sexual history now?”
“No.”
“You are,” he teases. “You’re not jealous, right?”
If only he knew how ill you felt at the idea of another girl knowing how his fingers can easily find their g-spot.
“I am not jealous.” You feign indifference, but your voice comes out all defensive and petulant, which kind of ruins it all. “Just asking a question.”
“You want to know who I've been with?” he asks, clearly trying not to laugh.
“Never said that.”
He presses another soft kiss against your lips. “There’s been other people. I’m not going to lie about that. But that’s not a big deal.”
You furrow your brows. “Why?”
His thumb traces circles on your thigh. “Because I thought about you during all of it. I wondered what you’d feel like, wondered what sounds you would make. So, yeah,” he continues. “I learned some things. But I only ever wanted to use them on you.”
You kiss him again because you don’t know what else to do with the feeling expanding in your chest. Because he’s looking at you like that and saying things like that and your heart is fluttering out of your body. God, if that doesn’t make you want to drag him upstairs immediately.
The cab pulls up to your building and Jungkook is already pulling out his wallet, throwing bills at the driver without checking the amount. "Keep the change," he says, and then he's out of the cab, pulling you with him.
Your legs are unsteady when you stand—from the alcohol, from the kissing, from everything—and his arm wraps around your waist, steadying you. “I’m not done with you yet, princess.”
And, really, he’s not joking because he’s on you the second you step through the door to your apartment. Barely even crosses the threshold before his lips are colliding with yours passionately, slamming your spine into the wall by your entryway. His hands cup your cheeks entirely. He can’t get enough of you, like opposite poles of a magnet attracting. Shortly after his affair with the entryway, Jungkook moves a little more down your hallway, but you’re too focused on kissing him to direct him. Your shoes are discarded, purse on the floor, and then your back finds another cool wall to rest against.
Jungkook assaults your neck, leaving a trail of bruises that are going to take a hell of a lot of explaining tomorrow. Your apartment probably sounds like the set of some cheap porno, what with Jungkook’s whimpers and your moans, and neither of you are even naked yet. Your hands run over the front of his chest, feeling his sculpted body underneath his shirt.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into your collarbone, where he’s leaving hickeys in his wake. His hands wander over your chest, cupping them over your dress. Without another word or warning, he yanks down the top of your dress, your breasts spilling out. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you as he manhandles you, his lips coming to wrap around your hardened nipple. His tongue swipes over the sensitive nub, eyes peering up expectantly, watching every facial expression that contorts on your face.
Your eyes squeeze tightly, a kaleidoscope of color blooming behind your vision. “Jungkook,” you moan, carding your fingers through his unruly hair.
Without preamble, Jungkook kisses your nipples one last time before dropping to his knees on your hardwood floor with a resounding thump.
You open your eyes. The sight in front of you is fucking ungodly. If you look closely, you can see Jungkook from high school, expectantly looking up at you with puppy dog eyes, pushing your dress up to hang around your waist.
“W-what are you doing?’ you ask.
He looks drunk. “Need to eat you out. I want to taste you, princess.”
You don’t remember the last time a man has looked so needy to feel you, to taste you. Actually, you can’t remember a time this even occurred.
You exhale. “Yes. Yes, please.”
That’s all he really needs. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment more in burying his face between your folds as though it’s his last meal on earth. His fingers come to spread your lips open for him as he flicks his tongue over your nub, sending you bent over as you scramble for purchase in his hair, his shoulders, anything. “Oh, fuck, Jungkook, right there.”
He notices your struggle to stand upright, and then he’s guiding your leg over his shoulder, toes dangling. He moans into your pussy, a breathy little exhale that sends fire shooting through your veins. Jungkook’s strong arm holds your leg in place over his shoulder. His tongue fucks inside of you shallowly, your eyes rolling backwards. “Tastes so sweet, so fucking heavenly, baby,” he mutters but it barely makes its way into your ears. You can feel his lip rings swiping over your arousal, the cool metal causing your thighs to quake uncontrollably.
And then you’re just babbling profanities, a mantra of his name, curse words. A litany of praise. Some other embarrassing things you hope he never remembers.
“I feel g-guilty. For the way I treated y-you in high school,” you stammer, quivering against his face as he licks another stripe up your slit.
You don’t know why it’s all coming out now, but it is. God, you were such a bitch in high school. Such an egotistical brat who was too caught in her own ways to ever see that there was more to life than social status and cheerleading.
His tongue encircles your clit, one of your hands flying to his hair to tug. “Don’t feel guilty,” he murmurs. “That’s not what I want you to feel right now. I want to make you feel good.”
His tongue travels from your hole to your clit, and normally the rhythm would throw you off, but he’s so skillful about the whole thing that you’re teetering on the brink of an orgasm. And he must know, must be able to read your body like it’s something he spent years studying, because he’s sucking on your clit, letting his tongue flick over it repeatedly, maintaining a rhythm that has you screaming, “Oh fuck, oh shit, I’m gonna—Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.”
That doesn’t deter him the slightest. Spurs him on like he’s entered in some kind of pussy-eating competition. You’ll spend years talking about this experience, you think.
Your fingers tighten in his hair, tangling, tugging, and your entire body vibrates as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. He fucks you through it, keeps going until you’re pushing him away with your toe forcefully. When he finally gives up, he says from between your legs, “Better than Kim Mingyu?”
Maybe you shouldn’t care about high school anymore, but you can’t help but laugh, smile at him. “He never even ate me out, Koo.”
His face softens— whether that’s because of the nickname you adorned him with or the fact that Mingyu was an asshole, you’ll never know—and he’s standing up, pressing a dirty kiss to your lips. It’s messy, sloppy, tongue over teeth, but so undeniably him that you cling to him like a koala. “He’s the biggest idiot of all time to miss out on that.”
“Hmm,” you hum against his lips. They taste just like you, and it sends another gush of arousal pouring out of you. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist, your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. You’re drowning in him—his taste, his smell, the way he’s kissing you like he’s been starving for it. You can feel his length poking against your thigh, and your heart skips at just how large it al;ready feels through his jeans.
Your hands roam down his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath his shirt, tracing lower until your fingers find his belt. You fumble with the buckle, fingers clumsy with desire. Jungkook looks down at your manicured fingers, easily working, speaking to how much experience you have. His cock throbs at the thought.
You’re about to get on your knees, return the favor, but he stops you as soon as you lower an inch.
Jungkook simply says, “The next time I want you to cum, is going to be on my cock.”
Okay, yes sir. He’s all dominating and commanding and it makes your pussy clench around nothing.
His forehead drops against yours, breath punching out of him. “Fuck, I need to be inside you.”
The metal clinks as his pants drop to the floor, his Calvin Klein boxers doing little to hide how big he is. Jungkook kicks them off, eager to remove as many layers as possible. Your mouth salivates, and you’re positive a sliver of drool is slithering out of your mouth. His hands tighten on your hips, bruising the skin.
You kiss him again, but this time, it’s rougher, faster, hand slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers, and he makes a sound between a groan and a whimper that makes you feel powerful. Your hands roam, searching, until—
Holy shit. You gasp into his mouth, feeling his length. He’s big, no doubt about that. But it’s the fucking girth of it that has your mouth watering. He’s thick, and you can feel the veins that decorate his cock.
Jesus Christ. This is what your Chemistry tutor was hiding under his pants. A fucking anaconda.
But you’re not about to admit that.
No shot in hell.
“Mhmm, I feel like you’re kinda small,” you tease, battling your eyelashes at him as you stroke his hardened length dangerously slow.
His nostrils flare. “Yeah? Think I’m small, baby?”
“Tiny.”
Your thumb drags over his tip, and then you feel it. A piece of metal. Jeon Jungkook has a fucking dick piercing.
His eyes set ablaze as he realizes that you know. “Fucking hell, you’re still the same brat you’ve always been.”
Jungkook’s lips collide with yours, and he kicks off his boxers urgently. “Fuck,” he breathes against your mouth. Suddenly his hands are gripping the backs of your thighs, lifting you up like you weigh nothing. You gasp, legs wrapping around his waist as your back hits the wall harder. The new position puts you at eye level with him, head spinning. He reaches down between your bodies to let his cock sit in between your wet folds, ever so teasing.
Your fingernails dig into the nape of his neck, head lolling back against the wall. “Please fuck me, Koo. Wanna feel you inside me.”
“Oh, now you want to beg? After you called me tiny?” He hisses as he swirls the tip over your clit, the cool metal of his piercing sending shockwaves down your spine.
“Please,” you beg. “Pleasepleaseplease.” It’s slurred when it leaves your mouth, breath catching when you look down and see the way the metal reflects off his soaking tip, encased in your juices. “I need it.”
With that, he pushes into you, all inches of his length, squirming in his arms. You scramble to hold onto something, opting for his biceps that are straining with the weight of holding you up. A moan leaves both of your mouths. He waits until you’re fully adjusted, taking every inch of him. “Feels so good, princess. So tight and warm, holy shit.”
“Jungkook,” you pant. You’re so full of him, he’s everywhere. Stopping is the last thing on your mind. You’re a woman made of greed. “You’re so—fuck—big.”
He smiles triumphantly and takes that as his sign to move. He uses his arms to slide you up and down his cock, slamming you onto him, your clit meeting his pubic bone. The piercing drags against your walls with each thrust, hitting the sweet spot inside you that has you screaming a litany of crude words that’ll have your neighbors knocking your door down tomorrow morning. His head falls to the crook of your shoulder, burying himself in your scent.
It’s more than you’ve ever taken, beyond any sex you’ve ever had in your life. You’re going to be ruined for all other men and you haven’t even made it to the bedroom yet. Your past lovers are about to become a footnote. A distant memory. Ancient fucking history.
The sound of your pussy squelching with each rough thrust fills the room, Jungkook’s hairline beading with sweat as he furiously pounds into you, tits bouncing in his face. He begins to babble, “Used to cum so hard thinking about you, baby. You in that—fuck—cheer uniform, with your nipples hard. I wanted to push it to the side and fuck you.”
You moan at the thought. “Yeah, why didn’t you? I would’ve rode your face with your glasses on.”
He presses a sloppy kiss on the side of your mouth. “Bet you would’ve loved that, huh? Deflowering the nerd?”
The mental image flashes through your mind—seventeen-year-old Jungkook, all awkward limbs and nervous stammering, those thick-framed glasses sliding down his nose while you sat on his face in the library after hours. You would’ve been so mean about it too. Would’ve made him beg, would’ve had him so desperate and eager to please that he would’ve done anything you asked. Would’ve probably given him the best night of his teenage life and then ignored him in the hallway the next day because you were dating Mingyu and had a reputation to maintain.
“I would’ve made you cum—ahh, shit—so hard.” You try your hardest to maintain eye contact, but everytime you do, your walls flutter around his cock. “You would’ve been obsessed.”
“I was already obsessed,” he groans, nipping at your jaw. His balls slap against your ass, adding to the horrific amount of sounds eliciting from your apartment. “It couldn’t have gotten much worse.”
He has a very fair point.
You thread your fingers through his hair, already on the brink of another orgasm. Everything about him—his scent, the way his tattoos glisten with sweat, how his bottom lip is tugged underneath his front teeth—sends your mind into delirium. He’s fucking you with enough force to have your head bouncing off the wall every few thrusts, that you feel it resound along your bones.
“Fuck, I don’t wanna cum yet,” he whimpers into your skin. “But god, I don’t think I’ll be able to last.”
Neither will you, but an idea sparks in your pretty little head. You crook a finger under his jaw, making him look at you. His expression is completely fucked out, lips swollen, cheeks ruddy. His thrusts slow, enough so that he can pay attention to your words. “I want to get on top. Let me fuck you, Jungkook.”
He nods, and then he’s readjusting you in his arms, with you clinging to him like a newborn baby. You giggle as he frantically tries to find your bedroom, pausing every few moments to press a few kisses to your cheeks and lips.
Finally, he locates your room, plopping you down on the bed, and you moan at the sudden emptiness you feel with his cock gone. He tosses his t-shirt over his head.
Jungkook sits up against the headboard, gently stroking his length as he watches you move to bracket his thighs, settling over his tip. “Ready for me, princess?”
Eagerly, you shake your head in approval, and you sink down inch by inch onto his length. For some reason, in this position, it feels like he’s stretching you out more, your walls sucking him in greedily. Your hands come to rest on his beefy chest, nails digging into the skin.
There’s not many things you're good at, but one thing you are insanely talented at? Riding cock like it’s your god given right. Your hips undulate wildly, bouncing up and down to accommodate his full length. Jungkook watches in awe, in a trance, as you cream his cock. His hands come to sit at your hips, guiding you the best he can. His head rests against the headboard, lazily watching as you play with your tits. “Ride my cock,” he groans, “just like that, princess.”
“You stretch me out so good, Jungkook,” you moan, thighs trembling with each movement. He can feel you getting closer to the edge, already riled up from the previous position. Your walls clench around him, sucking him in. His thumb falls to your clit again, finding it so easily after so many rounds. “Right there, baby,” you chant, eyes closed. “Right fucking there.”
“Jesus, I'm so close,” he grunts, beginning to thrust upwards into you as your own pace slows. The sounds are beyond obscene—his cock plunging into your wetness, headboard slamming against the wall. You don’t care about any of it, not one bit, as long he keeps fucking into you.
It was always obvious from the moment he kissed you at the club that neither of you were going to last long, anyway.
“Fuck, I’m cumming,” you practically scream, which would have you embarrassed, but he seems just as ruined as you.
Your orgasm washes over you, legs shaking as your mouth tears open around a sound that might be his name, might be something else entirely. Your walls flutter around him, and Jungkook can’t help himself anymore. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum too. Can I—fuck—can I cum inside?”
You nod like a broken bobblehead. Thank god for modern medicine.
He empties into you, bruising your hips with his hold. He’s so attractive when he finishes that you almost orgasm again from the sight. His bare chest heaves, a slight sheen of sweat layered on the skin.
For a few moments, you two catch your breath, letting his cock soften entirely inside you. He looks worn, eyes drooping.
But after an eternity, you finally roll off him. You’re not sure what you were expecting in terms of aftercare, but your heart flutters when he lazily wraps his arms around you, tugging you into his side to rest your cheek on his chest. It’s comforting, with his hands playing with your hair, his own heart thumping along in his chest. Reminding you that you’re here with him, and this is real.
Silence has never been so peaceful.
You think you’ll fall asleep like this, but then he says, “I want to see you again.”
Your heart softens around the edges, at the notion that he believes you’ll never speak to him again after this. You can’t blame him for it. It’s exactly what high school you would’ve done.
But you’re not 17 anymore, and you deserve all the good he has to offer you. No more silly little games.
“I would really like that,” you whisper back.
He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Mind checking your calendar for me?”
You grin like a lovesick idiot. “Yup. Checking right now. And it looks like I’m free this whole week.”
“Thursday, then. Dinner at 7,” he confirms. “You’re not going to, like, make me beg for a real answer this time, are you?”
Giggling, you respond, “Maybe I should check that calendar again…”
He sits up, pouting. “Don’t. Don’t you dare,” he warns, and then his hands are moving to tickle your sides.
You squeal, squirming away, but he just pulls you back against him. The laughs that escape you are so full of sunshine that you hardly recognize them. You’ve been living under a fog for so long that when it lifted, you forgot how bright life could be.
“Okay, okay!” you gasp, and his fingers still. “Thursday. 7 o’clock.”
“There we go.” He kisses your forehead. “Was that so hard?”
“Hardest thing I’ve ever done,” you say dramatically, resuming your post, nestled into his side.
“Liar.” His fingers resume playing with your hair. “You like me.”
You feel like a kid in kindergarten, caught passing a note in class with “do you like me? check yes or no” scrawled in messy handwriting. Like you’re on the playground at recess, heart racing because your crush smiled at you across the monkey bars. But it’s got you just as giddy. “I guess I do.”
Jungkook reaches over to pull the blanket over you two. “So what happens now?” you wonder aloud. It’s an innocent question, but somehow loaded with more intent than you realize.
“Now?” he yawns. “Now you let me stay the night. Then tomorrow I’m gonna make you the most fire breakfast of all time. Then Thursday, I’ll take you to the best dinner of your life. And then—”
“There’s more?” Your eyes widen in sarcasm.
“And then I keep taking you out until you realize you’re in love with me too.”
Your heartbeat is quick but steady in your chest. “Pretty confident about that, hm?”
“Extremely so.” Jungkook yawns again, voice getting drowsy. “I’ve got years of romcom knowledge. I’ve read those Tumblr fanfics. You don’t stand a chance.”
He’s probably right. You don’t stand a chance. In fact, you didn’t from the moment he stood in front of you at that cafe.
Before you close your eyes and float off into sleep, you mumble out, “God, when did you get so hot?”
prompt ; in which a TikTok edit sparks a desire to get absolutely destroyed by your boyfriend.
note ; hey… heyyyy *opens door* um idk what this is but I’m back with a new fandom and this random piece of writing. this is my formal request to join the bts fandom pls xoxo i promise im fun and can write hellish smut
It’s cruel that you live with someone as attractive as your boyfriend.
It’s even more evil that the world posts TikTok edits of your boyfriend to seductive songs that make your underwear soak through with arousal.
All this to say, you’re not really making your life any easier by watching every single one that stumbles across your For You Page.
You’ve been better. It was a slow Sunday: one where your boyfriend sits perched on your shared living room couch, mindlessly playing with his lip ring as he watches some Netflix show. It’s nice having him like this, all for you, in a space you two built for yourselves. But you, you’re in the bedroom, aimlessly scrolling through an app that has taken up more than enough of your time and perfectly curated content about your boyfriend and this silly little band he’s in.
But it’s when, and only when, you stumble across an edit of your boyfriend to a The Weeknd song, that you shoot up in your bed, blink rapidly, inhale a sharp breath. Your heart catches in your throat, does that stupid little flutter thing. And then.. the clench that follows down below. You replay it once, twice… a third time.
Don’t be weird. Do not be thirsty.
But, he is yours. That much, you do know.
You close the app, delete the page off your phone. It’s not like you two have a boring sex life, he takes care of you and you never feel dissatisfied. In fact it’s rather the opposite. This one time being two nights ago when he had your legs up on… never mind. You look at your black phone screen in disgust. Do not be a horny little freak.
Well, one last look at the edit won’t hurt.
You go back to the fan edit. Glance at it, slap your hand over your face, peek through your middle and ring finger. Fuck.
The arousal that had pooled before in your underwear was now a full-on ocean. Really, you should have more decorum than this. You don’t really want to bother Jungkook, he’s had a busy week with the boys… but it also has been two days since you two have had sex.
Fuck it.
You swing your legs off the bed, shuffle down the hallway of your apartment. You spot your boyfriend lounging on the couch, his back to you. Even from where you stand, you can see his build, his biceps.. Gosh. You sound like a hormonal teenage girl.
You creep up behind him, wrap your arms around his neck and press a few sloppy kisses down it. His hand flies up to caress your arm that’s hung around his neck, a little laugh leaving his mouth, “Well, hello to you too.”
You decide then and there in that moment: You’re going to die if you don’t have him. Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but you’ve lost all strength.
“Hi,” your voice is frail, weak even, as you kiss along his jaw. He sucks in a deep breaths, fingers drawing circles on your arm. His eyes are glued to the television screen like if he looks anywhere else, he might combust.
You detach your arms from around him, moving to the front, blocking his perfect view of the screen. He looks up at you with those doe eyes you love so damn much. One look at you and he gathers quickly there will be no more watching of television.
With little words, you straddle him, knees on either side of his thighs. Jungkook feels up your thighs, smirks a little, “What did I do to earn this right now?”
You are well aware of how needy and desperate you look right now, but that doesn’t matter. You let out a little sigh, pushing your lips onto his. For some reason, you feel like some little fangirl who is hooking up with her celebrity crush. The cold metal from his lip ring is a welcomed feeling, and you place your hands on his neck, feeling the structure and heat of his skin. God, you are going to cum just from this kiss if you keep it up.
Pulling away a little, you look into his eyes, “Nothing specifically… I just…”
You sigh, go back in to kissing him again. Those plump pink lips of his work against yours, shivers running down your spine as he runs his hands up and down your bare thighs. “Just what, baby?” He speaks in a low tone in between the incessant kissing.
“I’m so fucking horny,” You admit.
Upon the minute those words leave his mouth, you feel his cock begin to press against your inner thigh. You’ve got him right where you want him. And it’s not that this isn’t normal; it is. But you’ve essentially offered yourself up to him on a silver platter and the act of desperation you got going on right now is really doing it for him.
“Hmm?” He hums against your lips, his hands roaming underneath your shirt to trace your spine. And you could marry him right now for being so quick to go along with it. For not pushing you, for letting you set the pace.
You start to grind yourself down on him, the wetness soaking through your pajama shorts you have on. It is criminal how much you need this man inside of you, now. “What do you need from me, baby?” He starts to kiss down your neck as light whimpers exit your throat from the friction of your shorts on his grey sweatpants.
“N-nothing,” You exhale out. “Let me ride you.”
“Fuck.” He groans out.
“You need me that bad?” He brushes a strand of hair off your shoulder, kisses down your supple skin.
“Yes, please,” Your voice cracks. You can’t take it anymore; you think you might combust into a million little pieces.
“Well, go on, my love,” He removes his lips from your skin, smirks, sits back against the couch. “Have me.”
He does not need to tell you twice. There’s no time for pleasantries.
You move your legs off his, lower down his sweatpants enough for you to be able to access his boxers. Your shorts get abandoned next, leaving the underwear on; there’s not a single shred of a fuck left in you.
Jungkook is sat there, an amused look plastered on his face, mixed with a level of adoration you are not sure you have seen before. His arms have moved, now splayed out across the top of the couch, his biceps flexing. You straddle him again, remove his throbbing cock from the confines of his boxers.
Fuck, if you weren’t so ready for him, you would’ve taken him into your mouth.. but your brain decides pretty quickly there’s no time to waste.
You push your panties to the side, rub your juices over his length. He lets out a little moan at that, watches you eagerly get ready to take him whole.
With a gasp, you align him to your entrance in search of relief. You engulf him, take him in inch by inch until you bottom out. Honestly, you could unravel just from that. “Holy fuck, baby,” His head falls back, eyes still glued to the sight of you fully taking him to the brim.
You never really do get used to how big he is; when you two first started dating, he stretched you out so wide you were certain you would never recover. Your bottom lip is sucked in between your top teeth, rushed exhales leaving your body as you slowly begin to move, begin to gyrate your hips and lift yourself up and down on his pulsing cock. “Oh my god,” You breathe out, hands moving to his broad chest, gripping onto him to steady yourself
He’s not doing much, besides just watching you in complete and utter awe, and yet that still takes your breath away.
“You look so unbelievably sexy right now,” He says, barely even realizing the words leave his mouth, since they were mostly meant for his inner thoughts. His hands come around to land on your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing into the bone. There will definitely be a bruise there tomorrow.
You lull your head back, close your eyes tight. It’s all you can do to try and keep yourself together. You’re an absolute mess right now; pussy squelching with each stroke, his cock a mix of yours and his arousal. The only sounds that can be heard in the apartment are the slapping of skin and the moans that continually leave both of your mouths. “[Y/N]…” He moans out. You look at him, deep in those eyes that you love so much.
And there’s such… desire on his face, his pupils blown wide, his jaw slack.
He’s so undeniably hungry for you, and it’s going to kill you.
You speed up your bounces, losing a little more control with each and every passing moment. Your arms snake around his neck, pull him even closer to you. “Fuck, I am so close,” You whisper out, mostly to calm yourself down.
“Yeah?” Is the only word he can muster right now. “Need you to cum for me. Want to make sure you’re taken care of.”
It is all so filthy — the sounds, the look he’s giving you, the way your nails are digging into the flesh of his neck and leaving marks. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, gaze dropping down to his lips. You press a few sloppy kisses on them.
“You like this, hmm?” he asks, fingers digging even deeper into your hip bones that you’re certain he is leaving an imprint on your skull. “Having me like this ready for you? Does that get you off?”
His words elicit a clench around his cock, your walls tightening around him. He is absolutely correct. He knows he’s hit the mark. “Talk to me.” His tone is soft but threatening.
“Y-yes, it does. Oh my god, Kook..” you can barely think, any singular thought beside how incredible his cock feels inside you, how you can feel him penetrate your stomach with his entire length. “I’m gonna cum.”
It’s so close, it’s teetering on the edge. Every nerve ending in your body craves him to a point where you wonder if you need to be institutionalized. All you can see is that stupid edit made by that fan flash across your head, your brain unable to comprehend that that is the man you currently have inside of you. “Cum for me, darling..” He coos.
It nearly wrecks you, this orgasm. It washes over your entire being and you’re so loud you’re certain your neighbors will come knocking down your door. Your bounces go from focused to frantic, hips gyrating wildly, and he wraps an arm around your entire waist, picking you up lightly. He begins thrusting into you at a shallow, quick pace, chasing after his own release. Jungkook lets out a few grunts, eyes trained on the sight in front of him; and then he shudders, his cock throbs inside of you, head falling onto your shoulder as he feels himself empty out inside of you. You’re struggling to catch your breath, gripping onto the hair at the nape of his neck.
“My god..” You breathe out. You’re still sitting on him, cock warm inside you as he lifts his head from your shoulder, meets your fucked-out face.
“Baby, that was so incredibly hot, you have no idea,” His face is flushed, hand reaching up to caress your cheek. You entwine your arms and legs around him, holding him close, drawing him deeper into you. You stay there, hearts pounding in unison, as if they're each trying to break free from your chests, desperate to draw nearer. And still, even in this perfect closeness, you long to feel him even closer.
“Mhmm,” You hum out, quite content with yourself. You press a soft kiss to his lips.
“So… care to share what made you jump my bones?” He teases, pressing another kiss to your lips.
“Oh, nothing…” You act coy, but the heat creeps onto your face regardless. He pokes your side, eliciting a giggle from you that has you folding like origami.
“Maybe… just saw a little something on TikTok..” You trace circles on his collarbone, avoiding his gaze.
“Continue.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.
“Some girl made an edit of you..” It’s low when it leaves your mouth, he can barely hear it. “Just wanted to remind myself I can have you.. whenever I like.”
You bury your face into his neck in sheer embarrassment, feeling warmth and the vibration as he chuckles. “You can have me whenever. I’m yours, baby.”
warnings ; oral (f recieving), he hits it from the back, hair pulling, blue collar dick🚨🚨
prompt ; in which your landlord sends an electrician to fix your power, and you end up learning firsthand the magic of blue collar dick.
note ; if you are reading this.. this is a queue’d post while im in MEXICO!!!!! you horny little sluts really thought i would leave you alone for 5 days.. i would never. i figured — hey if i can’t post part 5 of tpod i can at least give a life lesson on blue collar dick, right? backstory here is that the other day my best friend and i had a conversation about our sexy ass landlord and that got me thinking… jungkook..? blue collar..? big dick..? so anyways this is the product of that convo! (and also a standalone one shot bc yall be loving these!)
Later, when someone asks you to recap this story, you’ll say that in your defense, you weren’t expecting the electrician to look like he walked straight off some cringy Pornhub set. You’ll say you just wanted your electricity fixed, not to be spiritually humbled by a man who smells like sawdust and pine.
Your apartment is the kind of place that builds character. And by character, you mean mild trauma.
The kitchen light flickers like it’s been possessed since the day you moved in. The ceiling creaks when your upstairs neighbor sneezes. Your shower only has two settings (arctic and molten lava). There’s a weird stain on the ceiling you’ve been ignoring for three months. And today, of all days, the universe decided to cut the last thread holding your sanity together: the power.
No lights. No working outlets. No WiFi. Which means you’re sitting on your couch, in a hoodie and shorts, trying to hotspot your laptop with 3% battery left while rage-texting your landlord like you’re filing an official grievance with Satan himself.
You immediately text your landlord, fully expecting a five-day delay and a $30 deduction off your next rent.
You: hi. respectfully. what the FUCK is happening?
You: i work from home. i pay rent. i have needs. pls fix ASAP.
He replies five minutes later like he’s doing you a personal favor.
Landlord: sending my guy over. 15 mins.
Your landlord is somehow both your greatest nemesis and your weirdest emotional support system. He’ll ignore three maintenance requests, ghost you for a week, then show up unannounced with a half-eaten bag of Hot Cheetos. You’ve threatened to sue him in writing and sent him a happy birthday meme in the same month. And you’re already halfway into a mental spiral about “his guy” being a 60-year-old with pants that don’t stay up and opinions about the current political climate when there’s a knock at your door.
You swing the door open, fully expecting to see a crusty old man with a clipboard and a wheeze, and instead, you see… (and you’ll remember this moment until the day you die.)
Lip ring. Tattoo sleeve. Tool belt slung low over cargo pants. A black tee stretched across broad shoulders. Jesus Christ, the hair. Dark, slightly shaggy, pushed back on top but long in the back, curling at the nape of his neck in a way that should not be allowed near unsupervised women.
“Hey’,” he says, like this isn’t a pivotal moment in your sexual awakening. “I’m here about the outage?”
You blink at him. You are officially unfit for conversation.
This man has a mullet. A tattooed, lip-ringed, mullet-wearing man is standing in your hallway holding a voltage tester like its foreplay.
Suddenly, your pajama shorts feel too short for this moment. You fumble with the doorknob, “Uh. Yeah. Come in. It’s, uh.. yeah.”
Brilliant. Shakespeare could never.
He steps inside, and holy shit, he’s even taller than you thought. The kind of tall that makes your ceilings feel shorter. The kind of tall where you have to crane your neck just slightly to look up at him, which is offensive because you’re not exactly short yourself. He smells like a mix of sawdust, a hint of pine, laundry detergent, and a 2002 Nissan Altima. It’s oddly specific.
He glances around like he’s surveying a battlefield. “Power cut out completely?”
You nod, shuffling behind him as he moves farther into your apartment with the kind of confidence like he’s somehow been to your home before. His boots thud across your hardwood floor, scuffed and loud. The tool belt clinks. His shirt rides up when he stretches his arm to check something near the ceiling and there’s a flash of golden skin and low-slung cargo pants and—
You’re not doing well.
He pops open the panel in the ceiling like it’s nothing. “Y’all been having issues with this before? Flickering? Dead outlets?”
“Sometimes the kitchen light hums like it’s possessed,” you say, which you regret immediately. “I mean, not literally possessed. Not like.. haunted. Just… you know. Buzzing.”
He chuckles. It’s a low, gravelly sound that sinks its teeth into your spine and doesn’t let go.
“Probably a loose connection in the junction box. Nothing too crazy,” he says, grabbing something from his belt that you will now dream about tonight. “You work from home?”
You nod again, helpless. “Yeah. Marketing.”
He glances back at you. “Tough with no WiFi.”
You turn around under the guise of “letting him work” but really just to text your roommate, Sana, with trembling fingers.
You: help. our power went out and the electrician we got sent is so hot
You: he has a MULLET. a mullet, sana. he said “junction box” and i almost moaned
You hear him grunt softly as he stretches to reach something and you nearly drop your phone.
Sana: SEND A PIC RN
You sneak a glance back — he’s perched on your step stool, arms flexing as he reaches into the ceiling. His hair is curling perfectly at the back of his neck, a little messy from the heat.
You don’t send a pic. You can’t. It feels criminal. You feel like you’re watching live porn with consequences.
Then he speaks again, casually. “You smell something burning last night? Or anything weird before it cut out?”
You nearly say “just my ovaries,” but God reaches down and slaps your mouth shut.
Instead, you clear your throat. “Nope. No sparks, no smell. It just… died this morning.”
He nods, focused. “Might be a fuse then. I’ll check the basement in a sec.”
He drops down from the stool with a casual thud and wipes his hands on that rag in his back pocket. That ass, that rag. This is no longer an apartment. It’s a crime scene.
You glance up just in time to see him walking toward your front door, lifting the back of his shirt to wipe his forehead. You black out for a second.
You: he just wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his shirt. i saw ab muscle. like cut definition. i think it smiled at me.
Sana: you need jail or a CONDOM stat. get his number???
You’re halfway through typing “I don’t even know his name yet” when the front door opens behind you, and you almost launch your phone across the room like it’s a grenade.
He steps back into your apartment with that casual, unbothered energy he’s so good at carrying. Hair slightly damp at the edges now, cheeks pink from the walk up your stairs, tool belt still jingling.
“Basement breaker’s fine,” he says, brushing his palm down the front of his shirt. “Might be a wiring issue. Gonna check one more thing.”
You blink. Nod. Attempt human speech. Fail. “Cool. Yeah. Check… stuff.”
Christ. You sound like you learned English from Duolingo five minutes ago.
He smiles then, actually smiles. Full teeth, little bunny front ones peeking out. His lip ring glints as he does it, and your brain goes completely static for a second.
“Want some water?” you blurt, and immediately hate yourself. “Or iced tea? Or, whatever I have in the fridge that isn’t expired?”
He huffs out a little laugh, shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks, sweetheart.”
You freeze like you’ve been slapped by a porn star. He walks past you again like nothing happened, reaching for something in his tool bag, completely unaware that your soul just evacuated your body.
You unlock your phone immediately, fingers trembling, and text in all caps.
You: HE CALLED ME SWEETHEART.
You: arrest him. make him marry me. i don’t care just make it LEGAL
You barely get the message out when he turns slightly and casually, and says, “So… you live here with your boyfriend, or…?”
You blink hard.
The question hangs there, just slightly too relaxed. Like it’s not loaded with potential. Like it’s not every Wattpad plotline you’ve ever read come to life in front of your half-broken Ikea bookshelf.
Your brain short-circuits harder than your kitchen socket. Is he flirting? Was that… are you being flirted with? It’s been a minute. Like, a long minute since you’ve had someone show genuine interest in you. You can’t tell anymore. He could be asking because he needs to know whose ass he’s about to get chewed out by if he knocks something over, or because he’s just curious.
You manage to croak out, “Just my roommate. Sana.”
He nods and doesn’t press. He lets out a low, distracted, “Hm,” like that’s useful information. Like it slots into place somewhere in his head and he’s okay with it.
You, meanwhile, are mentally drafting a will because you’re not sure your heart’s going to survive the rest of this visit.
He leans over your couch armrest to reach the outlet near the floor. His cargo pants pull slightly tighter around his thighs and you look away so fast you give yourself whiplash. You try to look normal, like a woman who isn’t catastrophically horny over someone adjusting your voltage.
You: HE ASKED IF I HAD A BOYFRIEND
Sana: I AM SCREAMING. I’M IN LINE AT TRADER JOE’S. OFFER TO MAKE HIM LEMONADE OR SIT ON HIS FACE IDK CHOOSE FAST
He stands back up, wiping his palms on that stupid fucking rag again, and glances over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t take much longer,” he quips with that lazy, dangerous smile.
You nod, eyes wide, pretending you’re normal. “Cool. Thanks. No rush or anything. It’s not like I need power to… survive.”
He quirks a brow at that, like he finds you kind of funny, or kind of tragic.
You sit on the couch, phone hidden in your lap like it’s a shameful secret. He crouches near another outlet, testing something with one of those little gadgets that beeps and blinks.
“So, marketing,” he says over his shoulder. “Like… ads?”
You blink. “Uh. Yeah. I work for a beauty brand. Mostly social media, some campaign strategy. Lots of pretending I know what I’m doing and hoping the algorithm doesn’t hate me that day.”
He chuckles. That low, amused sound that makes your toes curl. “That why you’re so good at talking?”
You freeze. “What?”
He glances back, smile creeping in slow and lazy. There’s an unfortunate amount of sarcasm behind his tone. “You seem to stumble a bit over words.”
You blink again, officially out of working brain cells. “Sorry. I—I can stop. I don’t mean to be annoying, I just—”
“I didn’t say it was annoying.” He doesn’t look at you when he says it. He crouches lower again, tapping something against the outlet. But you hear it anyway and feel it, low in your stomach like a dropped elevator.
Your phone buzzes in your lap, blessedly interrupting the moment before you combust.
Sana: girl. do i need to walk around the block or are you gonna fuck him. be honest.
You bite your lip so hard you nearly draw blood. He straightens up, wiping his palms again. “So do you like it? The job?”
“Oh. Um. Yeah. It’s… stressful. But fun, sometimes. I guess,” You scratch the back of your neck.
“You good at it?” He grunts out, looking for something in his toolbox.
Your mind blanks. “What?”
He turns to look at you full-on now, arms crossed, shirt clinging to the curve of his shoulders. “Marketing. All that stuff. You good at it?”
You let out a nervous little laugh. “I mean, I hope so. I’ve been doing it for a few years now, and nobody’s fired me yet.”
“That’s not what I asked.” His tone isn’t aggressive. It’s low and relaxed. But something about the way he says it makes your pulse skip.
“I… I think I am,” you say, slower this time.
He nods once as if that answer pleases him. “You seem like you’d be.”
You’re gonna die. You’re going to actually die. This man is being nice to you, and it feels like your body isn’t prepared for that level of stimulus.
You glance at your phone again.
Sana: WHY ARE YOU TAKING THIS LONG TO RESPOND??? IS HIS DICK OUT. BLINK TWICE
You look back up and he’s leaning against the doorframe that divides your kitchen and living room now, arms still crossed, lip ring catching the light. “So your roommate…?”
You nod, trying not to choke. “Yeah. Her name’s Sana. We’ve lived together since college.”
“She at work?” You swear he looks at your legs in your shorts, but could also be wishful thinking.
“Not right now. She works night shifts at the hospital 15 minutes away from here.,” You twiddle your thumbs in your lap.
He hums, still watching you. “So you’re here all alone today.”
It’s not a question. It shouldn’t be hot. It’s just a sentence. But, the way he says it? The tone? The slight lilt at the end, like it means more than it says?
You let out a strangled sound that you hope reads as a laugh. “Yeah. Just me. Alone. In this… apartment. Where you are. Currently.”
He tilts his head, smiling again. “You’re kind of funny for someone with no electricity.”
You hesitate. Then, blurting before you can stop yourself, “And you’re kind of cocky for someone who still hasn’t turned my lights on yet.”
He raises an eyebrow, a smirk slowly appearing. “Hm?”
You shake your head way too fast. “I mean—just—like, you’ve been here for a bit now and you’re fixing my power and it is taking quite long, but I promise I’m not mad about it.. I’m sorry.”
He lets out a real laugh this time. Full, low, and stupidly hot. He pushes off the wall and walks back toward the kitchen like he didn’t just wreck your central nervous system.
You take another breath and text Sana.
You: he’s flirting. he’s literally flirting. i want to crawl inside the oven
Sana: girl. jump on the counter and say “while you’re fixing things, i’m also broken.”
Almost like he was trying to prove a point to you, the lights come back on with a quiet click, a whirr of electricity humming back to life through your walls, and you swear the sound might as well be a death knell.
He steps back from the panel in your hallway, tapping the side of it with a knuckle like he just fixed your entire infrastructure. “There we go,” he says, “Should be good now. Might’ve just been a loose connection behind the breaker, it’s common in these old buildings.”
You nod slowly, like you understood a single word of that. All you really heard was competency and your brain whispered: breedable.
“That’s… great,” you reply, way too softly. “Thanks.”
He wipes his hands again on that same rag and starts packing up his tools, metal clicking together as he slips things back into place. His forearm flexes with every movement, tattoos shifting across his skin like they’re in on the joke.
“Need help with anything else?” he asks casually, not looking at you as he zips up the tool bag. His voice dips slightly.
Your heart stutters. You should say actually, yeah, my back is acting up and I think the solution involves that couch and maybe you using me like a handrail. But instead you go, “Nope. That’s all.”
Your phone vibrates against your thigh, dragging you back to earth.
Sana: have you ever heard of blue collar dick??? this is ur chance
You squint at that text, thumbs pausing mid-reply.
Blue collar dick.
The phrase unlocks something buried deep in your brain. A memory. A TikTok you watched half-asleep one night at 1:37AM, under the glow of your LED lights, while eating dry cereal out of a mug. The girl had looked straight into the camera, wide-eyed and deadly serious, and whispered: “Blue collar dick is not just a concept. It’s a lifestyle. It’s the kind of unholy grip someone develops on you after a man with calloused hands and a union paycheck fixes your sink and rearranges your soul in the same afternoon.”
You’d laughed. Scoffed, even. How dramatic.
He zips up the last pouch on his tool bag and stands tall, glancing toward the door like he might head that way but he doesn’t. He stays.
He rolls his shoulder a little, absently adjusting the strap, and you watch his fingers drag across the curve of his neck.
“You think everything working alright?” he asks, voice low and unhurried like he’s trying to fill the silence. Like he knows you’re still stuck in some sort of horny trance and he’s being generous enough to let you catch up.
“Yeah,” you say, breathier than intended. “Power’s on. Looks like the WiFi is back. I can check if my laptop came back to life.”
You gesture toward your computer like it matters. Like any of that is worth focusing on when he is standing six feet from you.
He hums, looking around your living room where you’re still on your couch. “Place is cute.”
You blink. “Oh. Uh. Thanks. It’s… falling apart slowly, but charming.”
He doesn’t really acknowledge that. “Anything else broken in here?” he asks, stepping away from the wall a little. “Leaky faucet? Shaky table leg? My dad taught me how to fix a ton of stuff, I’m pretty handy with anything. You want me to check something else?”
Your mouth opens and closes. Your brain struggles to find the words, and the words you want to say are not coming out easily, so you just respond with, “No. I mean… no, I think we’re good. You fixed the lights.”
His eyes flicker and stay on you just a second too long. Then he shifts slightly, sets the tool box down again with a thud, and stretches his arms overhead like he’s got nowhere to be. Shirt rides up just enough for you to see the line of his waistband and the shadow of toned skin beneath it, and you almost bite your tongue off.
“You sure?” he asks again, tone casual, almost amused now. “You looked kinda… bummed when the lights came back on.”
Your head jerks up. “What? No. I wasn’t.. I mean, not bummed. Just surprised. Happy. Grateful. Electrified, if you will.”
Electrified. You’re going to throw yourself off the balcony.
He laughs again, and you swear it vibrates in your chest. “I could hang out a sec,” he offers, and it’s not subtle anymore. “Just make sure everything stays stable. Sometimes the lights will turn back off randomly.”
Everything’s stable, you repeat in your brain like an idiot. I am not.
He’s leaning one shoulder against the wall now, lazy and relaxed, eyes still on you like he’s just waiting to see what you’ll say next.
Before your brain can stop your mouth from doing anything reckless, you blurt out, “Have you eaten?”
His brows lift. “What?”
You clear your throat. “Lunch. Have you had any?”
He tilts his head, eyes flickering down to your mouth for one half-second too long. “Not yet,” he says, “Didn’t get the chance.”
You nod like this is normal. Like offering sandwiches to electricians with tool belts and stupidly sexy mullets is part of your daily routine. “I can make you something if you want.”
His mouth curves, slow and teasing. “Yeah? You feed all the guys your landlord sends over?”
You roll your eyes so hard they nearly eject from your skull. “Only the ones who save me from having to live in darkness.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Then yeah. I’m kinda hungry.”
He walks over to where you’re sitting, drops his bag beside the couch, stretches with a casual groan that shoots straight between your thighs, and flops onto your couch like he’s done it a hundred times. Like your couch is a perfectly acceptable throne for his man-spreading, bicep-showcasing, very-much-staying presence.
You twiddle your fingers, “If i make you food, it’s only right if I get your name.”
Smooth. Real fucking smooth.
“Jungkook,” He looks over to you, trying to bite back a grin. “And yours is [Y/N], right? Saw it on the assignment sheet.”
“Cool,” You gulp down some saliva that was lodged in your throat.
You march to the kitchen like a woman on a mission, flinging the fridge open with the determination of someone prepping for an exorcism. It’s not that you want to impress him. It’s just that… okay. No. You do want to impress him. You want to serve this man a sandwich so good he files a formal complaint against your thighs for being too far from his face.
You find good bread. Not the sad white slices. You find turkey. Cheese. Lettuce that isn’t slimy. A tomato you aggressively pat dry with a paper towel like a psychotic housewife. You toast the bread and add a little mustard. You even cut the sandwich diagonally, because if you’re going to be delusional, you’re going to be domestically deranged about it.
Your phone buzzes for the billionth time.
Sana: DID YOU FUCK HIM YET
You ignore her. You grab a little paper plate with a cup of water and a napkin and present this meal like you are some Michelin chef. You walk it out carefully, feeling like you should have a white linen apron and one of those vintage Coke ads playing behind you.
“Damn,” he says when you hand it to him, voice warm with surprise. “You really went all out.”
You shrug, trying to act chill. “Just a sandwich.”
He takes a bite and groans.“No, this is next level. Wife-tier sandwich.”
Your face goes hot. You sit down beside him on the couch, one cushion away, legs crossed, heart racing. You grab your phone and finally reply to Sana before she drives to the apartment and physically removes you.
You: sana i need you to take a lap. actually take a five-mile lap. this house needs to be mine for two hours minimum.
Sana: i will literally be gone until sunset
You set your phone down and glance at him again. He’s halfway through the sandwich already, clearly enjoying the hell out of it, crumbs on his fingers, lip ring glinting as he chews.
“So,” you say casually, “how’d you get into electrical work?”
He swallows, wipes his mouth, and shrugs. “Started out helping my uncle with his crew back home. Learned enough on the job that I stuck with it. Took the exam, got certified, picked up my own clients.”
“That’s hot,” you say before thinking.
He pauses, blinks, then smirks again. “Yeah?”
You want to shrivel into the cushions. “I mean, just like the hands-on thing. Fixing stuff. Being good with your hands.”
He glances at you, faintly amused. “It’s a bold choice… Flirting with the guy who knows your wires inside out better than you ever could.”
You’ve made your decision. You’ve committed to the bit. You’re going to have him. You don’t care how. You don’t care if it’s a terrible idea. You’re already halfway there, and if blue collar dick is a myth, you’d like to be the one to confirm or deny it firsthand. You smile, tilting your head. “I like living on the edge.”
He finishes the sandwich and sets the plate on your coffee table with a little sigh. “Damn. Guess I should’ve been in this line of work sooner.”
You let out a soft laugh, glancing at him through your lashes like you’re not actively in the process of losing your mind.
He shifts slightly on the couch, one arm thrown casually along the back cushion, knee brushing yours now, and your whole body tightens at the contact. You look down at his hand, rough, calloused, fingers spread just enough to imagine what they’d feel like anywhere else.
Focus. Focus.
“So,” you start, aiming for casual but landing somewhere around unhinged, “do you, like… do this for a lot of people?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Fix electricity?”
You laugh too fast. “No! Well, yeah. I mean. Yes. But like… do you do this for one person a lot? Regularly? Like… someone special. Like a client. A consistent client.”
He’s still watching you, brows slightly raised, clearly trying to follow your logic. “Huh?”
You look down, embarrassed. Shit. Too subtle. You double back. “Sorry, I meant… like… is there someone who, you know, gets their power fixed all the time? Like a… girlfriend?”
Oh my god. Girlfriend. You say it like you’ve never spoken English before, like the concept of casual inquiry never existed.
His lips tugging up like he knows exactly what you’re asking. “Nah,” he replies. “No girlfriend.”
He reaches for the glass of water you’d set on the coffee table earlier, and you watch his throat work as he takes a slow gulp. His lip ring catches the light again, and your brain completely flatlines.
No girlfriend.
No girlfriend. That’s… fine. That’s great. That’s also dangerous.
Your heart is pounding so loud in your ears you barely register that he hasn’t looked away. When he sets the glass down again, his eyes don’t drift back to his phone or the room or the vague distance.
They stay locked on you.
You shift slightly, suddenly hyperaware of how close you’re sitting. His fingers are still relaxed against the couch cushion, a breath away from the curve of your shoulder.
“Should I expect a full background check with your next outage?”he says, voice low now.
You’re officially in the danger zone now with no intentions of stopping. “Already ran yours. Five star reviews all around. “
He chuckles, quietly. “I’m honored.”
Your breath catches. It’s a small sound. Barely audible. But his gaze dips lower at the sound of it, flickering between your mouth and your throat. He doesn’t hide it anymore. There’s no playfulness left.
“Stop staring” you mutter, trying to keep your voice even.
He lifts a brow. “I’m not.”
“Are you… thinking about kissing me?” This is worse than that one time in 10th grade when you got put in a closet with your crush and you practically slammed him against the door begging him to kiss you.
However, Jungkook doesn’t smile or smile. His gaze lingers on your lips still like he’s counting the seconds. “Would that be a problem?”
Your stomach drops. The air between you turns solid. “No,” you say softly. “It’d be the opposite of a problem.”
He doesn’t move right away, or lunge and lean in. He lets the silence fill with heat, with potential, like he wants you to feel the choice stretch out and make sure you want it just as much as he does. (Is he insane? Of course you do)
You want him to kiss you so bad it’s physically painful. Every nerve in your body is waiting for it, screaming for it, for the weight of his hand on your jaw, the feel of his lip ring pressing into yours.
You inch just slightly closer and your knee brushes against his fully now. Your face is tilted up toward his without even thinking.
“Are you gonna?” you whisper, voice barely there.
His eyes flicker again and then he smiles. “Thought you’d never ask.”
He leans in, not in some clumsy rush. He drags it out just long enough for you to feel your whole body tense with anticipation. His hand finds your jaw first, thumb brushing your cheek, fingers curling gently under your chin.
And then his mouth is on yours.
He kisses you like it’s his job, like he’s done this a thousand times but still finds something new in the shape of your lips. His mouth moves with intention, none of that awkward fumbling, none of the soft, shy hesitation. It’s confident. His lip ring drags against your lower lip and you actually whimper, because of course he knows how to use it.
He groans low in his throat when your fingers knot in the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. One hand slips around the back of your neck, the other finding your waist, pulling you across the couch and into him like he can’t stand even a breath of space between you.
He tastes like faint mint and the sandwich you made him. Your legs shift, tangling with his. His hand is already on your thigh, rough palm skimming under the hem of your shorts, gripping hard enough to make your breath stutter into his mouth.
You gasp when he bites down lightly, but enough to make you feel it. He soothes it with a kiss immediately after, dragging his mouth down your jaw, and murmurs into your skin, “You’re a good kisser.”
You could die. You could die right now and it would be worth it.
You tilt your head back to give him more access, voice breathless. “Yeah? You’re not so bad yourself.”
That earns you another groan, this one deeper, more possessive. His hand slides up your side, under your hoodie, fingers grazing bare skin and making your back arch instinctively.
He kisses you again, messier now and wetter. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing. His fingers sink into your thigh, pull you closer until you’re practically straddling him on the couch and you feel him, hard beneath his cargo pants, pressed against your hip like a threat.
“You sure you don’t need anything else fixed?” he murmurs against your mouth.
And all you can do is nod, eyes heavy, hands trembling against his chest as you whisper: “Hmm. I think my body is out of order. Needs fixing.”
Big hands grip your thighs, and with one swift, greedy motion, he’s pushing you back into the couch cushions. You land with a quiet gasp, hair fanned out, lips swollen, hoodie riding up over your stomach.
He’s hovering, body caged above yours, weight pressed into one arm braced beside your head, the other skimming up your waist and dragging your hoodie even higher. His silver chain dangles loose from his neck and every time he leans down to kiss you again, it smacks against your throat, cold and heavy, sending a shiver straight through you.
He groans when you arch up into him, letting your hips roll slightly, needy and desperate, and he feels it, feels how bad you want him and how worked up you are.
His bicep flexes beside your head, holding himself up so he doesn’t crush you but you kind of wish he would. You let your hand drift up, fingertips grazing the muscle slowly, shamelessly.
Holy fuck, he’s strong.
Strong in the way that makes your thighs press together, that makes you want to find out what else those arms can hold you down against. You squeeze just a little, test the resistance, and he grins against your lips.
“That’s what you’re thinkin’ about?” he murmurs, dragging his mouth to your neck now, teeth grazing your jaw. “My arms?”
You don’t answer. You can’t. Your brain is literally melting.
He licks a stripe up the side of your throat and bites, just enough to make you whimper, and the damn chain swings again, cold against the same spot.
“You like that?” he asks, “Hmm?”
You nod frantically, whining. You’re gone.
His hand slides down to grip your thigh again, hiking it up around his waist, and the angle has you gasping. His hips dip into yours just enough to make it obvious: he’s hard, and he’s not even trying to hide it now.
“You gonna let me take care of you?” he mutters, biting your earlobe. “Since you fed me and everything. Feels only fair.”
You nod again, breathless. “Yeah.”
“Good,” he says, lips brushing yours. “Been thinkin’ about kissing you since the second you opened that door.”
His hands are already slipping under the hem of your hoodie, thumbs dragging across the skin of your waist as he mutters, low and sinful, “Lift your hips for me.”
You do instantly and he slides your shorts down so slowly it feels like punishment. They snag slightly at your thighs before he gets them off, flinging them somewhere over the armrest, and then he just stares. Lets his eyes drag from your knees to the place between your thighs like he’s about to pray and commit a felony in the same breath.
You’re not even fully naked, but you already feel exposed. Every part of you twitching with anticipation because the way this man looks at you? It’s like he already knows what you taste like.
He lowers himself, right between your knees and spreads your legs open with two hands and drags your body closer to him.
“You’re already shaking,” he whispers, lips brushing along the inside of your thigh. “What’s got you so worked up, sweetheart?”
You want to answer. You try to answer. But then he presses a kiss right above your knee, then lower and lower. It’s like he’s savoring every inch of you, kissing a trail up your thigh like you’re dessert and he’s been starving all day.
When he finally gets to your underwear, he lets out a low hum.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, thumb dragging along the edge. “You’re soaked.”
You choke on your own spit. He hooks his fingers under the waistband, and looks up at you, eyes dark. You’re propped up on your elbows, watching him like you’re in a live-action fantasy, because that’s exactly what it feels like.
“Gonna take these off now,” he says, almost too gently.
You nod like a bobblehead. “Please.”
He tugs them down painfully slow, and when they slip off your legs and drop to the floor, he doesn’t even hesitate. He just dives in.
Tongue flat, broad, ruthless against you, dragging through your folds. You jolt, hips bucking off the couch, and his hands immediately slide up to pin you down, fingers bruising your thighs as he holds you in place.
He moans into you, tongue curling, lips wrapping around your clit with slow, maddening pressure. The suction makes you cry out, hand flying to grab at his hair, soft, messy strands you curl your fingers into.
“Fuck, J-Jungkook,” you gasp. His grip tightens on your thighs in response. He flattens his tongue again, licking long and slow, nose nudging against your clit just enough to make your legs shake. Then he shifts, tilts his head just slightly, and flicks the tip of his tongue in tight, fast circles.
You swear you see God.
He doesn’t stop, and it’s obscene how good it is. You can hear it. Mapping out every flick, every swirl, every suck that makes your thighs twitch and your head fall back in helpless, high-pitched whines.
He’s so good at it, it’s almost infuriating. Like he’s been training for this specific moment, like he knew your body before you ever laid eyes on his goddamn toolbelt.
“Shit,” you whimper, your fingers gripping the edge of the couch like you’ll fall off the earth if he keeps going.
He pulls back barely, enough to murmur against your soaked skin, “What’s that, sweetheart?”
You look down at him, wide-eyed and desperate, and the sight makes your stomach flip.
His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, locked on yours with zero shame. His lips are wet, his lip ring gleaming, his chain dragging down your thigh. His hands are still gripping your legs tight. “You’re already shaking,” he taunts, “You gonna fall apart before I even get my fingers in?”
You let out a sound you don’t recognize. Your hips buck without permission, trying to chase more friction, more pressure, anything, and he laughs.
“Thought you were gonna take it,” he mutters, kissing your inner thigh again, right where it’s already slick. “Thought you were tough.”
“Jungkook,” Your voice breaks.
“Yeah, baby?” he smiles, “Want more?”
You nod frantically. “Please. Please, please.”
“Mmhmm.” He drags his tongue back up, slow and torturous. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want—” you gasp as he suckles your clit again, just hard enough to make your legs spasm. “I want your fingers please. I can’t—”
“You can,” he says, way too calm. “You’re gonna. Not done with you yet.”
He slides one hand down between your thighs, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, slow and unhurried. You feel the first press of his fingertip at your entrance and it’s over.
When he finally pushes in just one thick finger, your mouth drops open in a silent gasp. It feels so good, too good.
“You’re so tight, baby,” he notes more to himself than to you. “Fuck. Gripping already.”
He curls his finger and you practically wail. You slap a hand over your mouth but he sees it, and then lowers his mouth back down to your clit like he’s starving for it.
His tongue and his finger move in tandem. Circles and pressure and heat all at once, building you up, pushing you higher, dragging desperate sounds out of you that you’ve never made before.
“Jungkook, fuck, please,” you sob, grabbing at his hair. “Please, I need—”
“You need what?” he murmurs against you, adding a second finger slowly, the stretch perfect, his mouth never leaving your clit.
“I need, need to cum, please—”
“Nah,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours as his fingers start to fuck into you even deeper, “Not yet.”
You’re near tears at this point.
He flattens his tongue and moans into you, and your hips jerk off the couch. Your hands are clutching at him now, your stomach tightening, thighs trembling around his head as he talks you through it.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he exhales, eyes locked on your face. “All needy and loud. Fuck, baby. I could eat you all day.”
You’re so close it hurts. He can feel it, the way your walls clench around his fingers, sucking him in.
“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice hoarse against you. “Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.”
And you do, embarrassingly hard. It crashes over you like a power surge, hot and fast and blinding. Your hips jerk, your mouth drops open in a silent cry, and you’re cumming so hard you forget your own name.
He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, until your legs are shaking uncontrollably and you’re pushing at his shoulder with a broken gasp.
Still, he doesn’t let up. His tongue is relentless, fingers even more ruthless. You’re sweating, teary-eyed and so close you’re practically vibrating, when you finally snap.
“Jungkook,” you moan, throat raw. “I need you to fuck me. Please. I can’t—“
That gets him to cease. He pulls back, mouth soaked, lip ring gleaming. His hand lingers between your thighs for a second longer before he pushes himself up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, panting.
You reach up, fingers clutching the front of his shirt, dragging him down so you can kiss him. You taste yourself on his tongue, and it just makes it worse, makes you needier.
He stands up, stripping down as fast as humanly possible. The black tee comes off first, revealing a chest that’s all muscle, abs that flex when he tosses the shirt aside. Then the cargo pants get shoved down, and…
Holy fucking shit.
It swings free and heavy into his palm, and you gasp.
That’s what they meant by blue collar dick. Thick, veiny, the prettiest goddamn cock you’ve ever seen. Long, curved just right, flushed and leaking at the tip as he wraps his hand around the base and starts stroking himself, slow and lazy.
He tilts his head back with a low groan, lashes fluttering, chain swinging over his chest and you just stare.
You’ve seen good dick before. You’ve had great dick, even. This is different. This is the kind of dick that installs central air and breaks bed frames. The kind that fucks through creaky floorboards, says “good girl” like a prophet, and pays in cash everywhere.
“Yeah?” he rasps, still jerking himself slowly, eyes dark as he looks down at you. “You want it, baby?”
You nod like your life depends on it. “Please. Need it so bad.”
He doesn’t waste another second. “Turn over,” he says, voice commanding. “Face down, ass up. I want that spine arched.”
You scramble to obey, flipping onto your stomach, shoving your hoodie up out of the way. You bury your face in the couch cushion, arms stretched forward, hips high in the air and the sound Jungkook makes behind you is inhuman.
“Fucking hell,” he licks his lips, hands gripping your hips, thumbs spreading you open. “Look at you.”
You feel him line up behind you, thick head sliding through your slick folds, teasing but not pushing in yet, and your whole body twitches.
“You’re perfect like this,” he says, one hand sliding up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades until your arch deepens. “Back all pretty, ass in the air, soaked for me. Fuck, baby.”
He leans forward, voice rasping hot in your ear. “You gonna take it for me like this, yeah? Gonna let me fuck you nice and deep?”
You moan out, whimpering into the pillow. “Yes. Yes, please.”
“Atta girl.”
He pushes in slow, allowing you to feel every inch. You feel the thick, burning stretch of him as he sinks in deeper, splitting you open around his cock. Your breath catches on a whimper, eyes rolling back as he fills you.
“Fuuuuck,” you choke out, voice strangled. “You’re so big.”
Behind you, Jungkook lets out a guttural groan.
“Yeah?” he rasps, still sliding in, forcing your walls to open around him. “That too much for you, baby?”
You shake your head, barely able to breathe, cheek pressed into the cushion. “No, no, it’s so good, just, fuck—”
He bottoms out, hips flush against your ass, and you swear you see stars. You’re so full it’s almost unbearable, like he’s in your stomach, You’ve never felt anything like it; your walls clenching, dripping, pulsing and he’s barely even moved yet.
He pulls out halfway and slams back in, then does it again… and again… and again.
His pace is brutal, deep, pounding thrusts that send shockwaves through your spine and bounce off the walls. Skin slapping, the obscene wet squelch of your cunt sucking him in over and over, the couch creaking beneath you. You’re a full mess under him, and he’s moaning now too.
“Fuck,”Jungkook growls behind you, breath ragged. “You hear that? You hear how wet you are for me?”
You do. The sound of your pussy squelching around his cock is loud, echoing with every thrust as your juices coat his length and drip down your thighs onto the couch cushions below.
“Fucking soaked,” he growls again, hips snapping into you.
His hand finds your hair, grabbing a fistful at the base of your neck and pulling. Your head lifts from the pillow you grabbed from nearby in a panic, back arched to its limit, body bent like a bowstring as he fucks into you harder now that he has you right where he wants you.
“Taking it so good, baby,” he pants, yanking your head back just enough to make you moan. He keeps pounding into you, dragging that cock so deep it feels like he’s carving himself into your soul, keeping your head held high by your hair, whispering filth that makes your legs shake.
“You wanna cum, don’t you?” he growls, tone thick and mean. “Wanna fall apart right here on my cock?”
You’re shaking too hard to answer, all that’s coming out are some babbles you nor him have any energy to interpret. Somehow, your brain flashes back to that fucking TikTok. That girl that described “blue collar dick” like it was some natural disaster.
Now you’re living it.
You’re bent over on your own couch, spine arched, tears in your eyes, unable to even think as Jungkook wrecks you with his cock and whispers filthy praise in your ear like it’s his job. This is blue collar dick. This is the goddamn thesis statement of that TikTok. You’re going to send that girl flowers.
“Please,” you cry, “Please, Jungkook.”
“Yeah?” he pants, breath hot against your neck as his fingers reach down and work your clit cruelly enough to keep you from tipping over. “That desperate for it, sweetheart?”
You nod, choking out sobs, your body twitching around him, clenching hard enough that he starts to fall apart.
“Fuck,” he groans, cock twitching inside you. “You’re so tight. Keep squeezing me like that and I’m gonna cum before you do.”
You moan loud into the pillow, your whole body wrecked and burning, still locked in this purgatory he’s created, his cock fucking you deep and hard, his fingers rolling over your clit with precision, holding you right there.
“Say it,” he growls, “Tell me how bad you need it.”
“I need it, please, I need it so bad. I can’t, I’m so close, please let me cum.” Your self -control has exited the apartment.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he grits out behind you, “Fuck, baby, feel how tight you are? How bad your pussy wants to cum for me?”
You can’t answer. You’re drooling into the pillow, gasping, your body jerking with every thrust like you’re being electrocuted.
“Let go,” he groans, voice shaking. “You’re gonna cum for me now, yeah? Go on, baby. Fucking cum.”
The second his thumb presses tightly just right against your clit, you shatter. It hits you like a wave. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, back arching so hard it lifts your hips even higher as your orgasm rips through you, hot and overwhelming. You scream as your pussy clenches around his cock, pulsing and gushing as you cum so hard your vision goes white.
Your arms give out completely. You collapse forward onto the couch with a breathless sob, ass still arched up as your cunt throbs around him, wetness dripping down your thighs in sticky trails. Your face is buried in the cushion, your legs are trembling.
“Oh my fuck,” Jungkook groans, “Just like that. You feel that, baby? Feel how good it is when you cum on me?”
He curses, pulls out fast and you let out a weak little cry at the loss, at the ache he leaves behind.
But then he’s jerking himself over you, his hand wrapped tight around his cock, wrist snapping fast, hips stuttering as he pants over you, chasing his own high.
His head tilts back, bottom lip tucked under his top teeth. A deep, broken moan is ripped straight from his chest as his hips twitch forward and he spills across the curve of your ass in thick, hot ropes. His chain swings with the motion, clinking gently as he fucks his fist through it, painting your skin in messy, perfect streaks.
“Fuckfuckfuck,” he groans, his eyes squeezed shut. “You’re… fuck, baby. You’re unreal.”
You’re too far gone to speak.
You stay face-down on the couch for a full minute post-impact, naked and glazed like a donut.
Jungkook exhales somewhere behind you, like he too is processing the life-altering events that just occurred in your living room. You hear his body move as he leans back, chest rising and falling, the distinct sound of a man who just came so hard he forgot his social security number.
There’s cum on your ass. Your hair’s stuck to your cheek. The throw pillow has a bite mark in it. You are not well.
You finally lift your head a fraction of an inch. “I think I just met God.”
Jungkook lets out a soft, post-nut laugh. “Yeah?” he rasps. “Tell him I said hi.”
You look over at him from where you’re sprawled out on the couch, now on your stomach. “…So do I owe you money, or…?”
He snorts. “For what?”
“For fixing my power?” You say it like it’s obvious.. which it should be.
Jungkook leans over and smacks your ass, casual, affectionate. “Nah. This one’s on the house.”
Eventually, he helps you sit up, grabbing the nearest clean towel in your bathroom like this is all completely normal. You look at each other and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry or call your landlord and thank him for being so aggressively useless.
You’ll deal with that later.
Right now, you accept the towel, take a shaky breath. You blink at him, dazed, legs still jelly. “So if I break something else… just a hypothetical, should i call you..?”
He smirks, tugs his pants back up without bothering to button them, and says, “Depends. If you break something else, I expect a personal invitation. No middleman this time.”
i could only picture this jungkook. god… he’s everything, with that hair, piercings, the prettiest nose and eyes. anyway enough of jungkook and let’s go to the review 🤓:
1- well, first of all: oc is so awkward and relatable (reads horny-clumsy cute). she’s my girlie guys, i mean it. her anxiously thoughts keep coming out in the form of embarrassing comments that got me like… girl 😭 but she’s cute tho. and funny. her friend is so fucking funny too KKKKKKKKKK (and supportive)
2- have i mentioned funny? well, this story is hilarious and the idea is so creative. my mind was like “okay let’s read something funny and new and that got me curious cause topic 3
3- okay she’s tense and she wants that cookie so bad, but is reciprocated? there’s this tense vibe in the air and i kept thinking how this would unfold? who will break first?
4- jungkook (again)… “do you live with your boyfriend or….” VERY SMOOTH FOR SURE (sarcasm). And that sentence is so real cause guys try to casually mention a boyfriend like “your boyfriend must be very proud of you, right?” “hm, yes i suppose 🤨 (i don’t have a boyfriend) but I WAS TENSE. baby relax, unfortunately she’s not you (cause she’s gonna get that cookie, and you wouldn’t)
5- i adore your writing @dreamersparacosm 💗 that’s a topic. and a fact.
guys read this right now i’m serious!!! go read something FUN
🎵 “If you’re looking for devotion, talk to me…”
— “Earned It” by The Weeknd
🐨 Namjoon — The Voice That Lowers
It’s never loud.
That’s the thing about him.
You’re rambling. A little upset. A little stubborn. Crossing your arms while pacing his studio.
“I just think you don’t understand—”
“I do.”
His voice drops. Not sharp. Not angry. Just… grounded.
You stop mid-sentence.
He walks closer slow, calm steps. His hands slide into his pockets like he’s containing himself.
“Don’t assume I’m against you,” he says softly. “I’m on your side. Always.”
It’s the way he looks at you steady eye contact. No wavering.
“And lower your voice when you’re frustrated,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly. “Not because I’m controlling you. But because you deserve to be heard clearly.”
You feel it in your spine. That authority that isn’t force it’s certainty.
He brushes your hair behind your ear.
“Talk to me. Not at me.”
And suddenly, you’re calm.
Because he doesn’t dominate you.
He centers you.
🐹 Jin — Teasing Dominance
He pretends he’s not like that.
But he absolutely is. You’re on the couch, arguing about who gets the last strawberry.
“It’s mine.”
“It’s not.” You grab it but he’s faster. Holds your wrist lightly.
Raises one eyebrow. “Are you challenging me?” he says, amused.
You roll your eyes. He leans closer, voice playful but slightly lower.
“Be careful. I might like that.”
He lets go. Lets you take the strawberry. Because he always lets you win. But the smirk stays. And later, when you’re still pretending to be annoyed, he whispers: “You look cute when you think you’re in charge.” Teasing. Light. Never overwhelming.
He doesn’t need to overpower.
He just enjoys the game.
🐱 Yoongi — Quiet Control
He barely speaks.
That’s why when he does you listen.
You’re overthinking again. Spiraling. Talking too fast. He doesn’t interrupt.
He just reaches out and gently hooks his finger in your sleeve. Pulls you back to sit beside him.
“Enough.” Soft. Firm. Not angry. He places your hand in his.
“Breathe.”
You try to argue.
He squeezes your fingers slightly. “I said breathe.”
It’s not command. It’s reassurance wrapped in control. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. When you finally calm down, he brushes his thumb across your knuckles.
“I’ve got you. So stop trying to hold everything alone.” And somehow, that feels stronger than anything loud.
🐿 Hobi — Confident Reassurance
He’s warm. Bright.
But when he gets serious?
It’s different.
You’re nervous before an event. Doubting yourself.
“I don’t look good,” you mumble. He gently grabs your chin.
Not forceful. Just enough to make you look at him. “Look at me.”
You do. His expression softens — but his tone is steady. “Don’t talk about my girl like that.” Your heart flips. He smiles, but there’s something solid underneath.
“You walk in there with me. Head high. And if anyone looks at you wrong—” he pauses, grin widening, “—they’ll answer to me.”
Playful. But real.
He fixes your outfit carefully. Straightens your collar.
“Trust me,” he whispers. “You shine. I just get the privilege of standing next to you.”
His dominance isn’t pressure.
It’s pride.
🐥 Jimin — Intense Eye Contact
He doesn’t touch you at first.
He just looks at you. And that’s worse. You’re joking with someone else at a party. Laughing loudly. When you turn around, he’s watching.
Not jealous.
Just… intense. He steps closer. Close enough that you feel his presence before he even speaks.
“You having fun?” His tone is soft.
But his eyes don’t break contact. You nod. He leans down slightly.
“Good. Just remember who you’re going home with.”
Your breath catches.
He smiles sweetly. Almost innocent.
But his fingers lightly brush your waist — grounding. Claiming without claiming.
He doesn’t need to announce anything.
His gaze says enough.
🐯 Taehyung — Slow, Deliberate Closeness
He moves slowly.
That’s what makes it unbearable.
You’re cooking. He comes behind you quietly. Doesn’t speak. Just places his hands on the counter on either side of you. Not trapping.
Just surrounding. “You’re ignoring me,” he murmurs against your ear. You pretend not to react. He leans in closer. His breath warm.
“I don’t like that.”
His voice is low. Calm. Almost lazy. But his presence is heavy. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t grab. Doesn’t demand. He just waits.And eventually you turn around, Because he knows you will.
He smiles softly. “See? You come back.”
His dominance is patience, he doesn’t chase. He pulls.
🐰 Jungkook — Playful but Possessive Tone
He’s teasing you all day. Play fighting. Stealing your phone.
You roll your eyes. “You’re annoying.”
He grins.
But later, when someone flirts with you as a joke — you see the shift. He wraps an arm around your shoulders casually.
“Careful,” he says lightly. “She bites.” You look up at him.
He leans down slightly.
“And I don’t share.”
It’s playful. But there’s weight in it.
When you’re alone later, he nudges your forehead with his.
“You like making me jealous?” You shrug.
He smiles — but his hand tightens around yours. “Don’t test me too much.”
Then he kisses your knuckles softly. Because he would never cross a line. But he does like reminding you he’s there.
ok but what if i said u were very drunk and handsy with jungkook and kept kissing his moles and tugging at his piercings with ur teeth. what then.
what if I said I love the way you think and I love when you request 🙂↕️ hear me out.
I didnt know if you wanted him drunk too, so I just did both👍
drunk in love. sfw(?) kinda not im ngl there is a lot of touching each other in this one so ill say suggestive.
“Hey- no, you’re done for tonight.” Jungkook warns, pulling the half empty bottle of soju towards him.
“Im not… that drunk!” You insist, but the pacing and slur of your words was making it painfully obvious. You lean on him; he sighs through his nose. Jungkook puts an arm around your shoulders. He could tolerate quite a bit more alcohol than you could, already two and a half bottles in. You… tried to match him, but..
“You’re drunk.” He repeats to you, amused. “Very drunk.”
“Shut up,” you sway, laughing a little. “Im fine…”
“- shut up?” He asks, pushing you playfully. “Come shut me up then. If you’re that fine.” He takes a long swig of whats left in the bottle.
“You can have some but I cant?” You ask in a haze, climbing up onto his lap. He sits back— not expecting you to be this bold.
“Yeah.” He confirms, knowing it would stir more of a reaction. “Its mine.”
Your eyes are unfocused, unable to think of much other than the way he just wet his lips. You kiss him just to taste the alcohol. He lavishes in it.
“Mh.” Jungkook relaxes, eyes closed. Your hands sneak under his shirt; expected behavior from you.
What he doesnt anticipate is how you keep going, leaving him panting for breath between kisses. He settles both hands on your hips and grips you tighter the second you tug on one of his lip rings a little.
“Baby,” he begs when you give him the chance. “I gotta breathe, honey…” he turns his face from you.
“But ‘myou taste good,” you slur, pressing kisses to the moles on his face and neck instead. One of your hands is on his pecs, the other is trying to figure out a way under his waistband.
“Relax,” he grows flushed— more than he already was from the soju. He tries to move you in his lap so you wouldnt squirm so much. “Hands up here.” Jungkook scolds softly, dragging your wandering hand back up to his chest. He wasn’t about to initiate anything with you wasted.
“Ugh,” you complain, pressing another kiss to his lips that ends with a pull on his rings.
“I know,” you were driving him nuts. “Trust me baby, I know.”
“Can… you jus’ kiss me… m’stop bein hot…”
He smiles against your lips. The alcohol is finally settling in for him. Jungkook’s eyes are lidded, his skin is hot.
The two of you make out so long his lip rings start to make your bottom lip ache. You’ll definitely get bruises— it didn’t matter to you now.
He gets too warm and pulls his hoodie off. You gain more access to his skin this way. excited, you dip your head to continue kissing all the little spots you missed along his collarbones and a bit near his shoulder.
“You’re so pretty,” you mumble, so attracted to him it was overwhelming. “Take this off too.” You’re groping his muscles now.
“You want the shirt off?” He muses. Cute. “Alright, alright.. you gotta let go of me,” he gently moves your head back.
“Yesss……” you hiss, drinking in the sight of his bare torso. You look between the two of you to see if there was enough room for you to sit between the couch and the coffee table. An idea comes over you.
“What are you.. oh my god,” he leans his head back against the back of the couch, one hand on your shoulder as you lower yourself between his legs enough to press kisses down his chest and abdomen. Everywhere you could get your mouth on was free reign. He should stop you, probably, before you do anything he can’t resist.
↳🍳 summary: after countless unfulfilled nights, you finally cave and seek out the services of a professional dominant to meet your needs.
↳🕶 content warnings: anxiety, sex work, mentions of internalized kink/slut shaming, pre-established boundaries, master/sub dynamics, blindfolds, rope bondage, touch starvation,
↳🍕 a/n: inspired by transference by dark-muse-iris on ao3.
You never thought you’d ever regret arriving somewhere early. Until this exact moment.
It gave you too much time to overthink it all. It being the fact that, in just a few minutes, you’d be discussing the details of your very first professional BDSM session.
You chose a table on the cafe’s sunny patio instead of inside, since the chatter outside meant a lower chance of any other patrons overhearing the quickly approaching conversation. A conversation you never thought you’d actually be having with a real person. Not face to face, at least.
You’re clutching your iced coffee in your hands, using the chill to ground you.
Honestly, you’re impressed with yourself for going through with this, for giving yourself something you’ve always wanted. If you can manage to get through the initial nerves, maybe you’ll even allow yourself to enjoy it.
Just as you’re about to check the clock for the twenty-sixth time, you hear someone approaching your table. Several someones.
Throat momentarily closing, all you can think is don’t freeze, don’t freeze, don’t freeze. You can’t make yourself look up until they’re hovering at the edge of the table, waiting for you to acknowledge them.
First your gaze meets their shoes. Two pairs of sneakers and one pair of black Chelsea boots. You only force your eyes to move any higher until you hear one of them say your name in a questioning tone.
A beat of silence...that becomes much too long.
You take a deep breath, swallow hard, and think of the only string of words that helps you push yourself out of your comfort zone.
Fuck it.
“Hi,” you finally respond. “Yes, that’s me. Please, have a seat.”
They take you up on your offer with polite, and slightly relieved, smiles.
“I’m Jimin.” The man wearing the boots says cheerfully, extending a hand for you to shake. He’s dressed in a button-up coat, blonde hair styled up out of his face.
He slips the chic black sunglasses off his nose, revealing a pair of kind brown eyes. He’s very attractive, almost unfairly so. It makes you want to avoid eye contact.
The one wearing a white t-shirt and backwards cap makes that easier by introducing himself next.
“Taehyung,” he says, shaking your hand as well.
He’s gorgeous too damnit, with black hair curling at the nape of his neck under his hat.
Move on, move on. Immediately averting your eyes, you turn to the third man.
“I’m Jungkook, it’s nice to meet you,” he says shaking your hand firmly.
You’ve got to be kidding. Wide, doe eyes, long brown hair hanging in front of his face. He’s dressed in joggers and an oversized sweatshirt, all black.
Every single one of them is extremely attractive. You can’t tell if it makes this whole thing easier or harder.
“Thank you all for meeting with me,” you say, looking at each of them very briefly before returning your eyes to your drink.
“Thank you for contacting us! We're excited to discuss some details,” Jimin replies, sounding enthusiastic.
Your gut does a little flip.
You’re reminded of the fact that before scheduling this initial consultation, you’d spoken at length with Jimin online about your preferences for the session. But there’s something about being a faceless avatar, about hiding behind a screen, that gave you enough courage to talk openly about your fantasies. In-person was another story.
The fact that the three of them had all agreed to meet with you, had all agreed that you’d be “a good fit,” was somehow just as unnerving as it was reassuring.
It made perfect sense for all of them to be in the know about their clients, they were business partners after all, and you should be glad to hear that they were considering taking you on, but something about being the one with all their cards showing...it makes you squirm.
Maybe he senses how nervous you are, because then Jimin is suggesting that they go order something themselves. Jimin and Taehyung get up to go inside the cafe, leaving you alone with Jungkook.
You’re equally relieved and nervous at the fact. On one hand, it discourages you from making a hasty, anxiety-fueled escape that you’d most likely regret later. On the other hand, you now have to make conversation while simultaneously pretending that you aren’t sweating straight through your clothes.
Stealing a glance, you watch him brush the fluffy hair out of his eyes. He looks at you warmly, calmly.
There’s something about Jungkook that makes him a little less intimidating compared to Taehyung and Jimin. Maybe it’s his oversized clothes or his doe eyes. Either way, you feel a little less apprehensive around him.
“So, how’d you hear about us?” he asks, saving you from the awkward silence. You suppose they must be used to dealing with nervous newcomers.
“Oh umm...google.”
Mmm hmm “google.” That’s the short version. You don’t mention how it took you weeks to simply type “BDSM” plus the name of your city into the search bar.
Not to mention the hours spent staring at the glowing screen in an otherwise dark room (secrets seem safest in the dark), plucking up the courage to finally admit that you have kinky desires, let alone book a consultation.
“Oh yeah? Most people seem to find us through social media,” Jungkook replies.
Yes, you’ve looked into their social media platforms. They’re quite popular on Instagram and TikTok. They don’t show their full faces in their videos though, only partially. You suppose that makes perfect sense if you want to retain some anonymity or have a side gig, but after seeing how attractive they all are, you can’t but think that they’d be even more popular if they—
“Is this your first time?” Jungkook asks. It must’ve looked like you were spacing out, because he’s tilting his head trying to catch your gaze.
You meet his eyes for a moment before shifting your focus down to your fidgeting hands.
“Mm hm. Yup.”
“First time engaging in kink or first time with a professional dom?”
Jungkook tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. When your eyes flick up to follow the action, he’s still watching you with that warm smile on his face.
It’s hard for you to believe that the endearing man sitting in front of you is a “professional dom,” as he calls it. Especially when his form is engulfed by his humongous clothes, sleeves hanging well past his wrists.
You don’t realize that he’s asked you a question until he cocks his head to the side, waiting patiently.
“Oh! Umm, sorry. Kind of both I guess,” you answer.
He chuckles, and all you can think is oh god he’s laughing at me oh god this was a bad idea this—
“You don’t have to be so nervous, you know,” he says reassuringly. “I know our website says we can be selective with our clients, but we already think you’d be a good fit. I mean, Jimin was pretty much sold after he read your responses to the prompts.”
You remember answering those prompts. After you’d mustered up the courage to reach out to them, the application process began with an individual profile and a questionnaire. You remember being equally impressed and intimidated by their attention to detail.
Most of the questions were pretty basic (kinks, preferences, boundaries), but towards the end they delved far deeper than you expected, asking things like why does BDSM appeal to you, what’s your own definition of a healthy, consensual scene, what made you seek out the services of a professional dom, etc.
And yes, maybe you got a little carried away with your responses since no one had ever expressed interest in them before, but obviously it benefited you in the end.
A bit of tension eases inside your chest, along with an exhale of relief.
“Ah, that’s good to hear,” you breathe out, cracking your first real smile, and Jungkook returns it with earnest.
“So, um, how long have you guys been doing this?” you ask, finally starting to find your voice after Jungkook shared that bit of comforting information.
“Five years now. Really, it’s crazy how time has flown by,” Jungkook says. “It started out as a hobby. I met Jimin and Tae at a Fetish Con, and we just instantly hit it off.”
You try and fail to imagine Jungkook’s sweater and joggers switched for latex and chains. It’s a little hard to picture him being assertive at all, really.
“We started growing and networking, and soon it turned from a side gig to a real business! We’re really lucky to get to do what we love for a living.”
His eyes shine with passion, and it’s clear that he genuinely enjoys his work.
It reassures you even more. One of the reasons you’d never engaged in any kind of kink before was because of a persistent fear of the other person feeling burdened by your desires. You’d never felt comfortable enough to divulge any of your kinks in case your partner was only going along with it because of you and not truly enjoying it themselves.
By using the services of a professional dom, it was much more likely that they would derive just as much pleasure as you during the experience. And you wouldn’t have to feel guilty because you were compensating them for their time.
“So, how long have you been interested in this kind of stuff?” he asks, voice filled with good-natured curiosity.
In an instant, you’re brought back to every sleepless, unfulfilled night. Every time one of your past partners couldn’t get you to cum, every time you were left wanting more after vanilla sex.
That same ache, the ache that comes with wanting something you’re ashamed of, creeps right back into your mind. An itch left unscratched for too long.
You’re brought back to the glow of your laptop screen in the dead of night, fingers hesitating over the keyboard in your desperate search. At first, a search for like-minded people so you wouldn’t feel so alone. Then, eventually, for someone willing to scratch the itch itself.
Jungkook brings you back to the present by fiddling with his earrings.
“Umm...awhile,” you finally reply.
Even though your response is brief, Jungkook still nods his head in understanding.
“Vanilla just doesn’t do it, huh?” he asks playfully.
“No, not really,” you say, chuckling along with him.
“Sometimes...” you begin, trying to find the words to describe it. “Sometimes it’s not even about sex at all. Sometimes it’s about the catharsis, you know? I just want to turn my brain off sometimes, give someone else the reins, if that makes any sense?”
Jungkook nods, a knowing smile on his lips.
“I think we’re gonna get along real well,” he says.
It’s then that Jimin and Taehyung return with their order, placing various drinks and pastries on the table.
“Caffe latte and butter croissant,” Taehyung says, passing said items to Jimin.
“Hot chocolate and cinnamon roll,” Jimin replies, passing said items to Taehyung.
“And a cold brew with a peanut butter cookie,” Taehyung finishes, passing said items to Jungkook.
You notice that Jungkook never told them his order. Either they took a lucky guess, or they must know each other pretty well.
“Everything going okay over here?” Jimin asks, shooting you another radiant grin.
You can only hold eye contact for a few seconds, feeling blinded. They’re so handsome it’s almost criminal.
“Mm hmm,” you mumble, sipping on your coffee to distract yourself.
“Good, good,” Jimin replies, running a hand through his hair.
He stirs a few sugars into his latte, lazily swirling the spoon as he scans you up and down.
“So, were you looking for recurring services?” he asks.
Your hands tighten around your cup.
Yes, yes you are. But is that too much to ask? Will that scare them away? Do they even do that sort of thing?
Clearing your throat, you remind yourself why you’re here. Fuck it.
“Mm hmm,” you affirm with downcast eyes, fighting the shame bubbling up in your throat. “If that’s okay with you guys. If the first session goes well, I mean. You know, if you do that kind of thing. And if you’re willing, you know.”
You hear them chuckle.
“Of course!” Jimin says, cheerful as ever.
You don’t see it, but he’s been trying to catch your gaze ever since he sat down.
“But I’m getting ahead of myself,” Jimin jokes. “For the first session, we usually recommend a one-on-one scene so you can get comfortable.”
Now you’re focused on picking at the skin around your nails, honed in on every word they’re saying despite avoiding eye contact at all costs.
“Okay, sounds good,” you reply.
Jimin tilts his head to the side, an amused smile on his face.
He can tell that you’re nervous, and that you’re shying away from his gaze. But you have nothing to worry about, if only he could express that with his eyes if you’d just look at him.
“Do you have any preference when it comes to who conducts your first scene?” Taehyung asks.
They all know that Jimin usually volunteers for the first session. He’s the best at planning and easing in the newbies, establishing the sacred trust that makes their job so fulfilling. He always enjoys chipping away at the exterior, no matter how tough, to get at the soft center that just wants love and acceptance and relief.
You shake your head, still looking anywhere but their faces.
“Alright then,” Jimin says, immediately deciding that he wants to be the one to break down your walls and give you what you really need.
“So all that’s left is the consent forms, since you’ve already completed the questionnaire,” Jimin continues, handing over a few sheets of paper.
Oh god, it’s really happening. Holy fuck...
You can hardly believe it. Heart beating fast and loud enough to worry that they might hear it, you take the forms and scribble out the last few signatures.
It’s okay you dumb bitch, you hear in your head. Just calm down and don’t fuck this up.
Jimin calls your name and you whip your head up, only to avert your eyes immediately.
“Sorry, sorry!” you blurt out almost instinctively. “I’m just a little nervous.”
“No worries!” Jungkook replies, tilting his head to the side to try to catch your gaze like Jimin is still doing.
But your eyes dart around to avoid looking at any of them.
You’re a tough nut to crack, all three of them will admit that much.
You don’t see it, but Taehyung and Jungkook look at each other, sharing a knowing smile. They all enjoy a challenge, especially when the challenge presents such a compelling reward. Because from the looks of it, you share all of the same interests, values, and boundaries that they're compatible with.
Once you hand back the forms, Jimin pulls out a black composition notebook.
Taehyung and Jungkook know what that means. Now you're getting into the thick of it, the juicy details.
Jimin always takes detailed notes, preferring to flesh out the scene in writing so it practically comes alive under his hands. Taehyung and Jungkook will take occasional notes, on their phones or on post-its, preferring to listen and let their imagination fill in the gaps. But Jimin finds a particular joy in acting as the main orchestrator of each session.
Your first scene will be first and foremost about building trust, Jimin tells you.
"We'll get you nice and comfortable with the dynamic, exploring what works best," he explains enthusiastically, pen twirling in his hand.
The scene will be bondage-focused, nonsexual, with Jimin as your dom.
There's a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, and it isn't helped by the fact that Jimin still keeps trying to hold eye contact with you.
The four of you chat for a while longer, discussing the finer details. Jimin advises you to wear comfortable clothing, and to show up well-rested and hydrated.
You can't believe this is actually happening.
"I should probably let you know," you begin, hesitantly. "I have an anxiety disorder, and there is a possibility that I might have some sort of...attack."
They're watching you so intently, and their eyes are filled with nothing but openness and understanding. You're not used to it.
"That's perfectly fine. We're quite familiar with working with anxiety. If you have an attack or feel one coming on, we'll be there to help you through it. Make sure to bring your medication, if you take any," Taehyung advises.
You nod, mostly to yourself, making a mental note to bring extra pills to the session. You're hoping that the scene will be a temporary relief from your anxiety, but there's always the possibility that your mind will find a way to sabotage that.
"Thank you for letting us know," Jimin says, giving you another warm glance.
It makes a different kind of warmth bloom in your stomach, the warmth of understanding and acceptance.
You sign a few more forms, discuss a few more details. Then the four of you are shaking hands and saying your goodbyes.
You walk away from the cafe with a racing heartbeat, equal parts nervous and excited.
You're early again, sitting in your car in the tiny parking lot. Their location is in a downtown neighborhood of old, cottage-like houses that have been converted into small businesses, all painted neutral shades of blue and white.
The sign by the driveway reads P.K.J. It's their surnames (Park, Kim, Jeon), nondescript and unassuming. Though if you were to look at it a different way, the P could very well be a cursive D, and the J could be a swirling letter S. DKS, Designed Kink Scenes. The name of their BDSM service.
So you know you're in the right place, and the minutes are quickly ticking by.
It's a cute little place, with a cobblestone pathway leading to the front door and flowerbeds under lush trees shading the yard. Not at all what you'd expect when you think of a sex dungeon. Or...whatever they would call their place of business.
You came close to bailing several times, your anxiety seeming to creep up your throat as your breathing picked up speed. But after popping a few prescription pills, you were able to calm yourself down. And you know you really want this. If you chickened out now, you know you'd regret it.
So when the clock strikes five till, you take a deep breath and force yourself out of the car, muttering another quiet fuck it to yourself.
There's an intercom button next to the door, and you press it after wiping the sweat from your palms.
"Hello! Who is it?" a chipper voice calls, sounding like Jungkook.
"Hi!" you squeak out, maybe sounding a little too excited. "It's ____, I'm here for my...appointment."
Appointment? Session? You aren't sure what to call it. But Jungkook knows what you mean.
"Okay! Jimin will be there in just a minute!"
You're only kept waiting about fifteen seconds. The door opens to reveal Jimin dressed in jeans and black cap, greeting you with a radiant grin.
"Hi! Glad you could make it," he says, every bit as cheerful as Jungkook, but there's a mischievous tone to his voice. He gives you a slight smirk as he opens the door wider to let you in.
Ah. He must've seen you waiting in your car for the last twenty minutes, anxiously twitching and talking to yourself as you debated on whether to abandon the entire endeavor.
"Ha ha," you say awkwardly, deadpan. Jimin just chuckles, as if to say just teasing.
You enter into what looks like a very small waiting room. Clean carpets, thriving houseplants, calming paintings on the walls, and two plush armchairs.
There's comfortable silence as Jimin leads you up a set of narrow stairs and into another room. It's painted in the same neutral colors, beige and cream, with floor mats to soften the ground. Various cabinets and dressers line the walls, and you don't have to guess what they're storing.
"Alright," Jimin says, cracking his knuckles after he closes the door behind you. The small gesture sends shivers down your spine.
"Go ahead and put your stuff down here and disrobe to your comfort level."
You do as he says, setting down your bag and slipping off your shoes. Just being in your socks seems strangely vulnerable. You opted for a pair of comfortable leggings and loose tank top, not quite ready to show any more skin than strictly necessary.
Jimin digs through a few drawers, and when he turns around, several bundles of rope hang from his hands. It's then that you notice how the muscles of his arms strain against the sleeves of his gray sweater.
He's a lean man, but certain parts of his body are especially defined. His thick thighs in those jeans, the sharp jawline and chiseled neck, the way his top slopes down the slight curve of his chest. Even his hands, distinctly veined and sinewy, are eye-catching.
He's looking at you from under his cap, calculating.
“Come here,” he says, his voice gentle but firm.
You immediately step onto the mat where he wants you.
The ropes still dangling from his hand, he begins to walk in a slow circle around you, methodically scanning you up and down.
“Tell me your safe word,” he commands gently.
“Turtleneck,” you reply, earning a small smile from him.
“Good.” Just that one word makes you feel weak in the knees, because something in his voice changes. His tone deepens, seeming to curl around the edges, and it drips with authority. It says you will listen now, I’m in charge.
“Here’s what's going to happen,” he says, still circling around you. “I'm going to tie you up, and then we'll talk for a bit."
Your brows furrow slightly, eyes fixed to the bamboo-colored mat under your feet.
"Talk?" you say. About what?
"Yes," Jimin replies swiftly. "I'd like to get to know you, _______."
Somehow, that idea is more terrifying than everything else combined.
Again, you offer nothing but another awkward, deadpan laugh.
"Won't you kneel for me?" His voice drips like poisonous honey.
You swallow the nervous buildup in your throat, and after a few moments of hesitation, you drop to the floor one knee at a time.
Jimin smiles at you, pleased.
"Good," he praises. "We'll go nice and slow, okay? I know you're nervous."
How does he manage to sound so comforting and authoritative at the same time? It's something about his voice, naturally high-pitched but with an edge that he uses to his advantage.
You manage a nod.
"And from now on, I'd like you to use your words," he instructs.
You nod again, but he raises an eyebrow at you.
"Uh, yes, okay," you mutter.
The corner of Jimin's mouth twitches like he isn't quite satisfied. He begins to circle you again.
"Hmm, what should I have you call me?" he says, half to himself.
There's a pause of reflection, and you start to ask a question before you can help it. Jimin looks at you after you cut yourself off.
"Speak, lovely," he instructs. Being called "lovely" from anyone else would surely make you cringe, but somehow Jimin makes it work effortlessly, making your face heat up a bit at being the target of a pet name.
"What do you like to be called?" you ask curiously. You may be paying him to perform a service, but kink is a two-way street, and you want him to enjoy himself as much as possible too.
He offers another radiant smile in response.
"What a good question," he practically purrs, smirking slightly.
You're starting to descend into that special headspace. You're being good, you're pleasing him.
"I'd like to be your Master, if you'd let me," he says, maintaining strong eye contact.
It makes you rip your eyes away and look down at the floor.
"Yes...Master," you say with a little effort. It's a bit awkward, but you want to please him.
"Look at me," Jimin orders, more firmly.
Now, that takes even more effort. Jimin is a particularly hard man to look in the eyes. You were hoping to avoid it for as long as possible.
"That's an order, lovely," he says, soft yet stern.
It takes you a minute, you'll admit. You feel the tell-tale signs of anxiety, ants under your skin, twitching fingers, darting eyes. Your heart rate is rising rapidly.
"Hey," Jimin suddenly says, dropping to one knee in front of you. He puts a cautious yet comforting hand on the side of your face, and when you melt into it instead of jerking away (surprising even yourself), he lets his thumb stroke across your cheek.
"You're okay, ______," he says soothingly. "You're here with me, I've got you."
The touch helps, calming down your heart rate a bit. It gives you the strength to finally meet his eyes.
They're warm and soft and concerned, drinking in your reactions. They crinkle a bit with his smile when you meet his gaze.
"Good, good girl," he says.
It sends another wave of comfort through you.
"Do you want to stop? Take a break?" he asks.
"No," you blurt out almost immediately. If you stop now you'll have to ease back into that headspace. No, you can work through this. Your anxiety won't beat you this time.
Deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, like your therapist taught you. You're fine, you're grounded, you got this.
"I want to keep going," you say, putting effort into communicating your desires.
"You sure?" he asks.
You nod with a smile of your own, and then remember what he said.
"Yes," you reply. Then playfully add, "Master."
He smiles again and nods, rising back to a stand.
"How about we try this," he says, going to one of the drawers and shuffling around. He returns with a length of white cloth.
"Then you won't have to think about what you see," he adds.
Glancing at him briefly, you nod in agreement.
Jimin steps behind you and wraps the cloth around your eyes, tying it behind your head while being careful not to pull your hair. When the knot is secure, he smooths down the material so you're well and truly blind.
"How's that?" he asks.
"Good," you reply. The darkness helps. Just like he said, it's one less thing to think about.
"I'm sorry," you blurt out, self-consciousness creeping in.
"None of that, lovely," Jimin replies, still calm yet strict. "I won't have it. There's nothing to apologize for."
Still, the same gloomy feeling lingers a bit.
"If you still feel the need, you can say "thank you" instead," he suggests.
A pause.
"Thank you." Then you add hesitantly, "Master."
You hear him chuckle.
"Very good."
He's approaching you again, along with the sound of rope being threaded through his hands.
"I'm going to put you in a type of chest harness that will restrict your arms, is that alright?" Jimin asks.
''Alright," you reply, shifting on your knees, eager to really get started.
"Give me your wrists."
You obey, holding them out in front of you.
He starts to loop the rope around them, at one point using two fingers to test the tightness. You can't see what he's doing, but you feel the slight burn from the rope, the tug as knots are secured.
"So tell me, _______," Jimin begins as he works the rope. "What do you do for a living?"
You give him the small-talk answer, simple and lacking details.
"Hmm, do you enjoy it?"
Ah, no one's ever asked you that before. Not even relatives at family gatherings.
"Enough, I suppose," you reply, beginning to feel the first stirrings of vulnerability. "I mean, it's nice to work alone for the most part, and the work isn't that laborious."
Jimin hums to himself like he's thinking.
"Do you enjoy being alone?" he asks.
A pause.
"Yes," you finally reply. "It's safer, I guess. I only really feel safe when I'm alone."
"Hmm, palms together," he orders, and you obey.
Jimin guides your arms up so your tied wrists are held above your head, then he gently moves your arms to bend at the elbow, your hands now resting near the back of your neck.
You can't help but gasp when he pulls on the rope to wrench them back just a little further.
"Color?" he asks cooly.
"Green," you answer, a little breathless. You're starting to feel it now, the sense of helplessness that comes with being bound. With every passing minute, he's making you more immobile. And it makes heat coil lower and deeper.
Then he's using the tail end of the rope binding your wrists to wrap around your torso.
"Introverted, huh?" he asks, starting to wrap the rope around your chest. A pass underneath your breasts, then up to your shoulder, down the other shoulder, then just above your breasts.
"Yes," you answer, slightly out of breath from the speed at which he's now tying you. "Always have been. It's a little annoying, to be honest."
"Oh? How so?" Jimin asks, tying off the knot.
"Well," you begin, the blindness and chest harness making you feel more vulnerable. "I wish I could enjoy being with people more. But I'm just so picky with who I spend my time with."
Jimin hums as he checks the tightness of the tie.
"There's nothing wrong with being selective about your company. Life is short, after all," he says.
Your upper body is now restricted, rope weaving around your chest, arms bent back. You can hear Jimin uncoiling another spool of rope.
"I'd like to secure you to the ceiling. Is that okay?" he asks.
You nod, feeling your mind go a bit fuzzy.
"I'll wait," Jimin says, sounding a bit more stern.
"Yes," you blurt out, remembering to verbalize. "That's okay."
"That's a good girl," he practically purs, and you can hear the smile in his voice.
You nearly shiver. Jimin notices.
You can hear him stringing the rope to some kind of hook in the ceiling, and then he's connecting it to the rope binding your wrists.
"Are you cruel?" you can't help but blurt out.
He freezes for a split second, then he lets out a chuckle.
"Do I seem cruel?" he says playfully. Then he yanks at the rope so you feel a little jerk, and it sends a jolt through your stomach.
"Only in the good way," you manage to reply.
He chuckles again, a light, tinkling sound.
"I can get cruel at times," he says. "But only towards those that deserve it."
"Do you think I deserve it?" you blurt out again, feeling bold.
There's a pause of silence.
"Maybe. We'll see," he says softly.
Footsteps as he walks around you in a slow circle.
"So work is just okay. What about relationships?" he asks.
You move your head a little towards where you think he is in the room.
"Not the best either. Haven't really been involved in anything long term in a while," you reply.
"And why is that?"
You hesitate, squirming a little in your bonds.
"I guess I have trouble trusting people. And I've never been comfortable enough with anyone to tell them about my...sexual proclivities," you admit, looking towards the ground even though you're blindfolded.
"Hmm, and how long have you had kinky desires," Jimin asks, sounding genuinely interested, still circling you in slow measured steps.
It makes you feel a bit like a bug under a microscope.
"Ever since I can remember," you say, and it feels like ripping a bandaid off. "I remember fantasizing about being tied up before I even knew what sex was. When I shared that with my ex, he called me a freak. I didn't want to tell anyone else after that."
"That's quite a common experience with kinky people, feeling alienated. But there's a lot of us out there who fully understand and embrace the way power dynamics and sex are intertwined. It's just a matter of finding people you connect with," Jimin says.
You feel a little wave of relief wash over you, because it seems that you found exactly that. Maybe your seemingly endless feeling of dissatisfaction is finally over.
You hear Jimin stepping towards you, his hand coming to the rope securing you to the ceiling. He unties it, letting it plop to the ground, and you can't help but feel a little disappointed.
Then, he's got two fingers in the back of your chest harness, giving you a gently tug towards him.
"Don't worry, lovely," he says into your ear. "I'm not quite done with you yet."
You didn't realize that you were holding your breath until you hear yourself gasp when he releases you. It's only then that you realize your arms and shoulders have gone a little numb and tingly.
"I'm going to release your arms, and then I'll bind your legs, okay?" he says.
"Yes, Master," you breath out as the ropes start to go slack around you.
"Good girl. You're learning quick."
He quickly unties the ropes securing your arms and wrists, gently rubbing your skin as he does so to bring back some feeling. He leaves the chest harness in place, his hands coming to reposition you the way he wants: on your knees, slightly elevated on your toes so your legs aren't completely folded underneath you.
He quickly gets to work winding rope around your left side, securing your thigh to your lower leg near your ankle. Then, the right side bound just the same. Then he grasps your wrists in front of you, tying them together and lowering them to let your hands rest between your legs.
There is the urge to reach lower, to relieve some of the tension there, but you won't. Not during this session.
"How do you feel?" Jimin asks when he's done.
You're feeling floaty, so it takes a few seconds for you to gather your thoughts.
"Good, green," you almost whisper. "Like I'm..."
You trail off.
"Don't be shy, sweetheart. Go on and use your words," Jimin orders gently.
"Like I'm safe," you finally say, feeling silly saying it out loud.
"Is that a strange feeling for you?" Jimin asks, once again sounding genuinely interested.
"I guess so. I don't know but, as a woman, when you tell a man that you want them to dominate you, they usually think that means pulling your hair, tearing your clothes off, calling you a "bitch" or "slut" or something. But that's not really dominance. It can be enjoyable if you're into that kinda thing, but the men I've dated seem to think that that's all I'm looking for when I say I want kinky sex," you say, tongue feeling loose now that you're getting comfortable.
"And what is it that you want?" Jimin asks softly.
You think for a moment.
"It's not about pain or being powerless by itself. It's about someone else taking control of you out of care and love, treating your surrender as something almost sacred. It's about giving it to someone you trust and them respecting you back because of it. Does that makes sense?"
You hear a soft chuckle from Jimin.
"Yes, it makes perfect sense."
"I mean, I'm not saying "all men," but a whole fuckin' lot of them seem to think that bdsm is just violent sex. But it's not just that! It's a way for both people to feel release through control."
There's a moment of silence as you realize just how much you've been talking.
"Sorry, I'm rambling," you blurt out.
"I like hearing you talk," Jimin immediately replies, an almost challenging tone in his voice.
"Just like yous said, kink is a two-way street. Both parties have to be willing to not only listen to each other, but also put in the effort to communicate their thoughts and desires."
You wriggle a little, feeling the tight sensation of ropes around your wrists and legs, the cloth tied tight around your eyes.
"A real dominant will implement discipline and control through the lens of acceptance and love, not condemnation," Jimin goes on.
You hear him get to the floor, feel the heat of his body behind you.
"I'd like to guide you, _______. Instruct you, mold you, challenge you, support you, help you blossom into your full potential," he says, his mouth by your ear.
"I'd like to be the one to help you become more comfortable with expressing your needs. And it will become easier, trust me," he says with a little chuckle.
You can't help but laugh along, feeling nice and fuzzy in the head.
"May I rub your back?" Jimin asks, and you nod in response. He again chuckles softly, as if to say I'll forgive you this time for not using your words.
His hands come up to massage your shoulders, fingers skimming over the rope weaved around your torso.
At some point, he slowly unties the ropes around your thighs, rubbing the skin to bring back some feeling. He switches between massaging your back and untying your bonds, muttering soft reassurances in your ear.
And you didn't realize just how touch starved you felt until now. Every press of his fingertips makes you want to melt further into his embrace, the feel of his skin on yours is almost intoxicating.
When he finally moves to untie your blindfold, you've got moisture building up behind your eyelids.
Jimin's face softens at the sight of your red-rimmed eyes.
"Hey, it's okay, lovely," he mutters gently, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.
"I'm so proud of you," he assures you, tracing a thumb across your cheek. "You did so good for me."
That gives you the courage to finally look into his eyes.
"Really?" you practically squeak out, rubbing at your eyes.
"Of course!" Jimin insists. "You were open and honest, communicative and responsive. A very good first session, I'd say."
You still shrink in on yourself a bit.
"But I—" you start, something within you still wanting to protest.
But Jimin grabs your hand and yanks it towards him, placing your palm over his chest. You feel the thumping of his heartbeat.
"It was a good scene," he says, voice calming yet commanding. "You can see that I enjoyed it."
That makes a slight blush bloom across your cheeks.
"Cute," Jimin says, chuckling.
Now that the fuzziness is clearing up, you register more details. The black cap on Jimin's head as he adjusts it, the silver earrings dangling from his ears, the slight sheen of sweat on his skin.
"Come here," he mutters, bringing you close to his body. He cradles you against his torso, running his hands up and down your arms in comforting movements.
You don't realize that your eyelids are fluttering until he mutters, "You're quite endearing like this."
"What time is it?" you mumble, looking for a clock.
Jimin's laugh reverberates through your back.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. We've got time," he says.
But now that you're slipping from that special headspace, you don't want to overstay your welcome.
"My jacket..." you start, moving towards your bag. But Jimin shushes your protests and gently pushes you back down.
"Don't get up, I'll get it," he reassures. He returns and wraps your jacket around your shoulders a few moments later, then wrapping his arms around you too.
"Five more minutes, okay lovely? Just relax," he coaxes, tucking your head underneath his chin, and it's unclear if he's informing you of a fact or making an excuse for himself.
A few more blissful minutes later, and Jimin is shifting you into an upright position.
"There we go," he says, guiding you to stand.
"Are you alright?" he asks.
"Yes," you reply, just a little breathlessly. "Just very relaxed."
"I'm glad to hear it," Jimin replies with a smile. "Will you be alright getting home? We'd be happy to give you a ride."
"No, I'm fine, I'm good," you insist, and after scanning your face, Jimin relents.
"Um, do you take tips?" you ask hesitantly, reaching for your wallet.
But Jimin just smiles and waves you off.
"Trust me, you've done more than enough," he says.
"But, I do have some homework for you," he says.
When you nod in agreement, he leans forward to whisper it in your ear.
"Have a good rest of your day, ______," Jimin says, leading you out the door.
"Thanks, you too," you reply, feeling light and relieved from the session.
You don't notice it, but Jimin watches you get into your car and drive off until you're out of sight.
a/n: thanks so much for reading!! i'd love to hear any of your thoughts :) let me know if you' like to see me expand on this au!
꒰ঌ summary : you meet jimin at your cousin’s wedding in rio and things just spiral from there. he’s beautiful, charming, and way too observant. he doesn’t speak portuguese, but he listens to you like every word you say is meant just for him. you start teasing him on purpose. whispering things he can’t understand just to see the way his jaw tightens and his fingers twitch. it’s a slow build. soft looks, hot glances, quiet tension, like something’s about to snap but neither of you says it out loud. until one night, it finally happens. he pulls you into his lap, you say something filthy in his ear, and he breaks. it’s messy. hot. needy. a little sweet. he wants all of you even when he doesn’t know what you’re saying. and afterward, when you’re both lying there sweaty and tangled up, he’s still whispering… what did that mean? what did you call me? and you just smile. you’ll tell him later. or maybe never.
the heat in rio hits you like a kiss, slow and heavy and impossible to ignore. as soon as you step off the plane, it wraps around your skin, sticky and warm, like the city is already pulling you into its rhythm. you wipe your damp hair back from your face and wish you hadn’t worn that stupid jacket on the flight. your skin itches, craving fresh air and sun, not recycled airplane heat.
the taxi winds through the streets, windows rolled down, the noise of the city alive around you. palm trees blur past, brushing the sides of the car, their leaves rustling softly in the humid breeze. the smell of salt and some wild green something, maybe the rainforest, maybe something else fills your nostrils. you lean your head against the window and let the scenery wash over you, the colors brighter and more alive than you expected.
you’re here for your cousin’s wedding. the villa they rented is perched high above the ocean, white walls glowing in the afternoon sun, surrounded by flowering bushes and the faint sound of waves crashing somewhere far below. it smells like fresh paint and jasmine, like summer and beginnings.
you step out of the taxi, the pavement hot beneath your sandals, and immediately your eyes catch him.
he’s standing on the balcony, leaning lazily against the railing, his linen shirt open just enough to catch the light on his collarbone and that gold chain resting there. his hair is tousled like he’s just come in from the beach, sun-kissed and messy in the best way. jimin. the groom’s cousin. the one everyone’s talked about in whispers and smiles.
he’s watching you. not like you’re just another face in the crowd, but like he’s trying to memorize you already.
you catch his gaze and your lips twitch into a smile. you say something to your aunt in portuguese, the words flowing easily from your mouth without thinking, full of teasing warmth.
jimin’s eyes flicker with interest but also confusion. he steps closer, lowering his voice when he asks, “what did you just say?”
you laugh softly, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “you wouldn’t want to know.”
he tries to hide his smile but it breaks through anyway, shy and a little breathless.
you turn and walk away, your heart doing that stupid fluttery thing you hate but secretly like.
you don’t know it yet but this moment is the start of something you’ll never forget.
you barely get a chance to catch your breath before the wedding party kicks into gear. music spills out from every corner of the villa, the beat bouncing off the walls and making your skin tingle in time.
later that evening, you find yourself at the beach bonfire, the sky dark but stars sharp and scattered overhead. the air is cooler now, but the heat between people feels electric.
you spot jimin across the firelight, sitting with a few others but somehow completely apart, like he’s watching the flames but really watching you.
he catches your eye and raises his glass in a small, shy toast. you smile back and walk over, slipping into the circle.
you lean in close and whisper in portuguese, your voice low and slow, “você fala tão bem com os olhos.” you speak so well with your eyes.
he blinks, clearly not understanding the words but loving the way your voice wraps around them. “what did you say?” he asks, his eyes dark with curiosity.
you grin and don’t translate. instead, you lean closer, letting the heat of your breath tickle his ear. “something you don’t want to know.”
he laughs, that soft laugh that makes your chest squeeze tight. the way he looks at you now is different, more open, more… interested.
you can feel the tension building, like electricity waiting to spark.
he reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. your heart stumbles.
“teach me,” he says quietly, “teach me what you’re saying.”
you consider it for a moment, then whisper, “maybe later.”
he smirks, but there’s something in his eyes that says he’s not giving up anytime soon.
and just like that, the game between you starts to play out. slow, teasing, and impossible to stop.
the next few days pass in this strange, quiet rhythm.
you don’t seek jimin out, but he always seems to be where you are. by the pool. near the drinks. waiting for an uber to the beach party at the same time you are. he doesn’t hover, doesn’t push. just… appears. like the universe keeps throwing you into each other’s orbit to see what happens.
every time you speak portuguese, his head turns.
it’s not just the words. it’s your voice. soft, low, like you're saying something intimate even when you're not. sometimes you catch him staring at your mouth. like he’s trying to understand you by watching how you form your syllables.
you’re lounging on the villa steps one afternoon, sunglasses sliding down your nose, sweat curling around your neck. jimin walks by, shirt clinging to his chest, skin golden and damp from the heat.
he pauses. “you look like you’re melting.”
you glance up at him, take a slow sip of your drink. “maybe i am.”
his mouth twitches. “what do you say in portuguese when someone looks like that?”
you smile lazily, tilt your head. “when someone looks like what?”
“like… that,” he says, gesturing vaguely at you. “like they’re trying to kill me.”
you hum, pretending to think. then, slowly, you say, “você me olha como se já soubesse como eu gosto de ser tocada.”
he blinks.
you let it hang there.
he leans in a little, voice lower now. “what does that mean?”
you shrug, eyes never leaving his. “you’ll figure it out.”
he looks wrecked for a second. cheeks a little pink, mouth parted just barely.
and then someone calls his name from across the terrace. he hesitates, still looking at you, then finally backs away with a soft laugh, like he knows he’s in trouble and doesn’t mind at all.
later that night, the wedding party spills out into the city. dancing, drinks, way too much laughter echoing down the narrow streets of rio.
you don’t remember exactly how it happens, but somehow you and jimin end up in the back of the same cab, pressed too close together, the air conditioner broken and the music too loud.
you’re not drunk, not really. just floaty. warm. loose in a way that makes you lean into him a little more than you should.
his knee brushes yours. neither of you move.
“where are we going?” you ask, voice soft, eyes on the road.
“back to the villa, i think,” he says. “i lost everyone.”
you nod, barely paying attention. the city lights blur outside, golden and fast, and the heat between your legs has nothing to do with the weather.
his fingers graze yours on the seat between you. not on purpose. maybe.
you turn your head, slow.
“you keep looking at my mouth,” you say.
he swallows. “i know.”
you smile, tilt your head. “why?”
he doesn’t answer right away. then, quietly, like it costs him something: “because i want to hear you say something that’s meant for me.”
you blink, surprised.
then you lean in, lips brushing the edge of his jaw as you whisper, “tudo que eu digo é pra você.” everything i say is for you.
he exhales hard through his nose, eyes shut, jaw tense.
“jesus christ,” he mutters.
you kiss his neck. just once. just to see.
he turns toward you, fast. his hand finds your thigh, firm. warm. he doesn’t pull you in, just rests it there, like he’s asking.
you give the tiniest nod.
the cab stops at the villa. you don’t remember walking up to your room. you only remember the way he stood behind you in the elevator, not touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat rolling off of him like a second sun.
your hands shake when you unlock the door.
he steps inside like he’s crossing a line he’s been staring at all week.
you don’t say anything.
neither does he.
you just look at each other for one long, burning second.
then you kiss him.
and it’s over.
his lips are soft. a little unsure at first, like he’s still testing the edge of whatever this is. but the second you pull him closer. fingers tugging at the back of his shirt, your body pressed tight to his. he makes this sound, low and breathless, like he’s finally letting go of whatever he’s been holding in. his hands roam your waist, your hips, your back. he doesn’t settle anywhere for long. like he doesn’t know where to start, or maybe like he wants to touch all of you at once.
you drag him backwards toward the open balcony doors, kissing him between steps, stumbling a little because neither of you can stop. the night air is thick and warm as it rushes over your skin, but it doesn’t cool anything. your blood’s still boiling. the moonlight floods in, pale and heavy, painting both of you in silver. you back him into one of the balcony chairs and straddle his lap, your dress sliding up as you settle your weight onto him. he’s already hard beneath you.
he curses under his breath and grips your thighs, looking up at you like you’ve just knocked all the air out of his lungs. “say something,” he whispers, voice shaky, like he needs it.
you lean down, lips brushing his ear, and murmur, “você quer me ouvir gemer?” his breath stutters. his grip tightens. “what… what does that mean?”
you smile, press a kiss to his jaw. “you want to hear me moan?”
he groans, a real, full-body kind of sound. “fuck.”
you rock your hips against him, slow and cruel, grinding down once just to see what he does. his head drops back, mouth falling open, eyes fluttering shut. he looks so pretty like this. flushed, panting, already falling apart and you’ve barely touched him.
you kiss down his neck, soft and slow, and whisper against his skin, “você fica assim só de me ouvir?” he gasps, doesn’t understand, not really, but he nods anyway. his voice is barely a whisper. “i don’t even know what you’re saying but… fuck, keep saying it.”
you hum in approval and guide his hands up your thighs, under your dress. his fingers are warm and a little shaky, sliding over your skin like he’s not sure he’s allowed to. you let him touch, let him get bolder. when he finally reaches your underwear and pushes it to the side, he groans again, fingers slipping into the wet heat waiting for him.
your head drops to his shoulder as you roll your hips into his hand. “isso,” you murmur. “assim.” he starts to get the rhythm, fingers pumping slowly, the heel of his palm pressed against your clit. your whole body tenses with how good it feels, how perfectly desperate he is. his other hand grips your thigh like he’s holding on for balance. “you’re so fucking wet,” he whispers, almost like it hurts. “jesus, what do you do to me…”
you sit up, your breath coming quick, and look at him. he’s wrecked. cheeks flushed, eyes heavy, his cock straining under his pants. he looks like he’d let you do anything to him.
“tão obediente pra mim,” you murmur. so obedient for me.
he whines. actually whines.
“tell me what to do,” he begs. “say it in portuguese. please.”
you smile. slow, dangerous. and lean down until your forehead rests against his. your voice is a whisper. “tira a roupa.”
take off your clothes.
he moves fast, fumbling with the buttons, shrugging off his shirt, then his pants, his boxers. he’s hard and flushed and already twitching against his stomach, leaking at the tip. you don’t look away. don’t hide how much you want him.
you slide off his lap and stand up, pulling your dress over your head in one slow motion. his eyes never leave you. you take your underwear off last, slow enough to torture, and when you step out of it, he looks like he might lose his mind.
“come here,” you say, softer now. he does.
he steps into you like he can’t help it. his hands slide around your waist, holding you bare and close, like he’s still scared you might disappear. you kiss him again, slower this time, deeper. his hands wander over your skin like he’s trying to memorize every inch. your stomach. your back. the curve of your hips. he moans into your mouth when your fingers wrap around his cock, slow and easy, like you’re savoring him.
he’s warm and heavy in your hand, already leaking, already pulsing. he drops his head to your shoulder and groans when you stroke him once, twice. you press soft kisses to his temple and whisper, “gosta disso?” – you like that?
he nods, desperate. “yes. fuck, yes.”
you guide him back toward the balcony chair again, but this time you keep him standing. you sink to your knees in front of him, lips brushing over his hipbone as you say, “olha pra mim.” look at me.
he does. dazed. shaky. ruined already and you haven’t even started.
you take him in your mouth slowly, letting the heat of you melt around him. he gasps, one hand flying to your hair but not forcing, just holding, grounding. his thighs tremble. every time your tongue moves he lets out this soft, broken sound like he’s losing the ability to hold back.
you pull off with a soft pop, breath warm on his skin, and say, “você quer gozar assim ou dentro de mim?”
he whimpers. “what, what does that mean?”
you stand up, press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “do you want to come like that,” you whisper, “or inside me?”
his hands are on you instantly, pulling you into him, mouth crashing into yours. “inside,” he says, rough and breathless. “please. inside.”
you turn and guide him toward the bedroom without another word. the sheets are cool against your back when he lays you down, but it doesn’t last. not with the way he’s kissing you now. like he’s starving. like every second without your body against his is unbearable.
he lines up at your entrance and pauses, forehead pressed to yours, eyes searching your face. “tell me if you want me to stop,” he says.
you shake your head. “i won’t.”
then he pushes in.
slow, careful, inch by inch until you’re full, stretched around him, your breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan. his mouth falls open like he’s never felt anything like this. like you are something unreal.
he stays still for a second, buried deep inside you, trying to breathe.
“fuck,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “you feel… oh my god.”
you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, legs tightening around his waist.
“move,” you whisper. “go slow.”
he does. every thrust deep and deliberate, like he wants to feel all of it. your nails scrape down his back and he moans. you say his name in portuguese, soft and breathy, and he thrusts harder without meaning to. he says your name in return, like a prayer.
his hands are everywhere. your hips, your thighs, your face. he kisses you through it, messy and open-mouthed. every time you whisper something in portuguese, he moans louder. me fode assim. isso. não para. he doesn’t know what the words mean but his body does.
you feel him start to tremble. he’s close. you are too.
“don’t stop,” you gasp, clinging to him, your voice broken now. “don’t stop, i’m right there-”
he fucks you through it, chasing your high, his name falling from your lips in pieces.
you come first. hard and fast and full-body, your legs shaking, mouth open in a silent cry. jimin groans as you clench around him, and within seconds he’s coming too, deep inside you, hips stuttering, body going stiff before collapsing over you.
you stay like that. tangled up, slick with sweat, chest to chest, both of you breathing like you just survived something.
he presses his lips to your shoulder. then your neck. then your cheek. his hand strokes your side, lazy and warm.
“what did you say earlier,” he mumbles, lips barely moving, “on your knees… that one line… what was it?”
you smile, eyes still closed, voice hoarse. “you’ll have to learn portuguese if you really want to know.”
→ summary: after arriving home late from work, jimin punishes you by making you ride his thigh; but it's not that easy.
→ pairing: dom!jimin x femsub!reader
→ tags: smut, riding, thigh riding, dom, sub, edging, orgasm denial, kissing, soft dom, jimin, bts, punishment, helpless, pet names kinda
→ word count: 3k
→ a/n: I included more dialogue than I usually do soooo I hope u enjoy!
masterlist
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the click of the front door was louder than you intended, echoing through the unnaturally silent apartment. you winced, kicking off your heels with a sigh of relief that was immediately swallowed by the suffocating stillness. it was after one in the morning. way later than you'd promised.
jimin's text from three hours ago burned a hole in your memory: 'waiting for you. don't be too long.' you'd meant to reply, to tell him the client dinner was running over, but your boss had droned on and on, and by the time you'd escaped, all you could think about was getting home. now, the consequences of that silence loomed large, tangible in the darkness of your shared living room.
a single lamp cast a warm, golden glow in the corner, illuminating the sleek lines of the sofa and the empty space on the coffee table where he usually left his book. he wasn't there. your heart started a nervous little rhythm against your ribs. you padded softly towards the bedroom, your stockinged feet silent on the hardwood floor.
the bedroom door was ajar. peeking inside, you saw him.
he was sitting in the armchair by the window, a silhouette against the moonlit glass. he hadn't turned on the main light, leaving him in shadow, but you could see the glint of light on his hair, the sharp line of his jaw. he was just… waiting. he hadn't changed out of his dark trousers and soft black sweater, the one that clung to his biceps in a way that always made your mouth a little dry.
"jimin?" you whispered, your voice barely a breath.
he didn't move. the silence stretched, thick and heavy, pressing down on you until you felt small. this was it. the calm before the storm. you knew him so well, knew the stillness was a far more dangerous sign than any outburst would be. it meant he was thinking, planning, and you were the subject of his thoughts.
"come here," he said, his voice low and even. it wasn't angry, not yet. it was worse. it was controlled.
you obeyed immediately, crossing the room until you stood before him. you could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the faint, clean scent of his cologne mixed with something that was uniquely jimin. you kept your eyes downcast, fixed on your hands clasped in front of you.
"look at me," he commanded.
slowly, you lifted your gaze. his face was partially in shadow, but you could see his eyes. they were dark, intense, and fixed on you with an unnerving focus. he reached out, his fingers gently tracing the line of your jaw, his touch a stark contrast to the cold authority in his voice.
"you're late," he stated simply. it wasn't a question.
"i'm sorry," you rushed out, the words tumbling over each other. "the dinner ran late, my boss wouldn't stop talking, and my phone died and i..."
he held up a hand, and you fell silent instantly. "i don't want to hear excuses. you know the rules. you promised you would be home by eleven. you promised you would text if you were going to be late."
"i know, i just..."
"no," he cut you off again, his voice dropping a register. "you didn't 'just' anything. you were careless. you were disobedient." he let his hand fall from your face, trailing down your neck, his thumb brushing over your pulse point. he could feel how fast your heart was beating. "and you know what happens when you break the rules, don't you, princess?"
a shiver, equal parts fear and anticipation, ran down your spine. you nodded, unable to form words.
"use your words."
"yes," you breathed out. "i… i get punished."
a small, humorless smile touched his lips. "that's right. you get punished." he leaned back in the chair, spreading his thighs slightly. the motion was casual, but it was a clear invitation, a command. "strip. slowly."
your fingers trembled as you reached for the zipper of your dress. the fabric whispered down your body, pooling at your feet in a dark heap. next came your bra, then your panties, until you were standing completely bare before him, the cool air raising goosebumps on your skin. you felt exposed, vulnerable under his steady gaze, which roamed over every inch of you like he was assessing his property.
"good girl," he murmured, though the praise did little to soothe your nerves. "now, come here."
you took a step closer, and he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his trousers, just below his belt buckle. "you're going to ride my thigh," he said, his voice a low purr that vibrated through you. "and you are not going to finish until i say so. do you understand me?"
your breath hitched. thigh riding. it was one of his favorite punishments. it was humiliating, deliciously so, forcing you to use his body for your own pleasure while he remained mostly detached, watching you fall apart. it was a test of control; his over you, and yours over yourself.
"yes," you whispered, your voice thick.
"louder."
"yes, sir."
"good." he patted his thigh, the fabric of his trousers smooth and expensive looking. "climb on."
with a deep, shaky breath, you swung a leg over his lap, straddling him. his hands immediately went to your waist, gripping you firmly and positioning you directly over his powerful thigh. the muscle was hard beneath you, even through the material of his pants. he kept you still for a moment, letting you feel the heat of him, the solid strength of the leg you were about to use.
"remember the rules," he said, his lips brushing against your ear. "no cumming. and i want you to look at me the entire time. don't you dare look away."
you nodded, your eyes locked with his. the intensity in his gaze was almost overwhelming. he was enjoying this, enjoying your submission, the power he held over you.
"move," he commanded.
it was awkward at first. you began to rock your hips, a slow, uncertain rhythm. the friction was minimal, a dull tease against your most sensitive flesh. you could feel the slickness already building, coating his trousers as you moved. a flush of heat crept up your chest and neck, coloring your cheeks. you felt so exposed, grinding yourself on his leg like an animal in heat while he just watched.
"faster," he ordered, his grip on your waist tightening, guiding you into a more forceful rhythm. "don't be shy. you wanted to be late, now you're going to work for my forgiveness."
his words, sharp and degrading in the best possible way, spurred you on. you increased your pace, the friction becoming more intense, more focused. the hard muscle of his thigh pressed perfectly against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through you with every roll of your hips. you couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips.
he chuckled, a low, dark sound. "does it feel good? using my thigh to get yourself off like a desperate little thing?"
you bit your lip, nodding, your eyes still locked with his. you could see the satisfaction in his expression, the way his pupils dilated as he watched you lose yourself to the sensation. his hands roamed from your waist, up your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine before coming around to cup your breasts. he rolled your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, pinching them just hard enough to make you gasp.
"keep moving," he reminded you, his voice a low growl. "don't you dare stop."
you obeyed, your movements becoming more frantic as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly. you were so close. the pressure was building, an exquisite ache that demanded release. you could feel the orgasm right there, just out of reach, and you chased it, grinding down harder, faster, your breath coming in ragged pants.
"please," you begged, the word tearing from your throat. "jimin, please…"
"please what?" he asked, his tone mocking. "please let you cum? have you earned that? have you been a good?"
"i… i can be," you panted, your vision starting to blur at the edges. "i'll be so good, i promise, just please…"
he watched you for a moment, a predator assessing its prey. he could see how desperate you were, how your body trembled with the effort of holding back. he was pushing you, testing your limits, and you were failing so beautifully.
"no," he said, his voice flat and final. "you haven't earned it. slow down."
a sob of frustration caught in your throat. it was the cruelest punishment, to bring you to the very edge of bliss only to deny you. you forced your hips to slow, the rhythm becoming a torturous grind. the pleasure didn't subside, it just simmered, a low, persistent thrum that kept you on edge, desperate for more.
"that's better," he murmured, his hands returning to your hips, holding you in place. "i want you to feel it. i want you to think about what you did wrong. you were careless tonight. you made me worry."
the gentleness in his voice was almost worse than the commands. it was a reminder of the care beneath the dominance, the love that was the foundation for this entire dynamic. you had disappointed him.
the gentleness in his voice was almost worse than the commands. it was a reminder of the care beneath the dominance, the love that was the foundation for this entire dynamic. you had disappointed him. that was the true punishment, not the ache in your thighs or the desperate, unfulfilled throbbing between your legs.
"i'm sorry," you whispered again, the words thick with unshed tears of frustration and genuine remorse. you meant it with every fiber of your being. "i'm so sorry, jimin."
he hummed, a low, thoughtful sound in his chest. "i know you are. but being sorry isn't enough. you need to learn." he shifted his leg slightly, the movement making you gasp as the new angle sent a fresh wave of intense pleasure straight to your core. "now, show me how sorry you are. ride me like you mean it. make me believe you want my forgiveness."
with a choked sob, you complied. you poured all your regret, all your desperation, into the movement of your hips. you rode him with a renewed sense of purpose, your body slick and sliding against the expensive fabric of his trousers. the friction was exquisite, a perfect, maddening pressure against your clit that built the tension in your abdomen back up to an almost unbearable level. your hands, which had been resting on his shoulders for balance, gripped him tightly, your nails digging into the firm muscle through his sweater.
"look at me," he reminded you, his voice firm but not unkind.
your eyes, which had slipped shut in concentration, flew open. the sight of him nearly undid you. his face was still cast in shadow, but his eyes burned with a dark fire. his lips were slightly parted, his gaze fixed on the point where your body met his thigh, watching as you used him for your pleasure. a faint flush colored his own cheeks, and you knew, with a jolt of satisfaction, that this was affecting him too. he wasn't as detached as he pretended to be. his control was a carefully constructed facade, and you were the only one who could see the cracks.
"please," you begged again, your voice ragged. "please, i'll do anything. i need it."
"what do you need?" he prompted, his hands sliding down to grip your ass, squeezing the flesh and pulling you harder against him. "tell me. use your words."
"i need to cum," you cried out, the admission humiliating and thrilling all at once. "please, let me come for you. i want to be good, i want to be a good girl."
he was silent for a long moment, letting you writhe and whimper on his lap. the only sounds in the room were your desperate pants and the wet, slick sounds of your movements. he was enjoying your torment, savoring the power he held. he was the master of your body, the keeper of your pleasure, and right now, he was denying you.
"no," he said again, the single word a devastating blow. "you don't get to cum yet. you're not sorry enough."
tears of pure frustration finally spilled over, tracking hot paths down your cheeks. it was too much. the pleasure, the denial, the humiliation. you felt like you were going to shatter into a million pieces.
"stop crying," he commanded, his voice softening slightly as he used his thumb to wipe away a tear. "you know i hate it when you cry." he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours. "unless they're tears of pleasure. are you going to give me tears of pleasure, princess?"
you could only shake your head, your body trembling uncontrollably. you were so close, so agonizingly close. the coil in your belly was wound so tight it felt like it would snap at any second.
"then i guess you'll have to keep trying," he whispered, before capturing your lips in a punishing kiss.
it was all teeth and tongue, a dominant, claiming kiss that stole the air from your lungs. he devoured you, his tongue exploring your mouth, his teeth nipping at your lower lip. the kiss was a brand, a mark of his ownership, and it sent you spiraling. your hips bucked wildly, grinding against him with abandon, chasing an orgasm you knew you weren't allowed to have.
he broke the kiss, both of you breathing heavily. "slowly," he ordered, his voice strained. "i said slowly."
you tried, you really did. you forced your hips to slow their frantic pace, but your body was fighting you, desperate for release. every slow, deliberate roll of your hips was a form of torture, the pleasure building and building with no hope of relief.
"that's it," he praised, his hands stroking your back soothingly. "just like that. so good for me, following directions even when it's hard."
his praise was a balm and a weapon. it soothed your nerves while simultaneously stoking the fire in your core. you wanted to be good for him. you wanted to please him more than you wanted your own release.
"who do you belong to?" he asked, his voice a low murmur against your ear.
"you," you answered immediately, your voice a breathy moan. "i belong to you."
"and who decides when you get to cum?"
"you do. only you."
"good girl," he said, and this time, the praise felt genuine, earned. "you're learning."
he let you continue like that for what felt like an eternity, a slow, agonizing rhythm that kept you teetering on the very edge of release. your thighs burned with the effort, your body trembled with exhaustion and need. you were completely at his mercy, a puppet with him pulling the strings.
finally, just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he spoke again.
"stop," he commanded.
you froze, your body rigid with anticipation. your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the silence of the room.
"look at me," he said, his voice soft, but still holding an undercurrent of authority. "have you learned your lesson?"
you nodded vigorously, your eyes wide and pleading. "yes. yes, sir. i'll never be late again. i'll always text. i promise."
he studied your face, his eyes searching yours for any hint of insincerity. he must have found what he was looking for, because a slow, satisfied smile spread across his lips.
"good," he said. "because i hate punishing you." he leaned in, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to your forehead. "but i do love watching you fall apart."
his hands moved from your hips, one sliding up to tangle in your hair, the other snaking between your bodies. his elegant fingers found your clit, swollen and sensitive from your exertions.
"i think you've earned your reward," he whispered, his thumb circling the tight bundle of nerves. "cum for me, princess. cum all over my hand. now."
that was all it took. the combination of his words, his touch, and the hours of built-up tension sent you flying over the edge. your orgasm crashed over you with the force of a tidal wave, a blinding, all-consuming pleasure that ripped a scream from your throat. your body convulsed, your back arching as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you. you were dimly aware of jimin's voice in your ear, murmuring praises as he worked you through your orgasm, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault.
when it was over, you collapsed against him, boneless and spent, your body trembling in the aftermath. he held you close, his arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace. for a long time, you just stayed like that, your head on his shoulder, his heart beating steadily under your ear.
"you were so beautiful," he murmured, his lips pressed against your hair. "so perfect for me."
you hummed in contentment, too exhausted to speak. he shifted, standing up with you still in his arms, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. he carried you to the bed, laying you down gently against the cool sheets. he disappeared for a moment, returning with a warm, damp cloth. he cleaned you up with a tenderness that brought fresh tears to your eyes, this time of gratitude and love.
when he was done, he climbed into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms and tucking the blanket around you. you snuggled against him, your head on his chest, feeling safe and cherished.
"i'm sorry i was late," you whispered, your voice sleepy.
"i know," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "but you're forgiven now. get some sleep, princess."
you closed your eyes, a feeling of deep contentment settling over you. the punishment was over. you had learned your lesson. and you were, once again, his good girl.
