jennavsp

[ohhowjooniewept]

spiderman jungkook x y/n

22k>

fluffy & smutty - unedited

—

there were many things you had learned to live without. family was the first.

not in the tragic way people assumed when they first found out, with their faces falling and voices softening as though the very mention of the loneliness that you no doubt were going through had to be handled in a delicate manner. it was always followed up with a note of confusion whenever you’d murmur something about it being a personal choice, finished off with an air of dismissal.

no one knew the lengths you had gone through just to survive them, to survive the abuse - the constant thump of anxiety in your chest wasn’t sustainable, not when you knew it would kill you. leaving had been the easiest thing you had ever done, and yet staying gone had been the hardest.

you had grown accustomed to it a long time ago, now, and had essentially learned that grief eventually became less of an open wound and more of an extra organ tucked tightly within your ribs.

you had no one. nothing.

you wondered what it might have felt like to have someone merely think of you, or even wait for you. perhaps that was the strangest thing about loneliness - you weren’t even sure what the taste of a warm home was like outside of yourself. it was half morbid curiosity, and the other a despairing wonder you knew would surely hurt you more.

there was nobody checking the clock when your shift ran impossibly late, nobody sending increasingly irritated messages demanding to know whether you’d eaten, nobody calling when the weather had turned for the worse to make sure you’d remember to pack an umbrella.

you simply existed, quietly. you made sure to keep yourself small and invisible, and for the most part, you were strangely good at it.

new york was perhaps the easiest place in the world to be left alone without ever actually being by yourself - millions of people tacked tightly, bodies always brushing against one another on pavements and shoulders knocking each other on the subway. there was an art of living here, an understanding, that everyone was fucking lonely.

it felt less lonely to do it together.

your apartment wasn’t much either. a single studio space tucked five floors high on a street that somehow managed to remain nosy no matter the hour, with temperamental heating, a kitchen barely large enough for one person to navigate and a large bedroom window you’d often sit outside on, your feet resting on the old, metal fire escape located just there.

all sorts of people lived in your apartment, knowing there were five or more floors above, with some murmuring that the top floor was quite lavish indeed. you often listened away in the elevator, overlooked, never noticed by the people chattering away as you became one with the walls, tote bag heavy on your shoulder, big eyes fluttering over at them.

most people, however, were not jeon jungkook.

the tall, muscular bachelor who lived on the very penthouse floor that was so often spoke about.

you didn’t know what he did, no one did, but you assumed it was something to do with the sciences considering all of the papers he would always be carrying whenever you’d pass him.

you didn’t really know much about him whatsoever - only that he was young, and terribly handsome. so unfairly beautiful that it had your fingers clutching your bag a little tighter whenever he’d be in your presence, heartbeat picking up embarrassingly so.

for some reason, you were always in the elevator at the same time as he was.

“morning.” he’d gently whisper to you, quiet and soft, in the elevator, paired with a little grin that had you matching it on your face as you murmured the same greeting back.

you’d immediately become fascinated with the illuminated numbers on the wall, cheeks flushing a deep red that you hoped he wouldn’t notice - pathetic. you had never even spoken for longer than a minute, and yet your heart was doing somersaults at the sight of him.

once, he had even helped you with your groceries. it was a rare day off, your shoulders hurting, as you carried your brown bags of groceries through the city, finally meeting your apartment foyer only to have them all break apart, your fruit falling out of your arms immediately.

the apples scattered, all whilst you let out a sound akin to a whimper, feeling your shoulders utterly slump at the sight. you could feel the humiliation rising as you began to crouch down, and though no one was there to watch you, you could feel your eyes sting wet in embarrassment.

“got you.” you had heard, your eyebrows pulling in confusion as you looked up.

your gaze was met by none other than jungkook himself, arms already filling up as he managed to grab a hold of a big majority of your groceries, picking up the apples one by one with utter ease before giving you a small grin.

“you okay?” he had murmured as you also helped, your cheeks bright pink.

“yeah, i’m sorry.”

“why are you apologising?” he had tilted his head at you.

you didn’t know what to say. didn’t know how to answer him. that, alone, added to the humiliation in your chest.

without even letting you ponder, he whispered a gentle come on, before leading you to the elevator, all the way up to your floor. you struggled to look away from the way his arms bulged, his muscles on show as he held your groceries with utter ease, tattoos lining up his arm as though it was natural. you were half in awe, other in bashful attraction.

you remembered how large he looked in your hallway, how intensely he stood in your kitchen as he placed your things away for you despite your dismissal. he was sweet personified, despite his intimidating look, and for that, you cursed him. the swirl in your stomach just looking at him had forever been altered by the knowledge he really was as warm as he would always be in the elevator.

“thank you, jungkook.” you had whispered by the end of it.

you, unfortunately, had been completely oblivious to the way his hands shook at the mere sound of it.

oh, how clueless you were, so shallow in your thinking to assume that jeon jungkook wasn’t head over heels in love with you, his sweet, angelic girl.

he couldn’t fucking breathe around you, always swallowing up your scent whenever he was beside you as though it was a gift, greedy in his nature, always wanting to take, take, take. his dna had been altered years ago, arachnid senses creating an animalistic nature to him that only seemed to heighten whenever he was around you - his brain screaming; yelling even, that you were his, all his.

his hearing had always been excessively sensitive, always doing his best to listen in whilst he sat in his own apartment. he could hear neighbours moving around in their homes, no matter the floor, no matter the distance, so used to being inside their minds that he could distinguish them by breath alone. it was yours he was most fixated on.

couldn’t help himself from recognising yours first.

and he certainly couldn’t help the strange little warmth that gathered inside of his heart every single time the elevator doors opened up, revealing you stood outside, waiting to get in.

pretty. sleepy. coffee in both hands. always offering him that shy, little smile.

“morning.”

“hi.”

that was enough. it had to be.

because jungkook had learned very early on that wanting something and being allowed to have it were two completely separate things.

you were so soft, so gentle, that the thought of him getting his hands on you were enough to have his dna spike. he wanted you more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life, and he wasn’t an idiot - he could hear your heart. could hear the way it would beat so much faster around him, or the sound of your blood rushing to your cheeks, the way your eyes would sneakily stare at his biceps. you wanted him too, and that killed him. it killed him to know you could be his so easily and yet he wasn’t allowed.

you deserved somebody normal. somebody that wasn’t fucking spiderman.

he had lost everyone too. his uncle ben, his aunt may. had let go of all his friends because he knew it was only a matter of time until they were used against him, and that just wasn’t something he could live with. the thought of you, so warm, so small and quiet, targeted by people who’s only existence was based on evil itself, simply because you were his was enough to kill him.

you deserved boring. you deserved someone who was mundane.

somebody who’s nights didn’t consist of bloody knuckles and healing on the bedroom floor, or somebody who could promise you dinner and arrive with certainty at the correct time. someone’s who’s enemies wouldn’t destroy you by discovering what you meant to him.

jungkook knew what happened to the people he loved, and he had lost far too much for you to become one of them.

and so, you remained the beautiful girl that lived downstairs that had him chained, lock and key, with your mere presence. destined to constantly breathe your scent in as you stood by him, bodies barely brushing together, interacting in small beats each morning in the elevator only to be left a mess.

fuck.

—

the bookstore closed at eleven.

you typically left at eleven ten, but tonight, an older couple had come in asking for recommendations 2 minutes before closing, and you couldn’t bring yourself to turn them away. you hadn’t minded, not that you ever did, but by the time you helped them choose something, and wrapped it in the brown paper whilst they searched for exact change in their wallets, the clutch mounted above the register read eleven fourty. 

you cringed a little, knowing that meant your walk home would be significantly different. 

you completed the final checks alone, flicking off all the smaller lights and finishing up your cleaning before you stepped outside, locking the door behind you.

the city was quieter than usual - not that you’d ever really seen it this late in this area.

you breathed out slowly. it took you fifteen minutes to get home, and you knew the route well enough that you could do it blindfolded.

left at the pharmacy, straight for three streets and then across the twenty-four-hour laundromat. most of the shops closed at the same time as your walk home, but considering how late you were done, you knew it would certainly be silent.

your apartment wasn’t particularly safe, nor was the neighbourhood surrounding it, but the rent was expensive and you had survived far worse places than this - it also helped knowing you lived in close distance to your crush, a thought that felt oddly sweet whenever you’d think about it.

you knew the rules.

key between your fingers, phone charged, headphones inside your ears but not loud enough that you couldn’t hear the world around you - don’t stare, don’t stop, don’t engage. if someone scared you, go somewhere busy. if someone followed you, don’t lead them home.

you were repeating the mantra in your head, calming your racing heart, only for it to come to a stop as you began hearing someone behind you.

“hey.”

you heard him immediately. your eyes remained forward.

“hey, sweetheart.”

you flinched a little, fingers curling around the strap of your tote as you continued to walk. two separate voices.

“you deaf?” one laughed, making your shoulders raise further as you realised there were three.

your stomach sank.

you noticed them vaguely when you had left your workplace - three men stood outside the corner shop at the end of the street, smoking, one leaning against the brick wall whilst the others spoke loudly enough that you’d crossed the street without consciously deciding to. you had hoped that would have been enough to protect you, but it was clear that it hadn’t been.

“damn she’s rude.”

your heartbeat had begun changing, beating so loudly that it was all you could hear. they were laughing at you, enjoying the way you were trying to get in hurrier motions all whilst their footsteps got louder.

you swallowed, unable to look at them, hoping they’d get bored. men like this typically did when you refused to acknowledge them. you kept telling yourself that you’d be home soon, and that with another few streets, they’d disappear and leave you alone, that they’d find something else to be interested by.

“nice skirt.”

your hands began to shake.

“where are you going?”

every step you took to bring you there faster only resulted in them walking faster too. the fear in your mind and chest didn’t arrive dramatically, but instead built upon itself, climbing harshly through your throat until it had your eyes watering. 

your hand disappeared inside your coat pocket and closed around your phone, making your fingers still for a moment - who could you even call? the question appeared before you had given yourself a chance to unlock it. 

your co-worker was already underground, your manager living a whole fourty minutes away. you didn’t have friends, still too new to an area you were unfamiliar with, and you certainly didn’t have family. no mother whos number you could press without thinking, no father that would rush out the door to protect his little girl. no brother, no sister, no cousins or aunts, uncles and grandparents. nobody sitting inside your apartment wondering why you hadn;t turned your key in the lock yet.

you had spent years telling yourself that there was a sort of freedom in being alone, only to feel the danger of it in real time. 

your apartment building appeared at the far end of the street and for a moment, you could feel your heart leap, before it sank deep inside your stomach. 

you couldn’t go home. how could you go home?

if they watched you enter, they’d know where you lived. they’d know that the only home with a stable fire escape by the massive window belonged to you, an easy way to access you whenever they liked - the thought had a sob climbing up your throat. you’d never be able to sleep properly again.

so, you walked past the final turn. away from home.

tears were slipping down your face, not that you even noticed, the fear practically gripping you by your very soul.

“aw,” the voices were closer, and closer. “she’s crying.”

your lips trembled, shakily wiping your face as you took in your surroundings. shops, closed. no one was on the streets this late, no one was stupid enough - it was this hour of night where the evil liked to play, and you were seeing it first-hand for yourself.

you kept turning, going into another street, and then another, realising that they were enjoying the chase more than anything. you wanted to call 911, but even you knew they wouldn’t help you, especially not fast enough. you were alone with a bunch of men who didn’t bother to pretend, didn’t bother to hide their very intention, laughing each time you increased your pace.

a gust of wind had your skirt rising a little, only to have it followed by a loud whistle, a small whine of genuine fear releasing from under your breath.

you could feel it begin to paralyse your mind, and without thinking, you turned once more, heading straight into the nearest street despite not being familiar with the route. your entire body stopped when you realised you had settled yourself into a dead end. 

just as you had come to a stop, so did the footsteps behind you.

slowly, you turned, hands shaking by your chest as you made eye contact with three separate men - one smiled, hardly friendly, whilst the others looked you up and down with a slight snarl.

“please..” you whispered, internally shuddering at how desperate you sounded whilst backing away. 

“we just wanna talk, that’s all.”

“i don’t want to.”

“that’s rude of you, sweets.” one of them smirked, stepping closer. “been trying to talk to you for ten minutes.”

“yeah, you think you’re better than us?” the other scoffed, approaching you openly.

“i just wanna go home. i won’t tell anyone.” you whimpered back, the flood of tears dripping from your face only increasing in volume which only seems to egg them on.

you ended up closing your eyes, just as the one on the end lunged for you, hand gripping your wrist in what could only be described as painful, yanking you forward until you had fallen onto your knees. you could feel the soreness on your legs, scraping them against the hard ground, leaving you a whimpering mess.

the man reached again, just as your eyes squeezed tighter.

before he could initiate any further contact, the sound of something whipping through the air flooded your ears, a small thud just in front of you that had you looking up slowly. before you could even register anything, the harsh hold on your wrist was lifted, and the man in front had completely disappeared.

you yelped as you heard him scream, yanked into the air and his body slamming into the brick wall just a few metres away, thick, white webbing wrapping around his chest and legs so tightly, it rendered him immobile.

you scuttered back almost immediately, eyes shooting up to finally see what had happened.

a figure of red and blue landed in front of you in a low crouch, figure rising slowly. broad shoulders began to obscure your view of the other men entirely, with a single black spider stretching across his back.

oh, you knew that suit. you knew it just as well as any other resident of the city, your eyes blinking in utter disbelief.

“you know, when someone’s crossing the street to get away from you.” his head tilted at the other two men, who had fallen, inching away with wide eyes. “and they’re crying, and begging you to stop.. at what point does your brain go, yeah, she definitely wants me to keep following?”

“fuck off!” one managed to shout at him, though it was laced with genuine fear.

“right,” the stranger laughed a little. “that’s what i expected you to say.”

he stepped forward, into the moonlight, the streetlights glinting against his suit to confirm he truly was the only person that could save you in a situation like this.

spiderman.

before you could think any further, he shot additional webs at the two left near you, forcing them onto the wall in precarious positions that no doubt was not comfortable, almost doing it in a way that felt comical.

everyone knew spiderman’s moral code of conduct - never kill, never purposefully injure. he simply aided in getting the bad guys into the hands of the police, and he prided himself on being composed, always going out of his way to disarm and suspend to make sure everyone would be safe. those were the rules he had created for himself, to ensure he wouldn’t go too far considering his strengths well surpassed that of the normal man - too much strength, his speed unmatched. it would always be an unfair fight.

jungkook rolled his shoulders, his suit so perfectly moulded to him that it looked like a second skin. this was a pretty easy situation, a bunch of sleazy men that he had gotten rid of quickly, with the authorities already alerted through his ingrained system.

turning around to finally face you, you watched as his goggles widened, indicating the size of his eyes at the mere sight of you.

that coat. cream and slightly too big for your frame - he’d recognise it anywhere. recognised it from the millionth times he’d stan beside you in the elevator, so desperate to brush his fingers against your own but fighting the urge in hopes it would protect you.

and yet, here you were, flooded in tears, on the floor.

his stomach dropped, a small chanting of no echoing in his mind and his eyes moved upwards, examining your face to confirm his worst nightmare.

you.

his angel girl. his sweet, sweet neighbour with the large eyes and cute pout, always muttering a shy hello.

his girl.

jungkook could feel something heavy in his throat as he stepped back just slightly, fingers tingling and body aching at the mere prospect of breaking each and every limb on the bodies of the men that had targeted you - his fucking girl. his. all his.

you were so small in that moment, knees to your chest with tears streaming down your face, clutching your bag in front of you as though it provided a sense of protection from the men now dangling above. you couldn’t believe spiderman was in front of you, in all of his glory, muscles defined against his suit and mask concealing his identity perfectly - and yet, you watched the way his goggles moved in perfect unison to his eyes, widening and squinting, narrowing and sharpening.

the sound of your heartbeat was enough to have his brain swirl, heavy and loaded as he began approaching you, all whilst your breath hitched, too large eyes reaching his through his mask in half fear and other relief. he wanted to cradle you, hide you away, make sure no one could ever touch you again all whilst his mind practically screamed at him.

he had stayed away. he had been good and done the right thing, not approaching you and making sure you couldn’t get too close despite smelling the very attraction radiating off of you. he wasn’t sure he had ever wanted anything more in his life and yet, he had placed you first, and for what?

for the haunting realisation that the world was fucked and out to get you regardless?

it swam in his bloodstream, the anger, the confusion and rage, as he finally crouched in front of you.

“hey,” he whispered, so gentle, a juxtaposition to what he had just done. “it’s okay.”

in response, you could only whimper, body shaking rapidly in front of him. it was cold out, and the air was only getting more and more chilled.

“look at me.”

at that, you met his gaze, leaking eyes only crying harder at the prospect of safety in front of you.

“did they do that?” he asked you, goggles flicking downwards.

you felt so overwhelmed, too confused to register his words, only making him repeat them even softer to you, your eyes trailing downwards do see the harsh markings around your wrist from where you had been grabbed earlier. you were always so quick to bruise, but the horrible red and soon to be blue sheen on your skin was a mere confirmation that all of this was real.

“h-he grabbed me.” you finally managed to speak through your cries.

jungkook nearly whined at the sound of you so upset, so afraid - it was enough to make a man like him angry, a dangerous thing given his abilities. he visibly shook in front of you, and your brain couldn’t register why, especially given the nature of his job. surely he had seen worse, done worse, and yet here he was, crouched in front of you, fingers gently grazing over the bruise as though this was the worst thing on earth.

“which one?”

your brows knitted together. “huh?”

“which one touched you?” he repeated, a little firm this time.

something in his voice frightened you, a confusing conclusion as your eyes unconsciously moved past him, making eye contact with one of the sleazy men before returning to his.

jungkook had followed your gaze, confirming his suspicions.

“fuck.” he whispered, breathing audibly changing. “need you to do something f’me, okay?”

the slight slur in his words had your shoulders raising as you sniffled through your tears, nodding lightly.

“need you to close your eyes for me. you’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

you shifted in confusion, uncertain as your fingers curled around your bag again. “why?”

“don’t want you to see what i’m gonna do next.”

your lips parted. “s-spiderman.”

his attention immediately returned to you, pulled out of his murderous haze just slightly as though your voice had pulled him from his rage, soothed it enough to bring him back to reality. that was..new.

“you’re safe now, okay?” he promised you, stepping closer to you until his knees were touching your bag, your faces unusually close. “nothings gonna happen to you, but i need you to close your eyes for me.”

another tear rolled down your eyes as you nodded faintly, lips quivering a little just as his hands turned into fists, no doubt desperate to cradle you and comfort you the way you deserved.

immediately, your eyelids fluttered closed, lashes wet and coated in tears as he watched you pull up your hands as an afterthought, hiding your eyes from underneath. his heart clenched at the sight of you so trusting of him, his ego inflating for the first time in his entire life at the knowledge his girl, his sweet, sweet girl knew she was in safe hands without even knowing it was him.

something dangerously similar to devotion swirled in his mind just as he turned around, facing the three men in front of him.

you had done exactly as he asked, hands clenching around your face as you made sure to instil the darkest environment around you, plunged into nothingness whilst the horrible sounds of pleads and bones breaking filtered through the air. you winced uncontrollably, enough for him to notice no doubt, all whilst he flew in the air, causing him to take the men out of earshot so he really could do whatever he wanted.

by the time he was done, he knew he had gone too far. he knew he had gone against every inch of his moral code, his suit bloodied and rage at an all time high - the arachnid dna was polluting his mind and body, but he truly couldn’t help it. his girl. they had touched his sweet, sweet girl.

he dropped from the high building, webbing through the sky until he dropped right in front of you, and took a few measured steps closer. you were still curled against the wall, legs packed so tightly against your body as your hands completely covered your face, still crying, still whimpering.

“hey,” he softly whispered, approaching you like you were a fawn. “it’s me.”

your fingers trembled over your eyes just as he crouched down right in front of you.

“it’s all over.” he assured you again.

“..can i look?”

his heart broke at the sound of you asking permission.

“yeah, baby. you can look.”

the endearment escaped him before he could even ponder over his words, but it was exactly what your brain needed as your hands slowly lowered from your face.

your eyes were swollen from your tears, face blotchy, makeup ruined. he couldn’t help but stare at you, breath taken away, despite the situation.

he watched a you peered behind him, assessing the situation not because you didn’t trust what he was telling you, but to have it confirmed in your own mind. only then did your hands fully drop, sniffling away as he got closer and closer, almost cooing at you, hands pushing your hair out of your face as though he wasn’t covered in blood. you noticed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask, your body too exhausted from the adrenaline that was slowly dissipating.

“are they gonna follow me?” your bottom lip trembled.

he shook his head immediately, body a little too close to yours but it only provided the very comfort you actually needed.

“no, don’t worry about them. they’re never gonna come near you again.”

you nodded, another few tears falling as you let out a little breath of relief.

“promise?”

“promise you.”

he watched you as your brain slowly caught up to you, his eyes trailing over the way your knees had slowly began bleeding, scraped from the fall leaving your skin broken, wrist looking similar with its hellish bruise. the knowledge that another man had held you so tightly as a means to hurt you was enough to have him rolling his shoulders back, jaw aching with the thought of going back and truly ending their lives.

something ugly was pulling at his chest.

“you’re hurt.”

you looked up properly, sniffling. “hm?”

“hm.” he repeated, hand darting out to properly push your hair behind your ear. “your knees hurt?”

“oh it’s..it’s fine. hurts a little.” you admitted, eyes darting all over his mask.

the anonymity of it all only had you wanting more, the sudden thirst for truth unfortunately pulling at your chest. you weren’t special in that regard, knowing that most people that met spiderman were intrigued by him, his almost charismatic nature enough to have people urging for more, wanting nothing but to have the truth of who he is. you were ashamed to say you felt it too, that familiar pull that people talked about online. you were just like them.

he nodded at you, blowing gently against your knees to give them some reprieve from the pain, dulled by the material covering his mouth and yet it reminded you that he was real. a real human behind material.

“come here.”

you blinked. “what?”

he began to stand, head tilting back for a moment, shoulders rolling once more before he stretched out his hand. large with long digits, so much bigger than your own, and you immediately took it without even thinking, body already knowing him as safety defined as you stood.

your knees buckled almost immediately.

before you could even fall, he grabbed you with a single arm, swooping you up with ease.

“o-oh.”

“easy.” he murmured, face awfully close to your own as he pulled you up, your feet no longer on the ground as he held you safely.

you could feel him so entirely. hard muscle and warmth, bicep curling around you in a way that had you feeling engulfed as you were pressed against a chest that seemed to go on forever. you couldn’t fathom him being so much bigger than you, but oh, how good it felt. your hands immediately met on his pecs, breath shaking, tears finally drying up.

it felt strange.

being held by him, it felt familiar and comfortable, which was alarming considering he was a complete stranger to you, and you found yourself curling close to him openly. you swore you could feel his breath hitch.

in response, he wrapped his other arm around you, pushing you up further into his arms so you’d be held a little more comfortably.

“gonna take you home, okay?” he whispered gently against you, too sweet for a man that had just displayed a level of violence that went above human.

your eyes flickered to the end of the alley, shuddering in his arms as you remembered how you got here in the first place.

“i can walk.” you murmured quietly, though that was the last thing you wanted to do.

“no.” his voice was firm. “not letting you walk home after that.”

you swallowed.

“kinda need to walk to get home.”

the lighthearted nature of what left your mouth had a small laugh leaving his lips, enough to have you forming a shaking grin yourself, the silliness of the circumstance sort of easing you both as you curled deeper into his arms. he could feel the anxiety lessen in your body, feeling it deep within his own and it only made his arm tighten around you as he prepared the webs in his other.

“how do you think i get around?” he laughed a little at you.

“wait..no way.”

“yeah.”

“what, like on instagram? like, seriously?”

“am i going viral on there?” he hummed back, genuinely curious whilst you stared at him with open eyes and an open mouth.

you simply stared at him, agape.

“gonna need you to hold on tight f’me, okay?” he suddenly moved your hands away from his chest and guided them up, around his neck instead. “you ready?”

“wait!” you squeaked almost immediately, clinging to him. “what if you drop me?”

“i won’t drop you.”

“no, but what if you do?”

“then i’d catch you.”

you swore you could see him grinning through the mask, his goggles giving him a sort of mischervious look.

“that isn’t reassuring!” you huffed.

“i promise. i’m really good at swinging, but you gotta hang real tight.”

before you could even say anything else, he shot a web out at the nearest building and yanked both of your bodies up, holding you as though you quite literally weighed nothing. the shriek that left your lips echoed into the night, your arms clinging to his neck in a death grip.

you could even register when he had started a new web and when one ended, swinging through the air with a practised ease that you know you’d be thinking about later. for now, you were scrambling against him, clinging to his arms in overwhelming adrenaline.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” you chanted in his ear through inhales of breath, the wind whipping through your air as you pressed your cheek against his through the mask.

he couldn’t help the laugh, or the smile that was pulling on his lips. his girl, in his arms, all whilst he swung through new york to take her home. it was a sort of exhilaration he couldn’t replicate, and now that he’d had a taste, he couldn’t fathom ever having anything else. oh, he had crossed the line in so many ways in the span of a few minutes and he didn’t give a fuck. he had no intention of ever stopping.

another web fired. you shrieked again, hiding your face against his cheek, closing your eyes as you breathed directly into his mask, feeling him even more intimately than before.

it wasn’t long until he had landed outside your building, shooting his final web that had your bodies moving up and finishing up on the old fire escape. he noticed you were still tucked against him, no doubt the adrenaline blinding your vision and thoughts, unaware you were both stationary.

fuck, you were so cute.

he slid through your open window, finally standing in the middle of your tiny apartment, his arm tight around you, but his other hand coming up to gently brush against the back of your hair.

“hey.”

you simply made a noise of pure fright back at him. he couldn’t help the laugh that followed.

“you’re safe. we’re home.”

“huh? promise?” you mumbled out, eyes shooting open to look around you.

immediately, your arms slowly lessened in grip once you realised you really were stood in front of your bed. the familiar warmth of your lamps that you had forgot to turn off again, and the pink of your duvet and plushies that all sat in a row. embarrassingly enough, your spiderman toy that you often snuggled with sat bang in the middle, no doubt noticed by the real thing as you slid out of his grip, humiliated that you had all but thrown yourself on him for a moment there.

confusion quickly replaced the feeling of adrenaline and fear as you looked around openly before meeting his gaze, body still inappropriately pressed against his despite the fact there really wasn’t any reason to be.

“this is my apartment.” you whispered up at him.

he didn’t respond, fingers curling into your skirt just slightly.

your brows furrowed as you looked at him. “how did..you know where i live?”

again, his only response was silence as he gently placed his arms on your waist, looking down at you. underneath the suit, his heart was beating a million miles per hour, almost desperate to tell you how deeply he knew you, how he sat in his own apartment a few floors up listening to your very breath and footsteps just to ease his mind. how could he explain that every time you stood by him in the elevator, it provided just the right amount of motivation to get him through his vigilante actions?

your fingers were curled into him, right where his stomach sat, nails digging into his hard rock abs through heavy material as your eyes met.

the confusion, the way you were looking at him, the way your eyebrows furrowed - you were driving him insane.

you swore you could see him visibly falter.

“you should lock your window.” he whispered, instead of responding down to you, skirt beginning to bunch in his hands.

you hated how much you liked the feel of it.

“..w-what?”

“fire escape right outside. easy access.” he grunted a little, voice husky. “you need to keep it closed, and locked.”

you nodded, throat tight, eyes blinking up at him.

before you could open up your eyes properly, or offer a rebuttal, he finally took a step back. the loss of warmth was beyond jarring as you watched him part from your smaller frame, letting go of your skirt so it could hide the skin he had revealed, watching as your hands slipped from his own body as a result.

looking at him, blood seeping through his suit, shoulders so much wider in person; you couldn’t help but feel your mouth water. was it fucked up to feel attracted to someone you couldn’t even see? even you recognised how insane that was and yet your hands itched to go back to the position you were just in.

he turned, making his way to the window, no doubt to leave, only to be stopped by your loud whimper as you rushed over to him, grabbing him by his arm.

“wait!” you had exclaimed.

you watched him look down, staring at your smaller hand on his much larger bicep, before looking at your face, head slightly tilted.

“thank you.” you whispered, eyes large.

jungkook stilled.

the sincerity behind your voice felt heavy both in his mind and body, as he turned his head to face you, despite being ready to leave. he hated the way you said it - as though you felt like it wasn’t enough to properly describe what you meant and yet there was no equivalent in the language you shared. you owed him nothing. he wanted to scream that at you.

instead, he settled. “you don’t have to thank me for anything.”

“i do. i don’t..i don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t there.”

your hand remained on his arm, curling into the material again.

if only you could see the way his jaw clenched at your words, moving from the window frame to properly turn to you once more, height completely engulfing yours as you tilted your head to meet his gaze.

“don’t say that shit.”

“but..”

“no.” his voice was firm. “you’re here, and you’re safe. don’t think like that.”

you stared at him for a moment, nibbling away at your lips as you eventually nodded, understanding.

you couldn’t help but lower your eyes down, down, down.

before you could overthink your next actions, your hands raised gently, slowly even, as you reached for his mask, fingers gently brazing the end of his neck where the edge of his suit connected to the mask hiding his face.

immediately, jungkook reacted out of pure instinct, hands grabbing your own. his grip wasn’t harsh by any means, as though his body recognised you as something entirely different, merely holding too gently given what you were doing. both of you froze for a moment before you snapped back into what you were going to do.

you couldn’t breathe, and yet he was worse, as you gently began to pull his mask up. slowly, it raised to reveal his neck, milky and golden all at once, his adam’s apple coming into view, allowing you to watch his throat visibly gulp. you pushed it further to reveal his chin and jaw, hardened as he clenched it, feeling your fingers on bare skin. it wasn’t until you revealed his lips, mask now tucked right underneath his nose that you pulled your hands back down to his chest.

your breath mingled with his own, bodies managing to become so intimately close once more, as you took a brave step forward, your hands flat against his pecs.

leaning forward, you gently pressed your lips against his cheek, catching the corner of his mouth in the process.

his hands were on your body, harsh and firm, grabbing onto your back and stomach in a way that showed your effect on him in real time.

you pulled back, lips grazing down to his jaw, finishing against his neck before your fingers pulled his mask back down, a silent thank you that managed to convey exactly how you felt whilst still offering yourself the piece of him you desperately needed in that moment. selfish, even you could recognise that, but with the way he was holding you, you knew he wanted you just as much.

spiderman was affected by you.

you.

you couldn’t understand it. you were no one to him. nobody, not someone anyone really knew and yet he was a mess beneath your body, his inhales and exhales enough to drive your mind into overload.

“goodnight.” you whispered to him in finality, just as he dropped his forehead to touch yours.

he openly nuzzled your nose, your top in his deathly grip as he allowed himself this one prize. the feel of you, so pliant against him, knowing you wanted him just the way he wanted you really was a reward.

alas, he was spiderman in that moment. not jungkook.

the thought nearly killed him as he stepped back finally, gulping visibly as his shaking hands opened the window a little wider.

“lock the window.”

“i will.”

“promise me.”

you grinned a little. that was your line.

“i promise.”

with that, you watched him step out; a web immediately transporting his larger frame away from you in what felt like utter seconds all whilst you found yourself collapsing onto your bed with widened eyes, unable to comprehend what had just happened in the span of half an hour.

what the actual fuck.

— 

you woke up thinking about spiderman.

you felt ridiculous, having dreamt about him the entire night, only to wake up with him lingering both in your mind and against your lips. you found yourself grabbing your spiderman plush only to push it into your face, squeaking loudly over the thought of the night before. your wrist still ached, a hideous purple bruise curving around it as a harsh reminder of what had happened less than twelve hours ago, and yet the only thing you could properly recollect was the way your body had pressed against his so intimately.

his mouth.

fuck.

kissing his cheek, capturing the corner of his lips in a way that felt like you were strangely claiming your own stake on him was wild to say the least.

from waking up, brushing your teeth and showering - it was all you could think about.

it was humiliating considering you didn’t even kiss him properly, merely lifting his mask as though you had any right, a stranger at that, sealing a thank you straight into his skin. it was both mortifying and thrilling, your stomach doing loops whenever you recollected the moment, the reminder of how he had held you so tightly, gripping your clothes in a way that rendered you completely pliant.

by the time you were dressed, you had finally had a talk with yourself, convincing yourself that you needed to behave normally. it wasn’t like you’d see him again anyway, and life eventually had to go back to the mundane whether you wanted it to or not.

it was your day off, with the sun shining bright outside despite the winter chill in the air, lingerthing through the skyhigh buildings throughout the city. you weren’t sure what you wanted to do today, but it was imperative you left your apartment in hopes to get some fresh air, deciding that it was best to actually have your brain thinking elsewhere.

you knew there was a bakery that sat a twenty minute walk away that sold pastries you had been eyeing for weeks. that felt like a good enough justification to you.

grabbing your coat, you checked your window twice to make sure it was locked before heading to the elevator.

the doors opened immediately upon pressing the button.

“morning.”

your heart dropped rapidly right into your stomach as you made eye contact with the one person you had been pondering on for far longer than spiderman.

jungkook.

it was comical, really, how you had spent your entire night and morning pondering over one man only to be met with the ridiculously attractive man you were completely obsessed with. the fresh feeling of humiliation waved over you all again.

he looked so good it genuinely hurt, dressed casually for once in dark joggers and an oversized sweatshirt, hair slightly damp from the shower he had just had. his glasses were low on his nose, papers tucked under one hand and his phone in the other - he managed to look expensive and important all at once, despite his casual wear.

his eyes moved over you. up and down, openly, as though he was finally allowing himself the opportunity to indulge after last night’s events.

you, who was unaware of the situation you were in, where the two men you were thinking of were actually one, found yourself flushing as you shuffled beside him, murmuring a soft hi before tucking your hair behind your ear.

“what happened?”

you blinked for a second, turning your head to look up at him. your brain tickled in recognition, having looked up the same way last night.

“hm?”

he shoved his phone into his pocket just as his eyes narrowed, his papers still tucked under his arm before his hand darted out and reached for you. his fingers curled gently around your wrist, lifting it up. he stared at the bruising, so much darker than what it had been last night now that it had time to properly settle.

you watched his jaw tighten, a flush of anger flipping through his gaze.

“oh.” you flushed a little, forgetting it had been so visible. “i just..i fell.”

his eyes lifted slowly to yours as though he didn’t believe you whatsoever. you had never quite noticed how intense he looked.

“someone grab you when you fell?”

your heart skipped at the slight harshness in his tone, as though he knew more than he was leading on. it confused you enough to tilt your head at him in response, your lips parting as though you weren’t sure what to say.

“looks like you were grabbed.” he clarified.

he looked down at your wrist, just as you did the same, thumb hovering over evident markings that looked awfully similar to finger marks.

“oh.” you flushed pink. of course. you felt stupid for a moment. “yeah..um..”

your hesitation didn’t go unnoticed by him, his body turning to face you properly all whilst he held your wrist.

a sick part of him wanted you to confirm it. to ask for his help. not spiderman’s, but jungkook’s. so he could stand here and be the man you exactly needed. he couldn’t reveal his identity to you, not until he was sure you actually wanted him in the exact way he wanted you - it wasn’t fair on either of you.

your cheeks burned further, unsure as to how you were supposed to explain such a situation.

he noticed, of course.

“you okay?” his tone became soft, so intensely gentle that you too found yourself turning to face him, eyes wide.

“i’m okay.” you assured, cheeks still pink. “something um, happened last night but it’s all good now. i promise.”

you watched as he clenched his jaw. somewhere in the back of your mind, you recognised the notion to be familiar, too familiar, and yet you couldn’t quite connect the dots. he looked upset, angry even, as though he was recollecting something.

and oh, how he was. the sound of your knees hitting concrete, hearing you cry in his arms in utter fear after being assaulted all whilst he listened to your heartbeat echo through his head. he hadn’t been able to sleep all night, chasing coffees just to keep him awake so he could ponder on it longer, the rush of it only adding to the adrenaline of it all.

your lips. fuck, your lips.

so soft against his cheek, gliding down so gently to his jaw, ending against his neck, right on his pulse.

it was all he could think about as his head rested against his pillow, listening carefully to hear your soft puffs of air leaving your mouth as you slept - it relaxed him, made his heart rest whilst his mind raced.

now, you were stood in front of him, with your hand in his hand, so pretty and sweet. he wanted to kiss you, but he also wanted to lock you inside your apartment so no one could ever hurt you again.

he gently let go of your hand, watching as you returned to focusing on the numbers on the side panel, cheeks too pink to be anything other than utterly shy. he was obsessed with how adorable you looked, tucking your hair behind your ear, pretending you weren’t as affected as you actually appeared to be.

he couldn’t stop looking at you.

not when the memory of your frame packed so tightly against his body was all he could think about when he peered down.

“you working today?” he murmured, almost desperate for your attention.

you glanced over, surprised by his question. “oh, um, no. not today.”

“no?”

you shook your head, smiling shyly. “it’s my day off.”

“what’re you doing?”

you couldnt help yourself, nibbling away at your lip to stop your smile growing a little. he had always been kind to you, going out of his way to help you with your groceries and hold doors open for you but your conversations rarely extended beyond pleasantries and whatever small interaction the situation allowed for. this felt different, as though he was making a conscious decision to speak to you when he had been somewhat reserved before.

it excited you.

“uh..” you adjusted your tote. “there’s this bakery i’ve had my eye on for a while, and i don’t know. i thought it’d be nice to go get something.”

“where?”

you told him, voice soft.

his eyebrows knitted together. “that’s far.”

you laughed. “it’s only twenty five minutes.”

“fair.” he nodded, expression neutral.

he tried to pretend like the prospect of you walking alone mere hours after what had happened last night wasn't enough to throw his nervous system into fight or flight. if he had it his way, you’d be in his apartment, kept away from anything from the outside world just so he could ensure you’d be safe but alas, even he had enough comprehension to recognise that was hardly humane.

the elevator chimed, rendering the conversation over and the disappointmernt on his face was clear - it was enough to have you biting down your smile further.

you stepped out first, shoving the bag further on your shoulder. “have a good day!”

“you too.” he gently murmured, giving you a small smile back just as the doors closed again.

you didn’t realise that the only reason he had gotten in was to be around you, to just have your scent engulf him in the same way it had done last night. he needed to check in on you, to make sure you were still engaging with your normal routine in case whatever had happened had fucked with you too much.

what he hadn’t expected was to feel a longing for you so severe, he was going upstairs to collect his suit.

-

you had only been walking for three minutes when you started noticing the barely there whipping sounds in the air - far enough to be the wind and yet close enough to start to feel repetitive.

you assumed it was all in your head as you turned to the left, unconsciously walking past the same alleyway you had been cornered in last night. you didn’t recognise it, especially considering you usually didn’t come this way, and now that it was daylight, it all looked so much more different.

what you did notice, however, as you walked past was the police tape sectioning it off alongside the police force actually within the area. your brain didn’t compute the fact that they were there no doubt due to the three men that had been stuck against the wall all night thanks to spiderman, nor because of the sheer brutality he had shown them. you had been purposefully sheltered from it all.

instead, you found yourself looking up to the sky, watching the top of the building beside you in curiosity to see where that odd sound was coming from.

nothing.

strange.

you continued walking.

as you crossed the road, the light flashing green, you heard it again, much louder this time as though it had been closer, causing you to gasp a little, looking up again despite being on a busy street.

just as you reached the other side, your confusions were finally given relief as you noticed a flicker of blue and red. the smallest flash of something your mind couldn’t even comprehend.

your heart jumped in your chest at the possibility, the realisation.

instead of focusing on it, you continued to walk, entering a less busy street which meant you could flick your eyes up each time you heard a swoosh, only to be met with fragments of the same colours, confirming your hypothesis in real time.

spiderman was following you.

you couldn’t help the smile that began to form, a small giggle escaping you.

you pushed ahead, face no longer looking up so you wouldn’t reveal the fact you had figured it out, but the feelings in your body were unfathomable. you felt giddy with glee, shy and excited, your mind constantly repeating the same fact over and over and over and over and over until you were growing pink in the cheeks.

spiderman felt something too.

why else would he be doing this?

sure he had a moral duty to the citizens of new york, but this was beyond that and even you could recognise it. you weren’t in any danger, not at all - you were merely walking the streets to go to a bakery and yet here he was, flinging from building to building in hopes of getting your attention.

you decided to test your theory.

once, by stepping into the florist on your left, heading in, aimlessly smelling the flowers and chatting up a storm longer than ten minutes to which you noticed the same suit perched on a building, no doubt thinking he was out of view. by the time you had left, he was back to swinging.

by the time you reached the bakery, you were trying your hardest not to be overrun by excited giggles, despite the pain in both your wrist and knees.

the little bell over the door chimed as you walked in, warmth engulfing you whilst the scent of sugar in the air soothed any lasting stress in your body from the night before. you took your time, pondering over which baked goods to take home, truly savouring the experience.

you ended up leaving with a little bag of different things to try, feeling on top of the moon which felt like a juxtaposition to what had happened to you hours ago.

tucking it to your chest, you looked up again excitedly only to realise he wasn’t there. you frowned a little, eyes peering to the buildings around you and still nothing.

perhaps he had gone.

the embarrassment in your body at the mere prospect of feeling disappointed was enough to have your cheeks heating as you began the journey home, muttering something to yourself over behaving normally. he was obviously on a patrol of the area, or doing something that actually warranted his attention - he didn’t know you. it was ridiculous to assume it was you he was following around.

before you could wallow up in self shame, the familiar whip of webs being formed had you gasping a little, looking up immediately only to find spiderman sat on the edge of a building, feet dangling.

you were openly looking at him, eye contact heavy, as he tilted his head at you, goggles indicating he was grinning at you. at that, you felt all of your overthinking thoughts dissipate, replaced with the reality that yes, spiderman absolutely was following you.

you smiled up at him, looking away once you realised your heartbeat was beating a little too fast before actually going home.

the sound of webs followed you all the way back.

-

by the time nightfall came, you were settled on your bed, movie on the tv, dressed in the prettiest pyjamas you owned. flimsy, sure, but sweet silky pink shorts paired with a matching camisole that left little to the imagination, all whilst your favourite romcom filled the space.

you wanted to unwind, what with your hair up in a bun of sorts, nails freshly painted and face mask just completed.

the city was quiet tonight, which was rare. the traffic was good for once and the laughter of the residents around you sat a little louder than usual, but the usual buzz that forced everyone to compete and never rest seemed to be missing, as though everyone needed today to recharge just like you. it felt oddly peaceful, reassuring even, to know everyone had decided to take a breath with you.

outside, jeon jungkook was perched on the opposite building, simply staring at you.

he knew it wasn’t right, knew he was being ridiculous and overbearing but he hadn’t been able to move for the past hour and a half. he had done everything he needed, fought the criminals and handed them to the nypd with ease, even practicing his look of confusion when they asked about the utter violence that had happened the night before. he had worked and worked and worked and worked and now, he found himself sat, watching his girl unwind as though he was unwinding with you.

you with your green face mask, that you had promptly washed off and the look of concentration as you painted your nails, your tongue slightly poking out of your mouth. he had never been so enamoured by someone before.

he knew that last night had changed the way his brain thought.

for months, years even, he had promised himself to be as objective as possible - he couldn’t get close to anyone, for their sake and never his own. he couldn’t be selfish, he couldn’t place his wants above what needed to happen for the safety of the people around him. no friends, no family and certainly no lovers and yet, you.

you, his angel girl, who he had wanted nothing more than to speak to, indulging slightly in the elevator even though it made his heart clench each time. you, his sweet girl, who had been attacked even though he had done every single thing right.

it was the realisation that no matter what he did, violence would still exist. anger and rage would still be here, and you would still be a potential target - it made no sense for him to stay away when without him, it was simply louder.

and so, jungkook indulged. he indulged in what he could do by sitting here and watching you, allowing his heart to fall deeper in love with you despite having done everything to fight it. he didn’t want to stop what felt so natural to him, not anymore.

he wanted you.

you were safe here, under his watchful eye. that was how he rationalised it anyway, despite knowing you were home, your window locked just like promised, flauntering around in the tiniest pyjamas he had ever seen.

fuck. the mere sight of you had him sporting a bulge, something he was thankful was kept hidden from you, but he couldn’t help but stare and stare and stare. you were beyond beautiful, but it was something about you now, soft and unfiltered, that had his teeth gnawing. he wanted to have a piece of you, if not all, and keep you to himself.

he wanted so much.

jungkook watched as you stood up, humming a little to yourself, audible from his position due to his hearing, going over to your kitchen. he watched you pour water into your kettle, preparing your mug and tea bag, the domesticity of the situation enough to have his heart beating even faster than usual.

you nibbled against your lip as you waited for the water to warm before finally picking it up, pouring it straight into your cup.

lost in your thoughts, your hand shook slightly, causing a little bit of it to pour elsewhere which wouldn’t have been a big deal hadn’t a splash of it jumped at your hand.

you yelped, startling back whilst your poor finger protested. thankfully, it was only a few droplets but the sting was enough to bring you back to reality.

outside, jungkook was already moving, practically jumping off of the building within seconds as he webbed into the air, throwing another to land onto your fire escape. his heart was slamming against his chest, breath caught somewhere behind his ribs as he watched you up close, eyebrows pulling together all due to a small noise that had escaped your mouth.

his hearing sharpened immediately.

your heartbeat, slowly soothing. your breathing, shocked but steady, and then running water, with your fingers sat beneath it, cooling your skin.

you were fine.

he kept chanting it in his head as his own heartbeat relaxed, hands no longer about to break the window in order to get to you, causing him to step back just slightly. in doing so, his foot scraped against a pebble, causing a small sound that wouldn’t have been noticeable had you not already been on high alert due to the slight stinging pain.

your head turned immediately, eyebrows furrowing as you looked over.

the apartment fell strangely quiet, a false pretense considering you know that you had just heard movement. turning the water off and dabbing your hand dry, you turned towards the window, head tilted.

“hello?”

nothing.

you felt slightly foolish as you approached, opening the curtains and window to again, be met with absolutely nothing. you peered over the buildings around you, looking left and right only to have your suspicious rejected - there was nothing, no one, around you.

just as you were about to turn away, something caught your attention.

a small remnant of web was plastered at the corner of your window. small enough to go unnoticed and yet you knew this was fresh, as though it had just been planted accidentally without thought

the smile that formed on your lips was slight and yet you couldn’t fight it even if you tried, a small shake of your head following as your fingers darted out to touch it. it was oddly adhesive, but not sticky, smooth against your fingers and so, so delicate. it confused you and intrigued you all at the time knowing how strong the substance actually was.

“you’re terrible at cleaning up after yourself.” you murmured out loud, in a sort of dry tone, despite the smile on your face.

your fingers rubbed over the web almost intimately, and jungkook willed his bulge to go away desperately but it was hard when the scene in front of him almost felt erotic. you were touching a part of him, a piece that most weren’t privy to whatsoever, so gently. so delicately as though it was precious.

your eyes fluttered over where you had been burned, just slightly, realising that he had probably heard you yelp in shock. your smile only grew at the thought of him watching you, despite it being so deeply unethical.

“i’m okay, spidey. just a little shock.” you hummed as you retreated your hand, standing up again to gently close it.

the nickname settled deep inside his chest as he blinked from underneath his mask, hanging from the side of the building in ease. he felt his entire body sink slowly at the mere thought of you giving him a nickname, one as playful as that too - it fucked with him. fuck, fuck, fuck.

he couldn’t help himself. god, he knew he shouldn’t and yet he watched you walk away, and the thought unnerved him making him drop down immediately, silent as ever in his actions and gently tap on the window.

you stopped dead.

it was your turn for your heartbeat to hasten.

slowly, already smiling shyly, you turned around only to be met with the sight of spiderman hung upside down, one hand keeping him up with his web from up above and the other slowly waving at you. it was as though gravity had no presence in his life, what with his body suspended in the air so casually.

“hey.” he merely said, as though it was normal.

“..hi.”

you sounded so breathless.

“you alright?”

you really couldn’t help the smile on your face. “mhm. just told you that.”

his head tilted. “yeah, suppose you did. guess i just wanted to hear it again.”

you laughed a little, approaching the window again, properly moving your curtains so you could see him properly, although the window remained closed.

“you’re in the air.”

“technically,” he corrected, with a wag of his finger. “i’m hanging.”

you narrowed your eyes at him.

“you’ve been following me.”

his lenses narrowed after widening momentarily, an almost sheepish nature to him now.

“oh..was i that obvious?”

you gave him a look. “you literally stood outside a florist for like, ten minutes.”

“maybe i just really like flowers?” he tried, only resulting in your giggles.

“you don’t.”

“you can’t prove that.” he hummed back playfully.

“i bet you hate flowers.”

“we’re in slanderous territory.”

“think i’ll tell everyone that spiderman hates flowers.” you hummed back, just as you began opening the window.

“spiderman’s never said that.”

“he didn’t have to. i get it from his vibe.”

at that, it was his turn to laugh, eyes closing momentarily. it felt so good to just converse with you, and be silly with one another as though this was all completely normal - as if he wasn’t hanging upside down in front of you.

“you’ve been smiley all day.” he murmured gently, as you leaned closer towards him, resting against the window frame.

your faces were awfully close.

“have i?” you hummed. “mhm.” he responded.

“does that mean you’ve been watching me all day?”

“maybe.”

“that’s a little creepy.” you teased, tilting your head.

“yeah?”

“maybe a lot creepy.”

“fair. think i’ll do it again tomorrow, though.”

there wasn’t even an ounce of shame in his voice, as he spoke confidently to you as though the subject matter was completely normal. you couldn’t help the bright smile that was beginning to form.

jungkook watched as you took a seat on the window frame, curling a little closer to him so you could properly face him whilst speaking.

“you’re very confident.” you commented with an intrigued hum, continuing to tilt your head.

“not usually.”

“no?”

“not around you.”

your mind faltered at that. you had only met him twice and yet the way he said that indicated something completely other. you didn’t let it show on your face, but you could feel your thoughts begin to merge, trying to rationalise what he meant.

“really?” you pushed.

“you make me nervous.” his honesty felt like a shock to the system.

“spiderman gets nervous?”

“around you? terrified.”

at that, you were a giggling mess, fingers up to your mouth.

“you’re lying.”

“swear.”

“you literally jump off of buildings and fight bad guys.” you said through a giggle, and you could of sworn you felt a hint of a smile through his mask too. “that literally makes no sense.”

instead of responding, he adjusted himself. he still hung upside down, but now, he was so much closer to you, and you were also pulling yourself forward, hands in front of you as you leaned into him. his free hand tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, fingers grazing against your cheek and jaw.

“heights are easy, but..” he murmured. quiet. “you..you’re different.”

“you’re lying.” you repeated, slightly leaning back.

you watched as he leaned forward immediately, stealing your space as though he couldn’t bare having distance between you.

“promise you.”

“hm, i don’t know.” you hummed. “you’ve literally fought like..aliens, but i’m the thing that scares you?”

“..yeah.”

you both laughed. he sounded pathetic. you loved it.

you searched his mask, so desperate to know who he was underneath it all. would his eyebrows pull together the way you imagined them to, or would he smile the same way he had managed to make you do so in the entirety of your time together.

“why?” you softly asked him, almost breathless.

“i don’t know.”

“now you’re actually lying.”

he laughed. “..i’m just trying not to sound weird.”

“try harder.”

you were both a giggling mess, your head tilting forward momentarily, causing your foreheads to brush against each other.

“okay. but you’re gonna think i’m strange.”

“i already think you’re strange, spidey.”

the smile on jungkook’s lips stretched until he was laughing quietly under his breath with a slight shake to his head. his sweet girl - you were cheeky too. he liked it.

the silence that settled between you was soft, hardly awkward as you recognised he was clearly in two minds about something. you couldn’t fight the shaking feeling of familiarity, that something about him felt normal to you, as though you had long become accustomed to him. you couldn’t put your finger on it.

your eyes wandered lower as the memory of yesterday slowly came crashing back down on you. your lips against his skin, so faintly you swore it felt like you hadn’t done it all. the feel of fabric against your fingers, so unlike anything you had imagined it to feel like - sturdier, silkier, softer. even now, staring at him, you longed to do it again.

your cheeks grew pink.

“what?” he quietly questioned as you naturally edged closer.

you hadn’t realised you were openly staring at him.

“oh, nothing.”

“liar.”

that made you smile.

“i’ve just been wondering..i don’t know.”

“wondering about what?” his voice grew softer, encouraging you.

you hesitated for a moment, all whilst he watched you. “just been wondering what you look like.”

he stilled. you could sense it, the way his heart had stopped for a moment, so much so that his body no longer swayed despite the chilly wind commanding him to do so. instead of pushing you away, however, he merely tilted his head at you - comical due to his upside down position.

“yeah?”

you nodded. “only a little.”

“just a little?” he teased, causing you to laugh.

“okay, maybe a bit more than a little.”

his breathing grew a little harsher. “that’s dangerous information to tell a guy like me.”

“why?” you pushed.

“because..now i’m thinking about it too.”

he watched you bite down into your bottom lip, your large eyes peering over the mask, itching to touch his skin with your own hands. your heart was beating so hard it bordered on painful and the butterflies in your stomach had quickly transformed into stomping elephants.

“thinking about what?”

“what it’d be like if..” he whispered, goggles closing shut for a moment. “nevermind.”

“no.”

“yes.”

you giggled. “you can’t just start a sentence like that, and then finish it with nevermind. that’s silly.”

“watch me.”

“spidey.”

he grunted a little, visibly affected by your words. “that’s cheating?”

you continued your giggles. “what, how?”

“you keep calling me that.”

“oh, sorry. do you not like it?”

“fucking love it.” he scoffed at you, with a cheeky shake of his head. you covered your mouth, getting flustered as you laughed.

the smile genuinely refused to leave your face, feeling intensely comfortable with the superhero in front of you. you were perched on your window will, practically bare in front of him as the cold chill had your nipples hardening against your flimsy camisole, your tiny little shorts doing nothing to provide any semblance of warmth and yet being around him seemed to provide all the heat you needed.

it was like his body was a sauna, emitting warmth so strongly you couldn’t help but inch forward, closer and closer and closer until you were just as close as you had been yesterday.

before you could think, before you could change your mind or ponder your actions, your fingers darted out once more. you pulled his mask down, fingers grazing the sweet spots of his neck, purposely going over his pulse to which you nearly gasped at how erratic his heart was beating. he truly was nervous.

down, down, down until the mask uncovered his mouth once more. you tucked the mask just over his top lip, revealing exactly what you wanted.

your breaths were mingling at this point as your hands went out to cup his cheeks, holding his head even closer as you peered at his lips.

“hi.” you whispered at him, smiling a little.

you watched as his own lips spread into a toothy grin, one that had your stomach rolling into knots from familiarity, every signal in your body pumping, begging you to see that you knew the man in front of you awfully well.

“hi, baby.” he whispered back, your noses nuzzling slightly despite his mask.

before you could think otherwise, you slowly pressed your lips to his in the softest peck you could muster. something small and gentle, as though you were testing the waters.

it barely lasted a second, but it was enough to drive the man wild.

upside down, hanging from a web, jeon jungkook took his other hand and guided your mouth back to his, pressing his lips to your own properly.

it felt like the entire world disappeared around you

jungkook kissed you as though he had spent years imagining what you’d taste like, and as the seconds grew, he almost grew impatient with himself. he wanted to kiss you until it hurt, until he was fused with you in a way that would ensure you’d never be anything other than what you were now - he was enamoured by a single touch of your lips, hooked for life.

his mouth moulded against yours with such perfect longing, lingering just enough to have your heartbeat up into your throat.

your own fingers curled against his skin, one hand going to the back of his head where a few strands of his hair fell loose, allowing you to softly run your hand through them, your nails scratching his scalp just slightly. judging from the way he grunted into your mouth, you knew he liked that. liked it almost too much.

you slowly began pulling away for air, your lips parting from his begrudgingly only to be chased by his, a series of pecks being planted onto your lips. they travelled to your cheeks, your chin and jaw, causing you to erupt in giggles as you swatted his shoulder softly.

neither of you spoke for a while, simply holding one another and basking in each other’s presence, with kisses being shared ranging from sweet pecks to intense make out sessions that seemed to go on for longer and longer as the time went by. each one, regardless of the intensity, resulted in you both smiling wide.

“i should probably go inside.” you whispered gently against his lips, thumb tracing his bottom lip.

“hm?”

“i’m gonna catch a cold.”

he groaned a little, head purposefully dropping back dramatically, all whilst you giggled into your hand, playfully pushing him back, causing him to swing a little. you stole a final peck before swinging your legs back into your apartment, edging so you were back in.

above you, jungkook freed the web he was hanging onto, flipping back onto his feet so he was stood up right. now that there was a massive window between you, you peered up, half in awe of how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were. it was intoxicating.

his mouth was still uncovered, lips shaped into a smile that revealed his teeth - god, he couldn’t hold back his overwhelming joy. it was as though the feeling completely engulfed him, enough to make him want to climb through the window and start all over again.

you, however, tilted your head at him gently. now you were soeerated by glass and wood and yet the distance allowed you to see openly. the slope of his smile, the bunny nature of his teeth, it all looked so familiar. it felt familiar.

“okay, spidey.” you hummed lightly, fingers taking a hold of the curtains. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

he leaned against the window, his height domineering even when there was something between you seperating you both. he leaned forward to lessen it, only making you smile further.

“yeah?” he questioned. “what makes you so sure?”

“because..” it was your turn to lean close to him, either hand on one side of the curtain. “i always see you in the elevator on tuesdays.”

with that, you shut the curtains.

jungkook stood there in utter shock, the sound of his heartbeat booming through his ears was enough to have him stepping back, mouth agape and eyes wide. his enhanced hearing picked up on your giggles whilst you were under your covers, as though you had let him into the funniest secret, unaware that it had rendered him absolutely useless.

the realisation nearly killed him.

you weren’t scared. you weren’t confused, or unsure of what you’d said. instead, you were happy - gleeful to a fault, as though the reality of spiderman being him was something that truly couldn’t please you any more. his biggest fear had always been someone finding his identity, and yet you were here, knowing for however long with no care in the world.

his head dropped forward against the brick wall beside your window, a helpless laugh leaving his lips.

“fuck.” he whispered, eyes wide.

you’d known. you had known the entire time, and you still kissed him. you had still chosen him, and held his face, and kissed him.

with that, jungkook fell to his knees.

it was shocking how ordinary the next morning felt.

the winter winds were still harsh, intercepted by the sun that provided a warmth that managed to pierce through the chill. the traffic below your apartment still roared, echoing through the familiar streets of new york whilst horns and sirens flooded your eardrums.

everything was exactly the same, and yet everything had changed.

you had kissed spiderman, yet more importantly, you had kissed jungkook.

the same man you had crushed on for months upon months, so entirely enamoured by him each time he stood beside you in the elevator that it had become the sole thing that excited you whenever you’d wake up. to then know he was the masked superhero you had grown to love, just like the others around you.

the same superhero you curled into every night in the form of the cute plushie you snuggled in order to fall asleep.

the thought alone had you laughing to yourself.

the thing that had you swooning was the fact that jungkook was just as gone for you, if not more. from following you around in his full suit, to practically grabbing you in order to kiss you deeper; it felt euphoric. to be wanted, desired even, by someone after years of loneliness was new to you, but it was the sweetness that followed that truly had your heart blooming.

the sweetness of it all almost felt unreal.

you went about your routine - showering, getting ready, perhaps applying a little more makeup than you were used to. with your cheeks manually flushed and lips gently glossed, you smoothed down your hair before finally locking up your apartment and heading to the elevator.

you pressed the elevator button, mild zooming at a million miles per hour as you watched it come down to your level.

what if he wasn’t in today, you wondered.

what if he had spidey duties? he was an in demand superhero after all.

your stomach flipped, mind reeling with too many thoughts, so much so that you didn’t realise the elevator reaching your floor, the doors opening.

your breath hitched a little as you made eye contact with the same man your brain couldn’t stop thinking about.

here he stood, staring at you with a hunger you could recognise immediately.

his lips curled first. he had been waiting for you.

you shyly shuffled in, fighting back your own little grin, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear whilst your hip gently brushed against his. his size engulfed the elevator, shoulders wide, hands on either side of him.

“morning.” he murmured down at you, voice husky.

you continued looking ahead. “hi.”

your voice betrayed you - so soft, too shy.

he swallowed hard. the silence shared between you wasn’t awkward in the slightest, instead feeling heavy and full with an unnamable tension that sat biting at your feet. he watched you nibble on your bottom lip, no doubt thinking the exact same thing he was, brain flooded with the thoughts of the makeout sessions you were having a few hours prior.

there was a sort of excitement in knowing he had been spiderman to you for so long, and now he got to be jungkook. the joy sat in the fact he didn’t have to tell you.

his smart girl figured it out for himself.

“sleep okay?” he asked, voice so deep it had your eyelashes fluttering up at him.

“not really.” you confessed.

“yeah?” he turned to you a little. “how come?”

“kept thinking about a certain superhero.” you hummed cheekily, pretending to be oblivious.

at that, he laughed. “yeah?”

“mhm.”

“bet he’s handsome.”

you rolled your eyes, finally looking at him. he got a good look of you.

fuck, you were so pretty it hurt.

“he’s really full of himself.”

his mouth curled. “comes with the job.”

you couldn’t help your giggle, hiding your mouth to muffle the noises that were escaping you. jungkook joined you, loving the sound more than anything.

his eyes flickered down to your hand hanging beside you, the way your smaller fingers flexed as though you wanted to touch him - a master of reading people, he knew he exactly what you wanted, especially when it was word for word what he wanted too.

his own hand moved before he could think.

his fingers brushed your own, not pondering, before he completely engulfed your hand with his own, fingers intertwining almost immediately. you peered up, smiling a little at him.

he couldn’t look away from your face, only to peer up at the number above, indicating you were still quite a few floors up from ground level, confirming his next decision.

nbefore you could read his face, he suddenly crowded you to the corner of the elevator, hands above your head, tilting your chin up and pressing his lips to yours.

a small moan left your lips at the sheer intensity of the kiss, his body against yours as he pinned you to the wall, your lips moving together in unison; two halves creating a whole. your back arched into him a little, bodies pressing against one another in a way that was anything but innocent, all whilst you both explored each other openly.

his tongue pushed against your lips, to which you openly allowed him access, whimpering a little at the way he used it to caress your own. it was downright sinful, his fingers caressing your wrists, delicate against your bruise and yet so firm that you couldn’t move an inch.

as he pulled away, a small string of saliva seperated you both from your lips.

you panted lightly as he let go of your hands, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched.

he looked so severe, the hardened parts of his face so harsh that it had your hooded eyes staring at him just as intensely. your fingers curled into his sweatshirt, before pushing him away cheekily, just as the elevator chimed, indicating you were both at the bottom.

you were a blushy mess, a small smile forming before you began pushing your bag on your shoulder, turning to leave.

before you could even take a further step, he grabbed your hand once more, practically yanking you right back to him. you gasped a little, watching how he held you tightly against him, hand on the small of your back whilst yours curled into his chest.

with his free hand, he pressed the button to the top of the numbers sat on the panel, purposefully choosing the one that took him straight to the penthouse. his apartment.

neither of you spoke. there was no need to.

his hand remained inteeeined with your own as slowly but surely, the elevator began climbing again. somewhere in the back of your mind, you wanted to squeal at the confirmation that jungkook never even needed to come downstairs every morning - the only reason he was in the elevator was just to interact with you. he was so painfully obvious, and yet you loved it.

his thumb brushed over your knuckles, have in disbelief that this was happening. that you had chosen him.

when the doors finally opened, he gently pushed your hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss, before leading you out into the hallway, and to his apartment door. it was the only one up here, and you looked around curiously, noting that it was much nicer up here.

once the door unlocked, he gently led you in, letting go of your hand so you could properly explore.

you stopped completely, mouth suddenly agape whilst he slowly watched you.

the first thing you noticed was the large windows, scattered all over, allowing the sunlight you had felt earlier peak into his home in such a beautiful way, shadows dancing across each surface, heat rising in a delicious way. the second thing you noticed, and perhaps the most intriguing, was his desk.

you gasped out loud, approaching it in wonder as you properly took it in. there sat pieces of equipment scattered everywhere, technology beyond your wildest dreams - web carriages and half-assembled gadgets, all adorned with tiny tools you had never seen before.

what caught your attention, allowing you to freeze for a moment, was his suit, draped over a chair, mask sat next to it. it was secluded from everything else, as though its mere presence needed it to exist elsewhere.

you approached it slowly, fingers grazing it with a gentleness you weren’t sure you knew you possessed. holding it, picking it up, feeling the material in your hands - it was identical to the feeling you had felt on so many occasions.

you looked back at jungkook.

he was watching you with an expression you couldn’t read, utterly unrecognisable, lips parted and brows furrowed as though this was never a possibility deep in his mind. he had allowed himself the thought of you for so long, but here you were, suit in hand. he had given himself all to you.

“you really are spiderman.” you whispered gently, eyes wide with wonder.

laughing quietly, he nodded. “yeah.”

you placed it down, taking a seat on his chair in front of his lavish computer, slumping against it momentarily.

“don’t you ever get scared?” you questioned, confused. “of getting hurt or..”

he watched you gulp a little, uncomfortable with the insinuation of something even more harmful.

“not anymore. maybe when i started but, yeah. you get used to it, and i have accelerated healing.” he softly explained, walking closer and closer to you.

“really?” your mouth fell.

“my dna works a bit different to yours?”

“what else?” you whispered, too curious for your own good.

jungkook settled in front of you, looming over you in such an intimidating way and yet you made no effort to move. a deranged part of your brain even liked it.

“i have sensitive hearing. i can hear beyond what most people can. far beyond, honestly.”

you tilted your head at him, reaching for one of his arms. you cheekily pulled him closer until he was leaning down, one hand on the desk behind you and the other in your hand.

“like what?”

“your breathing.”

right on queue, your breath caught in your throat just as you gasped at him, hand curling into his own. you held it at your chest.

“you can hear me breathing?”

“from across the building.”

at that, you sit up fully, face incredibly close to jungkook. your big eyes were comical to him, the new information doing wonders for your brain.

“that’s insane.”

“it’s one of my favourite sounds, if i’m being honest.” he admitted, slightly embarassed. “soothes me when i get home after a big fight, guess its just nice to know you’re downstairs and safe.”

fuck. you wanted to kiss him so badly, your big eyes searching his. before you could stop yourself, you planted a big peck to his lips, holding his face momentarily before going back to your slouched position.

he laughed a little, leaning forward again just to take up your personal space.

“what else?” you asked, though he couldn’t help but notice how breathy you were.

unfortunately, that only sent his blood rushing to his cock immediately. seeing you so undone at the mere mention of his skills was an ego boost he had yet to discover, but was quickly realising that it was enough to have him go crazy.

“strength.”

your eyes immediately left his, falling onto his harsh, bulging biceps. god, you nearly moaned.

he watched you trace them slowly.

“i know you’re strong.” you sighed heavenly. “i watched that one youtube clip of you throwing that car like an insane amount of times.”

“yeah? you liked it?”

he leaned in closer, cock beginning to harden so much more at the knowledge you were this attracted to him.

“mhm. you made it look really easy.” you whispered a little shyly.

you watched as jungkook stepped back, standing to his full height over you, looking down at you with an unreadable expression. you looked so flushed, cheeks hot, nibbling against your lip whilst you discussed his abilities in a way that was clearly affecting you - you wanted to know so much.

your eyes flickered down for a moment, only to be met with the sight of his growing bulge straining against his sweatpants. your lips parted, one from the sight of him also so affected by you, so unashamed and open for you to see. the casual confidence in it had your own core aching, whilst your lidded eyes slowly reconnected with his own.

the air had changed.

“what else?” you softly whispered up at him.

his hand darted out to lift your chin even further. his thumb began tracing your lips, your bottom one to be exact, large pad moving them and pushing them against his digit.

“stamina.” he darkly muttered back, voice husky.

“stamina?” you repeated, throat scratching in anticipation.

“i don’t get tired.”

your mouth gently parted, allowing the tip of his thumb to come into contact with your tongue.

“ever?”

“ever.” he promised you.

that was useful information indeed. your eyes dropped to his bulge once more, and you knew that there had to have been a growing little wet patch on the heart of your panties, your mind radiating with the thought of him inbetween your legs. jungkook wasn’t fairing any better, what with your tongue gently brushing against his thumb in a way that shot right down to his cock.

before you could respond to him, jungkook reached down, taking his thumb from your lips and instead taking a hold of your body firmly. he lifted you with an ease that was also superhuman, your arms immediately wrapping around his neck, legs around his torso, head meeting his.

“super hearing, strength and stamina?” you murmured down at him, lips grazing one another. “am i missing anything?”

“speed.” he immediately murmured against you, large hands on your back but steadily moving down.

“speed?”

“i’m very fast.” he smirked at you a little, your own grin forming.

“how fast?” you breathed out, and the hitch in your throat had his stomach jumping.

“fast enough for you.” he whispered down at you suddenly, hands reaching your ass where he cupped, pulling you right against him.

this position meant you could feel him in a way you hadn’t expected. bulge against your most intimate area, arms around his neck so tight as you pulled him close, breaths mingling, noses brushing.

before you could think further, jungkook pressed his lips to yours.

this was unlike the others.

messy and uncontrolled - you grabbed his hair, fingers treading through whilst his fingers tightened, squeezing your ass almost roughly, lips moving in unison. you were trying to keep up, desperate to taste him exactly the way you needed, and he was providing. god, the way his tongue felt against your mouth was a mere indicator of what he could do, a thrill going down your spine.

you let out a sigh of content as his lips began attacking your cheek, your jaw and then neck. you were so sensitive, his kisses eliciting little noises out of you that he hadn’t expected and yet now that he was coaxing them out of you, he was sure he could never go back to not hearing them right against his ear.

his lips wrapped around the sweet spot on your neck, attacking so purposefully, sucking a hickey right against your pulse. the taste of your skin, the rapid beating of your heart against his tongue - you had no idea you were driving him crazy.

once he pulled away, he looked at you. properly looked at you.

you, with your big eyes, wide and blown out, panting lightly from the intensity of what you were both doing. what got him was the way you were absentmindedly tugging his top as though you were begging for more.

he nudged your nose with his own, purposefully, checking if you were still with him but your only response was to grab him, and pull him down until your lips touched his.

the intensity of your kisses only meant one thing and despite jungkook having defeated earth’s most evil enemies, the prospect of having you in his arms, making love, was perhaps the scariest of all - he wanted to impress you and fuck, he was willing to do whatever it took to get there.

he grabbed you properly with one arm, other hand picking something up but you were too preoccupied with claiming your stake against his mouth to notice, all whilst he walked you across his apartment. you moaned and pulled against his hair, unable to get enough of his kisses, playfully fighting against his tongue just to elicit a reaction out of him.

he dropped you onto his bed quite suddenly, making you gasp as you looked up at him, hair blown out, eyes wide and skin flushed. your neck was already bruising, just as he wanted - a physical manifestation of him on your body that he’d obsess over.

“you want this?” he whispered down at you, voice husky as fuck. “cause if you do, baby. there’s no turning back, you hear me?”

“want it.” you whined out to him in response, hands trying to grab him down.

“yeah?” he hissed, enamoured by how badly you wanted him. it felt so good considering he felt the same and more. “want me to make you my girl?”

“mhm.” you whined again, finally managing to grab his top, yanking at it desperately.

it was like a switch had turned on in jungkook’s mind.

you watched in real time as within seconds, he pulled off of his sweatshirt, throwing it to somewhere in the room before positioning himself above you, slotting right between your legs, and pushed. he pushed his cock against you, material covering material, grinding down so meanly that you were left a whimpering mess.

“look at you.” he grunted, hands on either side of your head as he pushed his now fully hard cock against you. “so fucking pretty.”

your skirt had been flipped up, leaving you in your now messy panties, the friction practically against you as the flimsy material did nothing to hide your pussy. it was so delicious, the drag of him against your clit, the harsher material making it so much more impactful.

you had never felt pleasure like this before. sure, you had been with guys, but mainly those that wanted a quick fuck or something that focused on their pleasure and yet, jeon jungkook had no intention of you leaving his bed until he was sure you were broken.

“feels good, huh? having me grind my cock into your clit, hm?” he cooed at you, voice so sweet but his actions so sinful. “please don’t s-stop.” you simply begged him back, fingers curling over his biceps.

you couldn’t get over how big he was. shirtless, chest so much bigger without anything covering it, shoulders so wide and fuck, his abs. he looked like he had been chiseled, an art piece no doubt intended for people to gawk at. a devilish part of your brain rejoiced knowing he was all yours now.

jungkook let out a moan himself, eyes closing momentarily despite his actions not stopping and that nearly sent you into overdrive, knowing that you were responsible for how good he felt. it was music to your ears and you wanted more, so much more.

“want more.” you whimpered at him, fingers now digging into his arms. “please, jungk-kook.”

his pretty girl, begging for him? has he ascended to heaven, he wondered as he stopped his actions, watching you whine and move your hips instead, in hopes of achieving friction.

he couldn’t speak. knew if he did that he’d say something harsh, mean even, as the animalistic side of his dna was starting to leak through due to his heightened emotions - he wanted to call you a slut, his whore, wanted to wrap his arms around your throat whilst your head bobbed on his cock. and yet, all he wanted really, was to have you moaning and screaming his name, arms wrapped around him as you met his thrusts, whimpering at the mere possibility of being parted with him. he loved you so much, and you hadn’t the faintest clue.

instead, he pulled back. he looked down at you, an absolute ruined mess, still dressed in your coat and jumper, tiny little skirt pushed up to reveal the sweetest panties. they were practically see through from how wet you had gotten.

within seconds, he was pulling you up. yanking off your clothes, whilst you happily allowed him, your coat, jumper and skirt meeting his own clothing somewhere in the large room, leaving you in just your underwear. your bra, just as pink and lacy as your panties, felt like his personal brand of kryptonite, so sweet against the colour of your skin.

“you trying to kill me?” he hissed down at you, one hand palming his cock against his sweats.

it was your turn to ruin him, you thought.

you sat up just slightly, body leaning on your forearms, your tits practically spilling out your bra whilst you stretched your legs apart wider.

“you like them, kookie?” you asked, breathlessly. “wanna know a secret?”

you had him hooked, as he nodded, eyes desperate, looking over the lacy material before meeting your gaze once more, lips parted. he was a mess, so desperate for you it bordered on embarassing, and it only fucked with your head more.

“bought this set thinking about you.” you sighed, almost dreamily, maintaining eye contact. “couldn’t stop thinking about the handsome stranger in the elevator all the time.”

jungkook practically moaned at your words, grunting as he palmed himself faster.

“used to touch myself thinking about you, kookie. you’re not mad right? you don’t mind?” you teased, tone condescending as you watched him fall apart in front of you.

he shook his head rapidly in no, eyes growing hooded, hands shaking. he was fighting his dna with every inch of his heart, fighting the change that he knew would overtake him, and you could see it - you didn’t quite understand, but you knew he was holding back, and that you couldn’t have.

“but the worst thing is, is i used to touch myself thinking about spiderman too.” you sighed again, body collapsing back into the covers, fingers brushing over your hardened nipples. “used to imagine him ripping off my underwear and doing whatever he wanted. isn’t that so pretty?”

with that, jungkook stilled.

he couldn’t stop it even if he tried, not with the very confirmation he had so secretly desires deep inside his stomach.

you wanted both versions of him.

jungkook, the neighbour, who helped you with your groceries and took anything you’d give him. soft hello’s and good morning’s, all tied into your hands longingly brushing, lustful thoughts hidden underneath.

spiderman, the friendly superhero dedicated to saving new york city with every inch of his heart. the same superhero who swung and protected, who had helped you only two nights prior, who also sat in plushie form on top of your bed, to which you cuddled and often even grinded against in nights of pleasure.

before you could open your mouth, no doubt to goad him further, his hands moved.

first your bra, he yanked it with a single hand, it breaking completely, splitting in the middle until it was yanked off of your body smoothly. you gasped out loud, only for him to follow up with your panties, grabbing, ripping, rendering them useless, thrown somewhere else on the bed, leaving you completely bare.

your chest rose and fell, all whilst your widened eyes fully took him in. no longer was he fighting the arachnid qualities of his essence, as his eyes seemed so much darker, lips curled into a somewhat snarl as he approached you. grabbing either side of your legs, he yanked you down until your cunt was actually in his face.

you yelped. he paid no mind as he dropped his head down, pressing his face to your pussy as though it was everything he needed and more.

“j-jungkook!” you squealed a little, hands flinging to his hair as you watched him breath in your scent.

it was crude, beyond dirty, the way he was inhaling you in, hips already grinding down into the mattress. the sight of it had a whole wave of slickness leaving you, your chest stuttering in anticipation.

he didn’t make you wait long. he was hardly a man of patience himself.

jungkook stuck his tongue out, licking through your folds with an ease that had your breath stuttering, your back arching into him, and your head dropping to the pillow. he licked a stripe all the way up before repeating his actions a few more times, already having you withering back into his impossibly soft bed.

he began his eating you out properly.

he felt no need to hold back, not when he had been doing so for months - he licked, sucked and prodded, going between thrusting his tongue inside of you and using it to lap at your clit. he sucked on it, eliciting such soft moans out of you, enough to drive him further and further.

“taste so fucking good.” he hissed, eyes meeting yours. “my girl’s pussy. fuck.”

you moaned out his name, hips lifting, pulling at his hair.

he yanked you back as you desperately tried to get away, the pleasure sending you into overdrive, a thought that had him nearly hissing at you. now that he’d had a taste, he had no intention of letting you go, and the mere thought was enough to have him get angry. his emotions were heightened, feeling the waves of pleasure in so many different ways - he could hear your heartbeat, your breathing. could feel the thump of pleasure against your clit so well.

soon enough, he was prodding a finger at your entrance, pushing it in until it reached his knuckle. so much bigger than your own, you felt almost winded by the sheer length of his fingers, your hips stuttering for a moment.

watching him slurp at your juices whilst he pumped, your smaller body shaking, legs clamping shut around his head as though that could possibly deter him. your fingernails were scratching at his skin, at the arm that was pressed against your frame, fondling your tits so casually as though you belonged to him.

“so tight. need to stretch you open.” he hissed against you, fucking in another finger, despite your squeals.

two fingers pumping in and out of you, longer than your own, so much thicker too, and all you could do was take it. he pumped so meanly, finding a rhythm that you could barely keep up with, so fast and so hard, curling until he was hitting that special spot inside of you.

your back arched as you moaned out his name.

at that, his eyes closed. he hissed at you. “say my name again, baby.”

you did, over and over and over and over until you could feel your orgasm crashing down on you, too sensitive for the sheer power of his fingers. you had been fingered before, often doing it yourself to relieve any pent up stress and yet nothing, no one, had ever made you feel the way he was doing.

his dna was different - he was half human at this point, and you could see it. fuck, you could feel it.

as though he could see your orgasm teetering on the edge, he smirked a little, wrapping his tongue solely around your clit whilst thrusting in and out.

“cum for me.” he commanded you.

you listened.

your back arched, only for his free hand to press down on your stomach, forcing you to stay down and take it as your orgasm rushed through you almost painfully. it pinched every one of your nerves, causing your eyes to shut tight, his name coming out in chants, all whilst your juices gushed around his fingers, rendering him a mess.

he fucked you through it, making sure you felt every single inch before he finally stopped, his fingers coming to a stop.

you were a shaking mess, your legs quivering around him whilst you tried so desperately to catch your breath. you could feel the emotion heavy in your chest as the need to cry almost overtook you, lining your waterline as the aftermath left shocks running up and down your poor little pussy.

he removed his fingers, hissing a little as he sat back on his knees, sucking on them almost hungrily, all whilst you watched him with heavy breath.

“you’re fucking with my head.” he growled at you, as though you had been the one to do this to him. “can’t fucking breathe. need you so badly.”

“w-want you.” you whimpered, lip beginning to quiver. “i want you so badly, jungkook.”

“my girl.” his face looked pained as he leaned down, capturing your jaw in a kiss. heavy.

hearing him claim you was euphoria defined, your mind drilling into overdrive whilst you watched him finally lower his sweatpants. once they were off, you could finally see him in all of his glory.

you choked.

thick, so much thicker than you had ever seen, with a deep pink tip, thick veins lined all the way down. your mouth watered at the way it slapped his stomach, gravity almost pulling it down due to its weight, and yet the only thing you could think of was how he’d have to break you just to fit it inside.

he watched you, throat constricting at the look of shock on your face. god, he could feel his ego boosting just from the way your eyes darted all over him, desperate to have him inside and yet knowing you’d never be the same afterwards.

“you won’t fit.” you whimpered almost immediately, legs closing shut subconsciously.

he yanked them open again, barely using his strength and yet it was enough to dominate you completely.

“i’ll make it fit.” he responded, the pupils of his eyes so much darker than they were before. “gonna mould this pretty little pussy, make sure it’s mine forever.”

you let out the dreamiest of moans, sinking deeper into his pillows with your eyes closed. you could feel him moving, no doubt doing something, only to gasp when you looked at him again. he was lining his cock up, seeing how deep he’d be only to see it settle gently against your stomach.

the base of his cock at your core, with the tip up above on your abdomen - the sight was dizzying.

he couldn’t wait any longer. he wanted to fuck you so desperately, so intensely. ha had held back for months upon months upon months upon months, and now that you were here, his sweet girl all perched on his bed, cunt ruined from the first orgasm; he knew he’d never take it for granted.

“haven’t got any condoms, baby.” he hissed, eyes closing for a moment. “i’ll pull out, okay?”

“okay.” you nodded, still half enamoured with how deep he’d be inside of you.

within moments, jungkook was lining himself up with your entrance, after a few moments of running his tip up and down your core, collecting your slick in a way that had you panting out at him.

he began pushing in, just the tip at first, but it was enough to have you squeaking, fingers digging into his meaty biceps almost instantly. he watched your eyes blow out, only to shut them tightly, but that wouldn’t do. he tapped your nose with his own, bordering on mean, desperate to maintain eye contact whilst he split you open.

“that’s it, such a good girl. such a good fucking girl.” he whispered down at you, as he fed you inch, by painstaking inch, watching your face contort in half pleasure and half pain.

he only managed to fit half way in before you were hitting him in the chest, practically convulsing around him, begging for a moments reprieve. it was fucking with his head, seeing you so fucked out when he hadn’t even done anything.

your chest was rising and falling rapidly, your poor pussy stretching to accommodate him as he stilled, allowing you to adjust in the best way you knew how. you were whimpering up at him again, all whilst he caged you in, arms on either side of your head, his lips grazing your own.

“s’too much, you’re too big.” you whimpered at him, all whilst he shook his head down at you. “no baby. look at you, you’re doing so good for me.”

the way he was cooing at you, it was laced with condescension. it fucked with your brain, having him so sweet to you, jungkook who had treated you so kindly, and spiderman who had done the most to save you, now treating you like a whore in his bed. you couldn’t believe how wet you were getting from it, wanting more, wanting him to ruin you until the only thing you could think about was having him inside you.

he pressed a kiss to your lips, small and brief, before slowly beginning to move. shallow thrusts at first, just enough to have you moaning, aching around him but the switch in your head was begging for more. he knew it too, but the human side of his body still operated first. he couldn’t break you so soon.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer as his shallow thrusts began to go deeper, feeding you inch by inch until he was completely bottomed out.

he hardly gave you time to adjust, beginning his thrusts properly until you were a moaning, quivering mess beneath him, whimpering his name as though he was everything and more.

“too big.” you whimpered out at him, nails digging into the back of his neck. he caressed your own with his lips. “yeah? too much for you, baby?”

“uh huh.” you nodded, though your legs were spreading wider, begging for more.

god, you were fucking killing him.

he pulled back slightly, so he could look down at the way he was fucking you, his pace a kindness to you despite wanting to ruin you already. his patience was wearing thin, the arachnid dna causing his mind to swirl with one thing and one thing only.

he wanted to fucking breed you.

with that in mind, he couldn’t help himself. oh how he wanted to be good to you, make sure he’d wait like a good man would but he physically couldn’t stop himself.

he pulled back, and began fucking you rough.

the sound of skin slapping against skin started echoing around the rooms, your whimpers and moans so heavy in the air as you begged for more, only egging on his mind, his disgusting thoughts.

silly jungkook had no idea you were just as fucked as he was.

you wanted to feel him in every single way, have him so deep inside of you that the only thought left in your body was that of him and the way he was fucking you - it was poetic, really, how the both of you were so utterly obsessed with one another despite only having snippets.

“o-oh.fuck, fuck, fuck.” you chanted, jungkook’s speed enough to drive you insane. “fuck, right there!”

“you like that, baby? like being used like this?” he hissed at you, forcing you to look at him each time your eyes would close.

“mhm. wanna be used by you all the time.”

“such a good girl. you’re all mine now,” your eyes met with his. “never gonna let you go.”

“promise?” you begged him.

“promise you, baby. never, ever.”

he pressed his body deep against yours all whilst his thrusts only got rougher and rougher, hitting that spot inside you that had your legs quivering until you were batting his chest in pleasure.

you were completely lost in it; jungkook being well versed in your body, probably from the nights he’d hear you pleasuring yourself. ever the gentleman, he’d drown out the sounds by leaving his apartment, mask in hand, desperate to respect your boundaries and yet here he was, inbetween your legs eliciting the same exact noises.

his hips pounded into yours, inhuman speed, inhuman strength - all pulled back to find a happy medium where you’d never get a fuck like this outside of him, outside of his abilities.

you could feel your high reaching again, your chest rising and falling as you clung to him so much tighter.

“kookie, g-gonna cum..” you whimpered at him, your lip beginning to quiver once more as you could feel it approaching.

“not yet.” he hissed down at you, suddenly halting his movements.

the whine that left you was beyond adorable, as you could feel your high dissipate. the climb that had been built was no longer as you were left feeling so intensely full, your hands pulling at his hair.

he watched as you closed your eyes, twitching around him, and fuck did you feel so good around him, your wet entrance sucking him in so perfectly it was as though he had found home in you.

he leaned over, just past your head where he had placed the exact thing he had brought with him earlier whilst you had been in his arms and slipped it into his hold.

by the time you opened your gaze again, you felt your breath catch in your chest.

you weren’t staring at your jungkook, the boy with doe eyes and a jaw sharp enough to hurt. no, the man in front of you was spiderman - his mask sat snug, created solely to accommodate his face, red and black staring at you in a way that had you moaning.

you clenched around him hard.

“j-jungkook?” you whimpered a little, but he gave you no time to speak.

instead, he changed your positions. suddenly, you were pulled on your side, your chest touching his as you both lay on your hips, your leg pulled up just as he began to thrust.

this wasn’t jungkook fucking into you, cock thrusting deep inside your pussy, forcing you to take every single inch, despite knowing it was too much for your poor body to handle; it was spiderman. he was openly claiming his stake over you, all whilst you stared up at him in almost wonder like state.

you were so much tighter like this, core clenching around his cock in a death grip, milking him, desperate to have him completely bonded to you.

staring into his goggles was confusing your brain - so overwhelmed, you weren’t comprehending the fact he was jungkook when all you could see was spiderman.

“spidey..” you moaned out, clinging to him.

his arms were caging you in, thrusts mean, thrusts harsh, all whilst he nudged your nose through his mask. hearing the little nickname had his balls tightening, hissing down at you.

“that’s right, baby. spidey’s fucking you now.”

your eyes rolled to the back of your head at his words.

god, you were the cutest girl in the world - so affected by a single mask, the anonymity no longer applicable and yet the thrill remained. you were being fucked, no, pounded by the most recognisable person in the city.

“been thinking about this for so long. fuck, i wish you knew how much i think about you like this.”

you whimpered so loudly. “think about you..f-fucking me all the time..spiderman.”

the amount of times you’d watch videos about him, just like everyone around you, even going so far as to secretly think about him as though he was a dirty little secret whenever you were fingering yourself only to be the object of his infatuation the entire time.

“that’s it baby. take every fucking inch.” he grunted down at you, lifting your leg higher before planting a heavy spank on your ass. “this pussy is mine now, you hear me? belongs to me.”

“all yours.” you nodded desperately.

he watched as drool was beginning to slip from the corner of your mouth, your body sweaty and growing boneless, eyes closed and tight. you had never looked so pretty.

“gripping me so good.” he grunted. “taking my cock like such a good whore.”

that familiar feeling began building in your stomach, the curl of white shining heavy behind your eyes as you tightened impossibly around his cock. he nearly choked from the feeling, knowing it was building, knowing it would ruin you.

“c-can’t hold it..” you begged him, tears lining your waterline.

he could feel his own orgasm coming, the tightening of his balls almost making him falter. he could see the bulge in your stomach, the shape of his cock sitting so nicely it looked like it belonged there, a sickening thought appearing in his stomach.

“where do you want it, baby?” he growled down at you, hands heavy on your ass as he pushed your body to meet his thrusts, both of your orgasms on the cusp.

“inside!” you begged, lips grazing his jaw through his mask.

at that, he gave you his final thrusts, rough, mean and harsh, causing you to fall over the edge.

your second orgasm ripped through you so much harder than your initial one as you completely tilted your head, squealing out loud, chanting a mixture of spiderman and jungkook all at once, clamping down on his cock. he choked at the feeling, feeling you milk ever inch of his cock as he too came, heavy cum filling you up.

he needed to breed you. needed to have you round with his children, cunt oozing his cum every chance he got. you had infiltrated his mind and there was no breathing outside of it.

“take it. fuck, take it, baby.” he hissed finally into your ear, as you both rode out your highs together.

he groaned as he came, burying himself deep inside of you, all whilst he ground his hips into you, cum spilling on either side of your entrance. his cum was hot, aching you from the inside, filling you up as far as your womb went all whilst you cried from overstimulation.

you clung to him like you needed him to function, hands shaking, tears streaming down your face from how overwhelmed you felt. you had stupidly never felt so safe, all whilst being pierced on the cock of a man who was utterly obsessed with you.

he stayed inside you, one hand cupping your face, the other gently placing your leg back down as he felt his arachnid dna slowly begin to soothe and calm, making way for jungkook entirely to come back to you. in response, you slowly lifted his mask, revealing his lips once more, and gently pressed your lips to his.

he remained inside of you for the rest of the night, making no effort to leave, only picking back up every few minutes until you were begging him to stop.

you slept in his arms, curled so deeply against him, clinging as though he was everything you needed and more. you felt like everything in your life had worked up to this very moment, sleeping in the hold of the man who had openly vowed to protect you, going to lengths you had never expected. there was safety in his presence, but also warm, a promise of a future that you had never seen for yourself.

after spending so long alone, you finally felt like you were home.

—

the next morning arrived in the best possible way. quietly.

you blinked away the sleep from your gaze, hands rubbing at your eyes, all whilst the scent of jungkook’s heavy cologne filtered through the space. the smell was comforting, easing you as you leaned your hands forward, feeling around for the man you were thinking about.

only for you to come up empty.

“huh?” you muttered, sitting up almost immediately as the covers pooled at your waist, leaving your bare body on show.

the other side of the bed was empty.

the ache between your legs was utterly delicious, a feeling you already knew was about to become a norm as you grabbed the closest article of clothing you could find, his sweatshirt. you pulled it onto your body, watching it land somewhere just above your knees.

barefoot, you padded into the living room, rolling your shoulders and stretching your arms above you.

hm, empty.

“jungkook?” you called out, the apartment large enough that there was a possibility he was here but you figured quick enough he wasn’t.

you hummed once more, a bit disappointed.

that was, until you heard a quiet whip through the air.

your head turned, lips parting as you looked out through the window, slowly approaching it with raised eyebrows. before you could even step closer, the window suddenly was grabbed by a web and pulled upwards, a gasp leaving your lips.

jungkook flew through, landing on his feet with perfect precision right in front of the window frame, looking at you directly. dressed in his suit and mask, your breath came out in puffs of shock, all whilst he stood to his full height.

you stared, and he stared back.

for half a second, neither of you moved, as though he was in a trance, completely in awe of you in his clothing, so soft and bitten in his apartment.

then, his shoulders relaxed in real time as he approached you, long strides reaching you in seconds. he grabbed you by your legs, picking you up with utter ease and spinning you in his arms for a second.

you squealed whilst he laughed, holding you tight to him.

“morning, baby.”

he continued to laugh as you hid your face in the crook of his neck, before grabbing the back of his mask and sliding it off of his face.

your smile completely disappeared.

jungkook sported multiple cuts, blood dripping from the smaller one beside his eye, all whilst he was beginning to form a bruise near his eyebrow. he looked like he had been targeted, beat up and so much more, and your throat constructed in utter shock.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” you practically squeaked, your hands darting to his face. “jungkook, what the fuck?!”

“come here.” he ignored, lifting your chin so he could press his lips to yours, chasing after your mouth.

“you’re fucking bleeding!” you grabbed his face, moving it, left and right.

“barely.” he groaned, pouting a little at being denied a kiss.

“you’re hurt!”

“yeah, well you should see the other guy. did a number on him.”

you blinked, bursting out into laughter at the sheer audacity of the man in front of you, playful to a fault. you couldn’t believe this was a real situation, the way he was clinging to you, kissing up and down your neck as though this was any ordinary day, it was ridiculous.

“can you kiss me better?” he asked.

you wanted to roll your eyes. “shut up, spidey. i can’t believe you found the time to beat up some perps before i woke up.”

“gotta impress my girl.” he scoffed, cheekily holding you with one hand whilst flexing his muscles with the other.

you couldn’t help but laugh, hiding your face further into his neck at how silly he was even whilst hurt. it filled your very soul with so much warmth, it was insane.

“you’re ridiculous.”

“yeah, maybe. go back to bed though, baby, i’ll join you soon.” he said through his kisses planted on your jaw and neck.

“you keeping the suit on this time, spidey?” you asked, grin a little too wide to be deemed anything innocent.

he grunted, liking the insinuation a little too much as he planted you on the ground, heavy hand landing a cheeky spank to your bare ass, loving the feel of it beneath his fingers.

“fuck. you’re gonna be the end of me.”

he watched you giggle out loud, making your way back to bedroom almost gleefully, whilst holding the end of the sweatshirt, allowing him a peak of your bare body, all whilst he slouched a little, the sight fucking him up.

he couldn’t help but realise that everything, all of this time apart, was meant to be. it all made sense because in the end, it led him to you.

it was always going to be you.

—

spidey koo impregnate me challenge… anyway

shoutout to the gorgeous anon who gave me this idea because i had 15k written out of a completely different spiderman idea, and scrapped it for this much better version 😮‍💨

i hope you guys like this one! super cute and fluffy - you know i love it when they’re obsessed with eachother with a cute red invisible string

as always, PLEASE let me know what you guys think of this one, there’s nothing i love more than hearing you guys vocalise your opinions & thoughts, it makes me feel so so good to see you engaging in a way that encourages me to write!

if you liked this & wanna support a baddie pay her london rent, here’s my kofi <333

love you all so fucking bad

[jennaort3ga]

The BEST spideykoo fanfic ever they wrote this like it was a real movie and the dialogue and him being obsessed with yn UGH HELP the smut sent me to heaven I need him

[brown-bi-beautiful]

Ducks Don't Knock

College au

Pairing: Jock! JK x Cheerleader f! Reader

Genre: Childhood frenemies to lovers.

Words: 29.1K (I cooked)

Summary: There are three things Jungkook hates the most in the world, that includes microwaves, ducks, and you. Three things he absolutely refuses to tolerate and is determined to avoid at all costs. It gets a little hard tho when you decide to come to his college and get an apartment right next to his with your pet (guess what), a fucking duck.

Warnings: Reader is a meanie, y'all, bratty behaviour, reader is emotionally constipated, underage drinking, underage smoking (funny cigarettes), mentions of bad parenting and abandonment, SMUT (Fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex (m.), Jungkook is a switch, so are you, protected sex, the man has a HUGE dih, overstimulation).

A/n: Reader is 2 years younger than Jungkook. So when I mention ages, the younger one is the reader and the older one is Jungkook. (Sorry for the womansplaining). Also, this is not the full fic, so there might be a part two coming up in the future. Love you all for being here and happy reading.

*******

Ages 6 and 8.

You’ve always been the one in the spotlight. Being the youngest in the family, you naturally grew used to it — it became integral to who you are. By the time you were just two, you had already figured out how to turn things in your favor, how to make the moment about you without even trying. But don’t get it wrong, you’re not someone who chases attention, and you definitely don’t beg for it. You never had to. It’s always just… found its way to you. Effortlessly.

And now, you’re so accustomed to it that even a few minutes without it feel strange, almost unsettling — like something’s slightly off in the balance of things. You can imagine how your world must have tilted that day — the day you walked into your playground, your place, your little kingdom, expecting things to be just as they always were. The familiar faces, your people, your space. But this time… something was different.

The kids didn’t rush to you, didn’t crowd around asking how your day had been. Instead, all eyes were on someone else. Someone new. Someone you’d never seen before — who had shown up out of nowhere and, without permission, dared to step into your territory… maybe even steal a little of your spotlight.

The boy must have been your age, maybe even a bit older. He was new; you had never seen him in your whole life. You bet none of you have, and yet all your friends had flocked around him like a herd of cattle to its owner. You cleared your throat to make your presence known. All pairs of eyes turned to you, including the little boy's. That was the first time you saw him. He looked like that cartoon deer that your siblings loved so much, Banshi or something. You could never stand it.

His eyes were absurdly large, almost like liquid. You felt bad for him for no reason. Then, Anya, your best friend, acknowledged you. And just like that, the spell was broken. The circle shifted, and all the attention swung back to where it belonged — on you. Exactly as it should be.

That was the very first time you met Jeon Jungkook. And — much to his misfortune — the first time Jeon Jungkook met you. He decided, before the day was out, that he didn't like you very much.

Ages 10 and 12

Jungkook's friends called him Ace. He tried not to let it go to his head. He was good at most things — school, sports, and almost everything else. And he had a soft enough heart that when your brother showed up asking for a favor, he didn't immediately say no. Apparently, you had thrown a spectacular fit at home, flat-out refusing to go on the family vacation because no one could be trusted to look after your precious pet. Or, as your brother put it, you had managed to scare away five sitters in a row.

When most people talked about pets, the usual suspects came to mind — a puppy, a kitten, maybe even a calf if you were being unusual. But with you? Ordinary was never on the list.

In the few years Jungkook had known you, he’d seen you try to turn the most unpettable creatures into companions. First, there was the tarantula. Then a raccoon. A baby python. And, at one point, a mule. Each one eventually had to be relocated by your dad, either to a farm or back into the wild. So now Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder: what was it this time?

You were out on the porch when Jungkook arrived at your house with your brother and their friend Jacob. You were frantically scanning the yard, clearly searching for something.

“Kitty… KITTY… Here, kitty, come here!” you called out loudly.

Jungkook leaned closer to your brother and whispered, “Did she finally adopt a normal pet?”

“You’ll see,” was all your brother replied.

The three boys walked up to you. You were younger than all of them, yet somehow still taller. “He ran away! Again,” you announced the moment you noticed them approaching.

Your brother sighed. “Have you ever considered that maybe you’re keeping him against his will?”

“Shut up. He loves me,” you shot back defensively before returning to the urgent task of searching for your mystery pet.

“We’ll help you look,” Jungkook offered. You turned toward them immediately, a spark of hope lighting up your face.

“Yep. So… what does your cat look like?” Jacob asked casually. Your hopeful expression instantly shifted into a scoff; the very suggestion had almost offended you.

“Cat?” you repeated. “It’s not a cat.” Of course it wasn’t. Why had Jungkook even entertained the idea that you would adopt something as normal as a cat, and then name it Kitty? No, that is what sane people do. If anything, it was probably something ridiculous. A tiger cub. Maybe a hyena puppy.

"What is it then?” Jacob asked, voicing the exact question that had been circling in Jungkook’s head. As if on cue—like a dramatic entrance in a play—your beloved pet strolled out of the bushes.

"Kitty!" You crouched down immediately, voice going soft. "You had me worried."

Jungkook barely noticed the animal at first. Not until a loud, shrill scream rang out beside him. He turned just in time to see Jacob stumbling backward, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to get away.

“That’s a fucking lizard!”

“It’s an iguana.”

“It’s an iguana, you idiot,” Jungkook and you corrected him simultaneously.

“Whatever, bro. I am not sitting that.” With that, Jacob scrambled to his feet and bolted down the street, most likely heading straight home.

Your brother watched him disappear and sighed. “Well… I guess we can rule Jacob out as a sitter.”

“Why are you even looking for a sitter?” you asked. “I told you I’m not going.”

“Come on,” your brother groaned. “You promised you would go if we could find someone to watch him. Jungkook wouldn’t mind helping, right, Jungkook?”

Jungkook wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of a large lizard living in his house for a week. But the thought of you being away for that long? That part sounded pretty great.

“No, I wouldn’t,” he said flatly.

“Really?” you raised an eyebrow. “Then tell me, what do iguanas eat?”

“Uh… lettuce?” he guessed, blurting out the first vaguely healthy food that came to mind.

You gasped dramatically. “You’re going to starve him to death. Bro, he’d probably feed him cereal for dinner. I am not leaving Kitty with him.”

“I’m not an idiot, you know,” Jungkook shot back defensively. You looked at him for a moment.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

It took ten minutes of negotiation and four or five carefully considered hmms from Jungkook before you agreed to let him watch Kitty for the week. Let him. As though he had been desperately campaigning for the privilege of housing the wrinkly creature you insisted on calling your pet.

You led him to your room to hand over the supplies — the tank, the food, a handwritten care sheet that was frankly more detailed than most instruction manuals he'd read.

“So… why Kitty?” He finally asked the question he had been dying to know the moment he stepped on your porch.

“Um… I don’t know,” you said with a small shrug. “When I found him, he was being chased by the neighbor’s cat. When I finally saved him from Juno, he started purring at me. Just like a cat.”

Sometimes Jungkook genuinely couldn’t understand how someone like you could be so gentle with animals. The way you treated them was the complete opposite of how you behaved with people—soft, patient, caring. Jungkook almost smiled at the story. Almost. Then he remembered how mean you usually were to him.

“Iguanas don’t really make noise,” he pointed out.

“They do for me.”

Jungkook glanced down at the iguana lazily blinking in its tank.

“You’re lucky,” he muttered to the reptile. “She actually likes you.”

19 and 21

You were never a fan of the clean slate propaganda people pushed. Fresh starts were for people who had something to run from. You had spent years building something, a reputation, an aura, a particular quality of silence that fell over a room when you walked in. The kind that made people choose their words carefully. That made them want, instinctively, to impress you.

You were going to miss that. The careful eyes. The slight hesitation before someone spoke to you. Not for long, though. You'd built it once. You'll build it again.

Your mother was hugging you like you were being deployed. Your father moved quietly behind her, unloading the trunk with the efficiency of a man who had learned, over many years, not to comment on the volume of your luggage. And there was a lot of it. Enough that a passing person slowed down, looked at the pile, and then looked at you with something between respect and concern.

You wanted to cry — genuinely, unexpectedly — but decided not to because that would ruin your aesthetic. So you settled on kissing your mother on the forehead instead, looking down at the luggage as if you expected it to start walking on its own and settle in your apartment. With no particular effort, you glanced at the doorman.

That was all it took. Something in his expression shifted — the same way it always did with people — and he was already moving toward your luggage, gathering it up, carrying it into the lobby like it had been his idea all along. You didn't ask. You never really had to.

The building was nice. Expensive. You had not pitied your father's money when choosing it. It was close to campus — as close as you could get while still being adjacent to the city, still being able to hear it breathing outside your window at night. You needed that. The hum of somewhere that didn't sleep.

Room 1509— high enough for privacy, far enough from the elevator so you didn't have to listen to people moving all day.

With one last promise to your parents that you would call them every weekend, you bid them goodbye and walked up to the lift. The doors closed. For the first time in 19 years, you were alone in a space that was entirely yours. You allowed yourself exactly three seconds to feel something about that.

When you walked into your apartment, the luggage was already outside the door, scattered; you suppose the doorman had brought it, or whatever, you didn't really pay attention. You stepped around it without breaking stride, making a mental note to deal with it later — or find someone who would.

You set the beige basket on a table. It was the one thing you'd carried yourself, the entire journey, through the airport and the car ride and the lobby and the lift. You'd held it on your lap for five hours. You opened the lid. Smiling immediately.

"Hey, Albert." You cooed. He blinked up at you — eight months old, absurdly fluffy, already heavier than any duck had a reasonable right to be at his age. You reached in and lifted him out with the careful, practiced tenderness. "Was it stuffy in there?" You brought him up to your face, and he regarded you with an unimpressed look. "I'm so sorry. Five hours in that jail. Mom will never do it again."

Albert said nothing, of course. He was a duck. But he didn't pull away either, which you had long ago decided counted as forgiveness.

You had found him behind a school, near the small pond at the edge of the grounds, a tiny ball of yellow fur that had been separated from its mother by some kid who hadn't thought past the wanting of it. You'd spent three hours searching for the mother. Walked the entire perimeter of that pond twice, asked everyone nearby, and refused to leave until the sun was almost gone. Eventually, you had accepted the fact and taken him home. That was eight months ago. Your father had not yet attempted a relocation.

You settled onto the couch with Albert tucked against your chest, the apartment quiet around you, the city humming somewhere outside the window.

You fell asleep almost immediately, still in your outside clothes, Albert stepping down and waddling somewhere near your feet. The last thing you heard was the quiet, rhythmic sound of him working through his shredded lettuce. Bossing people around, apparently, took a toll on you.

*******

You woke up to a crash. For a moment, you just lay there, blinking at an unfamiliar ceiling, slightly confused. The skyline outside the large window had gone a pretty shade of orange, the sun mostly gone, the city settling into that amber hour of dusk.

Then the noise again. A thud, followed by something that sounded like a struggle. It was coming from directly outside your door. You got up, padded over, and pressed your ear against it.

"Shibal, who the fuck left their shit outside?" The voice was thick and gruff. Then the sound of a bark, wait bark? I thought pets were not allowed here. You opened the door a crack and peered out.

The first thing you saw was a naked back. Someone crouched on the floor, getting up slowly, a large brown dog orbiting him with a jubilant energy. Then he straightened. And it was a naked chest. He hadn't noticed you yet. He was looking down at your luggage — scattered exactly where you'd left it — like he was forming an opinion already, definitely not a good one. Then he looked up.

"Ma'am, do you need help with the luggage?"

You had approximately one second to process the face, and one second was not enough.

No, you thought. Absolutely not. This building has a hundred and something units. This is statistically impossible. This is not happening.

Jeon Jungkook looked at you.

You looked at Jeon Jungkook.

You almost considered slamming the door in his face, but you were not quick enough. He had recognized you, and you could tell the exact moment when realization hit him.

Within the next five seconds, you watched in real time as his expressions changed with the speed of light, 4 times. Confused. Astonished. Annoyed. And then the last one, which you didn't have a clean word for, a smile that wasn't really a smile, the expression of a person who has just lost a bet with the universe and finds it, against their will, a little bit amusing.

"Of course," he said, almost to himself. Then, louder: "Of course." Then, looking up, as if cursing the universe, "Of fucking course."

"Hi." You smirked, satisfied with the effect you still had on him.

*******

Three days. It has been three days exactly since you encountered Jungkook in your hallway after he fell face-first into your luggage and then stood half-naked in your hallway.

Three days of both of you trying to avoid each other like a plague, timing everything perfectly, just so you do not run into each other again. However, the efforts were more from his end; you did not really care that much, and honestly, you were lowkey offended that he did.

And as it turned out, the universe, apparently in a very funny mood, had decided his apartment was directly across the hall from yours. Right there. Opposite door. Of the dozens of empty units in this building, of the twenty or more he could have chosen, he was here, directly across from you. The word coincidence felt too generous.

So you had taken it upon yourself to accidentally run into him so that you could ask him why the hell he was avoiding you so determinably.

You were not someone people avoided. You were someone people adjusted themselves around, angled toward. Jeon Jungkook engineering his entire morning routine around not seeing you was something you could not let stand.

It took exactly two days of casual observation — observation, not watching, the distinction mattered — to establish exactly what time Jungkook left his apartment to go wherever the hell he went every morning.

It was ridiculous how much time you had in your hand, especially with the induction coming up on the very next day, and you having to prepare a special speech that was instructed to you in the mail. If Albert could talk and understand, he would definitely give you an earful about priorities and basic social behaviour.

Pressing your ear on the front door once again made you feel like a creep. Then you heard it, at exactly 7:45, the sound of a door clicking and then an electric beep of it locking again. You counted to 4 in your head before opening yours as well, and then giving the best performance of acting surprised before you even saw the figure.

Unfortunately tho, your Oscar-worthy performance was in vain because the person who stared at you, holding a hand to her heart as though you had scared her, was an old woman and not your childhood nemesis.

The woman gave you a very judgmental look before muttering something about manners and went along her way.

"You're into scaring old helpless women now?"

The voice came from your left. You turned around to see him leaning against his doorframe, casually biting an apple. A bag slung over his shoulder and his messy hair returned the warmth you felt that night.

"I thought it was you," you said, crossing your arms, meeting his eyes directly.

"You thought that 5 feet, 60-somethin, fragile old lady was me?"

"Umhmm. The resemblance is uncanny." Jungkook snickered at your wit.

He said nothing, just stared at you until he finished his entire apple as if establishing to you that you did not intimidate him. Then he turned and started walking toward the elevator.

“Wait,” you called before he’d even gone ten feet. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

Jungkook stopped, turned back, and took a couple of seconds before answering—settling on a lie. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Oh, really?” you said. “So you’ve just been taking the stairs every time you see me in the elevator… for fun?”

“I’m a health freak.” You scoffed, clearly unimpressed.

“Just admit it. You were avoiding me.” You uncrossed your arms and walked toward him at an unhurried pace until you were standing barely a foot away. Jungkook swallowed but didn’t step back. “You might be the cool, gym-obsessed Jungkook to everyone else, but to me, you’re still that awkward little boy who’s scared of girls.” From the years of being aqainted to you, one way or another, Jungkook had learned that you held no malice in your words, so his expression did not falter.

“And you haven’t changed either,” he said evenly. “Still the narcissistic little girl who thinks the world revolves around her.” He paused, holding your gaze. “Well, guess what, it doesn’t. Definitely not mine. So no—I wasn’t avoiding you. You do not hold that amount of importance in my life.” It stung more than you expected. Just a little—but enough for a flicker of embarrassment to rise to your face.

Your instincts told you to say something meaner, to cut deeper, to make him cry again, just like you did all those years ago in the school playground. But something stopped you, mostly his expressions, which did not match a single word he said, eyes just as wide and soft as the day you first met him.

"I fucking hate you."

"Yeah? The feeling's mutual, Bubbles." The old nickname had done something to you, something weird in your heart and stomach, almost like someone was tickling you with a feather. For a brief moment, you caught his gaze drop, your toes curling up instinctively. His expression shifted, and if you didn’t know better, you might’ve called it concern. You followed his line of sight—down to your bare feet. "Why aren’t you wearing any shoes?” he asked, momentarily forgetting the topic of the conversation.

"None of your business."

"Fine. Suit yourself." He turned away, slipping his headphones back on as he stepped into the elevator.

“Health freak, my ass,” you muttered under your breath before heading back to your apartment. You turned the handle to your door once, then twice, and then again. It did not budge. "Fuck."

You locked yourself out of your apartment.

Four hours. It has been four whole hours since you locked yourself out of the apartment. You had tried everything—or at least, everything you were willing to try. Which mostly meant turning the handle in different directions and hoping for a miracle. It didn’t work. Honestly, it was probably a good thing it didn’t; you’d be more concerned if it had.

Your pride, and, more importantly, your embarrassment, kept you from going downstairs to ask for help. At least the building had decent temperature control; otherwise, you might’ve frozen in the minimal clothing you had on.

In those four hours, the hallway had stayed mostly deserted. The only people you saw were a couple who gave you a suspicious look, probably assuming you were either a burglar or, worse, someone’s ex who had just been dumped.

Eventually, you gave in and sat down outside your door—after carefully checking the floor for any dust or stains, of course. Your eyes drifted to the plant placed beside Jungkook’s door. A single white flower bloomed from it, tilted away from you like it was deliberately ignoring you—or mocking you. "Stupid Jungkook." You sighed angrily as it was all his fault. Which it was, if he had not been avoiding you, you would not be here.

Another fifteen minutes passed before the elevator chimed again. You stood up immediately, ready to swallow your pride and ask for help. You changed your mind just as quickly when you saw the same boy you had so aggressively declared your hatred for that morning. He stopped mid-step when he saw you—still in the same pajamas he had left you in hours ago. His expression shifted from confusion to understanding, and then to amusement as the situation clicked into place. By the time he reached you, a laugh had already escaped him.

"Did you lock yourself out, Bubbles?" he asked. The nickname that had made something flutter earlier now only irritated you—like he was talking down to you.

"Don’t call me that," you snapped. "And I did not lock myself out. I’m just… inspecting the corridor for bugs."

"Uh-huh," he said dryly. "I’ll save you the trouble—there aren’t any. Now go inside." He stood there, watching you with a raised eyebrow as you pretended to turn the handle again.

"I will."

"Yeah? Go ahead."

"Why are you still here? Go do your stuff."

He didn’t move. "Why are you so stubborn?' he said finally. "Just admit you need help."

You shot him a challenging look. He knew you well enough to understand—you’d rather sit out here all night than ask for help. You bit the inside of your cheek. He shook his head disapprovingly, then turned and unlocked his own apartment, stepping inside.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath, still biting your cheek to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

Not even five seconds later, the door opened again. Jungkook stepped out, a screwdriver in one hand and a pair of slippers in the other. He dropped the slippers at your feet. You looked at them stubbornly for a moment before giving in and slipping them on. Without saying anything, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. Then he crouched in front of your door and started working on the lock.

Of course, your body chose that exact moment to betray you. Your stomach let out a loud hungry growl.

“Go inside,” he said without looking up. “This might take a while. There are fruits on the dining table.” The thought of finally eating something overpowered your pride, and you followed his instructions without arguing.

His interior was much different than yours, everything black and gray, a complete contrast to your pastel colours. The dog you’d seen a few times in the evenings padded up to you, eyeing you curiously, trying to decide whether you were a threat. You smiled in greeting, and that was all it took; he immediately started bouncing around, clearly approving of you.

For all his intimidating appearance, he was nothing more than a big, soft puppy. You offered him a slice of apple, which he eagerly took from your hand before nudging you insistently with his head, asking for attention. You obliged, running your fingers through his head as he leaned into you. "Stupid dog," you mumbled, but not with any bitterness.

After another fifteen minutes of playing with what might be the dumbest puppy you had ever met, you heard Jungkook call your name. You stepped out and saw him standing by your door, which was now slightly open—not fully, just enough.

Relief washed over you, and you rushed inside immediately. Albert, delighted to see you, waddled over at once.

“Holy fucking Jesus—what the hell is that?” Jungkook blurted, staring at your duck with clear disgust. Albert responded with a loud quack, returning the pleasantries.

“It’s a duck,” you said simply.

Jungkook thought, 'Of course, you have a duck. How can you exist without having an unconventional pet?'

“I can see that it’s a duck,” he replied, glancing back and forth between you and Albert. For the first time in a while, you caught something new in his expression—fear.

“Wait… are you scared of ducks?” you asked, a smirk forming. He didn’t seem to think that deserved an answer.

“Keep that thing away from me,” he said, watching Albert like he was personally responsible for some ancestral tragedy. “And don’t lock yourself out again.”

"Jungkook." Your voice came out softer—softer than he had probably ever heard from you. You bit your lips, but the words still refused to come out.

"You're welcome." He closed your door after him, leaving you alone with Albert.

*******

NOW

The campus was busy today. A new semester meant an influx of new students, the place buzzing with unfamiliar faces. Summer break was over, and everyone had returned—well, everyone who had somewhere to go for the summer, unlike you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t have the option. You just didn’t feel like facing your parents and explaining why you’d changed your major three times in four semesters. Staying back had been easier. You told them you were taking summer classes to catch up, which wasn’t entirely false—you had been studying, just not enrolled in any official courses.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one who had chosen not to go home. Jungkook had stayed back, too. You didn’t know his reason, but you were certain it wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart.

At least, on the bright side, the two of you were no longer constantly plotting each other’s murder. Don’t get it wrong—you still hated him. Just not the murderable amount anymore. He had grown used to your duck loudly quacking early in the mornings, and you, in turn, had adjusted to the fact that he seemed to be half-naked at every possible opportunity.

You were on your way to the football field, changed into your cheer clothes. You were surrounded by your giggling teammates, who apparently had no better topic of discussion than how hot the football boys were. It was the first cheer practice after summer, and everyone seemed eager to show off the routines they had worked on. Everyone except you. You hadn’t worked out once in the past two months, and the thought of it worried you—mostly because you were convinced your spotter, Hoseok, might actually break a hip trying to lift you.

Leshi, your cheer captain, noticed the expression on your face before practice began, and like the sweetheart she is, she took you to the side and asked if everything was alright. You, being you (slightly constipated when it comes to expressing), had brushed it off as a slow day. Assuring her that once you are out in the field, you'll cheer up.

"Okay, five, six, five six seven eight." It took you only a few rounds before you fell back into the routine again, so smoothly, like you didn't stop practicing even for a minute.

While Tina was demonstrating a few new steps she wanted to add, the girls suddenly got distracted by something across the field. Their high-pitched giggles and laughter made you turn to see what had caught their attention. Of course—it was the varsity boys walking over. Some of them were proud of the way the girls were reacting, giving a few winks and flying kisses as if they were some pop stars or something.

"Ughh." You rolled your eyes, unimpressed.

"Girls, focus," Leshi yelled, which made them go even more mental. Across the field, your eyes met with Jungkook's. You were a little relieved that, for once, he was fully dressed. His expression was blank, as if he hadn't grown up down your street and now lived across from your apartment. Not even a nod of acknowledgement. Not that it bothered you. You wouldn't expect anything less from Jeon Jungkook. He generally does avoid you in college like you're some deadly parasite.

The boys had started their warm-up, and after a few scoldings from your captain, the girls had stopped acting like bafoons as well.

"Do you guys know each other?" someone had asked you between breaks. It was Harper, the junior, who joined the team right before the last session ended.

"Who?" you replied, mid-stretch, with Hoseok helping you.

"Jungkook," she said. "He’s been staring at you this whole time." She was clearly trying not to sound jealous. You turned in the direction, and surely Jungkook was there, eyes boring at you.

"He's probably wondering why she's so stiff," Hoseok joked, earning a playful slap to his chest from you.

"Not really. He's my stupid brother's stupid friend," you said, not breaking eye contact with Jungkook. You almost laughed when his coach flicked his forehead, probably telling him to focus. Although you gave a vague answer, it was enough for Harper and a few other girls to perk up.

"Really? OMG, that's so cool."

"What's cool about knowing that idiot?"

"I mean… maybe you could talk to him about me? I've been eyeing him since freshman year." You raised your eyebrow at her confession. Something stirred inside your stomach. You were not very familiar with the ugly feeling, but you had noticed it only took place when he was involved.

"You want me to set you up with him?" You raised an eyebrow, scoffing at the stupid suggestion. "Do I look like someone who sets people up?" You didn't mean to sound so mean, but you couldn't help it. She was getting on your nerves. What part of your attitude had given her the idea that you would giggle with her in the locker room and help her plan a date?

"Oh, come on. Help a girl out." She batted her eyelashes at you as if it would sway you. You gave her a nod.

"You want me to set you up? Fine." You straightened and called out loudly, “Yo, Jungkook!” The entire field went quiet; every single person stopped practicing to look at you. Harper's eyes widen with shock and before she could stop you, you yelled out just as loud, "Harper here wants to date you, you down?"

The boys around him immediately started hooting and whistling. Harper, completely put on the spot, gave an awkward little wave. Jungkook looked at her once and then back at you; his expression didn't change; instead, he went back to what he was doing.

"There, you got your answer." She was red with embarrassment and on the verge of crying.

"Why would you do that!?"

"What? You asked me to," you replied, feigning innocence.

"Not like that." She grabbed her things and stormed off, muttering 'such a bitch' under her breath.

"You don't have to be such a bitch all the time, you know?" Another girl said. Leaving after Harper to console her. You look around your group to see if someone was on your side, but all you got were disappointed looks. Even Hoseok and your captain, the only two people you might actually consider friends, didn’t back you up.

On the other side of the field, the boys had gathered around Jungkook, clearly curious. "Dude… I didn’t know you knew her," one of them said. Jungkook just gave him a confused look.

"The flyer," someone clarified. Jungkook didn’t bother responding, clearly not finding it worth answering.

"Yeah shes his friend's little sister," Jimin added for him.

"Man, she’s hot. Spunky too."

"Yeah, I like 'em a little mean." Jungkook shot both of them a sharp look, straightening slightly.

"Don’t ask me anything about her, okay?" he said firmly. "You’re not getting her number, you’re not getting a date." Then he turned back to practice, implying that the conversation was over.

"Guy's she's off-limits," Jimin added.

"They into each other or something?" Jimin burst out laughing at that. The mere thought was ridiculous.

"No, completely the opposite. You’d need a fire truck to pull them apart when they fight," he said. Then added, a little more thoughtfully, "But he’s oddly protective of her. Probably just sees her like a little sister."

*******

Karma hit you hard like a truck. Or more accurately, in this case, like Jung Hoseok. One second you were in the air, the next you were on the ground. One of your bases slipped, throwing Hoseok off balance, and before he could catch you, you landed on your ass—your ankle twisting painfully.

"Babe, I am so sorry, I swear to god I tried to catch you." Hoseok rushed out.

The girls were gathered around you, some of them whispering exactly what you were thinking about Karma, and some just looking with genuine concern. Hosoek was apologizing profusely, carefully holding your ankle, trying to assess the damage. Leshi had sent one of the girls to get the first-aid kit, but she was sure taking her sweet time.

"I know, Soek. It’s okay," you said.

"No, it’s not. I’m so fucking sorry—" Before he could go on, someone shoved him aside. Your eyes shifted—and surprisingly, it was Jeon Jungkook. He shot Hoseok an irritated look before turning to you.

"You Okay?" He asked you.

"I'm Fine," you replied, though a small groan slipped out anyway. Jungkook’s gaze snapped back to Hoseok.

"Dude, if you can't even catch a girl, maybe you shouldn't be on the team," He said a little more harshly than necessary.

"Jungkook, I said I’m fine—" Before you could finish, he had already picked you up and started carrying you toward the bleachers. You stared at him, horrified, then glanced back at your team, who were watching the two of you with confused expressions. "Put me down," you protested, squirming, but he didn’t budge—lifting you like you weighed nothing.

Great, now they'll think you had ulterior motives with Harper. Thankfully, Leshi stepped in, telling everyone to stop staring and dismissing practice early, making sure people started leaving.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" you snapped as he set you down on the bleachers before crouching in front of you.

"What does it look like?” he replied. “Your teammates weren’t exactly in a hurry to help."

"Fuck, Jungkook," you said, glaring at him. "Now they'll think I did that to Harper because I'm into you."

He ignored what you said and lifted your bare foot onto his knee, carefully examining your ankle. Grabbing the first aid box beside you, he pulled out a healing spray.

"Are you done playing doctor?" you spat out as he started wrapping your ankle with a brown bandage.

"Would you just stop being a brat for once?" he shot back, loud enough to make you fall silent. For the next five minutes, you said nothing, letting him finish. When he was done, he gave your ankle a small pat.

Before he could bend down to pick you again, you stopped him. "I can walk. I'm not a child." To prove it, you stood up, putting your weight on your good foot, and began limping off the field.

"Fucking brat." was the last thing you heard Jungkook say before you were completely out of earshot.

*******

The rest of the day was relatively uneventful. You noticed people whispering here and there whenever you walked into a room—most likely talking about what you did to your teammate. You were getting the looks from almost everyone, the looks you were used to. People had always looked at you like you were some cold-hearted bitch who would sell her children for breadsticks. The whispers, though—that was different.

Or maybe it was just that you weren’t used to being on the receiving end of them. Back home, in school, people had the decency to talk behind your back—at least pretend to be sweet in front of you. But here, no one was even trying to hide that their topic of current gossip was you.

By the end of the day, you were pretty sure you heard someone say, “She has a huge crush on Jungkook and got jealous of that poor cheerleader.” It had you rolling your eyes, as if you would ever have a crush on Jungkook.

When you reached your building lobby, your gaze dropped to your injured leg, still tightly wrapped in the bandage Jungkook had put on. “Stupid Jungkook,” you muttered under your breath, irritation bubbling up again. Why did he have to make such a big deal out of a frickin' ankle sprain? You hated him for making you look like the crazy one.

You quietly walked out of the elevator on your floor; it was still just as deserted as the day you moved in. Only three apartments on the whole floor were occupied, yours, Mrs. Ferris (The poor old lady you scared that one morning), and fucking Jungkook.

As you walked to your door, your eyes drifted—almost involuntarily—to the plant beside it. The same pot with white flowers that sat near Jungkook’s door once. After you had locked yourself out that day, you noticed the pot had shifted the next morning. You also noticed that the soil in the pot was noticeably reduced, like someone had scooped it out to make it lighter. You had placed your spare key under the pot since that day. Jungkook never spoke about it, and you never asked either.

The plant now grows two flowers instead of one, two flowers always facing opposite directions; the irony had made you laugh.

Your duck was waiting for you just inside, and the moment you stepped in, he started quacking loudly—like he had his own complaints about the day. You let out a tired sigh. “Me too, Albert. Me too.” You picked him up, pressing a series of kisses to his tiny head, which he tolerated with mild reluctance. “Let me tell you something,” you murmured. “We hate Jungkook. Okay?” Albert responded with a simple quack.

You spent the evening venting to your duck while preparing a snack for both of you, then eating it together. Albert responded with the occasional nod here and a quack there, like he understood every word.

That was until you heard a familiar bark right outside your door—first the bark, then laughter. You set your bowl of berries down and stood up, ready to go out and tear Jungkook apart again, because, honestly, you weren’t done yet. You didn’t even know what would satisfy you. An apology? Hah, as if that was ever going to happen, there were more possibilities of earth being flat than Jungkook apologizing to you. You were about to yank open your front door, words right on the tip of your tongue, when something stopped you.

A second laughter. One that was feminine and high-pitched. Your expression darkened immediately. It wasn’t anything new. Over the past twenty-one months, you have seen Jungkook bring countless women home. Yet for some stupid reason, you hadn’t expected tonight to be one of those nights—like, somehow you had reserved Jungkook for the whole day with one mishap in the morning.

The irritation boiled inside you, even more so than before. How dare he stand there giggling with a girl after completely ruining your day?

You yanked the door open—harder than you intended—and nearly lost your own balance from the force.

All three pairs of eyes turned to you at once—the woman, the man, and the dog. The first thing you noticed was how beautiful she was. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, not a single strand out of place.

The second thing was their matching outfits—or lack thereof. Jungkook was shirtless, as usual, wearing low-hanging black gym shorts. The woman stood beside him in a black sports bra and shorts. Both of them were visibly sweaty, and it was obvious they had just come back from an evening run.

The third thing you noticed was something that gave you that ugly feeling again. A brown bandage wrapped around her wrist. The same kind that was currently around your ankle. Your mind instantly painted an image of him kneeling in front of her, carefully tending to her injury—just like he had done for you. The thought left a foul taste in your mouth. The dog was the first one to acknowledge your presence, tail wagging as he trotted over, nudging your hand for attention.

“I see your bandage skills aren’t exclusive to me. And here I thought I was special,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. Jungkook rolled his eyes before introducing you to the woman. She offered you a polite greeting, hand extended, which you blatantly ignored as you brushed past her, pushing her shoulder with yours ever so lightly. Jungkook shot you a sharp look at that.

“Jiah, why don’t you go inside?” he said. “Take Bam with you.” She nodded, taking the dog’s leash before stepping into his already open apartment. The moment she was out of earshot, Jungkook turned back to you, the hint of a smile gone. “What do you want?” he asked, looking down at you as you stood right in front of him.

“Well, where do I even begin?” you snapped. “I don’t want to see your face in college. I don’t want you pretending like you care about me in front of everyone. And I want you to stop making me look like some psycho freak.” He let out a short scoff.

“Trust me, doll,” he said coldly. “That’s all you.”

You looked at him, almost offended. “I act like a psycho? If you hadn’t shown up acting like some prince charming, everything would’ve been fine. But no—you had to go all protective. Do you have any idea what people are saying? That I’m some crazy bitch who did all that for attention.”

“Didn’t you, though?”

“Excuse me?” Now you were actually offended. “I don’t do anything for attention.”

“Oh really?” he shot back. “Then why did you do that to the poor girl?”

“Poor girl?” you scoffed. “What, you feel bad for her now?”

“I feel bad for anyone who has to deal with you, Bubbles.” You let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.

“Wow,” you said, clapping once slowly. “That’s rich. Coming from you.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t get to stand there and act morally superior,” you snapped. “You’ve been avoiding me like I’m some disease for weeks, and suddenly today you decide to play hero in front of everyone?”

“I wasn’t playing anything,” he shot back. “You were hurt.”

“It was an ankle sprain, Jungkook,” you corrected, your voice rising. “I would have lived.”

“And yet you couldn’t even walk properly,” he said, stepping a little closer. “God forbid someone actually helps you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.

“Yeah, you never do,” he said, a bitter edge slipping into his tone. “That’s kind of your thing, isn’t it? Push everyone away and then act surprised when no one sticks around.”

You froze for a second, the words hitting somewhere deeper than you expected. “Don’t act like you know me,” you said, quieter but colder. “You didn’t do that to help me. You did it to prove something. That you’re the ‘good one’ and I’m the villain. Congrats—you got your audience.”

“But I do,” he replied. “I’ve known you long enough to know exactly how you operate.”

"Oh yeah? How do I operate Jungkook? Please tell me?"

“You think everything is a performance,” he said. “Like everyone’s always trying to get back at you. Grow up. Not everything revolves around you.”

His words felt like a slap, just a little. You clenched your teeth so you would not let the tear slip from your eye. You stepped closer—close enough that your chests nearly brushed. You had to tilt your head up to meet his eyes, but he didn’t look away.

"Fuck. You. Jungkook." You almost whispered. "Just stay out of my life. I don't want to see your face again."

You bit down on your lip, your gaze flickering briefly toward his half-open door. The woman inside was still visible—sitting quietly, her presence soft, easy. The kind of person people naturally liked. The kind who made others feel comfortable. Something you know no one can ever say about you.

As soon as the door closed behind you, you let out a sharp breath you were holding.

*******

You and Jungkook barely crossed paths after that—at least not for the next couple of weeks. He went out of his way to avoid you in the hallways, though it’s not like you were looking forward to seeing him either. You had even started taking the stairs whenever you spotted him near the elevator. The only place you couldn’t avoid each other was practice. Your cheer team was assigned to the varsity football team, so you still saw him almost every day.

Jimin was the first to notice—and, unsurprisingly, the first to bring it up.

“What’s going on between you and the diva?” he asked, tying his laces before jogging alongside Jungkook.

Jungkook vividly remembers the night Jimin gave you that nickname. The two of them had been drunk at a club, and he had spent nearly an hour ranting about you—about how insufferable you were. Even though there was a girl practically grinding on him, all he could think about was how much you infuriate him.

“Nothing’s going on,” Jungkook replied flatly.

Jimin snorted. “She’s looking at you like she’s about this close to chopping your dick off,” he said, holding up his fingers to show just how close. Jungkook glanced over to where he knew you were stretching with your teammates, and the moment your eyes met, you quickly looked away.

“She’s all bark,” Jungkook said casually. Jimin followed his gaze and noticed the slight frown on your face, your lips pulled into a small pout. He almost commented how you were too cute—but one glance at Jungkook beside him was enough to make him keep that thought to himself.

“You know,” Jimin said casually, “if she wasn’t so headstrong and you weren’t… well, you—you two would actually make a pretty cute couple.”

Jungkook nearly choked, coughing as he shot Jimin a look of pure disgust.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, stopping mid-track.

“What?” Jimin shrugged. “It’s just a thought. You’re hot, she’s hot.”

“Yeah, well,” Jungkook muttered, glaring at him, “keep it to yourself.”

Jimin didn’t bring it up again, but the idea lingered in Jungkook’s mind. It refused to leave. Honestly, he had never seen you that way before—never even considered it as a possibility. To him, you had always just been you—annoying, sharp-tongued, headstrong, impossible. But now that Jimin had said it out loud, the thought kept resurfacing uninvited. It was irritating.

Every time he looked in your direction, he became more aware of you—of the way you carried yourself, of how easily you slipped back into routines like nothing could shake you, of the constant expression on your face that somehow managed to be both bored and intimidating at the same time.

“You two would actually make a pretty cute couple.” Jimin’s words replayed in Jungkook’s head all day. They followed him everywhere—when he absentmindedly passed the ball during practice, when he stood under the shower afterward, when he sat in his class trying to focus on what Mr. Kim was saying, when he drove back home, even when he was at the gym. No matter what he was doing, the thought kept creeping back in, refusing to let him concentrate on anything else.

When Jungkook stepped out of the elevator onto his floor after his evening run with Bam, something made him pause. You were standing in the corridor, your back to him, hands planted on your hips as you stared down at something. You were wearing such a tiny pair of shorts and a very small t-shirt that, for a brief second, he almost felt like he was invading your privacy.

Bam immediately perked up at the sight of you, ready to run over—but then he suddenly slowed, attention shifting to something near your feet. Jungkook took a few more steps forward and followed your line of sight.

"Albert. Bad duck. Put him down." There he was, the dreadful duck.

Jungkook had never liked that creature—arguably more than he disliked you. First of all, it was a duck. A duck. An animal he knew had the potential to take over the world if given the chance. They weren’t afraid of anything, and he was convinced that thing gave him a smug, almost sinister look every time he saw it.

And then there was the other problem. The duck terrorized his dog. His big, intimidating dog—who looked like he could take down anything—was, for some reason, absolutely terrified of it.

“Albert. Put. Down. The. Lizard.” Jungkook had no idea where—or how—the duck had managed to get a lizard in its beak, and he had no intention of finding out. All he knew was that he nearly gagged when Albert finally dropped it, and you picked it up without hesitation, holding it close to your face to check if it was hurt.

“You two would actually make a pretty cute couple.” Jimin’s voice echoed in his head again. Her? Jungkook thought. Me and her? He let out a loud, disbelieving laugh at the absurdity of it. The sound made you turn. The softness on your face vanished the moment you saw him.

“Can you please get your… weird little pets inside so Bam can go in?” he said, eyeing Albert, who had now waddled right in front of his door. Bam stayed crouched behind Jungkook, clearly unwilling to move. Truthfully, Bam wasn’t the only one hesitating—Jungkook wasn’t exactly eager to walk past the devil either.

“Albert is not weird,” you snapped. “Your dog is the weird one. What kind of dog is scared of a duck?”

Jungkook scoffed. “A normal one. One that has survival instincts.”

“Please,” you rolled your eyes. “He’s being dramatic.”

“He’s dramatic?” Jungkook repeated, incredulous. “Your duck just kidnapped a lizard.”

You glanced down at Albert, who was now proudly standing between the two doors like he owned the corridor. “He was rescuing it,” you corrected.

“From what? Peace?”

You ignored that, nudging Albert lightly with your foot. “Move.” Albert didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head—then took one slow step closer to Jungkook’s door. Bam let out a small, distressed whine and pressed further behind Jungkook’s legs. You exhaled sharply. “Oh, my God.”

Jungkook didn’t move either. “Yeah. Exactly.”

The two of you stood there for a moment—completely stuck. You crossed your arms. “You can go around.”

“There is no ‘around,’” he said flatly. “It’s a hallway.”

“Then jump over him.”

Jungkook gave you a look. “I’m not jumping over your demon bird.”

“Duck.”

“Same thing.”

You sighed, crouching down to pick Albert up. He resisted for a second before finally letting you lift him, his webbed feet kicking slightly in protest. “See? Not that hard.”

“Yeah, because he likes you,” Jungkook muttered, still not moving.

You raised a brow. “Are you scared?”

“I’m being cautious.”

“Of a duck.”

“Of that duck,” he corrected.

You let out a quiet huff, stepping aside just enough. “Go.” Jungkook hesitated for half a second—then walked past quickly, like he didn’t trust you or Albert. Bam followed immediately, practically glued to his side. You almost smiled. Almost. As Jungkook reached his door, he paused, hand on the handle. He glanced back, his eyes briefly dropping to your feet.

“I see you started practice again,” he said. “Is your ankle even healed?”

You followed his gaze, then looked back up at him, unimpressed. “Jungkook, you’re not actually my doctor,” you replied. “You don’t have to keep pretending like you care.” Something in his expression shifted, almost to annoyance.

“I’m not—” he started, then stopped, exhaling sharply as he ran a hand through his hair. “You know what? Forget it.”

“Just… don’t push it too much at practice,” he said, not quite looking at you. “You’ll make it worse.”

“It was a sprain, Jungkook. People have healed from bullet wounds in two weeks.” Jungkook didn’t respond. It almost looked like he might—his jaw tightening, something unreadable flashing across his face—but then he just shook his head, like he’d already decided it wasn’t worth it. The door slammed shut. The sound echoed a little too loudly in the quiet hallway. You stood there for sometime, staring at the closed door, your grip on Albert tightening just slightly.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath. On the other side, Jungkook leaned back against the door the second it shut, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief second. He cannot believe how much he lets you get on his nerves.

Bam looked up at him, tilting his head. Jungkook let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his already messy hair before pushing himself off the door. “I’m gonna cook that duck one day,” he muttered, glaring at the closed door.

Bam gave a small, uncertain bark. Jungkook scoffed. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re scared of it too.”

*******

The lights were low enough to blur the edges of everything, forcing you to squint just to make out faces in the crowd. Music thumped through the walls, bass-heavy and constant, vibrating faintly under your feet. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy parties—you did. You knew how to move through a room, how to fall into conversations, how to make people notice you without asking for it. But tonight, you just weren’t in the mood. Still, your teammates had dragged you to this frat party anyway. One last party before midterms, they had said—though everyone knew there was no such thing as a last party.

The moment you walked in, it was like the Harper situation had never happened. Smiles greeted you from every direction, people pulling you into quick hugs like you were some long-lost friend. You didn’t recognize half of them—faces blurred together, names long forgotten—but you played along, slipping back into it like it was second nature.

One of the girls slipped a drink into your hand, and you took a casual sip. You frowned slightly—whoever made it knew exactly how you liked it. You didn’t question it. By the time you were two drinks in, the edge had softened. The noise didn’t feel as overwhelming, the lights less irritating. You finally started to fall into the rhythm of the place, letting yourself blend into the crowd.

You glanced around for your teammates, but they were nowhere to be seen. Figures. With a small exhale, you let yourself sway along with the music, moving mindlessly with the bodies around you.

Your eyes kept scanning the crowd, though you weren’t even sure what—or who—you were looking for. There was a small part of your mind, barely there, wondering if he might show up tonight. You hadn’t seen him all evening, so you told yourself it was just curiosity. Nothing more.

Your gaze stilled the moment it landed on something familiar—the glint of a lip piercing. He was already looking at you. He’d known exactly where you were the entire time. Jungkook sat sprawled on a couch in the corner, a beer in hand, completely at ease. A half-drunk girl was perched on his lap, leaning into him like she belonged there. And still—his eyes were on you. boring into your soul as if he could read your thoughts.

The view had done something to your stomach. The urge to walk straight up to him and dump your drink over both of them felt very real. Not trusting your intrusive thoughts to not do exactly that, you chugged down the rest of it.

The feeling was just settling in your guts when two hands found your waist. You turned sharply, ready to snap at whoever it was—but your expression softened the moment you recognized him. "Hosoek." You pulled him into a quick hug, relief slipping through you at the sight of someone familiar.

“Hey, babe.” He leaned back, looking down at you before letting out a low whistle. “Damn. You look hot.” Parties were Hoseok’s element. The second he stepped into one, he owned it—the most confident guy in the room, like he could conquer the world with two hip thrusts.

“Says you,” you shot back, smirking as you gave him a once-over in return.

A conversation smoothed between the two of you, and for a while, the boy with the lip piercing and tattoo sleeve slipped completely out of your mind. That was until you turned—And your eyes met his again. Same spot. Same couch. Same girl draped over him, leaning in close, whispering something into his ear. Your chest tightened, heart racing.

Without thinking twice, your hand moved to the hands resting on your waist, pulling Hoseok closer. Your bodies pressed together, grinding with the music in a way that two friends were definitely not supposed to. You somewhat felt bad for Hoseok, for giving him false hope, for using him for... You don't even know what you were doing. There was this desire to one-up Jungkook, like it was some weird competition of who could be more vulgar publicly.

Even in the dim light, you caught the shift. Jungkook’s hand slid to the girl’s waist, pulling her in closer. His eyes never left yours. Not for a second. His other hand moved up, fingers tangling into her hair as he tilted her head back just slightly. It felt intentional. Like a response. Your own hand moved in instinct, sliding up to the back of Hoseok’s neck, pulling him down. Your ass pressed against him, and you felt his hand snake under your tiny skirt, grazing the soft skin of your thigh. You knew you were going too far, to the point of no return.

Then you stopped, watching how he closed the rest of the distance and pulled her down for a kiss. A kiss so intense you could feel it from across the room. Eyes finally leave you and shift his complete focus to the girl on his lap.

You wanted to scream, definitely not because you felt something shatter inside you, but because you lost. Whatever silent standoff had been going on between you, he ended it first. The sight made you a little sick.

You dragged a hand through your hair, stepping away from Hoseok abruptly. He looked at you, confusion and guilt replacing whatever haze he’d been in. “I’m gonna go outside,” you said, forcing a small smile.

“Wait—hey, I’m sorry. Did I—did I go too far? I didn’t mean to—” he started quickly. You cut him off with a shake of your head.

“No, Hobi. You’re fine.” You leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, reassuring him, before slipping away through the crowd.

The shift hit you immediately. Outside, the air was cooler, cleaner. The music dulled into a distant thump, still pulsing faintly under your skin but no longer suffocating. A few students lingered around—some laughing, some waiting for rides, one bent over the lawn, throwing up. You wrinkled your nose in disgust, looking away.

Your eyes landed on a guy leaning against the wall, cigarette between his fingers. Even from a distance, you could tell it wasn’t just a regular one—the smell gave it away.

“Can I have one?” you asked—more of a demand than a question.

“Depends,” he said, smirking, his eyes dragging slowly over your figure. “What do I get in return?” You scoffed at the audacity. He didn’t look older than a freshman.

“In return, I won’t call the cops for underage smoking…” You said coolly, leaning in just enough to catch the scent, "and drinking.”

His smirk faltered, eyes sharpening slightly. “…Good enough.” He reached into his jacket, pulling out a crumpled pack and handing you one of the poorly rolled cigarettes. You placed it between your lips, and he leaned in to light it, the tiny purple flame flickering between you.

You glanced at the lighter in his hand. “Can I have that too?” It was pretty, and you wanted it.

He hesitated for a second. “It’s mine…” A pause. Then he shrugged, holding it out. “But yeah. You can have it.”

The first drag pulled a cough out of you immediately. You weren’t a smoker—never had been—but there was something oddly familiar about the smell, something that settled your nerves just a little. After a few smaller drags, your lungs adjusted. You leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly, your mind replaying everything that had happened inside. It felt… stupid. The whole thing.

With every sound of the door opening behind you, your eyes flicked over instinctively. Perhaps some part of you was waiting. Hoping. That once Jungkook noticed you were gone, he’d come after you. You didn’t even know what you’d say if he did. Or what you wanted him to say. You just knew that whatever had happened in there—That wasn’t normal. That is not how people who supposedly hate each other behave.

A sudden commotion caught your attention. Glancing to your left, you saw two guys hovering over a girl. At first, you assumed they were friends, but then you saw her face clearly—it was Harpar. She was so drunk she could barely stand. Your eyes flicked to the two unfamiliar guys; you didn’t know if they were actually her friends, but you weren’t about to take the risk.

You straightened up and noticed a small rock by your feet, about the size of your fist. Without hesitation, you picked it up in your cigarette-free hand and approached the three of them. “Harpar?” you called, but she was too out of it to respond. The guys turned toward you. “Do you even know her?” you asked, keeping your tone sharp.

“Yeah… she’s our friend,” one of them replied, but you didn’t buy it.

“Where are you taking her?”

“Just driving her home,” the other said casually.

“I’ll drop her. She lives near me,” you don't really know where she lives.

One of them laughed, stepping closer. “Mind your own fucking business, alright? Unless you wanna come along?” You nearly gagged at his words, disgust flooding you. Your grip tightened around the rock that was hidden behind your back. The rough edges poking at your soft palm.

"I said. Let. Her. Go."

“Or what?” one of them sneered, stepping into your space. His index finger jabbed at your forehead. Before he could strike again, you gripped your cigarette tight and shoved it into his neck. He screamed, the burning sting making him stumble back.

“Bitch!” The second one lunged at you, but you didn't get the chance to swing the rock and bash his head, a flash of movement sent him crashing to the ground. A single punch left him gasping for air. Your fingers tightened around the rock, but you didn’t let it drop. You looked up. Jungkook was standing there, chest heaving, eyes dark with anger as he loomed over the first guy. It didn’t take long—both boys scrambled to their feet and ran, leaving a tense silence in their wake.

“I had it under control,” You said, voice low, his gaze flicking to your hand, still hidden behind your back. You took a step toward Harpar, who swayed drunkenly, ready to help her, but Jungkook’s hand shot out and gripped your forearm.

“Drop it,” he commanded. You hesitated for a second. “Drop it,” he repeated, softer this time, almost calm. With a dull thud, the rock slipped from your fingers and hit the ground. You stood there silently as Jungkook helped Harper to a bench near the fence. She swayed slightly, leaning against him, still too drunk to stand on her own. You watched him pull out his phone and dial someone.

“Hey… you live with Harper, right?” His voice was calm, clipped. “Can you take her home with you? Yeah… yeah… okay.” He hung up. You didn’t want to know how he knew where Harper lived or who she lived with—you’d had enough of that for today.

“I had it under control,” you muttered again, crossing your arms.

“How?” Jungkook asked, voice low but sharp, “By cracking his skull open? You know you could actually go to jail for that, right?”

“So?” you shot back. “I was defending myself, and that bastard had it coming.”

“He did,” Jungkook admitted, his eyes darkening. “But that doesn’t mean you throw rocks at people. You’re not a child anymore.” He stepped closer to you—closer than that guy ever got before you drove the cigarette into his neck.

“Why do you even care?” you spat, voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady. “Why do you even care? Why. Do you. Care. If I go to jail, or if I sprain my ankle, or if I—fuck—lock myself out of my apartment? Why do you fucking care?” Your hands were balled into fists at your sides, and for the first time tonight, you felt tears prick the corners of your eyes. Not because you were sad, but because you were angry.

Jungkook froze, his own fists clenching at his sides. The smoldering anger that usually radiated off him softened into something raw, something unguarded.

“Because…” He stopped, swallowing hard, like he was trying to find the words. He took a small step back, avoiding your gaze. “I… I don’t know, okay? I don’t fucking know.”

You and Jungkook stood in awkward silence for a few minutes until someone finally arrived—a blonde girl you immediately recognized as one of the quarterback’s girlfriends. You didn’t know her name, but a small sense of relief washed over you. So it wasn’t Jungkook sleeping with Harper's roommate, it was his friend. Not that it mattered; he could fuck whoever he wanted.

The blonde gave you a polite smile, which you returned. She said something to Jungkook that barely registered in your mind before pointing toward a black Uber waiting near the gate. Jungkook helped Harper into the car with ease, and you followed behind, keeping a careful distance. Just as you reached the car, Jungkook’s hand shot out and lightly grabbed your wrist, stopping you from getting in the car.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I can share a ride with them,” you said, nodding toward the two girls in the Uber.

“We literally live in the same building. I can drive you,” Jungkook insisted, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to do that,” you replied quickly, trying to pull your hand free.

“Could you stop being so stubborn for one second?” he snapped.

“Can you stop being such a jerk for one second?” you shot back. The blonde, sensing the tension between you two, stepped in to diffuse the situation. She spoke your name softly, halting any further argument.

“We really live on the other side, and it’s getting late. It’ll be a hassle—for you, and for us.” You glanced between her and Jungkook, then gave a small nod. “Thank you, though. Take care.” The car drove off, leaving you with the asshole.

You looked at Jungkook, your gaze softening for just a moment—just long enough for your emotions to slip through. But then the image hit you again—his hands on that girl, his lips on hers—and your expression hardened instantly, like a door slamming shut.

Just as he tried to open his mouth, you turned on your heel and started walking. He called your name once. Then again. But you didn’t stop. A second later, you could hear his footsteps behind you. The distance between you didn’t stay for long.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere.” You kept moving, your pace quick, like you were determined to reach home on foot; if you slowed down even a little, your thoughts would catch up to you. The night air felt cooler now, brushing against your skin, but it did nothing to settle the storm building inside your chest.

“It’s really late,” he said, but you ignored him, your steps never faltering. Then his hand closed around your wrist. Not harsh. Not forceful. Just enough to stop you. You could’ve pulled away—you knew you could—but you didn’t.

You turned, ready to snap at him, the words already forming on your tongue—but they died the second you saw his face. He looked tired. Not the usual irritated Jungkook you were used to. Just… tired. His eyes were softer, quieter, almost like the boy you remembered from years ago—the one who stood awkwardly on that playground, unsure of what to do with himself, but still chose to stay close to you.

“Please.” The word was quiet. It didn’t match him. And somehow, that made it worse. You swallowed, the fight draining out of you. “Please,” he said again, softer this time. Your shoulders dropped before you even realized it. The tension in your body loosened. You didn’t argue this time. You just let him guide you, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist as he led you toward his car.

The interior of his car reflected him perfectly—black leather seats, spotless, not a trace of dust anywhere. The faint mix of his cologne and cigarette smoke lingered in the air, oddly calming you faster than you would admit. You noticed him switch on the seat warmer, but chose not to say anything.

“I can do it,” you said as he leaned in to fasten your seatbelt.

“I know,” he replied, but didn’t stop. He reached across you anyway, pulling the belt over your shoulder and clicking it into place. His breath brushed against your face for a brief second, close enough to make your thoughts stumble. Then he gave the strap a small tug—once, then again—like you were some child in a car seat.

The drive stayed quiet for a while—not tense, just heavy, both of you were too drained to keep fighting. The soft hum of the engine and the warmth from the seat settled around you, easing the edge off your nerves. Then he broke the silence.

“I thought Hoseok was gay.”

You turned your head slightly, brows knitting together. “Just because he’s on the cheer team, he’s gay? That's your logic?”

“Hey, I didn’t say he was. That’s just what people think.”

“Well, he’s not.”

“Clearly.” He let out a quiet huff, something unreadable in his tone. You noticed the way his grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles paling slightly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said after a beat. “Just… didn’t know you two were that close.”

“He’s my friend.”

“Friend?” Jungkook scoffed, glancing at you briefly before looking back at the road. “Do you dance like that with all your friends? But hey, I’m not judging. You can fuck whoever you want.”

“I’m not fucking Hoseok,” you snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business.” You paused, then added, a little sharper, “And even if I was, what’s it to you?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. His jaw tightened as he focused on the road ahead. “Like I said, you can fuck whoever you want. Why would I care?”

You let out a small, humorless laugh, turning your head toward the window. “Such a hypocrite.”

Jungkook didn’t respond. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, leather creaking softly under the pressure. His jaw flexed, like he was forcing himself to stay quiet, to not let whatever was building spill over.

“Can we just drive home in silence?” you cut in before he could speak, your voice tired, lacking its usual sharpness. “I can’t wait for you to go back to ignoring me.” For a moment, he said nothing. The car filled with the low hum of the engine, the distant rush of passing cars, and something heavier sitting between the two of you.

“Gladly,” he replied.

Neither of you said a word—not when he parked the car, not as you walked into the lobby, not even in the elevator. The silence followed you all the way to your floor, heavy and unbroken. No goodnight, no goodbye, nothing. You reached your door, fingers moving mechanically as you unlocked it, but you paused, glancing back over your shoulder. He was still there, standing a few steps away, like he hadn’t quite decided what to do next. Like something was sitting on the tip of his tongue—something he wanted to say, or maybe something he was waiting for you to say.

But neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The lock clicked, louder than it should have, and you pushed the door open. And then, all he heard was the sharp slam of it closing. You were gone.

*******

You were running late—so late that every second felt like it was slipping through your fingers. You were already rehearsing excuses in your head, imagining Leshi tearing into you the second you showed up.

You grabbed your bag, shoved your feet into your shoes without properly slipping them on, and rushed out, still fixing your hair. And then you nearly walked straight into someone. You stopped short. It took you a second to recognize her—but she recognized you instantly, saying your name like no time had passed at all.

“Mrs. Jeon?”

For a moment, you just stared, caught off guard. You hadn’t seen her in years. Not since she left.

“Oh dear,” she smiled warmly. “How are you? It’s been so long. You look gorgeous.” You gave her a polite smile, a little stiff around the edges. “Wait,” she glanced around, then back at you. “You live near Kookie?” You cringed internally on Jungkook's behalf at the nickname.

“Yeah, I…” you trailed off, the words not quite coming together. Up close, she looked exactly the same. Time had skipped over her entirely; she hadn't aged a day in the past ten years.

“Do you know which one is Jungkook’s apartment?” she asked. “I know the floor, but I’m a little lost.” You nodded and pointed to the door directly across from yours.

“Oh, thank you so much, darling… I’ll see you around.” The words didn’t sit right. 'See you around?' Something in your chest tightened, a quiet defensiveness creeping in before you could stop it. After everything—after the way she left—you didn’t like how easily she said that. Like she could just… come back. Like she hasn't done enough already.

She was already moving past you toward his door. You wanted to stay, wanted to send her on her way, make up a lie that he's not home, but why do you care?

You should’ve left it alone. You knew that. It wasn’t your place. But before you could stop yourself, “He’s not home.” The words slipped out. But you knew he was; his practice started right around yours, so if he left, you would have known.

She paused, turning back to you. “Oh? Are you sure?”

“Certain,” you said, nodding, trying to sound convincing. “I think I saw him leave about ten minutes ago. Maybe try calling him?”

“I have,” she said quietly. “He’s not picking up. Not responding to my texts or voicemails either.” She said, looking a bit sad. You felt a sudden pang of anger rising, a feeling of protectiveness. You wanted to ask her where that concern had been all those years ago. Wanted to ask why she cared now. But you bit it back. Hard. Not your place, you reminded yourself again.

“I’ll just… come back, I guess,” she murmured. Please don’t, your mind whispered. But just as she turned, the door swung open. Jungkook stood there, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair a mess like always. He froze the second he saw her. And then his eyes flicked to you, searching for some explanation. Like you would know what his mother was doing here.

Mrs Jeon gave you a questioning look. "I guess I was wrong." You simply said. You forced a small smile, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze now.

And then you turned, walking down the hallway toward the elevator. You should’ve just left. You almost did. But as the elevator doors slid open, your steps slowed. Your eyes drifted back on their own. You couldn’t hear everything—just low voices, clipped, tense—but you didn’t need to. The look on Jungkook’s face was enough.

Something twisted in your chest again, heavier this time. Your feet didn’t move. Something inside you urged you to stay, to make sure he was okay before you left. You couldn't bring yourself to leave him, no matter how hard you tried. His eyes met yours across the hallway, and you wanted to shield him, protect him from the heartless woman who hurt him so much.

Your fist clenched tightly at your side as you stepped into the elevator, your eyes meeting Jungkook’s one last time before the doors slid shut. You let out a quiet sigh, a strange, twisted feeling settling in your stomach. He’ll be fine. And even if he’s not… you’re probably the last person he’d want around right now. You’d just stress him out more.

You convinced yourself the whole way to college that Jungkook is a grown man who doesn't need you to save him from his mother. Still, when practice started, your eyes kept drifting toward the boys’ side of the field. Everyone was there. Everyone except Jungkook. Your brows pulled together slightly. That wasn’t like him. He didn’t skip practice. He didn’t slack. If anything, he took it more seriously than anyone else.

You tried to focus. You really did. On the routine, on Leshi’s voice, on the rhythm your body knew so well. It didn’t last.

“Hey, Jimin,” you called during a break, making your way across the field. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, like he couldn't believe you were talking to him. “Is Jungkook not here yet?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No.”

You hesitated. “Have you talked to him? Is he gonna be late or…?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin said, shaking his head. “He texted me before practice to start without him, but he’s not picking up now.”

That didn’t sit right. You nodded anyway, it didn’t matter, and turned back toward your team. But your mind refused to stay put. It kept circling back. What did she want from him? Was something wrong? His dad? His brother? Or was she just… back? The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth. And no matter how many times you told yourself it wasn’t your problem, your eyes kept drifting back to the empty space where Jungkook should’ve been.

You didn’t hear from him for the rest of the day. Not that you usually did. It wasn’t like the two of you texted or checked in on each other—but he was… around. Always. You’d catch glimpses of him between classes, leaning against a wall with his friends, laughing too loudly, or sitting in the south wing cafeteria. He was hard to miss. But today—nothing. Not in the corridors, not outside lecture halls, not even a passing glimpse from across the quad. It was like he had just… disappeared.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. Why would it? It’s not like you were looking for him. However, your eyes kept drifting anyway. Every time you stepped out of a class, every time you turned a corner, there was this small, automatic pause. And every time, there was just no one. Maybe he’s just skipping classes. The thought came quickly, easy, almost defensive—but even you didn’t believe it. Jungkook didn’t skip. Not practice, not lectures, not anything that mattered to him.

You caught yourself scanning the cafeteria during lunch, eyes flicking over familiar faces. Nothing. You looked away quickly, annoyed at yourself. What are you even doing? It’s not like you cared where he was. And even if you did—so what? It’s not like he’d tell you.

Your fingers tapped absently against the table, irritation creeping in for no real reason. He probably doesn’t even want to be seen right now. The image of the morning flashed in your head: his face when he saw her, the way everything in him had shut down. Your jaw tightened. Good. Let him deal with it. It had nothing to do with you. It shouldn’t have anything to do with you.

The rest of the day dragged, slow and uneventful, and still no Jungkook. You almost asked Jimin again when you passed him after your last class, the question already forming, but you swallowed it down at the last second. You weren’t going to look obsessed. You weren’t going to be that person.

Finally, the day was over—practice done, classes done. You could go home. Go home and pretend you didn’t care about him in peace. You usually walked back from campus, turning down every offer your friends made to drop you off. You liked the quiet, the space to think—or not think at all. But today, you didn’t feel like walking. You didn’t feel like being alone with your own head either.

So when Hoseok pulled up beside you, rolling the window down with that easy grin of his, you didn’t hesitate.

“Need a ride?”

You nodded almost immediately, skipping over to the passenger side and slipping in. Hoseok didn’t question it—just started talking as soon as you settled in, something about practice, about someone messing up a routine, about plans for the weekend. His voice filled the car, light and familiar. But none of it really registered. You nodded when it felt right, hummed in response when there was a pause, but your mind was somewhere else entirely, running in circles. And no matter how much you tried to focus on anything else, on Hoseok’s voice, on the road ahead, on literally anything. It kept drifting back to the same person.

“See you tomorrow?” You nodded at Hoseok’s question, already half out the door before he even finished speaking, and made your way up to your floor a little quicker than usual.

The first thing you did when you reached your floor wasn’t to unlock your own door, but to stop outside his, stand there, and listen for any sign of life inside. A shuffle, footsteps, the TV, anything. There was nothing. Pin-drop silence. Not even Bam. No barking, no claws against the floor, no curious sniffing at the door. Which meant he was sleeping, and that only happened when Jungkook was either out or asleep. You highly doubted he was sleeping at four in the afternoon.

You shifted your weight, pressing your lips together before turning around to go back to your own place. Your eyes landed on the pot beside your door. You fidgeted with your hands for a moment, debating whether you should cross that line or not. But what if he was sick? What if something actually happened after Mrs. Jeon left?

Before you could think too much about it, before you could talk yourself out of it, you crouched down, lifting the pot just enough to reach underneath. Your fingers brushed against the spare key. His spare key. You hesitated for half a second, then you grabbed it.

“Wow,” you muttered under your breath, staring at it. “Breaking and entering now? New low.” You paused, then added quietly, “Well… technically just entering.” You slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

You stepped in slowly, glancing around. You’d only ever really seen his living room over the past two years, maybe a glimpse of his balcony from yours, but this felt… different. Being inside like this.

“Jungkook?” No response. You checked the living room. Empty. His bedroom. Empty. The spare room. Also empty. No sign of him anywhere. The only indication that someone actually lived here was Bam, curled up on his bed in the corner, completely undisturbed. Not even a twitch when you walked in.

You stared at him for a second, unimpressed. “What kind of dog are you?” you muttered. “Someone could rob this place blind, and you’d just nap through it.”

The kitchen was clean. The only thing out of place was two empty cups sitting on the dining table. You paused for a second, glancing at them, then shook it off. Giving the sleeping dog one last look, you stepped out of the apartment, locked the door behind you, and slipped the key back under the pot like nothing had ever happened.

Back in your own place, Albert noticed you instantly, waddling over like he had been waiting. Two loud quacks. You looked down at his empty feeding tray. “Oh, baby,” you muttered, crouching slightly. “Were you hungry?”

After feeding him, you settled onto your sofa, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly. Your thumb moved, your eyes followed, but not really. Every few seconds, they drifted to the door. Listening for any indication that he has arrived. Nothing came.

You scoffed quietly, throwing your phone aside for a second and leaning back. “Whatever,” you muttered, louder this time, glaring at your front door as if he were actually standing on the other side. “I don’t give a fuck. In fact, you don’t have to come back at all for all I care.” Your voice echoed a little in the quiet apartment. Albert looked up at you, tilting his head to the side like he was judging you.

After a few more hours of nothing but silence, you did something you never thought you would do in a hundred years. You called Jungkook. Twice. And the audacity of him to not pick up either time.

By the second call, when it rang out and went straight to voicemail, your frown deepened, irritation bubbling up fast. “Unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath, throwing your phone onto the couch beside you. “Asshole.” You got up almost immediately after, running a hand through your hair. You couldn’t just sit here all night waiting for him like some… whatever this was. You had better things to do.

After cleaning up your apartment a little and half-watching a few episodes of Schitt’s Creek, your attention drifted back to your phone again. Four new messages. Your eyes lit up, and you picked it up instantly. For a split second, something like hope flickered in your chest. And just as quickly, it died.

Leshi: the girls and i are going to dinner, please join, it will be so much fun.

Hoseok: are you alright? you seemed a little worried.

Hoseok: please let me know if you need anything at all.

Unknown: Hey, I got your number from—

You didn’t even bother reading the last one. 'Where the hell are you, Jungkook? I swear, once I know you're alive, you'll be dead.' you thought.

11:21. The clock read, you stifled the yawn that almost escaped you and got up, ready to look for something to consume as dinner.

Then you heard it, a quiet shuffling of feet, then the clicking sound of the door getting unlocked, and then Bam Barking. Relief rushed through you, and you didn't waste a single second before storming out of your apartment and across the hallway.

His door was about to shut when you grabbed the handle and pushed it open again. Jungkook turned around immediately, still wearing the same clothes he was this morning. His bag was thrown carelessly on the floor. He didn't have much time to process what was happening; you were already yelling.

“Where the hell have you been!?” You snapped angrily. “You don’t pick up any calls, you don’t text, you don’t come to practice. You just fucking vanished for the whole day. At least let someone know you’re not dead in a ditch or—”

It happened too fast. One second, you were standing a few feet away from him, anger carrying you forward, and the next, his hands were on you. He pulled you in before you could react, wrapping his arms around your waist and dragging you against him in a tight, desperate hug. The words died in your throat. Your body went still, hands hanging uselessly at your sides.

His face buried itself in the crook of your neck, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. Not rushed, just heavy, like he was trying to steady himself. And you forgot how to breathe. The anger that had been boiling under your skin faltered. Because this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to snap back. Argue. Say something that would piss you off even more. Not this. Not… holding you like that.

Your heart started beating a little too fast, loud enough that you were sure he could hear it. Your fingers twitched at your sides, unsure whether to push him away or hold on. You could feel the tension in him. The way his grip tightened just slightly, like he didn’t want to let go.

Your breathing stuttered, uneven, your body didn’t quite know what to do with itself anymore. There was this strange, unfamiliar feeling curling low in your stomach, something you’d only ever seen described in books, in movies. Never something you thought you’d actually feel.

You were yet to make any sense of it when he moved two steps back, still holding onto you like letting go wasn’t even an option, and then he dropped into the chair behind him, pulling you down with him. You barely had time to react before you were seated on his lap, your breath catching again at the closeness.

“Jungkook…” Your voice came out quieter than you intended, your hands instinctively coming up to push at his shoulders, but he caught them. Pulled them down and held you tighter. Your chest pressed against his; you could feel your heartbeats almost combining.

“Stay like this. Please.” His voice was muffled against your neck, rough. “Go ahead,” he added quietly. “Yell at me. You can keep yelling at me… but just...just stay like this.” His hands were feeling every inch of your waist like he was making sure that you were real; he needed that to ground himself.

Your throat felt impossibly dry, the anger that had consumed you just minutes ago dissolving so completely it was hard to believe it had ever been there at all. In its place, something far more fragile and unfamiliar settled in, a quiet, surreal tenderness that wrapped around your chest. Your hands lifted again, but this time there was no intention to push him away. Instead, you allowed your arms to circle around him. The moment your arms settled around his neck, you felt the subtle shift in him. A sigh escaped his lips, brushing softly against your skin, heavy with relief. Your hold was soft, of someone who was still learning how to hug. Your hands are moving to the back of his head, soothing.

If someone had told you yesterday that you would be sitting in Jungkook's lap, in the quiet of his living room, with his arms wrapped around you as though you were his shelter, you would have personally escorted them to the nearest mental asylum.

You had never thought of yourself as a comforter, the kind of person people sought out after a long day, someone who offered warmth and reassurance; you doubted anyone had ever looked at you that way. But in that moment, when Jungkook took refuge in your arms, you realized that you could so easily become that person, if only you wanted it enough.

Your fingers continued to move absentmindedly through his hair, the soft strands slipping between them as his breathing gradually evened out against you. You wanted to ask him how he was, whether everything was alright, but the words lingered unspoken at the back of your throat. You were afraid that even the smallest sound might shatter this stillness, breaking whatever trance had settled between you. This comforting silence will once again turn chaotic, and you will start screaming at each other. You weren’t ready for that. Not yet.

You didn’t want to let go, though you would never admit it, certainly not out loud, and perhaps not even to yourself. There was something disarming about the way he leaned into you, about how naturally your body had responded to his need for comfort. It felt like stepping into a parallel universe. So you stayed there, holding him just a little longer, allowing yourself a few stolen minutes in this quiet moment before reality inevitably found its way back.

You don't know how long you stayed like that, maybe a few minutes, maybe an hour. Time was honestly lost on you. Countless seconds ticking by as you inhaled each other's scent. The smell of tobacco lingered in his breath, telling you he had smoked right before he came in, the smell that you have always associated with him, alchemised with his wooden cologne.

Jungkook was the first to pull away, though only slightly, just enough to look at your face. The loss of contact felt jarring, like a song coming abruptly to an end. His hand rose slowly, fingers gentle as they brushed a loose strand of hair away from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. Faces still just inches apart, you could see every tiny detail, the soft curves of his lashes, every freckle, and every tiny mole. Your eyes drift from the one on his nose to the one right below his lips.

His eyes followed yours, mimicking your movement, taking in your features like he was admiring a painting. Lingering a moment too long on the soft pink plump of your lips. You wondered how he would taste; would you still be able to taste the cigarette on his lips? Would he taste like the vanilla Chapstick you have seen him use one too many times?

Your head tilted to the side, inviting him, lulling him just to close the gap. To relieve you both from the thick tension hovering in the air. His eyes looked as if he were wondering the same thing as you, eyebrows furrowing just slightly.

A loud bark had pulled you both from the hypnotic state you had been suspended in. The moment shattered like glass, reality seeping in. You stood up from his lap immediately. Your hands brushed over your pajama shorts, smoothing out imaginary creases and dust. Both of you turned to look at the culprit of the interruption. Bam. Standing there wagging his tail, looking at you, daring you to cross the line. Jungkook cleared his throat. Loud. Announcing that the moment was over.

"I.." he began, gaze darting anywhere but you. "I'm sorry. I just." His voice trailed off before finally settling on you, still standing awkwardly a few steps away. "I had a long day."

"Yeah, it’s okay… where were you anyway?" you asked, the original reason for your visit resurfacing now that the haze had lifted. “I called.”

"Yeah, I saw."

"And?"

"And what?" he replied. The response irritated you just a little. You had been waiting for some sort of explanation, something to justify his being MIA all day. Where had he been that he couldn’t even send a quick text or pick up your call? But almost immediately, you reminded yourself that he didn’t owe you anything. Not an explanation, not an excuse, nothing.

"Nothing." You waited for a while, still standing awkwardly in the living room. A part of you is still expecting him to say something, to explain something. But the explanation never came. You let out a disappointed sigh, shaking your head as frustration began to bubble to the surface. "No. You know what? It's not nothing," you said, your voice sharpening. "You don't get to do that, you don't get to fight with me whenever you like, you don't get to hug me whenever you like, and you don't get to fucking disappear for the whole day and then act like nothing happened," Jungkook remained silent, his expression unreadable for a brief second. Then, to your utter disbelief, a small smile crept onto his lips. "What!?" you snapped, thrown off by his reaction.

"Were you worried about me, Bubbles?" that fucking nickname again. The retort that had been forming on your tongue faltered as you bit down on it. Were you? Of course you were, but you're not gonna let him have the satisfaction.

“I wasn’t worried about you,” you shot back, crossing your arms defensively. “I was just worried that… if you died, who would look after your stupid dog?”

His smile widened, clearly unconvinced. “Sure. Whatever you say, bubbles.”

“Fuck you.” You lifted your middle finger in his direction before turning on your heel to leave before he could read any more into your reaction. You had barely taken a few steps toward the door when his voice stopped you.

"Have you had dinner?" His question was soft, almost gentle, as though he already knew the answer before asking. You opened your mouth, fully intending to brush it off with a casual lie, but the quiet grumble of your stomach betrayed you. The sound echoed in the stillness of the apartment, far louder than it should have been. Jungkook didn’t tease you or even acknowledge it. Instead, he simply held your gaze for a brief moment, concern passing through his expression, before turning away without a word, and silently, he made his way into the kitchen.

You watched as he opened the fridge, pulling out a few raw ingredients with ease: vegetables, bread, and a couple of containers you couldn’t quite see from where you stood. He moved around the space with quiet efficiency, retrieving utensils from the cupboard below and setting them on the counter. The soft clatter of metal against the countertop and the gentle hum of the refrigerator filled the silence between you.

You lingered near the doorway, unsure whether to leave or step further inside. This was unfamiliar territory for the two of you; you didn't even know that Jungkook apparently cooked. You take slow steps further inside, leaning against the fridge and peering over his shoulder as he mixes something in a pan.

"I am a vegetarian." You mumble.

“I know,” he replied simply, not even sparing you a glance.

A few seconds passed as you watched him continue with the same calm concentration. “I don’t eat dairy,” you added, a little more firmly this time.

"I know."

"I'm allergic to-"

“I know,” he repeated, cutting you off gently. There was a quiet certainty in his tone that made you pause, and you wondered if he really did know you as much as he implied. Then, in a fluid movement, he was in front of you. A small piece of carrot held in front of your mouth, you hesitantly leaned forward and wrapped your lips around it. "Just trust me,” he said softly, that familiar smile playing on his lips, the one that always seemed to make your toes curl most inconveniently. “I know.”

His free arm wraps once more around your waist and moves you swiftly closer to him, your breath hitching again at the proximity. You found yourself watching the side of his face, the sharp line of his jaw, and the quiet focus in his expression as he reached past you with his other arm to open the fridge and retrieve another container.

His hand lingered a little longer on your waist, even after he closed the fridge. Squeezing your waist gently as he moved back to the kitchen counter. You stood there, shocked for a minute or two before finally lifting both your hands and tucking your hair behind both ears. You moved, standing beside him by the counter.

“I can help,” you offered. Jungkook paused mid-motion, one eyebrow arching in clear disbelief before he let out a soft chuckle. It wasn’t his usual teasing scoff but a genuine laugh. Creases formed at the corners of his eyes, and his bunny teeth peeked through as he looked at you like you had just told the most amusing joke. “What? I can,” you insisted, folding your arms defensively.

“No way I’m letting you anywhere near the stove or knives,” he replied, still smiling as he resumed chopping.

“I might surprise you. I’m a great cook,” you huffed, slightly offended.

“Putting milk in cereal is not cooking.”

Your mouth fell open in indignation. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know I make excellent ramen.”

Jungkook hummed thoughtfully, pretending to consider it. “Ah, yes, culinary genius. Should I be worried you’ll outshine me?”

“You’ve never even tried my food.”

“I have not,” Jungkook replied, pausing mid-motion to air-quote the word, “cooking, because the last time I saw you do that, your brother ended up in a hospital.”

You let out an indignant gasp, but the memory surfaced almost immediately, vivid and embarrassingly clear.

You had gone into the kitchen that day with a sudden burst of inspiration to recreate a snack you had seen on some cookery show. The enthusiasm, however, had been short-lived. Halfway through the process, you had grown bored and wandered off, completely forgetting about the dish still sitting inside the oven. It hadn’t even crossed your mind that the oven needed to be turned off manually—you had simply assumed it would stop on its own.

What followed was nothing short of chaos.

Smoke had quickly filled the house, thick and suffocating. Your brother, who had been sitting at the dining table, blissfully engrossed in his Game Boy, hadn’t noticed the danger until it was too late. By the time anyone realized what was happening, he had inhaled enough smoke to warrant a trip to the hospital. Thankfully, he recovered quickly, but the incident had cemented your reputation as a catastrophic cook in the eyes of everyone who knew you.

“In my defense,” you muttered, crossing your arms as you shot Jungkook a glare, “I didn’t know ovens weren’t automatic. No one tells you these things.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched as he tried and failed to suppress a smile. “Right. Because common sense is apparently optional in your kitchen.”

You nudged him with your elbow. “He was fine. And for your information, the quiche looked pretty good before it tried to kill him.”

“Wait… It was supposed to be quiche?”

“What did you think it was?” you asked, a smile slipping free.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook replied, glancing at you with a straight face that only made it funnier. “It looked like a burnt rat. I almost thought you’d gotten into animal cruelty.” You laughed, swatting his shoulder a little too playfully for the dynamic you were supposed to have.

A brief silence followed before the memory hit you fully, and you burst out laughing again. “God, he was so dramatic.”

Jungkook immediately caught on, placing a hand over his chest and staggering back a step as he reenacted your brother’s theatrics. In a trembling, exaggerated voice, he declared, “Mom… tell sis she can have my room.”

Your laughter doubled, echoing through the kitchen as you joined in, wiping at the corners of your eyes. “Tell Jungkook he can have my skateboard,” you added, mimicking the same dramatic tone.

“He really said that?” Jungkook snorted, shaking his head. “That fucker didn't even let me touch it.”

“Yeah, he was leaving all his inheritance to you,” you teased, leaning against the counter as you tried to catch your breath. “He was acting like he was your dying wife.”

Both of you reminisced a little longer about the past, recalling more of your brother’s antics and squabbling over tiny details you each remembered differently. While Jungkook focused on cooking, you couldn’t resist sneaking a few pieces of carrot and cucumber, only for his hand to swat yours away with precision, earning a quiet laugh from both of you.

The atmosphere had softened. The heaviness that lingered when you first walked into his apartment had faded, replaced by serenity. If someone were to see the two of you from afar, they would have assumed you were old friends who cooked together on a daily basis—comfortable in each other’s presence, moving around one another with practiced ease.

When everything was finally ready, Jungkook gently guided you toward the dining area, insisting you sit down and not letting you help with setting the table despite your protests. There was something quietly endearing in the way he took charge. A moment later, he returned carrying a steaming pot of vegetable stew, its rich aroma filling the room, followed by a plate stacked high with golden-brown potato pancakes. He placed them carefully on the table before grabbing a couple of bowls and utensils.

You both ate in silence, the kind that felt natural rather than awkward. The soft clink of cutlery against ceramic and the faint hum of the refrigerator filled the space, creating a quiet rhythm. The food made you feel like a homeless man who hasn't eaten in days. Even if the food was delicious, you didn't say it out loud, you're not gonna help him double his massive ego.

He said something, but his voice was so quiet that you couldn’t quite make it out. You looked up from your plate, giving him a questioning glance, silently asking him to repeat himself.

“I went back with her today. Eomma,” he said, his gaze fixed on the bowl in front of him. “You asked where I was…”

You nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. “Okay.”

A laugh escaped him, soft and hollow. It wasn’t amused; it carried a sadness that made your chest tighten. “She wanted to talk about the house.”

“The house?” you echoed. “You’re selling it?”

“Yeah,” he replied with a small shrug. “We all moved out, so… why not?” But you could tell that the house wasn’t what weighed on him. His shoulders were tense again, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his bowl, eyes distant as if replaying the day in his mind.

“Jungkook…” you began gently.

“After all these years… I thought—” He let out that same humorless laugh, shaking his head at himself. “I thought that she wanted to see me. To talk to me. I thought she missed me.” He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. “How stupid, right? She just wanted her share of the house.” The vulnerability in his voice was raw. “I was mad at her, you know,” he admitted quietly. “But I was also… happy. I was happy that she came to see me.” he quickly shook his head and swallowed the tears that formed in his eyes.

You wanted to comfort him, to get up from your chair and wrap your arms around him again, to hold him the way you had earlier. You wanted to tell him that she didn’t deserve his love, that it was her loss for not seeing the man he had become, for not realizing what she had walked away from all those years ago. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. So you remained where you were, hands folded loosely in your lap, your gaze fixed on him as he spoke. You sat there, silently, listening to him, hoping that your presence was enough to let him know he wasn’t alone.

*******

Something had shifted between you and Jungkook after that night. It wasn’t obvious at first. On the surface, everything remained the same—you still bickered over trivial things, still exchanged sarcastic remarks whenever the opportunity presented itself, and still acted as though the other’s presence was nothing but an inconvenience. But the sharp edge that once accompanied your words had dulled. The hostility was gone.

You noticed it in the mornings. Like clockwork, Jungkook would appear by the elevator just as you stepped into the hallway. He always pretended it was a coincidence, glancing at his phone, adjusting the strap of his bag, or yawning as if he had just arrived. But the timing was too perfect, too consistent to be accidental. He was waiting. You knew he was, but you just can't prove it.

It was a Sunday, and you had brunch plans with the other cheer girls. Soft music hummed in the background as you stood in front of your vanity, carefully blending the blush across your cheeks. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over your apartment. The morning felt peaceful. That peace was shattered quickly by a loud, impatient knock on your front door.

You froze, brush mid-air, brows knitting together. No one ever visits you unannounced, especially not this early. The knock came again, sharper this time; the person on the other side had little regard for patience or subtlety. You sighed, setting the brush down. “Alright, alright,” you muttered, making your way to the door.

Swinging it open, you found Jungkook standing there, hair slightly disheveled, dressed in a simple black hoodie and jeans. He looked mildly irritated, the face he makes when someone puts sugar in his coffee, something you had learned the hard way.

“What do you want?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe, your tone laced with mild annoyance.

“I need to talk to Albert,” Jungkook said firmly.

The statement caught you off guard, your brows knitting together in confusion. Nobody talks to Albert, even you don't talk to Albert. Well, you do, but you are not sure he understands very well.

“You need to talk to Albert?” you repeated, emphasizing the name.

"Yes."

"Well, Albert is busy having his morning swim. So whatever it is, you can tell me."

“Your duck,” he stated, the word dripping with vindication, “has crossed some limits.” You stared at him, silently urging him to continue. “He pooped on Bam.”

You blinked. “He pooped… that’s ridiculous. Albert hasn’t left the apartment all morning. And the door was locked.”

“I am certain your demon bird can walk through walls.”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed. “He’s a gentleman.”

“He’s a menace.”

“How do you even know it’s duck poop? Maybe some other bird did it. Hell, your dog is so stupid he wouldn’t even know if another dog pooped on him.”

“It’s duck poop, I’m pretty sure.” Jungkook shoved his phone toward your face. The screen displayed a Google Images page filled with various types of duck droppings. The search bar read: fat white duck poop.

“Albert is not fat,” you defended your pet indignantly.

“Yes, he’s not,” Jungkook agreed with a solemn nod. “He’s obese.”

“Take that back.”

“First, you ask him to apologize.”

“How do you even know Albert did it? Maybe it’s some other duck’s poop.”

Jungkook arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Do you know many ducks who live in this building? Maybe it’s Donald.” With that, he pushed the door open a little wider, revealing his dog, Bam, who was currently busy chasing his own tail. Sure enough, a large patch of dried white and green residue was stuck to his back. A laugh escaped you at the sight. “It’s not funny,” Jungkook protested. “Ask him to apologize.”

At that moment, summoned by the conversation, a soft series of webbed footsteps echoed from inside the apartment. Both of you glanced down the hallway. Albert appeared. Water droplets clung to his pristine white feathers, and he waddled forward with an air of unmistakable authority. His dark eyes fixed on Jungkook with what could only be described as suspicion.

“Look at him,” Jungkook muttered. “So smug. It’s like he’s proud of it.”

You crouched down, smiling sweetly. “Albert, honey, did you poop on the stupid dog?” Albert responded with a dignified quack. “There,” you said, standing up with satisfaction. “He denied it. Case closed.”

“Case not closed,” Jungkook insisted. “You’re taking Bam to the groomer’s. He stinks.”

“He always stinks.”

“He does not,” Jungkook shot back, clearly offended. “He smells very pleasant.”

You wrinkled your nose thoughtfully. “Oh, maybe it’s just you then.”

Jungkook stared at you for a moment before letting out an incredulous huff, though the corners of his lips. “Can you go now?” you asked, glancing back at the clock on your wall. “I’m getting late for my brunch.”

“This is not over,” he huffed as he turned on his heel and began making his way back to his apartment. “Come on, Bam. We’ll have duck soup for lunch.”

“I heard that!” you yelled after him.

“Good,” he yelled back without turning around.

You shook your head, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips as you closed the door. Albert waddled over to you, quacking softly as if seeking validation.

*******

Practice was a little more intense than usual that Thursday. The big varsity match was just around the corner, and even the most confident players carried a quiet edge of nervousness beneath their usual energy. Everyone felt this unspoken pressure hanging over the field like a storm waiting to break. And for you, the day was already off to a rough start.

You had changed your major for the third time, hoping that something would finally click, that you would stumble into a path that felt like yours. But the big, unforgiving F stamped across the paper didn’t care about your intentions. You were failing, or already had been, depending on how you looked at it. Either way, the warning was clear: one more failed class, and you’d be repeating the semester.

Ever since you had received the letter from the dean that morning, the words had been replaying in your head on a loop. “You are a bright student, that’s why I’ve called you here personally. So what is going on? You keep changing your subject, but you are not focusing on anything. We can provide extra help if you need it.” It wasn’t harsh. That was the worst part. It was gentle. Concerned, even. And somehow that made it sit heavier in your chest. You kept seeing the dean’s expression—patient, expectant, like she was waiting for an answer. You had nodded at the right places, given the right vague responses, promised to “think about it properly,” but the truth was embarrassingly simple: you didn’t know what you were doing. Not really. You kept moving, changing directions, convincing yourself the next choice would feel clearer than the last, but it never did.

You stared at the white piece of paper, thinking of ways to disclose the result to your family. You already know what your dad is going to say. Just join the family business. But you don't want to join the family business. You want to become something, something of your own, something people will only associate with you and not your family. Something that will be yours and yours only. The paper in your hands crinkled slightly as your grip tightened.

“Hey, you alright?” You turned at the sound of the voice, startled from your thoughts, just in time to see Hoseok jogging up to you. Instinctively, you crumpled the paper in your hands and shoved it deep into your bag, as if hiding it could somehow make the problem disappear.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said quickly. “Just wanted some water.” Hoseok’s eyebrow arched in quiet suspicion as his gaze swept over the bleachers, clearly noticing the absence of any water bottle nearby.

“Do you want me to get some for you?” he asked gently.

“No, no. It’s alright. Let’s get back to practice.” You offered him a small, practiced smile—the kind you had perfected over the years, convincing enough to pass at a glance.

Hoseok studied you for a moment longer, debating whether to push further. But true to his nature, he chose not to press. Instead, he gave a slow nod, accepting your answer even if he didn’t entirely believe it. “Alright,” he said softly. “But if you need a break, just say the word.”

You nodded in return, grateful for his understanding. As the two of you made your way back onto the field, the noise of practice gradually swallowed the silence between you. Yet, even as you rejoined your teammates, your mind kept drifting back to the crumpled piece of paper hidden in your bag.

Leshi had called in sick that day, leaving you in charge, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time. With your mind already preoccupied by the dean’s warning and the result sheet, focusing on practice felt nearly impossible. Every instruction you gave sounded distant even to your own ears, like you were simply going through the motions rather than truly leading. In that moment, you found yourself incredibly grateful for your captain, who was usually the backbone of the team—always composed, always thinking a step ahead, and executing everything with effortless precision. You had never fully appreciated how much responsibility they carried until now. Right now, the field was nothing short of chaos.

“No, no, Millie, I fly first. You go after me,” you said, trying to keep your tone confident.

Millie frowned, shaking her head. “But you have the higher pyramid. You can’t be stabilized for that long.” You paused, considering her point. Normally, Leshi would have stepped in by now, making a quick, decisive call that everyone would trust without question. Instead, all eyes were on you, waiting for an answer.

“Hoseok, can you stabilize me for that long?” you asked, turning to your back spot.

Hoseok looked up at you with an easygoing shrug. “Hasn’t been an issue till now.” If Hoseok believed he could manage it, that was usually enough reassurance for the rest of the team as well.

Millie bit her lip, clearly still unsure. “It’s just risky if the timing is off,” she added softly.

"We'll try it your way if it doesn't work," she wasn't convinced.

"It's not just, Hobi. You have to think about the other bases as well," she argued, making you roll your eyes in slight irritation.

“Let’s just take five, okay?” you said, clapping your hands once to gather everyone’s attention. “The bases can discuss it among themselves, and if there are any issues, we’ll work through them.” A round of agreement rippled through the group of twenty or so teammates, grateful for the brief pause. The tension that had been building eased slightly as people broke formation, some stretching while others huddled together to talk through grips and timing.

You walked up to the bleachers again and took a seat. 'You can't even manage a cheer team for a day,' you heard a voice at the back of your head that sounded dubiously familiar to your father. You could still hear some of the girls talking, and you weren't paying any attention until you heard a familiar name from one of them. Your attention snapped into focus instantly. It was instinctive—the way a dog’s ears perk up at the mention of a favorite word. You straightened subtly, trying to appear nonchalant, though every sense was suddenly tuned to their conversation. Without turning around, you listened more carefully, your heartbeat picking up just slightly as you waited to hear what they would say next.

“OMG,” you heard one of the girls squeal from behind you, her voice brimming with excitement.

“When did that happen?” another asked, curiosity evident in her tone. When did what happen? You wondered, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the bleacher.

“Last Sunday,” the first girl replied. You immediately recognized the voice—Olivia, one of the dancers. Your mind began to race as the timeline clicked into place. Last Sunday? Last Sunday… as in the day Jungkook knocked on your door and flirted with you for fifteen minutes? The memory resurfaced with startling clarity: him leaning casually against the doorframe, that familiar half-smile tugging at his lips, the easy banter that had lingered just a little too long. Was he even flirting, though? Or had your mind simply twisted the moment into something it wasn’t?

“Girl, you’re so lucky. I bet he’s a great kisser.”

“I would sell my family house to kiss him, honestly.”

That was it. You couldn’t bear to listen any longer. The words echoed in your ears, each one landing like a blow to your chest. Your heart began to pound so loudly it drowned out the rest of their conversation, and a dreadful sensation started to coil in the pit of your stomach. A strange mix of nausea and disbelief settled over you as your mind raced to make sense of what you had just heard. Did something really happen between Olivia and Jungkook?

You wouldn’t have been surprised if it had. Over the past two years, you had watched him move through the cheer team like he was progressing through different levels of a game. You had seen them step awkwardly out of his apartment more than once, only to meet your eyes in the hallway. You had seen him kissing girls behind the bleachers after games, their laughter carrying into the night as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And yet, none of those moments had affected you the way this one did. Just the possibility of him being with Olivia—of him spending the night with one of your teammates—left you feeling breathless, as though the air had been knocked out of your lungs. It was irrational, you told yourself. You had no claim over him, no right to feel this way. But emotions rarely listen to reason.

Because this time was different. This time came after that night—after the way he had held you in his arms like a drowning man clinging to his only lifeline, like you were the oxygen tank keeping him alive. The memory of his warmth, the vulnerability in his touch, and the quiet intimacy you had shared now twisted painfully against the possibility that it might have meant far less to him than it had to you.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. The anger twisting in your chest felt sharp and irrational, and you knew, deep down, that it wasn’t Olivia’s fault. She was just another girl caught in Jungkook’s orbit—another name in a long list. If anything, she would probably end up heartbroken in a few days, just like the rest of them. But knowing that didn’t soften the storm brewing inside you. Logic offered no comfort. Understanding brought no mercy.

Before you could stop yourself, you were already on your feet, the bleachers creaking beneath you as you stepped down onto the field. The girls’ laughter grated against your ears, each giggle fueling the frustration and hurt you were trying so hard to suppress.

“Can you guys focus on the routine instead of giggling about boys like a bunch of high schoolers?” Your voice rang out louder, sharp enough to slice through the air and echo across the entire practice area. The chatter ceased almost instantly. Conversations died mid-sentence as heads turned toward you, surprise and confusion flickering across familiar faces.

You stood at the front of the group, shoulders squared, arms crossed tightly over your chest in an attempt to hold yourself together. A few of the girls exchanged uncertain glances, clearly taken aback by the intensity of your reaction. Olivia’s smile faded, her expression shifting into one of embarrassment.

“You know, Olivia,” you said, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade, “this is exactly why you can’t make it to the front.” A collective gasp rippled through the team. Olivia froze, her eyes widening in shock as every head turned toward her. “If your mind could focus on anything other than how to please the jocks,” you continued, the words spilling out before you could stop them, “maybe you’d realize that the only reason you’re on this team is that your mom is a donor here.” Olivia’s face drained of color, humiliation flashing across her features before she quickly looked down, blinking rapidly as she tried to hold herself together. Around her, your teammates exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to react. The tension was palpable, thick enough to suffocate.

You looked around the team, your gaze drifting from one stunned face to another until it finally landed on Hoseok. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed loosely over his chest, his expression calm but disapproving. The disappointment in his eyes hit harder than any words could have. In that moment, your brain finally caught up with what you had just said. Regret washed over you in a sudden, suffocating wave. If someone else had said it, you would be the first one to rip them apart.

“I—” you started, the word barely escaping your lips before it faltered. The apology sat heavy on your tongue, but no matter how hard you tried, it refused to take shape. Your hands clenched into tight fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms. Before anyone could say anything—before you had to face the hurt in Olivia’s eyes or the disappointment etched across Hoseok’s face—you turned away. The decision was driven more by the overwhelming weight of shame than by any real intention to leave, but your feet were already moving.

You walked quickly toward the bleachers, grabbing your bag with trembling hands. You slung it over your shoulder, avoiding any attempt at eye contact.

As you made your way toward the exit, the faint voices of your teammates carried through the air, each word landing like a pu.

“What’s her problem?”

“Her problem is that she’s a bitch.”

“Leshi takes a leave for one day, and she suddenly thinks she’s in charge of everything.”

“What's going on with you?” Hoseok’s voice came from beside you, breath slightly uneven as he caught up, matching your quick strides. You hadn’t even heard him approach, too consumed by the storm raging inside your head.

“Nothing,” you grumbled, not bothering to slow down or look at him.

He kept pace, his concern unwavering. “No, just talk to me.”

“I said nothing,” you snapped, stopping abruptly and turning to face him. The sharpness in your voice surprised even you. “Just leave me alone, Hoseok.”

Hoseok didn’t flinch. Instead, he studied you with a quiet sadness, like he could see straight through the walls you were trying so desperately to build. “You know,” he said gently, “if you keep pushing people away, no one is going to be here when you look back.”

You wanted to argue, to deflect, to say something—anything—that would lessen the weight of what he had just said. But no words came.

Without another glance, you resumed your hurried steps, leaving Hoseok standing there as you headed straight out of the field and toward the campus gates. You didn’t even bother changing out of your practice clothes, the cool air brushing against your skin as you walked. Your pace was relentless, almost punishing. You didn’t stop until you reached home. By the time your apartment building came into view, the muscles in your legs were burning, and your breath had grown shallow, but you welcomed the physical ache—it was easier to deal with than the emotional turmoil swirling within you.

Shame twisted painfully in your chest, making it hard to breathe. Beneath it all simmered a quieter, more unsettling emotion—jealousy. You know now, you know the name of that ugly green feeling sprouting in your stomach. You hated yourself for it. You knew your outburst hadn’t truly been about Olivia or the team; it had been about Jungkook, about the fear that the moment you had shared with him meant far less to him than it did to you.

You felt exposed, vulnerable—like you were standing at the edge of something very tall, just waiting for the wind to sway you. More than anything, you wanted to retreat into the safety of your apartment, to shut the door on the world and pretend none of it had happened.

You fumbled with your keys as you reached your doorstep, hands still trembling slightly from the adrenaline. Just as you were about to unlock the door, a voice stopped you in your tracks, the last one you needed to hear right now.

“Bubbles?”

You froze. Slowly, you turned around to find Jungkook standing a few steps away, his expression concerned. Of course, it had to be him. Of course, he had to be here—right when you were at your most fragile, when the emotions you had been trying so hard to suppress were threatening to spill over.

For a brief moment, you considered ignoring him, pretending you hadn’t heard. But your body refused to cooperate, rooted to the spot as you faced the one person responsible for the storm raging inside you.

“Did you walk home?” he asked, his eyes trailing down to your maroon cheer outfit, taking in the disheveled state you were in.

“None of your business,” you spat, pushing your door open and stepping inside, ready to slam it shut in his face. But a strong hand shot out, stopping the door before it could close.

“Hey, hey. What?” he asked, stepping closer, his expression shifting into hurt. “What’s going on with you?”

You paused for a few seconds, your chest rising and falling as you fought to keep your composure. Your eyes lifted to meet his just as he gave the door a gentle push, causing you to stumble a step back into your apartment.

“Fuck. Off. Jungkook,” you spat again, your eyes glossy with all the anger you felt. Jungkook let out a humorless laugh before casually stepping further inside, shutting the door behind him as if he belonged there.

“No,” he said simply, his calm defiance making you gawk at his audacity.

“What do you mean, no?” you demanded, incredulous.

“I mean NO,” he repeated, his voice rising just a fraction. “I’m not fucking off until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I SAID IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!” Your voice echoed through the apartment, sharp and trembling with barely restrained emotion.

Jungkook exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair, trying to keep his own frustration in check. “No, we’re not going back to that, okay? We were doing fine. I’m not letting you go back to acting like a brat.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “We? There is no we, Jungkook. We’re not friends. Just because you cooked for me while I stood in your kitchen doesn’t suddenly make us friends.” The words hung heavily between you. For a moment, he didn’t respond. The defiance in his posture faltered, and something in his expression shifted—his jaw tightening, eyes dimming as the weight of your statement settled in. He looked hurt by what you’d said, not just surprised, but genuinely wounded. You just can't stop hurting people around you, can you?

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” you shot back, frustrated.

“Pushing,” Jungkook replied, his voice steady and firm. “You keep pushing and pushing until there’s no one left in your corner. The moment things slip out of your control, you shut everyone out and pretend you don’t need anyone.” You opened your mouth to argue, but he didn’t give you the chance. “I’m not letting you do that this time,” he continued, taking a step closer, his gaze unwavering. “Not to me.” The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten. “You can keep acting like a fucking brat all you want,” he added, the words harsher now, though the emotion behind them was raw, “but I’m not going anywhere. I’m not letting go.”

You were hurting, even if you refused to admit it to anyone. The ache sat heavy in your chest, and instead of confronting it, you did the only thing you knew how to do—lash out. If you were in pain, a part of you wanted Jungkook to feel it too. You wanted to hurt him. just as much as you were hurting.

“Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it?” you shot back, your voice trembling despite the venom laced within it. He frowned slightly at the sharpness of your tone, but you didn’t give him the chance to respond. “You don’t know when to let go. It has always been your problem, you just never know when to let people go,” you continued, each word deliberately cruel. “I don’t need you, Jungkook. So stop acting like my fucking friend, stop acting like you know me, and stop acting like you fucking care.”

“No,” he said. You stared at him in disbelief, your brows knitting together like you hadn’t heard him correctly. The sheer audacity of that single word left you speechless. He stood there, unwavering, and that irritated you even more,

“Get. Out.” You placed both hands on his chest and gave him a shove, but it did little damage. He barely shifted, his feet planted firmly against the floor, his gaze never leaving yours.

“No.”

Your jaw tightened, frustration bubbling over. “GET OUT,” you shouted, louder this time, the sound echoing off the walls. You pushed him again, putting more force into it, but the effort only seemed to emphasize the difference in your strength. He remained exactly where he was.

“I said no,” he replied, his voice steady, almost stubborn. “You can act like a bitch all you want, but I am not getting out.”

The words struck a nerve, igniting the anger already coursing through your veins. “Get the fuck out.” You raised your hand to shove him once more, determined to force him out if it was the last thing you did.

But before you could, his hand shot up, catching your wrist mid-air. The sudden contact stole the breath from your lungs. With a gentle tug, he pulled you toward him. The distance between you vanished in an instant—your chests nearly touching. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the steady rise and fall of his breathing brushing against you.

You had to bend your neck to look up at his face, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs. His grip on your wrist wasn’t painful, but it was unyielding.

“Are you done?” he asked, his voice low, searching, his gaze flickering over your face, trying to read every emotion.

“No,” you shot back immediately, though your voice wavered ever so slightly. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

“Well, I hate you too, princess,” he said, his voice rough. “But I’m not leaving. Because I know what it’s like to be left alone, and I’m not doing that to you.” The silence that followed was heavy and short-lived. Before you could fully process what was happening, your body reacted on instinct, surprising you just as much as it did him. Your hands lifted once more, but this time not to push him away.

Your fists clenched around the collar of his T-shirt, knuckles whitening as adrenaline surged through your veins. With all the strength you could muster, you pulled him down toward you in one swift motion. His lips collapsed with yours. The impact was sudden and desperate, fueled by anger, confusion, and a yearning you had been trying to suppress for far too long. For a split second, time seemed to stand still—the world narrowing to the warmth of his mouth against yours and the sharp intake of his breath at the unexpected contact.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was messy and urgent. Every unspoken feeling—fear, frustration, longing—poured into that single moment, blurring the line between hatred and yearning.

When his mind finally caught up with what was happening, his arm wrapped around your waist. He tugged you closer until there wasn’t even an inch of space left between you, afraid that any distance might shatter the moment.

His free hand travelled up, fingers brushing along your jaw before settling at the back of your neck, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. His lips moved against yours with urgency, slower, more deliberate. The initial shock melted into something warmer, something that made your chest clench, and your grip on his shirt falter for a second before tightening all over again.

Pulling back ever so slightly, your eyes met with his through your lashes. He studies your features, looking for even the slightest bit of skepticism or unease, for any sign that should make him stop.

"Are you sure-" His question was cut off by you.

"Shut up. Just shut up." You said before pulling him back down. This time, neither of you was surprised. Instead, he was ready. The moment your lips met again, he enveloped you completely. LIps swallowing every tiny moan escaping your lungs. Your hands have left their station on his collars and found shelter in the mess of his hair. A single lick of his tongue was enough for you to part them, to let him in and explore your mouth.

His hand travelled down your side, feeling every curve until it settled at the back of your thigh, gripping them and feeling the warm skin under your skirt. His breath was heavy through his nose, fanning the skin of your cheeks.

You pulled away again, and your eyes flickered between his. Without a word, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his and pulling him with you through your apartment, straight to your bedroom. He followed you with no resistance, like a puppy. You could hear the rhythm of his heart in the quiet of your apartment; it was beating very rapidly. If there were a doctor present, they would have declared he was having a heart attack.

As soon as the door shut behind him, you turned. You didn’t move closer. You just stood there, waiting for him to take the lead.

He didn't reach for you right away. He paused, studying your face. His hand lifted slowly, cupping your jaw, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “What are we doing?” he asked, his voice low—so quiet it barely carried beyond the space between you.

"What does it look like?"

"I want you to be sure. I want you to say it." There was a pause, and Jungkook almost pulled away. He wouldn't hold it against you if you had any doubts all of a sudden.

"Jungkook," You started, taking a step closer, eyes not leaving his for even a second. "Fuck me." That was all the consent Jungkook needed. His lips found yours once more, and this time, he was determined to take your every single breath away. One hand settled on the bare skin between your top and your skirt, while the other gently pulled on the ribbon tying up your hair.

You had your fair share of sexual partners before—back in school, even now in college—but none of them had ever made you feel this. Not like this. Not with something as simple as a kiss. Your whole body felt alive, heat spreading under your skin, every nerve suddenly aware. The anger, the frustration twisted into lust.

Your hands moved, gripping onto him, pulling him closer, needing more of him. You were already working on the belt buckle tied tightly around his hips. His lips left yours, trailing along your jaw, slower now, more deliberate. When he reached your neck, the pulse jumped between his teeth as he bit down gently. Your fingers are tightening around the hem of his jeans. A soft moan escaped you before you could hold it back.

"So fucking soft," he groaned, face buried in your skin. You felt your core tingling wildly, needing his warm touch. Your hands were now reaching for your own skirt. "Don't," he instructed, holding your hand and keeping them from pulling down. "Keep it on." His hand travelled under your skirt, pulling down the safety shorts along with your panties. "Always wanted to fuck you in this tiny skirt." His eyes were almost black as he bit down on his lips, taking in your whole body. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

"Always, huh?" you asked with a smirk.

"You have no idea."

"I thought you hated me."

"I do. So much." He replied, but you knew the feeling wasn't genuine. His one hand bunched up your skirt around your waist, keeping it in place. You watched as his other hand went to his lips, licking a wide strip and wetting two of his fingers. His eyes were still focused on your now exposed and extremely drenched core, lips glistening with your own slick. "So pretty. Can take a picture and hang it on my wall."

"Jungkook," You moaned at his words. "Do something," you whined, almost begging him to touch you, with your eyes, with your words. His hands hovered right above where you needed him, but not touching. He was testing your patience, although he already knows you don't have any.

"What do you say?"

"Asshole." The words escaped like a routine. Your brows furrow at his cruel behaviour.

"Uh, uh, what do you say when you very desperately need something?" You stayed quiet, eyes challenging him. Jungkook had never heard you say that word, not to him, not to anyone, so when you finally did, it sent a jolt to his cock.

"Please." You whined again. "Touch me, Jungkook." His cock was already hard, but after hearing you beg like that, he was certain it was going to burst through his pants. Good for him that he didn't waste another precious second of your time. Wet fingers found their way to your core, tracing your puffy, throbbing lips in slow circular motions.

"Fuckkk." You threw your head back at the contact. His cold metal rings contrast against your hot skin. He took it as an invitation and attacked your neck in deep, desperate kisses, not leaving out a single spot.

"Such a beautiful pussy, so wet." He stopped rubbing the spot for a few seconds, pulling out a sound of protest from you before poking your entrance. Fingers slowly enter the warm, tight hole. The thumb continues to rub circles on the bundle of nerves. "I want to taste you." He didn't wait for your response. His fingers were already inside his mouth. Sucking around them and licking every single drop of your sweet nectar. "So sweet, baby. Want more." He hummed in approval after pulling out his fingers. You watched in quiet as he slowly kneeled down before you. His eyes never left yours.

You wanted to scream. The sight of your neighbour kneeling before you while holding your eye contact felt enough for you to come apart. Your hand settled on his shoulder so that you wouldn't fall down from how jiggly your legs felt.

Jungkook maintained eye contact as he pressed a gentle kiss on your thigh, slowly trailing up towards your core. He paid equal attention to both of your thighs, alternatively kissing each of them until he was finally where you needed him the most. The fucker was taking his sweet time, like he had nowhere to be and could spend the rest of his days down on his knees.

When lips finally settled between your thighs, you swore you saw the gates of heaven. Your cunt was gushing with juices, and his tongue sneaked out of his mouth to lick every drop of it. He gave your clit a few tiny kitten licks before settling into long, wide stripes. The more juices you released, the harder he licked, like his sole purpose was to keep you dry.

You grind your hips, shivering at the contact of your clit rubbing against his big nose. Your hand gripped his hair tightly, pulling at it and drawing a moan out of him. The sweet pleasure stopped, the second he knew you were about to reach your high. "What the fuck?" You yelled, looking down at him. His eyes glinted with mischief as two of his fingers drew slow, teasing circles on your clit. "Jungkook, please." You whined for the nth time.

"What, bubbles? Do you think you deserve it? To come?" You gave him a desperate nod; to your surprise, it earned you a slap. right there, on your already throbbing clit. "I don't think so. I think you deserve me to fuck you all night and pull away right when you're about to come."

"I'll chop your dick off." You threatened in vain; it was not intimidating. Not when you were like this. Uncovered and at his mercy.

"Such a foul mouth. I shouldn't let you come at all."

"I swear to god-" you were slapped again in your sensitive area.

"Careful what you say, princess." You bit your lips, finally swallowing your pride.

"Please. I'll be a good girl."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"If you say so." With that, his mouth was on you again, working wonders. Two fingers slipped in, adding to the stimulation. His hand cupped the back of your knee and pulled your leg on his shoulder. Giving him a better angle to eat your pussy like you deserved. His lips wrapped around and sucked on your clit as his fingers thrust inside you mercilessly.

"OH FUCK...fuck." You were so close that you could feel your high in your mouth.

"That's it, Baby. Come on my face." You didn't waste a second to oblige, coming around his beautiful nose and lips. He lapped at every single droplet until there wasn't any left. "You ever wonder how you taste?" He asked, but you were too flushed to answer. "So fucking sweet." He tells you before getting up and kissing you again. Tongue shoved inside, making you taste yourself. It was so salty, but mixed with his own taste, you liked it a lot.

When you finally came down from that dizzying high, a rush of energy surged back into your limbs, restless and insistent. Your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him with you as you stepped back, guiding him toward the bed. His lips never left yours—not for a second—as you stumbled back onto the mattress, the soft dip of it catching you both. A quiet breath escaped you, swallowed instantly as he moved over you, bracing himself just enough to keep his weight from crushing you. The world outside faded, the distant hum of the city, the noise beyond your window, all of it drowned out by the steady rhythm building between you.

Your hands moved again, gripping the fabric of his shirt, pulling at it impatiently. The material bunched under your fingers as you tugged, needing to feel more of him, needing to close whatever distance still remained.

He pulled away, breath uneven, chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. His forehead rested against yours. “Do you have a condom?” he asked, his voice low, quieter now.

You nodded, lifting a hand to point toward the bedside table. “Bottom drawer.”

For a second, neither of you moved. Your gaze followed him without meaning to, taking in every small movement, every shift in his posture as he fished through your bottom drawer. When he stood in front of you, pulling down his pants and briefs, your eyes settled on his huge cock. It was mesmerizing, your eyes glued to it, your mouth watered. You have never seen a prettier-looking penis. You were sure there was no such thing as a pretty cock, but of course, Jungkook has it.

Like iron to a magnet, you were already on your all fours, crawling to the foot of your bed. Your hands reached out and took the foil packet from him, trembling fingers brushing against his warm hands, teeth already working on tearing the packet. Lips turning up in a smirk as he watched you take charge.

"I don't think I've ever been this hard." You chuckled at the confession. Sure enough, when you touched his cock was throbbing, solid as a rock against your palm, the thick veins on it matching the rhythm of his heartbeat. You looked him deep in his eyes as you licked your palm, and now it was his turn to let out a whimper that had to be impossible for such a big man. You watch as the man turns to putty in your hands when you give him a stroke. One. Two. Three. "Fuck, Bubbles."

"And you said I wasn't a good girl. Would a brat do this?" You asked before leaning down and giving the tip a few kitten licks.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Where'd you learn that?"

"You think you're the only one with a list of names?" Your lips, plump from kissing him the whole evening, now wrapped around his cock, tasting the warm, salty precum. A strong, veiny hand wrapped around your hair, pulling at it and pushing your head at the same time. His head fell back, basking in the warm, cushy feeling of your mouth.

"Stop before I start fucking your throat."

"Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Don't you wanna talk for the next week?"

"I thought you hate when I talked."

"I do. But I also loved when you were screaming-" the words died, replaced by his own groans when you took him a few inches deeper. He was so big that you had him lodged in your throat and still had enough to wrap your hand around. However, you could only have him in your mouth for a short time because he yanked you by your hair and smashed your lips against his. "Your mouth is pretty and all, but I really wanna fuck that pussy, Princess." You couldn't help but giggle at his desperation. hands finally taking out the slippery rubber from the packet and rolling it on him. You both laughed when the condom didn't cover his whole cock, a sliver of skin sticking out at the bottom. "Who have you been fucking? Frodo."

"Ha Ha. I'll have you know, Frodo is better than you."

"No chance." As though to prove, he picked you up with one hand and threw you on the bed, knocking the air out of you. "Let's see if you still say that in the morning." Your top and bra were ripped from your body the next second, big Bambi eyes drinking in your chest before a warm pair of lips wrapped around one. "How are you so perfect everywhere?" You can never imagine yourself blushing for a man, but here you are, flushed as you take each of his compliments.

His hand took hold of his cock as he slowly guided it inside, examining your face for any kind of discomfort. You gave him an assuring nod, encouraging him to keep going. Once he was deep enough, you stopped him with a hand to his chest. You are not sure if it's possible, but you can feel him in every single organ inside your body. Like he had taken shelter inside you. You were not two bodies anymore, you were one. One big mess of sweat and cum. You could feel that sweet burn when his cock stretched your pussy to the maximum. You were sure that a little more, and you would tear apart, but that didn't stop you from wanting more. You wanted so much more.

"You're so huge." You cried out.

"Do you want me to stop?" His hunger from before has faded just slightly.

"No, no, no. Please don't stop."

"You sure, Princess?" All you could offer was a desperate nod, and with one swift motion, he was inside you to the hilt. A loud scream left your mouth, you don't even know at this point if you called his name or god's. The line seemed to have blurred anyway.

"Fuck, I love your pussy." You looked down where you both connected. The sight sent a shiver down your spine, the good kind. Your lips looked puffier and flushed, wrapped around him. A visible bulge had formed on your lower belly. Once he was sure that you had adjusted to his size, he started thrusting, slow at first before picking up the pace. His mouth found your tits again, sucking at the bud that was almost as hard as his cock, tongue slipping out now and then. When he pulled away, your nipple was wet and shiny from his saliva, taking the other one in his mouth to give it equal torture. "Can't get enough of these tits. Gonna fuck them one day?" If you were in the correct state of mind, you would have questioned his statement. One day? But without even talking, he seemed to have read your mind. "Bet you a million this isn't the last time we are fucking."

"Do you always talk this much during sex?" You manage to say between the fog that is in your mind.

"Surprisingly, No." He dared to pull out all the way. You gave him a warning look. "Chill, Bubbles. Just wanna look at that ass." Before you could register what he was saying, he had pulled you up like a rag doll and spun you around, tugging your ass up in the air. Face shoved into the pillow, you heard the loud sound before you felt the sharp smack on your raw skin. Then again, and surprisingly, instead of crying out in pain, you were moaning in pleasure. The pain was a catalyst.

The man didn't waste much time before he was pushing into you once again, the new angle giving him space to move more smoothly. The squelching sound that your cunt made was so loud and vulgar that it should be embarrassing, but all it did was push you closer to your high. Jungkook's one hand snaked under you and started rubbing your clit in fast circles, pace matching the one of his hips.

If you thought it felt good before, it was nothing compared to what you feel now. The way his full length glided inside you so smoothly. His hips are making slapping sounds loudly against your ass every time he comes back. "Oh, ey oo, it fee oo"

"What did you say?" Jungkook asked and locked both of your arms with one hand, pulling you up against his chest.

"It feels so good." You cried out again.

"It does, doesn't it?" His lips found the neck again, sucking and biting at the skin, his one hand rubbing away at your clit while the other kept squeezing your tits. You felt so much pleasure and stimulation at one time that you thought you were about to explode. And you did, without any warning to the man behind you, the dams inside you opened, making you come around the cock still thursting inside you.

"Oh, my god. I'm coming. I'm coming." Jungkook helped you through your orgasm, magical hands, magical lips, and magical cock all working together until you were completely drained.

"That's it, baby. That's it. Just a little more." You nodded even though you felt so spent that if Jungkook wasn't holding you against him, you would have fallen down into the mattress and slipped right into dreamland. A minute later, he pulled out, hissing at the loss of contact. "Where do you want it?"

"Inside me." You tempted him just a little, eyes looking at him, challenging.

"Don't tempt me, Baby." He said, taking off the latex wrapped around him, and started pumping himself.

"Here." You said, finding enough vigor to turn around on your knees and offering yourself to him. Hands pushing your tits together and tongue sticking out, waiting for his hot, wide liquid.

"Fuck. Such a slut." He groaned as he gave a few more pumps before spraying all over your boobs and mouth. The sight before him was mystical; he wanted to take out his phone and capture it forever. So that he can look at it every single night. It was certain that you had ruined every other girl for him. He has just fucked you one time, and he cannot imagine fucking anyone else ever. "So fucking gorgeous." His lips wrapped around your, not caring for the white residue still lingering there. The two of you smiled into the messy kiss, tongues licking away the cum and spit.

When Jungkook finally lay you down on the bed, you drifted away quickly, exhausted from the workout you'd just had. You only felt a faint kiss before the bed dipped and he got out. You thought he had left, but you were so sleepy that you didn't get the chance to ask him to stay, even if you wanted to. Then you felt him in the room again, the quietest sounds of feet shuffling, and then a wet cloth wiping you, your face and chest, and your still sensitive pussy. When he lay down beside you, and you were sure he wouldn't leave, you finally allowed sleep to take you away. Wrapped in his strong arms, so secure.

When you woke up, there was no sign of Jungkook in your bedroom. Your head was still foggy from your sleep and all the events that led to it. You looked down at your body, which wasn't naked anymore, instead covered with the big black t-shirt he was wearing not more than a few hours ago. You looked around for your phone and found it on the bedside table, plugged into your charger. You don't remember any of it, charging your phone or putting on his shirt, which only meant one thing. Jungkook did it for you. The thought put a smile on your face.

Everything came crashing down on you all at once—you had sex with Jeon Jungkook. The Jeon Jungkook. The boy you swore to your friends you hated. The boy you spent so long pretending you didn’t want. You checked your phone. A little past one in the morning. You didn’t remember when you fell asleep, but it had been deep, heavy—the kind of sleep that left your body loose and your mind quiet. What pulled you out of it was the dull, insistent urge to pee. You pushed yourself up, legs a little unsteady, a soft, lingering soreness settling between them as you made your way to the bathroom. When you were done, you padded out of your room, still half-dazed, heading toward the kitchen in search of something to calm your growling stomach.

But you stopped in your tracks. So… he didn’t leave. Jungkook stood with his back to you, bare from the waist up, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips—low enough to reveal the dip of his ass. His shoulders shifted as he moved, focused on whatever he was making at the counter. Jungkook was standing on the kitchen counter. Cooking.

“You missed it again,” he said, tossing another tiny piece of what you assumed was carrot forward. Albert snapped his beak open, catching it this time. You blinked. He was… talking to your duck.

“He’s not a dog, you know,” you said, stepping closer, your voice still rough from sleep. Jungkook turned at the sound, and the moment his eyes landed on you, a smile spread across his face.

"You're up."

“And you seem to be getting along with my duck.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged lightly, glancing back at Albert. “We’ve come to peace. Turns out he’s not such a bad guy.” A quiet laugh slipped out of you, soft and unguarded. You were about to slip in another snarky remark, but you didn’t get the chance. He stepped closer, closing the distance in a second. His lips met yours. It wasn’t anything like last night. No urgency. No heat threatening to consume everything in its path. No desperation clawing its way to the surface. Just… a kiss. Slow. Warm. His hand brushed lightly against your waist, not pulling you closer, just holding you. And when he pulled away, it was unhurried. But it still left you standing there, breath uneven, wanting just a little more. "You know you have nothing in your pantry, how do you survive?"

"Kale smoothies," You started, but then settled for the truth, "That's a lie, actually, I eat ramen three times a week."

“Damn, what would the people say?” he asked, gasping dramatically.

“They’d never find out,” you replied, your voice dropping into threat.

"Understood." Seems like Jungkook had been cooking in your kitchen for a while now, because he was done 2 minutes later. Handing you a bowl full of egg fried rice. When he went to sit down at your dining table, you pulled on his arm, tugging him to your bedroom.

"My ass would not agree to sitting on a hard surface right now." Your statement put a smirk on his face, filled with pride. The two of you settled on your bed, eating your late dinner in peace. The first bite coaxed a moan out of you.

"Should I leave you two alone?"

"Yes, please. It's so good." It wasn't a daily occurrence for two of you to share a meal; however, it all felt so natural. The way he cooked for you, knowing you would wake up hungry; the way his hand reached out and thumb swiped at the corner of your mouth, gathering the remnant and licking it. It felt like you had been doing this for years. The silence felt so peaceful, no tension, no remarks.

Your thoughts travelled back to the day, to everything that went down. A question formed on your lips, contemplating whether you should voice it or not; after all, he doesn't owe you any explanation. Did you even want to know? If Jungkook did actually hook up with some other girl, would you want to know?

"Did you sleep with Olivia?" You asked, wanting to release your mind from this torment.

"With who?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"Olivia, one of the dancers? Last Sunday?"

"I haven't hooked up with anyone since... I don't know its been a long time." He wasn't lying, you could tell. Because you have heard people lie, hell, you lie all the time. But Jungkook wasn't lying. "Why?"

"She said something about you kissing her."

"Wait, she said I kissed her?" Did she? You don't even remember the exact conversation that went down between the girls, but now that you try to remember, no, she didn't. She didn't say Jungkook kissed her. Oh God, what a fucking fool you were.

"No. not really... wait, so nothing happened between you two?"

"I gave her Jimin's number if that's what you mean." Oh god, oh god, you were such a fool. You acted like a bitch, and for absolutely no reason.

"I'm such an idiot," you sighed.

"Wait, is that why you were so mad last night?" Embarrassment, that's. all you felt as the heat rose up to your face. "Were you jealous, Bubbles?" He asked, taking the bowl from your hand and keeping it aside on the table.

"What? No... that's ridiculous, why would I be... why would I be jealous?" You faked a laugh. "I was not jealous."

"It's okay. It's hot." The next second, you were trapped under Jungkook once again. His hips slowly ground on your core. The only thing that was separating you was his sweatpants and your panties. "So fucking hot when you're jealous." His hand was pushing at your t-shirt until it was bunched up over your breast. Two mounds exposed to him, waiting for his attention, nipples perking up instantly as his lips found them.

He started sucking on one of them, you were growing wetter with each passing second. His tongue slipped out of his mouth, playing with your hard nub. His teeth bit on it, gently pulling at it until a loud moan escaped you. He let go of the nipple with a wet blop and started sucking on the other one, giving it equal attention.

You grabbed his hand, which was squeezing and playing with your tits, pulling it down and inside your panties, guiding his finger to rub at your sensitive clit. When he started rubbing hard and fast, you left his hand, your own going inside his sweatpants and pulling out his cock, which was hard once again. The room was filled with both of your moans as you came around his fingers, his lips found yours, and he drank away your moans.

"Round two?" He asked, his eyes glinting with lust and mischief.

"Round two."

*******

The next time you woke up, you weren't alone; a muscular arm was wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to a warm, firm chest. Reminding you of the man it was connected to. You didn't get much sleep last night, given the number of times Jungkook had made you come in such a short period of time. The thought made you blush out of character. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought you would be sleeping with Jeon Jungkook, let alone waking up next to him.

You turned around just in time to witness his eyelashes flutter open, a sleepy smile forming on his lips, pulling you closer to his warmth. "Morning." His voice was scruffy, still lingering with the traces of deep slumber.

"Morning." You replied, leaning in and planting a kiss on his mouth. It felt so intimate, even more so than the events of last night. "We should get up, gonna get late for practice."

"Let's just skip today."

"You don't skip."

"I will if you will," you laughed, dragging yourself out of the bed, pulling a loud, petulant groan from the man. You wobbled in the first two steps before you finally regained your balance. Jungkook wasn't far behind you when he pulled you back against his chest. "Jungkook," You started scolding him, but were distracted by his lips yet again. You can never get used to this man kissing you. He does it so easily, like the two of you have been doing it for years, when in reality, merely two months ago, you two were ready to kill each other over a silly argument. "You really need to go and get ready," you said, but your actions did not match your words. Neck leaning up, inviting his kisses. You were so engrossed in the way his kisses trailed all over your face that you were thrown off guard by the next question leaving his mouth.

"Date me?"

"What?" You asked, pulling away.

"Date me. Be my girlfriend. Let me be your boyfriend." You rolled your eyes at his explanation.

"I know what you mean, Jungkook. But why? Why all of a sudden?"

"Why? Is it not obvious already? It's not all of a sudden. Tell me you didn't feel this connection all along." You pulled away, unwrapping his arms from your waist.

"I did, but."

"But what?"

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why? We are so good together. And the sex? The sex is amazing."

"We can't just date because the sex is good, Jungkook. Look, what happened last night was amazing, but it was-"

"Don't say that."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I know. And it was not on a whim." He said, pulling you closer once again, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know that, don't lie to yourself. I like you, I think I do a little more than just like you. So please, think about this."

"I just... What if it doesn't work? I don't think I can go back to hating you, not after last night."

"If it doesn't work, then it doesn't. But what if it does? Aren't you just a little curious?" You nod, teeth biting into your lower lip, and you consider his offer. "Date me. Please. If it doesn't work, I will never show you my face again; you will not have to deal with me."

"Fine. I'll think about it," You answered, letting your body be lost in his arms. "But if it doesn't work, I might actually have to kill you."

"We'll see about that." He said before pulling you in for another kiss. You two ended up skipping college for real, creating suspicion among both of your friends. The whole day was spent on your bed, snuggling, kissing. The only time he left was to feed Bam, and he was back in less than 10 minutes. Jungkook made you squirt so many times that you actually had to drink some water so you wouldn't die of dehydration.

Right now, he was on his knees, face buried between your thighs as he lapped at you. You were trying to watch a movie together, which was nothing but background noise now. Your moans are echoing louder than the dialogue. The couch was sprayed white with his own cum just a few minutes ago.

"Oh fuck, Jungkook," You moaned as his tongue put just the right amount of pressure on your clit. The muscle stroking and flicking it. Tears running all over your face, not from anything but the overstimulation you felt between your legs. You felt so sore, and you were pretty sure your pussy was swollen and red by now. But Jungkook was a starved man, he was determined to make up for all the time you two wasted fighting and not kissing. After your nth orgasm of the night, he came up to you, lips pressing against yours in a sweet kiss. He pulled away just as quickly, only to trail kisses along your cheeks, licking away the tears.

Once you were down from your high, the blur in your eyes cleared, allowing you to see the beautiful man in front of you clearly. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling you down to plant a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. His eyes held the entire galaxy, so big, round, and shiny. You have always been able to find solace in his eyes, no matter how hard you're fighting, when you were a kid, when you were a teenager, when you moved here, and now. His eyes always gave you this sense of familiarity that no one and nothing could ever provide.

Before you could word out your admiration, a loud quack pulled both of your attention. Albert was standing just beside the sofa, head tilted to one side, probably wondering why this man who had never before, yesterday, stepped into this apartment was now on top of you. He quacked again, making Jungkook burst out in laughter, followed by you, not even a beat later.

"Was he staring the whole time?"

"Probably."

"That duck is very weirdly obsessed with you, you know."

*******

A/N: OMG, this is so damn long. And to think that it was even longer, but I had to cut it short because I have no one to proofread. Anyway, I'm thinking about putting it all in a part two, so let's see. ALSOOOO, although I have edited it so many times, you WILL find some mistakes in there, so please just ignore them because if I read this fic one more time, my brain will scramble.

[jennaort3ga]

This is SO good I love everything especially how yn isn’t a bad person she’s actually quite nice but she’s been made the way she is bc of her parents and how she reflects that into how she talks to other

[starshapedkookie]

Read the Signs | Jeon Jungkook

pairing: idol!jungkook x backupdancer!reader

genre: SMUT + like a little bit of fluff(?)

warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking, smut (fem. oral receiving, fingering, choking, spanking, diff positions, multiple orgasms, jungkook is biggg (duhhhh)), jungkook is a lil dom-ish but also sweet and a consent king!!

summary: As a backup dancer on BTS's latest tour, you've found yourself in the opportunity of a lifetime. Through different routines, countries, and continents, one thing remained the same: Jeon Jungkook was your boss yet you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to climb his bones and for some odd reason, you think he feels the same about you.

word count: 15.3k

hi sweet friends :) welcome to the full fic! i hope you all enjoy and love reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. jungkook you are the sexiest man to ever walk the earth baby don't let anyone tell you differently!!!

playlist: please by bts, one more night by bts, closer to you by jungkook, signs by tate mcrae, bed chem by sabrina carpenter, petting zoo by justin bieber

taglist💖: @lovejeonn @bammbi-jeon127 @ttabacco @no1likeneo

~

At times, you found it quite hard to refrain from staring off in the distance at random things. Your mind would wander with its racing thoughts with everything you needed to do for the day, the night, the week, the weekend, and on show days that before you knew it, you’d turn spacey. It was innocent really, at times just a lapse in your brain for a quick release of mental tension that you always seemed to carry.

This, however, was not one of those times.

Your viewpoint from this vicinity on the stage was clear as could be as you watched them all walk up one of the side ramps; each side by side except for one who trailed behind the group, one hand shoved in his pocket, one holding a microphone in the other.

Jeon Jungkook was painstakingly sexy, and it wasn’t just due to his lethal face card. He was multitalented and charming, soft-spoken, and funny when he wanted to be. You had come to realize over the course of the tour though; he preferred to keep to himself and the other members only. It was opposite of Taehyung and Hoseok, who mingled with everyone in the tour crew including you and the large group of dancers who traveled with them city to city, country to country.

“You’re staring. Again,” Sana, one of your closest friends in the dance crew, scolded from your left side.

Immediately, you whipped your head to her and threw a quick finger her way for good measure.

“Fuck off,” you muttered, “I was not.”

“Uh, it was quite obvious you were,” Josh, one of your other closest friends noted as he continued to stretch out his shoulders.

The seven members of BTS were starting to check their mics and once they were set, a quick afternoon practice of blocking the stage and running through a couple of songs would begin. It was routine in each city the day of each show to ensure everyone knew their marks and that the choreography would become muscle memory.

You allow yourself one last glance towards Jungkook before turning back to Josh and Sana.

“Shut up,” you half admit defeat as you work your way into a split on your right side.

They both snickered and you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as well. Ever since the tour had started over two months ago, it was quite the joke between your closest friends who knew you had a raging crush on Jungkook.

Who wouldn’t?!

When you had first auditioned to become a dancer on tour, you had no idea who the artist you were auditioning to dance for was, as it was kept anonymous to prevent press leaks that BTS would be embarking on a massive world tour. When you got the job and found out who you would be dancing alongside of for the next year, it was the opportunity of a lifetime, and you couldn’t have accepted the offer quick enough.

There had been two months of rehearsals nearly every day for you and the other dancers leading up to the first show. It was exhausting, but there was no thrill like the one being able to stand on stage and dance in front of thousands of people every other night.

It nearly matched the thrill of being able to dance with Jungkook, but you wouldn’t admit that to anyone out loud, not even Sana.

Each member had been blocked a small group of dancers, and you had been placed in Jungkook’s cohort on his first day of rehearsal. From the moment you had laid eyes on him, your knees had wobbled. It was easy finding someone attractive on a phone screen, but seeing someone so hot in person was jarring. Each member was attractive in their own right, but there was something about Jungkook which set your insides on fire. You had debated at one point asking to move to another member’s cohort, but Sana talked you out of it.

“Oh my god Y/N, it’s fine! He’s sexy as hell! Just enjoy being able to dance close to him! You’ll be fine!”

And you had been fine up to this point, but you hated the obscene thoughts you had about one of your bosses one too many times a day.

Suddenly, a boom echoed in a microphone which jolted everyone in the vicinity. Eyes and heads looked towards the middle of the stage where Namjoon had apparently done something wrong with his microphone and his surrounding members began to cackle. Jungkook’s head tipped back as he laughed with that gorgeous smile, clapping his hands together as they tease the leader.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Namjoon scoffed into his mic, shrugging off his own laugh, “Are we ready?”

At his queue, the entire crew was at attention, and you slipped out of your split before standing up and adjusting your trackpants. Just as you and the dancers were about to spread out amongst the large stage, Sana smacked your ass quickly before leaning in—

“Good thing he was looking at you, too,” it was a whisper and it was nearly impossible to decipher among the chaos that was the stadium during practice.

You gave her a death glare and rolled your eyes before walking away towards the man who was slowly becoming your undoing.

Yeah, right.

~

Per usual, practice and the show that night went off without a hitch. The boys, the dancers, and the crew always worked tirelessly each night to put on the best show possible for their fans. Each song was exhilarating in its own way, and each one required a specific set of energy, yet somehow everyone had to keep themselves going for nearly two straight hours. Naturally by the end of each show, everyone was exhausted, including you.

There were nights though, such as tonight, where the adrenaline that pulsed through your system wasn’t able to calm down. On weekend shows, you, the dancers, and even some of the members themselves would end up going out to clubs or bars after to unwind. However, tonight’s show was on a Tuesday, so everyone always opted for the more responsible choice of going straight to the hotel and resting.

You had been tossing and turning in bed for well over an hour now and the singular fact Sana was sound asleep in the bed next to yours was annoying you more than it should have. You glanced at your phone, seeing it was 12:27 AM.

You let out a deep sigh of frustration. Thankfully this had not been a common occurrence so far on tour, but the few nights it had, you had only seemingly found one solution.

Slowly and as quietly as possible, you crept out of bed and sorted through your luggage to find a workout set. You settled for a simple black set of leggings and a sports bra before grabbing one of your many pairs of tennis shoes you had brought with you. Not wanting to disturb Sana, you quickly changed out of your pajamas in the bathroom before grabbing the essentials for the gym.

Phone, headphones, hotel key—and you were off.

Touring with the biggest band in the world had many perks, but the hotels you had been blessed enough to stay at had been some of the nicest you would probably ever step foot in your entire life, and each one usually had an immaculate gym and spa.

Taking the elevator up the 18th floor of the hotel, you were able to successfully find the gym without a hitch. Pushing the door open with your shoulder, you were fumbling with your AirPods to put in your ears when you suddenly stopped, nearly dropping one of them from your hand.

Just off your left side on a cable machine, was Jungkook in the flesh. His back was turned to you, but you knew it was him. You had spent nearly every day alongside of him for months now, but his infamously tattooed arm was always the number one indicator of which member you were dealing with.

The adrenaline in your body only seemed to skyrocket at the sight of him. It was almost instinct to want to leave and give him the privacy he was potentially seeking by working out so late, but part of you stayed glued to the floor. You watched him carefully as he finished his set of pulldowns, groaning between each pull of the weight, before he stood up, his body turning smoothly.

Your feet almost, almost picked themselves up to turn the other way and run, but Jungkook made eye contact with you before you could bolt.

Fuck.

Jungkook’s brows furrowed before he suddenly took out one of his own AirPods.

“Y/N?”

Double fuck.

Instead of cowering, you decide to maintain the confident façade you tried so hardly to keep around him. Taking a few steps into the large gym, you give him a small smile.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you greet him.

It’s a strange feeling knowing that you are on a first name basis with one of the most famous people on the planet. You and Jungkook were acquaintances at best, but you still had gotten to know parts of him dancing alongside him for two months. He was always nice to you and never intruded on your space.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you resign to him even though he didn’t ask.

He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk—triple fuck—crossing his lips.

“Same,” he shrugged, pulling his sleeves up his arms slightly. It took everything in you not to watch the movement too closely. His answer though, made you feel better and if anything, it felt like a new camaraderie between you and one of your bosses.

Neither of you spoke again as Jungkook repositioned it headphones, turning around to complete another set of pulldowns. You took in a deep breath, a lame attempt to slow your cortisol before heading to a treadmill on the other side of the gym.

From the cardio area in the gym, your back was now facing where the weight section Jungkook laundered. As you scrolled through your monthly playlist, you quickly turned on an EDM song with the volume probably dangerously loud before you took off running. Anything to get out of your thoughts and the fact that Jungkook could see your every move if he wanted to.

Sana’s words from earlier in the afternoon rang through your head once again and to bury the delusion, your only cure was to speed up the static track beneath your feet.

~

The next day was a second show day in the city. The second, and if possible, third or fourth show days were always much calmer than the first. Everyone had already run the show at full capacity once, so practice for the dancers was always optional. You and Sana had opted out of practice today, chilling in the large backstage area for the dancers instead that afternoon.

You had finished your run and stretching around 1:30 AM the night before, but it had done the trick and once you took another shower and slipped into bed, you had slept in the latest you had thus far on tour.

“Did you leave the room at some point last night?” Sana suddenly asked as she looked up from scrolling on her phone. You were both sat on a small couch facing each other, legs entangled with each other’s.

Looking up from your own, her bleach blonde bob was always the first thing that caught your eye.

“Yeah, I went to the gym. I couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged lazily.

“Hm,” she mused, “You did that in Vegas too, didn’t you?”

You nodded absentmindedly. You had told her it was hard coming down from a show sometimes and she had her own methods of coming down which included marijuana which she always offered, but you didn’t like to indulge as frequently as she did.

You glance around the room to ensure no one close was listening in on your conversation before you leaned forward.

“Jungkook was there last night,” you whispered.

“Shut up!” she said way too loud for her own good which had the other dancers looking towards your couch curiously. You inwardly cringed, but soon enough they all went back to their own conversations and warmups.

“You’re kidding,” she spoke in a much calmer tone this time, “What happened?”

“What do you mean what happened?” you laughed, “He was working out, I ran a few miles and called it a night.”

Her face suddenly fell, “Ughhh, oh my god Y/N you are so boring sometimes,” she groaned.

You knew she was kidding, but you couldn’t help but shake your head and laugh once again.

“You’re telling me the hottest man alive who happens to be your crush, and you were in the same room, alone, and nothing happened?”

“Yes,” you responded in disbelief, “What was I supposed to do? Jump his bones?”

“Yes!” she said it as if it was obvious.

“Oh my god Sana,” you pushed her leg with your foot, “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m not! I’ve seen how he’s been looking at you recently, so has Josh.”

“Stop saying that, no he’s not,” you shake your head, burrowing yourself into the pillow and looking back at your phone.

“Y/N look at me,” she commands and you follow meeting her dark brown eyes, “You’re hot. Why wouldn’t he look at you?”

“In case you forgot Sana,” you pause, “He’s technically one of our bosses. This conversation is unprofessional enough.”

Sana rolls her eyes dramatically before groaning, “Who cares? Everyone knows Hoseok is sleeping with Krystal,” she lowered her voice to a faint whisper.

You furrow your eyebrows, your eyes immediately darting over to Krystal who was doing her makeup with another female dancer named Tess.

“What?!” you whisper-scream back, “That’s news to me!”

“Well, when your only focus is Jungkook it can be hard to miss,” she said matter-of-factly.

Reaching down, you pinch the exposed skin of her left leg in her capris. It only brought out a laugh in her before she kicked your hand away.

“I’m just saying, it’s not out of what’s possible here,” she purses her lips as she raises a brow towards you, “You should go to the gym again after the show.”

“What? No! I only go that late when I can’t sleep,” you push the idea away immediately.

She gives you a look as if you were stupid and, in this moment, you’re sure she thinks you are.

“Y/N, you’re not getting it. If you go the gym, you can get time with him alone and who knows what will happen.”

“Sana, I appreciate the advice, but I think I’ll stick to my own lane. Besides I felt awkward, I think he probably just wants privacy after the chaos of each day. I don’t need to be in his way more than I already am on stage.”

Sana visibly relaxes at your words and you’re feeling elated it seems she may have just given up. You were good enough at feeding your own delusions, you didn’t need your closest friend on tour doing it either. Jungkook was just a work crush due the forced proximity. There was nothing wrong with having a work crush. It was only when it was acted upon would it be crossing a line.

“Y/N?!”

A voice from the front of the dressing room suddenly boomed and each set of eyes turned your way. It was your good friend and lead choreographer Eunwoo seemingly searching for you.

“Yeah?” you straightened yourself up on the small couch.

“Can you come out on stage for a bit? Jungkook wants to go over some sequences before their soundcheck.”

A sudden pit opened up in your stomach, and you felt the heat spread amongst your face and chest. You took a quick glance at Sana whose mouth was wide open, and you found Josh in the corner attempting not to burst out in laughter. The remaining dancers in the room either were ignoring the interaction and the other half were giving you intentional stares. For some reason, the way Krystal looked at you in particular made you feel even more uneasy.

“Y-yeah,” you found your voice through a stutter, “Yeah I’m coming.”

You quickly slipped your sneakers on before making your way over to Eunwoo as he led you away from the dressing room towards the stage.

“Do you know what he wants to go over?” you asked as you were raking through the setlist and the dances sequences in your mind. Nothing was too complicated for either one of you, so you weren’t sure what else he could want to practice at this point in the tour.

Eunwoo shrugged as both of you exited from the tunnel to outside, the giant structure of the stage greeting you under the sun.

“No idea,” he shrugged, “Said he thought he was missing something.”

“And you couldn’t help him?” you didn’t mean for the question to come across as rude, but part of you felt it did.

As Eunwoo led you up to the stage, your eyes immediately found Jungkook. They always did. He was standing with one of his managers, flipping his microphone in his hand absentmindedly.

Eunwoo stopped walking and left you to walk the rest of the way before he gave you a sidelong glance and another shrug, “He asked for you.”

Another drop hit your stomach, and you suddenly felt nauseous. You really hoped no one could see the way your heart was pounding out of your chest right now because it sure felt like it was showing through your skin.

Eunwoo leaves you alone and it takes all the courage in the world to pick up your feet again. Jungkook seemingly feels your presence when you’re no more than five feet away because his head turns to you, his chocolate brown eyes finding yours. He’s wearing a pair of sunglasses, but they are pushed up on his head to keep his hair out of his face. Something deep in your core churns at the sight.

“Hi,” somehow you manage to speak first, a bravado that turned on when you most nervous—a way to trick your brain that you actually weren’t internally freaking the fuck out. “Eunwoo said you needed help with something?”

Jungkook’s manager says something fleeting that you don’t catch before walking away leaving the two of you on the east side of the stage alone. On the opposite side, you briefly heard a loud laugh that sounded as if it was coming from Jin.

“Yeah, I just feel like I’m missing a step or something here,” he briefly moves his body in the counts and chorography that you immediately recognize, and you nearly forgot you were here to help him.

You glance him up and down one time, “Do it again,” you give him a stern nod of your head and watch his feet closer this time.

You see the exact moment to understand what he is missing. There were multiple half counts in this particular chorography, and he was indeed skipping over one.

“Okay I see, just watch me,” you tun around so you’re his directly mirror with your back to his. You repeat the sequence he just showed you, sans any mistakes, though a bit slower than usual so he could probably see what you were doing and he wasn’t.

“Did you see the change in my feet?” you ask him, turning over your shoulder.

“Feet?” he asks, dumbfounded.

You suddenly let out a chuckle, “Jungkook I meant watch my feet,” you give him a smile.

His brown eyes flickered down your face once before he began to chew on his lip ring, “You said to watch you, so,” he shrugged, though he didn’t seem sorry for it.

You tried your best to retain any heat to your cheeks, but you still think some pushed through.

“Watch again,” you nod to him, practicing patience.

You perform the two sets of counts once again and Jungkook suddenly lets out an ‘ah!’.

“You see?” you turn back around raising an eyebrow at him. Jungkook nods and you can visibly see the information processing in his brain. It was fascinating to witness.

“Show me,” you push him as you cross your arms over your chest.

Jungkook’s eyes meet yours for a second too long to feel comfortable before he smirks. He takes a step back from your frame and completes the two counts perfectly without a hitch.

“Very good,” you smile at him, “You catch on quick, you know?”

“Only when I have a good teacher,” he smirks as he removes his sunglasses before shaking his fingers through his thick, shiny hair.

You try to ignore the way his words affect you, shoving away any feelings, “Anything else you want to go over?”

“No, that was it,” he shook his head, pushing his sunglasses back up onto his head.

“Okay,” you nod once in resolve, ready to walk away from him before he stops you.

“Wait um,” he clears his throat and you almost sense an awkwardness alluding off him that you’ve never picked up on previously, “Sorry about last night. I didn’t realize until later that I thought I maybe came off a bit rude.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, looking up to find his gaze. He honestly wasn’t much taller than you, but still your head craned upward.

“Oh no, don’t apologize,” you wave your hand, “I didn’t think anything of it. It was late and I was kind of spacey.”

Jungkook seems pleased with your response, his body language visibly relaxing.

“Cool,” he says simply and you don’t miss the way his tongue darts between his lips.

“Cool,” you repeat before taking a step away from him for your personal sanity, “I’ll see you later.”

“Looking forward to it,” are his parting words and you swear you felt your breath catch in your throat. Nearly tripping over your two feet, you turn the opposite direction to head back to the dressing room.

This time, there was no doubt in the way you knew he was staring at you as you walked away.

~

Five days later, another country, and two shows later, you and Sana were making your way back to your shared room after returning from the stadium. Your routine with her was always pretty much the same post show. You’d return from the show, eat ramen or something similar if you were hungry, shower and change into pajamas, and finally both of you would fall asleep watching re-runs of Sex and The City.

At the end of the day, you two were just girls, after all.

You were finally showered and digging around for a pair of pajamas before Sana gets your attention from where she laid on her bed. Aside from the bathroom, the lamp that split your beds in the room was the only source of light.

“Did you ever go back to the gym like I told you?”

Your entire body pauses as you step into your sleep shorts.

“No? I’ve been sleeping fine this week,” you answer simply trying to skirt around what she actually wants to talk about.

“Y/N are you kidding me?” she says it like she’s disappointed.

“Sana,” you warn her as you slip on a large t-shirt.

Suddenly, Sana throws her bedding off her frame and stomps over to where you stand near your suitcases. You eye her carefully before she snatches the towel from your hand.

“That’s it,” she snaps, “Put some workout clothes on and get your ass to the hotel gym right now.”

You stare in disbelief.

“Sana, I’m not doing that! I literally just got out of the shower—”

“So, take another one later! I’m telling you Y/N go. To. The. Gym. There’s no doubt in my mind that Jungkook is there.”

“Are you just trying to humiliate me or something? I have a stupid crush on Jungkook, but millions of people do! You don’t have to clown me for it—"

“I would never clown you!” she defends, her eyes turning wide and reproachful, “As your friend I can tell when people are interested in you. Jungkook is one of them,” she points a finger into your chest.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you shake your head at her. You love her, you really did, but damn was she persistent borderlining annoying sometimes.

“I think you’re being ridiculous,” she spats, “You have a golden opportunity here and you need to snatch it. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong but I’m never wrong about these things.”

You hated to admit it, but her words created a crack deep inside you that made your knees wobble. You know Sana would never do you wrong, but if this was something she was wrong about, you’re not sure if you could survive the aftereffects. However, part of you, the irrational part of you, desperately wanted to test the waters if it was true.

“If I go tonight, will you leave me alone about?” you deign.

A wide grin spreads across her face, “Yes.”

Sana helps you pick out another matching workout set—this one a pair of yoga pants that folded over your hips in a flattering way and matching sports bra, both a deep navy in color. You clipped your hair back before slipping on your tennis shoes. You check the time on your phone, laughing at yourself for doing this at midnight.

“Go get ‘em tiger,” Sana swats you out of the room with a key and your headphones.

You both part ways and as much as you really wanted to go to bed, you force yourself to make way to the hotel gym on the third floor.

As soon as you walk into the gym, you have to contain the bubbling of excitement that sits in your stomach. Sana was right—Jungkook was here yet again lifting upper body with some dumbbells. Jungkook seemingly notices you immediately but he’s mid-set, so he doesn’t do anything but send a grimace your way.

You give him a small wave before heading over the cardio deck. You choose against running a lot tonight, only pushing out a mile before you decide to walk the rest of the way. It’s when you’re halfway through mile two of walking, does Jungkook appear in your peripheral vision, hopping on the treadmill right beside of yours.

You glance his way and find he’s already staring back at you. He motions to your headphone, and you instantly take one of your earbuds out.

“Hey,” Jungkook says before he starts his own treadmill to walk at a pace matching your own.

“Hi,” you greet him. Neither have you spoken much since the last time before the show in the last country.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks curiously.

You push past the lump in your throat, hoping he can’t see the lie in your response, “Something like that.”

He nods as if he understands you completely, “It’s hard for me to come down sometimes. After the shows.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“You’d think after the type of energy we expended, we would just want to pass out after,” he says and you nod your head, giving him a glance out of your eyes.

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

“Do any of the other boys come here after too?” you ask him out of pure curiosity.

“Not really,” he shakes his head, “Most of them winddown playing video games or something but I need to get my energy out differently.”

“My friend Sana is like that. She falls asleep within ten minutes of us watching TV in the room… do you know her?”

“Of course,” he pauses, “I know all of the dancer’s names.”

“Damn, really?” you don’t know why your first thought was that you didn’t believe him, but the little you know about him, you actually find it very believable. He’s quiet, but he’s always polite and caring with everyone around.

“Do you not?” he almost laughs.

“No, I do,” you chuckle, “But it took me longer than I’d like to admit getting everyone’s right.”

“That’s fair… we have a big crew for sure.”

“Was the last tour this big?”

Jungkook shakes his head slightly, “Yes, and no? I honestly can’t remember, it was so long ago. The memories are kind of blurry now.”

You furrow your brows, “Doesn’t that make you sad? If you can’t remember?”

He only thinks for a second before saying, “No… I’m okay with it because I know at the time I was very happy. That’s all that matters to me.”

You nod, finding a sweet resolve and acceptance in his words. It makes you think about your own experiences in life. You feel as if sometimes you try so hard to capture and hold onto to memories that you actually don’t remember the true feelings you held at the time. Jungkook’s perspective is interesting and one that has you intrigued.

“How long have you been dancing?” Jungkook asks randomly between the sounds of your treadmills going.

You do the quick math in your head in relation to your age, which is only two years younger than Jungkook.

“About twenty years?” when you say it out loud, you can’t help but laugh.

Jungkook’s already large eyes widen even more as he looks at you, “Twenty years?”

“Yeah, my mom put me in ballet school when I was like six,” you tell him.

“Wow,” he says incredulous, “That’s amazing.”

Your brain immediately thinks back to the years and years you had dedicated your body to the craft that is dancing. As most did, you started with ballet and worked your way up to pointe shoes by your early teens, but as you grew older, your body craved contemporary and more liberating ways of dancing. You quit ballet at fourteen and strictly began learning other genres, soon working your way into dancing for major musical acts over the years. You were lucky to have made it a full-time job because you think if you had stuck with ballet, you wouldn’t be here, in this very vulnerable moment with Jeon Jungkook.

“You have a lot to teach me then,” Jungkook says and you don’t miss the tease in his tone.

“I don’t think you need as much help as you think you do,” you tell him honestly. While Jimin and Hoseok were no doubt the strongest dancers of their group, Jungkook was close up there with them.

He sends a shrug your way, “I’m always working on myself in one way or another.”

“Like right now?” you muse and even though you’re looking straight ahead, you feel his gaze glancing your way.

“Exactly,” he agrees, “Sometimes it’s not even about sleep for me… every show day is so hectic and loud. I don’t get a lot of peace and quiet, you know?”

Your eyes find his side profile and trace his sharp jawline. An uneasiness waves throughout your bones as your guess may have very well been correct. You couldn’t wait to tell Sana to shove it up her ass at the revelation. As much as you needed the cortisol release sometimes, Jungkook would always need it more than you.

“Um,” you begin, slightly hesitant, “Sorry if I’m interrupting that for you. I don’t have—”

“No, no,” Jungkook quickly and surprisingly cuts you off, “It’s okay really. It’s nice having the company, and you’re not annoying me or anything.”

“Yet,” you send him a smirk, feeling resolve at his words. As long as he was okay with the random gym drop-ins, then you felt comfortable that you weren’t intruding on his space.

“I doubt that would ever happen,” he licks hips, pushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead.

He was always dressed simply and casually, but this was one of the few times you saw him with exposed legs in shorts. His legs were beyond toned and even though your muscles were classically trained, his very well might as well been too. His black long sleeve clung to his upper body, and you had to force your gaze away from his body, afraid he would catch you staring off once again.

You’re approaching your third mile and as much as you’d love to stay and chat with him some more, quite frankly you’re exhausted and need to go to bed. Without a warning, you press the stop button the treadmill and come to a slow. Jungkook immediately notices, turning his head towards your frame as you step off the machine.

“You done?” he asks.

You nod, “Yeah, definitely ready for bed.”

It was an understatement but soon your brows furrow in confusion as you watch him stop his own treadmill, floating to the end of the track before jumping off.

“I’ll walk you back to your room,” Jungkook says casually and your heartrate skyrockets.

“W-what? No, you don’t have to do that,” you’re protesting immediately and you can’t help but notice the playful smirk that spreads across his face as his large eyes meet yours.

“I want to,” is all he says before he leads you out of the gym.

“Jungkook it’s fine,” you’re not sure how much you’ve actually said his name out loud to him, but it stirs something deep inside of you.

“Y/N it’s fine,” he waves off a hand as you walk side by side, “What floor are you on?” he asks as both of you approach the elevator.

“Eight,” you tell him as you wait for the elevator to ding open.

“I’m on the ninth,” he says unprompted, shoving his hands into his pockets.

A silence falls between the two of you and you can’t tell if it’s comfortable or not. He’s willingly giving you intimate information you’re not asking for, but maybe he’s just being cordial? With someone as genuine as he was, it was nearly impossible to tell what his true intentions were.

The elevator opens a moment later and he follows you into the small space, pressing the button to only the eight floor.

“You’re not going to the ninth?” you ask him, ready to push the button if needed.

“I told you I’d walk you back to your room,” he reminds you, just as the door closes.

“I didn’t think you were actually serious.”

Jungkook’s eyes suddenly filter down your frame once, then twice, before meeting your gaze from across the way—the distance feeling palpable between the two of you. There’s something in his expression you can’t decipher and you’re not sure you even want to as he chews on his lip ring.

“How would I know what room you’re in then?”

His words hit you like a freight train and you’re sure the way he smiles at you isn’t exactly riddled with innocence. You do what you do best when you’re speechless, scoffing him off in a laugh. Neither of you speak again until you get off the elevator and actually approach your door.

“This is me,” you point to the room on your left, looking up to find his gaze already looking at you.

Jungkook nods, satisfied with the result before saying, “See you tomorrow?”

Your heart thumps out of your chest, “See you tomorrow. Well, today I guess, but yes,” you stumble over your words, attempting to be literal on your words but you realize how silly you sound.

Jungkook sends you a sweet smile that surely melts your heart just a little bit, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

~

The next few weeks of the tour are an exhilarating rush yet also a blur. You and the dancers have well established a routine. Show days are smooth and fun, off days are spent exploring the cities you’d never thought you see, weekends are spent drinking and going out with the dance crew, some days you and Sana just stay in your hotel room to completely rest and recharge. So far, nothing has been out of the ordinary except one small thing has changed in your routine.

The sporadic late-night adrenaline-fueled gym sessions have recently turned into a nearly every other night occurrence. Once you had debriefed Sana on that late night in Brussels when Jungkook walked you back to the room, she had squealed in delight and satisfaction.

“Eeek! I told you Y/N! He clearly is interested in you.”

“I don’t want to jump to conclusions Sana.”

“Oh please! He literally said, ‘how would I know what room you’re in?’ Bitch, he wants you. Or at least wants to know where you are at all times which is another thing in itself.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t know, maybe he’s like weirdly territorial over you or something.”

“Oh my god Sana, you sound insane.”

“You’ll think I’m insane when you’re fucking Jeon fucking Jungkook one of these days!”

Perhaps you had been blinded by your own feelings and crush towards Jungkook, but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe she was right? You’d started to go to the gym after nearly every concert and Jungkook would always be there.

Both of you did your own workouts—his consisted of mostly strength training and you focused on running and yoga for your muscles—but he always ended up on the treadmill beside yours at the end of his sessions. Some nights neither of you would say much, but other nights you would talk to each other for at least a couple of miles straight give or take. At times, he would join your running pace and soon would tease you for how slow you were which obviously prompted both of you to try to outpace each other. He won every time, but your dancer’s lungs kept up with him better than you thought.

After a few weeks, you felt you had really gotten to see another side of Jungkook that many didn’t. Most people knew him on stage as this fierce confident popstar, and he no doubt was, but in the quieter moments, he was a very normal guy with very normal interests, hobbies, and opinions.

You were fascinated with his level of fame, though it truly didn’t seem to bother him much. He had been famous for so long, he claimed it was hard to remember what life was like for him before. He was fascinated with your dancing and the longevity of your body. You were healthy and strong no doubt, but you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t feel pain a lot of the times. Your body had been through the ringer, and the tour was slowly pushing it beyond limits you didn’t even know you had.

No matter if the conversations were light, heavier, fun, or flirty, the one thing that stayed consistent was Jungkook’s persistence to walk you back to your room every night. And he did so without fail.

Sana was the only person who knew about your shenanigans with Jungkook, and she would stay up nearly every night to see you come back from the gym to debrief. Despite how crazy you initially thought she was, there was something exhilarating about having this secret with one of the most sought-after men in the world. First and foremost, he was one of your bosses, but you had slowly developed a friendship that was one in a million chance.

If you were lucky and played your cards right, you were confident it might turn into more.

Coming back to reality, the loud sounds of the stadium ring even through your in-ear monitors. You’re standing behind another dancer, Jinho, in formation readying for the next song. The crowd was so loud tonight that it had been difficult to hear anything from cues to the songs being sung themselves.

Thankfully the stadium had a breeze flowing through the air tonight, but you still were sweating like crazy. At this point, you knew the routines blind at this point and any second now, Jungkook would soon appear behind you to take his place.

You felt him before you noticed him—his presence was all encompassing when he was around. There was about thirty seconds until the next song would start with Taehyung from across the stage and you took in a few deep breaths to prepare yourself. What you couldn’t have prepared for though was the sudden feeling of a hand grazing at your low back.

It took everything in you to not jump out of your skin and luckily the lights were turned low so no one could see, but you quickly whipped your head around to find Jungkook’s gaze low on the floor, but his hand remained in place as it grazed the fabric of your top.

You really thought you were imagining things as you turned your head back around, but it was when his fingers squeezed the fabric of your shirt together did you realize you weren’t. Jungkook’s touch lasted only a second longer before the stage lights cued, the music started, and the muscle memory kicked in to start the third act of the show.

As the show went on, you found yourself glancing at Jungkook more than usual. He was cool, confident, silly, and all the things everyone loved about him, but he didn’t look your way one time the remainder of the show.

You couldn’t help but ask yourself, what the fuck?

~

Unlike previous interactions with Jungkook, you had kept what happened during the show to yourself. You weren’t sure why you haven’t told Sana yet, but a part of you was hoping it was a figment of your imagination. If it was real, it meant you had to confront it. Something had been simmering between you and Jungkook for weeks and you really thought you had just a silly, immature crush on him. The fact that it was potentially reciprocated, churned your insides and also turned you on like never before. You were pent up and letting loose tonight was more than needed.

With only two shows left in Europe, the entire dance crew had decided to go out in early celebration. No injuries, no sickness, all smooth sailing thus far and it felt like a huge accomplishment for all of you. Professionally and personally.

The club that had been decided on was a classic European club—a bit bare bones inside but loud techno and tech-house music shook the large room. The DJ was throwing down heavy beats, and it was easy to move and groove, feeling yourself letting go with Sana and Josh by your side. It was body to body everywhere, but you still had enough room to dance and jump freely with enough space.

You had been trying to ignore the entire time, but the entire group of seven had also decided to join the dance crew out tonight. It was a rare occurrence to see all of them out, but it was especially rare to see Yoongi and Jungkook in this environment. Taehyung and Hoseok were thriving at the private table they had rented out, Namjoon and Jin laughing at whatever the two of them were doing. Jimin, Yoongi, and Jungkook were all in deep conversation, but you couldn’t help but notice the way Jungkook’s eyes flickered in your direction every so often.

You were already feeling quite tipsy, but you had felt confident before alcohol even hit your lips. You had dressed yourself in black; daunting a mini dress that showed off your legs with a simple halter top that accentuated your breasts. Despite the aching of your feet from the show, you and Sana had worn a similar pair of black heels.

As you sipped on whatever vodka concoction Josh had bought you, Sana suddenly leaned in to yell over the loud music.

“So, are you finally going to fuck Jungkook tonight?!”

You scoffed, immediately pushing her away from your space, “Oh my god! Will you shut up already!”

“What?! He’s practically eye fucking from his seat over there!”

Curious, you flipped your hair over your shoulder to look his way and indeed, Jungkook was looking right at you and Sana. Not knowing exactly what to do, you send him a casual smile before turning back to Sana with wide eyes.

“I told you!”

“Don’t you think if he wanted to, he would have made a move by now?” you pout before taking a large gulp of your drink.

Sana rolls her eyes wide even in the darkness of the club, “You know how he is. He’s confident but he’s quiet. Besides, as you always love to say he’s your ‘boss’. Maybe he’s waiting on you to make the move, so he knows he’s not overstepping.”

You thought about her words, digesting them even through the loud music. In all honesty, Sana had so far been right in her assumptions. She was probably correct about this too.

“Ugh, but Sana do I want to sleep with him? What if it makes it weird! I’d have to see him every day for the next eight months.”

Sana’s face falls before Josh suddenly involves himself in the conversation.

“What are you two talking about?” he asks taking a long sip from his beer.

“Y/N just asked me if she even wanted to fuck Jungkook.”

Josh looks at you, deadpanning, “Earth to Y/N, hello! Are you in there?” he suddenly takes a fist and knocks on your head lightly.

“Yes, Y/N, you absolutely want to fuck him. I’ve never seen you want to fuck someone more.”

Fuck. She was right. You were unbelievably horny for Jeon Jungkook, and you just knew he was for you too. You just needed him to actually say it to prove it to yourself.

“Let’s go dance. I need to get drunker,” you tell them honestly before the three of you shove your way into the crowd.

You dance, you jump, you and Sana grind together, you drink, and shit, you haven’t had this much fun out in a long time. Touring was fun, but at the end of the day, work was work. This was the time where it made the long days and sweat worth it. You’d made lifelong friends dancing for the biggest group in the world. What was there not to be happy about?

The DJ continued mixing heavy house music and before you knew it, your drink was empty. You excused yourself from Sana and Josh to find the bar. If you lost them, it was no big deal—the entire crew was here, you’d find someone to tag along with.

You finally squeeze through the crowd to approach the bar only having to wait a few minutes to order your drink. As you pocket for your wallet, you groan when you realize you left it in Sana’s bag.

“Shit,” you say as the bartender slides over your martini and the check. You’re about to ask if they take digital pay, but someone beats you to it.

“Can you add a whiskey, neat, to this please?” Jungkook suddenly appears on your right side and your knees wobbled in your heels.

Like you, he’s dressed in all black. Black shirt, black loose-fitting pants, and an oversized leather jacket that still somehow defines his muscles through and through. His hair is still parted and combed back from the show, his perfect eyebrows on display as he takes in your own appearance.

“Needed some help?” he asks you, quirking his face to the side and you swear his gaze lingered on your chest for a second too long.

“I left my wallet in Sana’s bag,” you admit while grabbing the stem of your martini glass, “Thanks.”

You take a sip, the vodka strong but just what you needed—especially if this was divine intervention happening at the palm of your hands. You were expecting to say hi to Jungkook at some point tonight, but not like this and surely not alone away from the rest of the group.

Jungkook pays for the drinks with a black card before he grabs his glass, holding it out to you.

“Cheers,” he says simply.

You give him a smile, “Cheers.”

Your glasses clink together and you watch each other over the side of your respective glasses as you sip the alcohol. His dark eyes bore into your own and you’re thankful for the two other drinks you’ve already had before crossing paths with him.

“I’m kind of surprised to see you here tonight,” you say once you down the strong sip of the martini.

He smirks, though even in the darkness of the club, you could have sworn his ears reddened.

“Why do you say that?”

You give him a sweet smile, “You never come out with the dancers. Only Taehyung and Hoseok do on the regular.”

Jungkook shrugs, nonchalant, “All the members were down tonight. I couldn’t be the only one to say no.”

You take another sip of your drink, your gaze unwavering from his own. You felt nervous being so close to him and his entire attention on you without any distractions.

“Something tells me that’s not true,” you say quite boldly.

Jungkook slightly tilts his head, regarding your curiosity with ease, “It’s fun getting to go out with you guys, but sometimes I just enjoy the solitude more,” he pauses, his eyes studying you intensely “And honestly? I needed a fucking drink.”

A larger grins appears on your face as you hold back laughter, “Well, you came to the right place.”

Jungkook sips his drink again, though his gaze refusing to break from yours, “Trust me. I know.”

The implications of his words have your body heating from the inside out. He was being painfully casual, but it didn’t feel casual. Your chest begins to rise and fall more rapidly as a silence falls between the two of you. You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s brown eyes flicker down to your exposed cleavage.

Before you can second guess or overthink it, with the alcohol buzzing in your veins, you say—

“So, what was that about earlier?”

His face pulls for a second as he swallows his liquor, his gaze curious as he regards your frame.

“What?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Don’t play dumb, Jungkook,” you pause, taking the slightest step towards him. In your heels, you were more even with his height, but his aura was still intimidating.

He regarded your frame as you leaned slightly onto the bar with an elbow.

“When you touched me on stage,” you spell it out for him when he remains silent.

A stupid, shit-eating smirk spreads across his stupid handsome face. You get a waft of his scent and it’s clean and masculine and sexy all at once.

“Do you not want me to touch you?”

His question took you nothing short of surprised. It wasn’t the answer you were expecting, and you couldn’t believe he was being so nonchalant about this. He’s purposely backed you into a corner which also dawns the realization this is him testing you as much as you are him.

“I—I didn’t say that,” you say, truthfully and bare as you study his features.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in the darkness, and you wish you could see him clearer, but you don’t miss the way his smirk stays glued on his face.

“You just can’t do that on stage,” you continue on, “What if someone saw you?”

He shrugs, “It was fine Y/N. It was dark, no one can see between the acts,” he sips his whiskey again.

“Well, don’t do it again,” you tell him earnest; the last thing you needed was to get caught up in a scandal when this was your job at the end of the day—crush on Jungkook be damned.

“But I can do it now?” he muses as suddenly he brings the back of his knuckles of his tattooless hand to graze the expanse of your arm.

The immediate rise of goosebumps is embarrassing, and you hope he doesn’t feel them as much as you do. He watches you carefully as your chest gives away your breath picking up. You’d never been more confident in your life that someone wanted you as much as you wanted them. He was giving you signs—c’mon play with me—and so play you would.

You pulled away from his touch, licking your lips before you say, “Dance with me. Then I’ll decide if you can.”

Jungkook’s tongue ran along the inside of his mouth, and you couldn’t hear it, but you could see the way he scoffed in laughter. Finally, after a few seconds of thinking, he nods slowly in response, and you hold out you hand for him. His large hand—soft yet calloused from all his weight-lifting—takes yours and you pull him into the crowded dance floor.

Given the crowd and audience, the risk of anyone knowing who he was under such obscurity was pretty low. There might be a handful of fans in the club, but by the morning, no one would even remember that BTS was amongst the crowd.

Once you found a comfortable spot for both of you to move freely, you dropped Jungkook’s hand and let the rhythm of the music and bass take you over. The high energy was exactly what you needed to get you through whatever was about to transpire with Jungkook. There was going to be no turning back after tonight and you just hoped you weren’t making a mistake.

You and Jungkook get lost in the music and he seriously is such a good dancer—he needed to give himself more credit. You watch each other as you groove through the beats and on occasion, Jungkook does something silly to illicit a laugh out of you. You’ve grown comfortable around him not just on stage, but in moments like this too. All the time spent alone in the hotel gyms over the weeks had paid off. There was a part of you that hoped he felt that way about you too.

You are noticeably drunker when your martini is almost finished and it was nearly instinctual when you turned your body around and danced close to Jungkook’s chest. His touch on your waist suddenly pulled you closer to press yourself against him, but you quickly pushed off of him, giving a look over your shoulder.

“Did I say you could touch me yet?” you retort and you swear Jungkook’s jaw clenched in the strobing lights.

You return to your dancing, hands roaming up and down your sides as the music gets you lost in bliss. At times it feels like your dress might be too short, but if anything, you know Jungkook has to be enjoying the view of your toned legs, so you don’t let it bother you too much. Your body grazes against Jungkook’s chest every so often and it honestly takes a lot of your own restraint to not press yourself against him.

Jungkook only last a couple more minutes before he’s suddenly leaning into your neck, “Y/N, please. I want to feel you against me.”

You meet his gaze at your peripheral vision and the fact you have Jeon Jungkook begging to touch you sends you into overdrive. You bring one of your hands up behind his head, curling your fingers into his soft locks of hair to pull him flush against your frame.

It’s instant the way your skin buzzes and electricity pulses through your veins. The weight of his body on yours feels heavenly and you can only imagine what it would be like to actually have his full weight on top of you. His hands encircle your waist as you move against him and you’re entrapped by him, but you’re right where you want to be.

The two of you continue to dance with each other as the alcohol keeps the courage in you to stay so close to his body. Jungkook’s touch is gentle and he doesn’t roam his hands anywhere inappropriate, but the touch of him alone sends you into overdrive.

As much fun as you were having, you selfishly wanted to have him to yourself in this moment. It was loud and sweaty, and part of you just wanted to talk to him. A casual conversation that always felt so easy with him.

The buzziness of the alcohol in your system is desperately making you crave a different type of buzz. You turn your body to face Jungkook, your hands loosely against his pectoral muscles. You lean into one side of his face and ask;

“Do you have any smokes?”

Jungkook pulls back slightly, giving you a short nod of his head. You nod in return, hoping he picks up your drift. Without thinking about it, you grab one of his hands and lead him towards a back exit of the club. You knew it was the right place as people were coming back inside from smoking their own cigarettes.

As Jungkook followed you into the back alley, there were just a handful of other people around. One group of three smoking and one group of two.

You situate you and him away from the other patrons for privacy. When you turn around, Jungkook is already holding a pack of cigarettes in front of you. You snatch the box from his hand before plucking one out and holding it between your teeth. You quickly pass the box to Jungkook before he switches with a lighter.

You light the cigarette between your lips but notice that Jungkook doesn’t pull out a cigarette for himself.

“You’re not?” you ask after you pull in a drag.

Jungkook watches you as he pockets the box and lighter into his jacket.

He begins to shake his head, “I quit a while ago.”

You give him a funny look as you glance between him and the cigarette in your hand.

“I keep them on me for friend’s sake,” he then explains which you suppose does make sense. Smoking was really only a bad habit you had whilst you were drinking, but many people you knew smoked them regularly.

“Aw, we’re friends?” you ask with a bold, sarcastic drunkenness your sober self would hate.

“Of course,” he returns quickly.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to be friends with my boss,” you inhale deep again, the nicotine coating your senses like candy.

Jungkook laughs, his frame directly in front of you and close enough you can still smell him, “Your boss?”

“I mean,” you blow smoke the other direction, “Pretty much, yeah?”

“It’s funny,” he takes a step forward, crowding your space, “I don’t really want to touch my friends like that.”

Your heart stops, the cigarette still burning between your fingertips.

“Like what?”

Jungkook takes another step forward, his eyes roaming from your own down your nose and onto your mouth. You’re frozen in place, mesmerized as he wet his bottom lip. In a ghosting touch, Jungkook’s fingers graze against your chin to hold your face to his.

“Like this,” Jungkook mutters as he leans forward, capturing your lips between his own.

Sirens alarm in your head as the feeling of his skin on yours comes to fruition. He makes a move on his lips, realizing you’ve stood still and haven’t reciprocated. You push past the alarms and close your eyes, molding your lips against his own. Jungkook obliges when you bring one hand around the back of his neck to bring him closer.

He kisses you gently, his lip ring cold as it touches your mouth. You’d always been curious at what that would feel like, though you have other areas of your body you’d prefer to experience it. Jungkook leans in, deepening the kiss as he pushes your body against the brick wall behind you. You’d drop the cigarette out of your hand at some point because you now bring your other hand to his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

When Jungkook’s tongue grazes your mouth, the whine that escapes the back of your throat is quiet but noticeable. As if jolting to your senses, you suddenly pull away from him, placing your hands on his chest for space.

“Jungkook, we shouldn’t do this,” you whisper as his brown eyes glaze in the dim lighting of the alley. You take a glance towards the other groups and thankfully no one is paying attention to you.

“Why not?” he muses.

“It’s inappropriate,” you try your darndest to control your breathing.

Jungkook gives you a look of grievance, “We’re consenting adults are we not?”

“Don’t try to out logic me,” you narrow your eyes as he lets out a laugh, “You know what I mean.”

“If you really don’t want to, I’ll drop it,” he says, suddenly much more serious, “But I really want to. And I think you do too. If I’m wrong, we can act like this never happened, but if there’s anything for you to know, you’re all I’ve thought about for weeks.”

Your legs shake at his words, unsure if you just heard him correctly. Weeks? He was giving you a way out—a way out of his apparent fantasies about you—yet was still letting you decide where this would end up. The rational part of you knew you needed to drop it; go back inside and act as if this never happened. But the other half of you wanted to dive headfirst consequences be damned, it might be your self’s biggest disservice to deny this man.

“Really?” you ask him.

He nods immediately, “Ever since I met you, I wanted to get to know you more.”

You have to fight a blush, and you glance down at your feet for a second of relief, “And you know a lot about me now?”

Jungkook tilts his head, thinking on it for three seconds, “After the last few weeks, I know a lot about you, but there’s things I still want to know.”

“Like what?” you ask curiously, fighting your mouth wanting to smile so badly.

“Hm,” he pauses, only thinking for just a second, “Like what you look like when you come,” he crowds your space again, your face losing color under his gaze, “More importantly, what you sound like when you come.”

You’re lucky Jungkook is practically holding your frame against the wall because you’re sure had he not, your knees would have given out. Oh my god… this man was so horny for you. And the way his words made your center pulse, you were just as guilty.

Feeling confident in your resolve, you straighten your head to look him in the eyes.

“That could be arranged,” you whisper, “But not here.”

Jungkook smiles and it takes your breath away when he closes the gap on your lips again. He kisses you only momentarily before pulling away.

“Let’s go.”

~

A private driver had taken you both back to the hotel without question soon after that conversation ended. You messaged Sana that you weren’t feeling good and decided to call it a night, though she had yet to respond. You didn’t think much about it knowing she was drunk and having fun—you’d see her tomorrow anyways.

Luckily it was well past midnight, and the hotel was barren minus the staff. A silence had fallen between you and Jungkook as the elevator was taking its sweet time to come down to the first floor.

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you glanced his way. Jungkook was effortlessly attractive and it made your knees weak to think what was about to transpire. He was typing something quickly on his phone before the elevator dinged open. He lets you go first before he steps in behind you quickly pressing the button to the 19th floor.

As you stand in the corner of the elevator, Jungkook only regards you a few inches away. Eye contact could be difficult for you at times, but there was something in the way his brown eyes captivated your own. During shows, you’d found him more frequently finding your gaze and sending you smirks beneath all of the stage lights. Had you really been that bad at reading his signs?

As the elevator approaches his floor, he suddenly reaches out with a hand, fingers running down your exposed arm, to your elbow, and then finally settling in your hand. The elevator once again dings open and Jungkook pulls you out of the confined space to follow him to his room which happens to be a large corner suite at the end of the hallway.

As you step into Jungkook’s room, you’re hit with a soft glow of lamps and the overwhelming scent of him. Even between the sweat and exhaustion on stage and the gym, Jungkook always somehow managed to smell clean. Now being in his room, you realized what he smelled like when he did nothing. Still clean, but fresh and masculine; a slight musk peeking through.

His room was large enough for six people to sleep—the small entrance opened up into a large living room with a cream sectional couch, large TV mounted on the left wall, and even a small kitchenette off to the right. Jungkook was in the process of closing the remainder of the blinds and curtains, but you caught a balcony, too.

“Damn,” you say in disbelief, noticing the separate bedroom off to the left, “I should complain. Sana and I are practically climbing over each other every night.”

Jungkook chuckles, removing his leather jacket and putting it off the side on a table. His black t-shirt is tucked into his pants, and your eyes are immediately drawn to his arm of tattoos.

“Perks of being the, as you call it, boss, I suppose,” he smirks before going over to the kitchenette, “Do you want anything to drink? Water, wine?”

“I’ll have what you’re having,” is what you say, slowly making your way over to the large couch.

A few moments later, Jungkook reappears with two small glasses of white wine before he sits close to your frame on the couch. You quickly thank him, both of you taking small sips. It’s jarring compared to the liquor you had been drinking, but much more refreshing.

“Can I tell you something?” Jungkook suddenly asks leaning back against the sofa as his left arm extends long, fingertips barely touching your shoulder.

You nod, “Of course.”

“I only went out tonight because I knew you’d be there,” he says, his eyes flickering down to your lips.

You fight a smile, “You’re not exactly subtle, huh?”

Jungkook returns one easily, that gorgeous dimple forming on his cheek, “Being subtle wasn’t getting us anywhere.”

“Us?”

He shrugs, “I had a hunch.”

And my god was he right.

The alcohol had worn off mostly in the car ride over, but you still had enough courage to be vulnerable if he was.

“Fine,” you say setting down your wine glass on the coffee table. Jungkook does the same, watching you closely, “Sometimes I really couldn’t sleep, but most of the time, I was only going to the gym every night hoping you were there.”

“See,” he pauses, chewing on his lip ring, “A hunch.”

A momentary silence falls between the two of you, though it’s not uncomfortable at all. As nervous as you were, you felt confident in this very moment. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. It was rare to find that kind of electric chemistry with someone and every time he glanced over your frame, you had to fight the urge to squirm.

“Well,” you chew on your lip, “Are you finally going to do something about it?”

Jungkook smirks, his fingers now happily caressing your shoulder. His eyes move between your eyes and then your mouth and you can see the way his brown orbs light with fire. He quickly adjusts himself slightly on the couch, leaning closer to your frame.

“Come here,” he whispers and its commanding, dripping in saccharine.

Unable to resist any longer, you obeyed him with ease and leaned towards him. Your eyes fluttered close just as you grazed his lips with your own. Jungkook’s hand moves up to your hair to pull you in, angling your head to deepen the kiss instantly. Your hands find his shoulders, fingertips running over his sculpted muscle.

He guides the kiss—it begins as slow, sensual and exploring and soon after, he’s pulling your body closer by the waist to which your frame straddles his own. Soon after, he dips his tongue into your mouth and as your town touches his as you continue to kiss, there it is—a whine deep in your throat escapes into his mouth.

Jungkook smirks against your lips before he suddenly pulls away, blinking up at you with a drunken, soft haze. Your breathing is heavy as you look down at him, admiring the way his perfect features created such a handsome human being.

“Do you want to do this?” Jungkook suddenly mutters and you feel his hands beginning to move from your waist down to the small of your back, hovering just above your ass.

You nod quick, “Yes,” it nearly sounds desperate.

Jungkook nods, leaning in to place a kiss on your chest right near your left breast, “Good,” another kiss working his way up as his hands make their way down, “If you want me to stop, just say so okay?”

His breath tickles your ear as he kisses just below where you neck and ear meet. Another small whine, you fist a hand into his hair, “Okay,” you agree, though you have a feeling you won’t be wanting to stop at all.

Jungkook’s lips capture your own again and his hands settle on your ass, pulling you directly to sit into his lap. Your pussy was scantily clad with a lacy black thong and once you brushed against his crotch, you could feel his cock swelling in his pants by the second.

Though you were on top of him, he was no doubt fully in control. He kisses you feverishly, a hands squeezing your ass to roll against his pelvis. You don’t fight him as you let him guide your hips over his as his tongue roams your mouth. The friction is small, but your pussy begins to ache with need. Despite the way your heart races, he keeps a heavy yet steady rhythm tilting his head to the side to deep your kiss.

“What’s your favorite way to come?” his voice is husky as he pulls away, looking up at you through his lashes.

You feel your face get hot at the question, but you answer him honestly—“When someone gives me head.”

Jungkook smiles, as if he satisfied with that answer. Suddenly, he pushes you off of him and makes his way to lay on top of you on the couch. Your leg’s part open for him easily as you make room, though your lips have stayed connected the whole time. He pulls away, his lips now tracing down your neck and exposed chest. The dress did make your boobs look insanely good and you knew Jungkook was enjoying it too as he squeezed your right breast on top of the fabric.

The dress had already ridden up to your hips and as Jungkook pulled away, his eyes immediately go between your legs. His gaze looks your way for only a second before he decides to remove himself from the couch. Confused as he moves you to the side and until he positions himself on his knees, you understood what his intentions were.

“I’ve wanted to do this,” a kiss to your thigh, “For so long,” a kiss to the other as he makes his way to your center. He spreads your lips a little wider and you know you’re already soaking wet just by looking at him between your legs on his knees like this.

He pushes the remainder of your dress up your hips, exposing the lace you wore. A smirk crosses Jungkook’s face before he leans in, placing a kiss between your pelvis and leg. He does it again on the other leg, but this time, his teeth start to take the flimsy fabric with him.

You lift your hips instinctually to help him as he pulls them down your legs. He uses his hands to fully remove once he gets them close to your knees. You can’t help but roll your eyes when you watch him pocket the panties into his pants. He gives you a short laugh before leans between your legs and you whine again in anticipation.

He large hands run smoothly up and down your thighs as he admires what lies between them. Gently, he suddenly maneuvers one of your legs to fall over his left shoulder to spread you further open. Between his delicate tattooed grip on your thigh, and the small kisses he places trailing up your exposed leg, you feel as if you might combust.

“God you’re so beautiful,” an open mouth kiss right where your hip meets your thigh, “So fucking pretty.”

When his mouth touches your pussy, your toes immediately curl beneath you. He doesn’t waste any time as he begins to make out with your pussy. His tongue forks between your folds, gliding up towards your clit with ease. It’s wet and hot, and the moans shortly begin to work past your mouth.

His hands grip around your thighs and widens the space between your legs even further. You’ve put a hand on his head to keep him in place as you can’t help but lean back into the couch a little bit, hips canting towards his face.

“Shit,” you curse as he suddenly switches between licking and sucking on your clit. The pleasure is fast and you could die right here, and it could be the best moment of your life. His lip ring at first felt cold, but it soon enmeshed with your own body temperature.

You begin to grind against his face and you’re unable to stop the moans and whines that escape your lips. He’s so good at this—you couldn’t believe you thought about ever denying him. He licks and sucks, tongue dipping inside you every so often and soon enough, you feel the familiar wave of an orgasm building in your core. It’d be so long since you had been with someone since being on tour. Getting yourself off and having a permanent hotel roommate was hard.

“Fuck Jungkook,” you whisper, “I’m going co—”

The orgasm hits you before you could even finish your sentence, harsh moans and groans eliciting from your throat. Jungkook rides you through it on his tongue and it washes over your body in waves. He only stops his motions once you push his head away as overstimulation begins to replace pleasure.

His gaze is ethereally intense as he glances up at you. His lips are glistening with yourself and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your entire days on earth.

“Holy shit,” you whisper as he pushes himself up from your center.

He leans in, pecking your lips, “Was that okay?”

You nod, “Yes, oh my god, yes,” you chase his lips again, unafraid of tasting yourself on his lips.

You kiss each other forcefully once again before Jungkook starts to pull you up from the couch and its only then you realize you’re still wearing your heels. You bend down to take them off, but Jungkook quickly stops you.

“No,” he demands, “Keep them on.”

You bite your lip, nodding, eager to please and obey him. His hand finds your own and he pulls you towards the direction of the bedroom. Your knees are still wobbly from the orgasm, but once your eyes roam to the made bed, wobbles are replaced with tingles of anticipation.

You watch Jungkook’s back as he leads you over to the bed. He motions you to sit down on the edge before he moves to take off his shirt, quickly folding it and throwing it on top of an opened suitcase in the corner. He approaches you again closely; watching the way his abdominals contract with each movement, watching the way his tattoos color his entire arm and onto his chest.

“Take this off,” he says, referring to the dress clinging to your body.

You reach around to remove it, but you pause, looking up at him between your legs, “There’s a zipper. Can you help me?”

Sure, you could easily access the zipper yourself, but what’s the fun in that? Jungkook smirks as you tell him where the zipper is, and you soon let out a yelp when he flips you around on the bed to your hands and knees. He laughs playfully you can’t help but smile into the sheets. Aggressive and playful was your favorite combination.

His large hands find the zipper of your dress and as he unzips it, you undo the haltered neck. While still being careful, he yanks the dress down, leaving you naked in front of him minus the heels that remain on your feet.

“Fucking hell Y/N, you’re so sexy,” Jungkook says from behind as he admires your naked muscles and curves.

You glance over your shoulder to find him unzipping his pants, pushing them down his hips as he pulls his cock from his briefs. Your mouth slightly drops when you see the size of him as he strokes himself a few times.

“I want to suck your dick,” you exasperate watching him carefully as a playful smirk crosses his lips.

“Not yet baby,” he shakes his head, “This is about you right now.”

You fight back a blush with his words, biting your lip as he steps closer to you, his cock hard and ready to stuff you full.

“Fuck your pussy is so perfect,” he mutters as one of his hands disappear between your folds.

You groan at the contact, pussy now throbbing to be filled up by his large cock. You push your hips back to signal exactly what you want, but he only continues to slide up and down your slit, coating yourself with your own slickness.

He allows himself to dip one finger in you experimentally before adding a second digit to curl against your insides. You moan, fisting the sheets beneath your hands. With your ass still up, Jungkook squeezes it proudly as he starts to fuck you with his fingers. You’re so wet for him that it’s frictionless; gliding in and out of you with ease, your pussy continuing to ache thinking about his cock filling you up.

“Shit,” he groans, “You’re so wet Y/N. All for me baby?”

“Yes, yes,” you realize you are desperate now, “Just for you.”

His fingers suddenly exit your dripping cunt, and you feel him flush against you. You turn your eyes to see him still stroking himself as he meets your gaze.

“Do I need to use a condom?” he asks and it looks as if it’s painful for him not just shove himself inside you right now.

“I-I have an IUD,” you manage to say somewhat coherently.

He pushes again, “So you’re okay with this?”

He squeezes his bare cock in a way that makes you whine, “Yes, Jungkook yes. Please.”

Jungkook bites his lip ring as he deigns to your request. His thick tip brushes against your folds and you inhale a deep breath to brace yourself.

“Relax baby, it’s okay, you can take it,” he encourages.

Jungkook begins to push inside you and your jaw slacks as his size. Inch by inch, he’s slow and controlled, not wanting to hurt or make you uncomfortable. You can barely keep yourself up on your hands, your fingers gripping the duvet for stability.

“Jungkook oh my god,” you say as you feel him bottom completely out, his pelvis flush against your ass.

“Shit Y/N, you’re so tight,” he appreciates your warmth, his head throwing back for a moment. He stays here for a moment longer than you’d like and now you’re not afraid to ask for what you want.

“Jungkook please, fuck me,” you tell him, the most demanding you had been all night.

Lucky for you, he obliges and begins to pull himself out of your wet pussy but thrusts back in soon after. He’s angled deep and you moan each time he renters. He begins slow to get you used to his size, but his pace picks up a few minutes later which has you so sensitive, you have to drop to your elbows. Jungkook pushes your lower back down as he starts to pick up his pace even faster.

As he fucks you from behind, your moans begin to intertwine with his groans as he finds that extra sensitive spot inside you. Your body sets aflame when he suddenly brings a hand to slap your ass once, then twice, hard and controlled. The skin stings in its wake but you ask him for a third which he obliges.

“Goddamn Y/N,” he groans as his hands now hold your waist from behind, picking up his pace to fuck even somehow even harder. “You’re so perfect, my god—pussy just so perfect baby.”

Jungkook is so big and you’re so full that you can barely speak. As he brushes against your spot, you feel the semblance of another orgasm brewing. In one quick motion, Jungkook suddenly yanks your entire body upward to press your back against his chest to pound you from a new angle. A strong hand holds up your frame, squeezing your left breast with his tattooed arm, his other hand finding its way to your throat.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans into your ear as you wind a hand around to grip his hair from behind.

The air in your lungs constricts in his grip but god does it feel unreal to have him bury himself inside of you like this. Jungkook’s lips and tongue play with your neck and on occasion, he nips at your skin, light pressure from his teeth sending chills down your spine as the pleasure only increases each second. Jungkook only keeps you in this position for another minute or so before he lets you go, shoving your front back down to the bed.

Cheek in the mattress, Jungkook suddenly pulls out and you’re all too empty. Only confused for a second, Jungkook suddenly flips you around and pulls you close to the edge of the bed.

He discards the remainder of his pants and underwear, positioning himself between your legs, he suddenly leans down and places a chaste, longing kiss on your lips.

“You okay?” he asks, fisting a hand into your hair.

You find his consistent checking in sweet, endearing—such a stark contrast to the kind of fucker he was proving himself to be. You nod giving him the reassurance he needs before your lips meet once again, tongues intertwining as you can still taste the remnants of yourself on him.

Jungkook pulls away from you parting your legs to find your center with his cock once again. Before he pushes all the way in, he suddenly lifts your left leg up using your flexibility as a dancer to his advantage to plunge into your pussy even deeper. He kisses your ankle as he starts to fuck you once again and you’re seeing stars.

Your moans fill up the room once again and Jungkook is fighting his own as he watches himself disappear inside and out of you. Despite his own euphoria, he’s clearly only focused on you as he suddenly wets his thumb before he begins to rub for your clit as you’re spread wide for him.

“Shit, Jungkook just like that,” you whine at the contact. Your tits bounce as he fucks you raw and hard, your hip straining against itself as he still holds you open, his hand gripping your skin roughly.

“You take me so fucking well. I always knew you could, always dreamed about this,” he’s rambling but fuck it does something to you as you feel your orgasm approaching faster than you could stop it.

The second orgasm shatters through your body and you nearly scream as it pulsates your senses. It might be the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had, and you feel an overwhelming sense of emotions run through you. Your body and mind on fire, unable to quiet yourself. You’re squirming underneath him and Jungkook suddenly releases your leg as you fight the overstimulation.

“Jungkook fuck it’s too much,” tears spring in the corners of your eyes as ecstasy fills your entire body, though you make no effort to push him away from you.

“I know baby, you can take it,” he says but soon slows his pace, “Scoot up the bed,” he commands in a hefty, lust-driven tone.

Of course, you oblige without question, and he chases your frame to hover above you, caging you in between his arms. Using one hand, he pushes his cock back inside you to which he slips in easily from the aftereffects from your orgasm. Your pussy is still sensitive, but you take him eagerly once again, squeezing as he reaches the hilt.

As much as pleasure wants you to close your eyes, when you find his gaze looking at you, you’re unable to look away. Your hands make way to his hair, pulling along the strands as he fucks you restlessly from this angle; skin on skin slapping with the force of hips. Your legs wrap around him, and he suddenly catches you off guard as he captures your lips with his own.

Despite the roughness of his fucking, he kisses you heavily with a passion you’d never experienced before. His tongue plays with your own and you hear the way his breathing changes as his groans turn more into soft whines in your mouth.

“Shit Y/N, I’m going to come soon,” he whispers against your mouth as you hold him close.

“I want you to come for me,” you encourage, nodding up at him, “Come inside of me Jungkook please.”

Jungkook crashes his lips against yours once more as his pace suddenly turns brutal as he chases his high. Your pussy is aching as it clinches against his hard length and it seemingly does the job as Jungkook suddenly announces he’s coming, a mix of moans and groans into your mouth as he slows down his thrusts.

Again, you and Jungkook share another kiss that feels a little too intimate for the situation at hand. He holds onto you just as tight as you hold onto him as he softens inside of you before he pulls out completely. Suddenly you feel a little too hollow, though his grip in your hair grounds you.

He pulls away, caressing hair away from your forehead, “That was amazing,” he admires the sweat built up on your face, “You’re amazing.”

“Thank you,” you give him a smile as you do the same, brushing some of his sweaty hair back from his forehead.

Before he rolls off of you, he gives you one more kiss. When he pulls away, he suddenly gets up from the bed quickly, your eyes only following his frame as you try to catch your breath. He disappears only for a moment before he comes back with a small towel.

He sits on his knees in front of you, widening your legs to clean you up gently. Once he’s done with the towel, his eyes drop to the black heels which have remained on your feet the entire time. He snickers before grabbing your left foot, undoing the laces that climb up your ankles. With one shoe off, he kisses the inside of your ankle before moving to your right foot.

“Foot fetish, huh?” you tease him as he removes your second shoe.

He glances, meeting your gaze before a smirk spreads across his face, “Why? Do I need to?”

Both of you laugh and you kick his side playfully before he finally lays back down beside you. He keeps his grip tight on you as he pulls you close to his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, hand coming to rest on top of his chest tattoo.

As blissful as the moment was, your mind (and heart) was racing. You glance up and Jungkook is already looking at you, his fingers brushing against your scalp.

“What?” you ask him, fighting the heat that wants to rise to your cheeks under his doe-eyed gaze.

He shrugs lazily, “I meant it… that was incredible.”

You look away, not embarrassed by the praise but just unable to keep his intense eye contact.

“What time is it?” you ask. The room is now quiet and it’s not uncomfortable, but you weren’t sure where to go from here.

Jungkook gives you a confused look before chuckling, “Does it matter?”

You hesitantly push yourself up from his chest, clutching the sheet to your chest, “I should probably get back to my room.”

Jungkook is quick to reach out and grab your arm, “What? No,” he caresses your skin gently, “Stay with me tonight.”

The words take you aback. His big eyes are fucked out and tired, but they look at you with an admiration and beauty you haven’t experienced in a long time.

“A-are you sure?” you ask him, still maintaining the distance between you two, “I don’t know if I should,” you tell him truthfully.

He moves his hand up to your shoulder, his eyebrows furrowing in disappointment, “Don’t do this now, Y/N,” he shakes his head, “I want you here. Sure, we just had amazing sex, but I want to get more than that out of you.”

“Really?” you retort, your body relaxing at his words.

“Yes, of course,” he pauses, licking his lips, “I like you a lot Y/N… please, stay.”

“But Jungkook,” your fingernails have now begun tracing the intricate pattern of his chest tattoo, “What about the tour? We technically work together—”

“I know Y/N,” he interrupts gently, his hand coming up to find the one on his chest, “And I know the risks, but I think you could be worth it. We’ll talk about anything you want to tomorrow, alright? I promise. Just stay with me tonight.”

As you gaze down at this beautiful man, your heart swells in your chest. You’d been so nervous to cross this bridge with him, but it seemed he was willing to help you across the way in any shape or form.

You give him a small smile before nodding, laying back down beside him in the crook of his arm.

“You’re very persuasive,” you mutter and he chuckles underneath your touch.

Jungkook suddenly pushes you on your back, “Good, because I wasn’t done with you anyways.”

Your laugh his captured between his lips as he crawls back on top of you.

~

The next morning had been rough from the alcohol and late-night shenanigans with Jungkook, but he had made it slightly better by getting you two coffee and giving you two more orgasms before 11 AM. There was a scheduled two-and-a-half-week break until the next show of the tour on a different continent. Jungkook invited you to spend it with him at his home back in Seoul. Initially you thought the request was crazy, but after that second orgasm, you’d realize you would be stupid not to go with him.

As you finally make your way back to your own hotel room to pack up and switch your departing flight to Seoul, Sana nearly jumps you as you cross the threshold.

“Oh my god! Where have you been and please tell me it’s where I think you’ve been?!”

You can’t hold in your laughter and fire heating your cheeks as you hold your hands up, “Guilty.”

Sana jumps up and gives you the biggest hug you’ve ever had from her, squealing in solidarity.

“Oh my god!” she says, “How was it? How big is he? Are you doing it again?”

You push her away and roll your eyes, “Wouldn’t you like to know,” you stick your tongue out at her, “But I may or may not be spending the next two-week break with him in Seoul.”

Sana’s jaw slacks open at the revelation, “What?!”

You nod, realizing how insane it sounds out loud, but you knew there was something between you two that needed to be explored, and not just in the confines of a hotel with every member, staff, and dancer on the tour.

Sana begins to clap, clearly amused, “Damn… your vagina must have powers.”

You let out a guttural laugh and as much as you wanted to push away the comment, you couldn’t help but shrug your shoulders, resigning her words.

You give her a smile, shrugging nonchalantly. Suddenly, your phone buzzes in your hand and it’s a message from Jungkook.

[Jeon Jungkook] i miss you already 😔

You quickly reply.

[You] I left 10 minutes ago…

[Jeon Jungkook] exactly… it’s been too long

You glance back up Sana who looks at you with bewilderment.

You smirk, “Guilty.”

[jennaort3ga]

Absolute gold him kissing her legs and hips shows how much of a master munch he is

[yzzart]

⋆˚｡MR. NONCHALANT! | J.JUNGKOOK

on the circuit, Jungkook races against the clock; off it, he races against your questions — but he can’t seem to let you slip through his fingers. — ugh, how much longer can you keep pretending it’s nothing more than bickering?

⋆˚࿔ pairings: f1driver!jungkook x journalist!reader.

⋆˚࿔ tags + warnings: Jungkook as a Ferrari driver, Taehyung as his teammate, f!reader, love-hate dynamic, feigned hatred, Italian words, mention of the Monza GP, oral sex (f!receiving), nipple squeezing, praise. (not yet reviewed) — wc: 3.5K

“ANOTHER VICTORY FOR THE FERRARI DRIVER, WHO EXTENDS HIS LEAD IN THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!”

The grandstands continued to roar, the deafening cheers echoing throughout the circuit, frantic, relentless, and filled with undeniable admiration.

The roar of the engines had fallen silent, yet the Monza circuit remained under the thunderous noise of more than ninety thousand people —perhaps even more than that — singing with overwhelming pride and joy. Countless red flags waved through the grandstands as a Ferrari slowly completed its celebratory lap.

Him. — Jeon Jungkook raised one gloved fist from the cockpit.

Another victory. His seventh of the season. The seventy-third of his career.

“Grazie, ragazzi!” — Jungkook’s voice came through the team radio, breathless yet beaming with exhilaration. He couldn’t help but let a few curses slip in his native language, earning a round of laughter from his race engineer. — “The car is unbelievable, magnifico.”

“No, JK.” — The engineer replied. Jungkook could hear the smile in the older man’s voice; years of working together had made it unmistakable. — “You were the unbelievable one out there, mate.”

On the pitwall, the Italian team’s mechanics jumped over one another, screaming with euphoria; the feeling of securing a home victory was satisfying, truly rewarding. — The true honor of Ferrari. — Without suppressing or interrupting the celebration, Kim Taehyung was the second driver to cross the finish line and meet the checkered flag, securing a one-two finish for the red team.

Jungkook parked the SF-26 in the designated spot marked by the enormous number one sign. He then removed the steering wheel and released himself from the harness and the car’s safety restraints, taking a deep breath. As he lifted his visor, the sound of the crowd seemed to double in intensity, in sheer force and passion. — It was extraordinary. — He climbed out of the car, raising his arms as a gesture of relief and strength.

After completing the correct and mandatory post-race procedures, Jungkook didn’t waste a single second before celebrating his victory.

The golden helmet, detailed with purple and black accents, was removed, revealing his dark hair completely messy and stuck to his forehead from the sweat. But nothing stopped him from messing it up even more with his fingers and feeling comfortable with the temporary hairstyle.

Ferrari had won once again.

The photographers, still buzzing with excitement, fired hundreds of flashes — and fought for the best angle of the young man without hesitation, even risking creating chaos — while Jungkook greeted some officials from the department and welcomed Taehyung with a fearless, heartfelt embrace. Even through the helmet, the younger driver admired the brightness in his teammate’s eyes.

It was the kind of embrace reserved for those who had shared years together, victories, defeats, and countless hours inside Ferrari. — Not to mention the endless complaints over the team radio.

“So, you decided to fly today?” — Taehyung asked, his voice muffled by his helmet, a grin evident in his tone. — “I knew you weren’t going to waste that pole position.”

“Looks like you did too,” — Jungkook replied as he reached for his water bottle and set his helmet down in the designated area. — “I thought you were going to come after me after that last Safety Car.”

“I thought about it.” — They both laughed. Taehyung could have, and he genuinely considered, overtaking the younger driver on lap forty-two; he wasn’t lying. In the end, though, he chose to stick to the team’s strategy. Besides, he had won the previous race. — And he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip away at the next Grand Prix. — “You deserved it, man.”

One of the photographers captured the moment; without a doubt, he thought, it was one of the finest shots he had ever taken throughout his career. — Ferrari’s confident, seemingly unstoppable partnership.

“Jungkook!” — A familiar voice caught the race winner’s attention, pulling him away from his conversation with Taehyung. Warm and upbeat, yet always carrying a youthful enthusiasm for her role and her work, her tone had always been inviting, especially to him.

The call, clear and instantly recognizable amid the chaos of engineers, photographers, and mechanics still riding the high of the race, drew his attention at once. It was curious — and peculiar, so incredibly peculiar — how, among hundreds of voices echoing around him, he could still pick yours out effortlessly, as if his body had learned to search for your long before his mind even realized it.

Funny enough, there was something about your voice that always managed to capture his attention; soft, comforting, and reassuring. It carried that effortless warmth, that so deeply admired charm capable of winning anyone over, whether there was a camera pointed at you or not. — Anyone.

Except him.

Or, at least, that’s what the world believed.

His dark, gleaming eyes found the figure approaching, and his lips threatened to give away a smile he was quick to suppress. — Jungkook caught the corner of his lower lip between his teeth, absentmindedly biting down against the piercing; a habit he desperately needed to break. — One of these days, he was going to rip the jewelry right out.

“First of all, congratulations on the win!” — Your words came across flawlessly professional, accompanied by your signature warm smile, your eyes gently curving with genuine sincerity. — “I’d say it was a nearly flawless race, wouldn’t you?” — You extended the interview microphone toward the driver.

“Well, i suppose i can.” — Barehanded now, Jungkook accepted the microphone. For the briefest of moments, his fingers brushed against yours.

“Starting from pole position, managing your tires in a way only a handful of drivers can, and doing it here of all places; you built a gap of more than seven seconds to the driver in second over the closing laps.” — You had a remarkable ability to catch every detail and put it to use in your interviews, something that both impressed your fellow journalists and kept the drivers on their toes. — “Honestly, it looked like no one could keep up with you.”

And you was right. Jungkook wasn’t about to argue with your last remark. That didn’t mean he wanted to feed his own ego or boast about his drive. — He knew how to distinguish confidence from arrogance, regardless of the shallow headlines and manufactured rumors claiming otherwise. — In response, the tattooed driver gave a subtle nod of agreement.

“The team gave me a fantastic car.” — Jungkook took a deep breath, his gaze drifting toward the grandstands and the members of the team gathered together, embracing his teammate as they celebrated the podium finish. — “I’m grateful to my team and to the fans. This is all because of them. I just had to do my job.”

“Honestly, it’s great to hear that.” — The broadcast camera centered on the driver as he waved to the crowd, raising both fists in triumph while thousands of voices erupted, chanting his name. — “But on lap… thirty-two, you ignored your race engineer’s recommendation to preserve the medium tires. Instead of managing them, you kept pushing at the front and attacking.” — Hidden within the praise were the carefully crafted criticisms that came with your job. — “Was that confidence or recklessness?”

Raising an eyebrow, you paid no attention to the quiet murmurs from the other journalists gathered around the interview area. You was simply doing your job; and doing it exceptionally well. Questions like that were sharp, necessary, and invaluable for the network’s upcoming coverage, not to mention the official Formula 1 broadcast team. — Well, you had never been known for going easy on your questions. As a matter of fact, you had never once taken it easy on that particular driver.

Jungkook let out a quiet, breathy laugh, almost unable to believe what he was being asked. — You were unbelievable. — Years of experience had taught him to recognize a provocation from a mile away, and he’d learned to deal with it in his own way; to answer it in his own way. His smile widened, making the piercing on his lip catch the light, as he narrowed his eyes at you.

He almost felt like congratulating you on the question.

“Look…” — He said your name with unmistakable cynicism and a hint of arrogance, never letting the sly, barely charming smile leave his lips. Listening closely, you leaned in toward Jungkook. — “I didn’t realize they’d started handing out psychological evaluations around here.”

“Then what’s the verdict?” — You pressed, making it clear you expected an answer.

“Confidence.”

“Not even a little recklessness? Maybe just in the heat of the moment?” — You furrowed your brows, meeting his answer with the slightest hint of skepticism.

Oh, you knew that infuriating driver all too well.

“No.” — He shook his head. Reaching for his water bottle once again, he took a long drink, easing the dryness in his throat. Moments later, a team member handed him a cap, which he slipped on without hesitation; he was grateful, he’d had enough of the sun beating down on his face. — “If I’d been driving recklessly or acting on impulse, you’d be interviewing someone else instead.” — Jungkook pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, an old habit of his. — “Right?”

This time, it was your turn to take a deep breath. Silently, you thanked your cameraman for keeping you out of the frame and focusing solely on the driver. Jungkook enjoyed the attention, but he rarely looked directly into the camera. — Instead, his eyes remained fixed on you. — Watching, with unmistakable satisfaction, your reaction to his answer.

“Fair enough.” — You gave a slow nod in agreement. Moistening your lips, you broke eye contact with Jungkook for the briefest of moments before meeting his gaze again. — “But does that mean you believe you know better than your team?”

“I think i know exactly what my car is capable of.”

For the second time during the interview, your name rolled effortlessly off Jungkook’s bold, unwavering lips. The way he said it was so firm, so assured. — It almost seemed as though he enjoyed the taste of your name, savoring every syllable. He never missed an opportunity to say it just as he occasionally made a point of using your last name as well.

Truthfully, — with all the honesty Jeon had been raised with, something he remained deeply grateful to his family for — your surname rolled off his tongue like a fine wine, one of the young driver’s favorites. Perhaps that was why he always found himself coming back to it, savoring the sound each time he spoke it.

You hated that damn man.

“Interesting, Jungkook.” — This time, the cameraman turned the lens toward you, bringing you into the live broadcast for the first time. A moment later, he swept the camera across the crowd, the teams, and the drivers who had secured podium finishes before settling back on the two of you. — “Some people, and plenty of fans, believe that taking that risk simply wasn’t necessary.”

Before returning to Jungkook, the camera briefly caught Taehyung in the background, waving to the crowd and blowing a small kiss toward the cameraman.

“So do you enjoy taking risks?” — A faint smile tugged at your lips. — “Why?”

Oh.

Jungkook knew. — You weren’t talking only about the race or his performance in the Grand Prix. It was foolish to think he could escape one of your loaded questions. Keeping his razor-sharp tongue ready to answer you as professionally as possible — a habit that had fueled countless whispers throughout the paddock and the media alike — had never been enough to win this little game the two of you insisted on playing.

The lead driver for the Italian team didn’t answer immediately. Maybe the journalist had finally left him speechless, someone would undoubtedly comment that on social media. Or perhaps it would become the headline of an article or, more likely, a gossip site. — His PR team was probably in for an exhausting few days ahead; then again, that was exactly what they were paid for, complaints or not.

“Not always,..” — Jungkook narrowed his eyes once again, never once breaking eye contact with you. His jaw tightened, yet his expression remained composed, unwavering; far too composed for someone so accustomed to hiding what he was truly thinking. — “Only when the reward is truly worth it.”

For a brief moment, neither the murmur of the teams, nor the relentless clicking of cameras, nor the roar of the fans seemed to exist. Jeon’s answer lingered in the air, deliberately open-ended, inviting far too many interpretations.

The brief, almost suffocating, silence that settled between you and the driver felt unusually heavy, an unexpected pause for both the viewers and the cameras. He knew exactly where his words could land, whether for better or for worse. — The two of you needed to remember that you couldn’t stand each other. One careless slip, and the carefully choreographed game you had been playing for years would unravel into a spectacular disaster.

A complete fucking disaster, in fact.

Holding Jungkook’s gaze for only a few seconds, just long enough to make sure not a single damned emotion slipped through in front of the camera, — or the countless other cameras, broadcasters, and rival journalists surrounding you. — tour lips curved into a flawless smile. The same polished, unmistakably professional one. Then, you turned your attention back to the cameraman.

“Congratulations on a brilliant victory, Jungkook!” Instead of offering your hand first, as etiquette would normally dictate in your role, Jungkook was the one who reached out. Your eyes dropped to his large, tattooed hand. — “Thank you for your time.”

He gave a small nod, his posture remaining effortlessly relaxed. A quiet, almost inaudible “thank you” slipped from his lips before he released your hand and took his leave.

Stepping away from the interview area, Jeon made his way back toward the team, greeting engineers and mechanics along the way; they nearly snatched the cap right off his head in celebration. — Every second of it was being captured. — Now, all that remained was for the second driver to finish his interview before they could finally celebrate the way they truly wanted. He could hardly wait to enjoy his victory.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOUR WINNER OF THE MONZA GRAND PRIX: JEON JUNGKOOK!”

The hotel room — located, as you recalled, near Lake Como — remained bathed in semi-darkness, softly illuminated by the region’s amber and orange light filtering through the curtains of the massive glass window; it was the tail end of the afternoon.

His tattooed hands found your waist with such familiarity — a perfect fit — pulling you close even though you were already in bed; his cunning lips captured yours in an urgent, utterly famished kiss. It seemed as though he had spent the entire day holding back that damned desire — which was true. Jungkook was acting with a ferocity, perhaps even something more intense than that.

Your fingers slid along the back of the oldest's neck, tousling and tugging at his dark hair as you deepened the kiss. It was slow one moment, then intense the next. — He caressed your tongue, licking and sucking on it with immense satisfaction; he knew you enjoyed it, and you felt yourself becoming all the more aroused. — Low moans and vibrations occasionally escaped him. — The faint taste of metal from the jewelry in Jungkook’s lip intrigued you; it was a sensation you never tired of.

"Do you ever get tired of trying to kill me during your interviews?" — Breaking away from your mouth with a loud, wet pop, Jungkook planted a series of soft, quick kisses along your cheek. Both of you struggled to catch your breath and return to normal.

"Well, it's my job, babe." — You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling a slight tension in his shoulder muscles. Hearing your man’s low chuckle, you raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, really?" — Jungkook’s lips grazed yours again. — "So, you know more than your team?" — He mimicked your voice, trying his best to hit the perfect tone while maintaining a professional air. You laughed, amused by the cheap imitation, and called him "insufferable." — "You like it, i know you do."

"Mmh…" — You murmured, sounding needy. You felt his hands roaming over your stomach, caressing it with up-and-down strokes beneath your T-shirt. Soon, Jungkook lowered his head, practically rubbing against you as he trailed a path of soft kisses down your body; it was obvious what he was after.

Jungkook lifted your T-shirt up toward your chest, exposing your midriff; he planted long kisses and traced patterns with his tongue, as if sketching something on your skin. Then, moving closer to your bare legs — grateful that you were wearing nothing but panties — he wasted no time settling right between your thighs; aside from the missionary position, this was one of his favorite places to be.

As he pulled off your panties and tossed them aside, lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder, Jungkook furrowed his brows and nearly let out a groan at the sight of the wet sheen on your pussy.

"Like i said, it's my jo…" — You were about to argue, just to tease him for fun, when you were cut off by the sensation of his tongue sliding between your folds; your pussy was met with a long, slow lick. — "Fuck!" — You groaned loudly, letting out a whimper right after. Your boyfriend's tattooed hands gripped your hips, as if trying to hold you fast.

Jungkook’s moan, as he savored your taste, vibrated through your body, sending a wicked jolt and a shiver down your spine. He sucked on your folds, unbothered by the wet, utterly filthy sounds he was making, and with every passing second and opportunity, he inhaled your scent, openly acknowledging his obsession with you. — He murmured things like "don't move, my love" and "stay perfectly still, just like that," but it was no use.

Your hips ground against his mouth, — it wasn't your fault, and you swore to him you were trying to hold back — but your waist would lift involuntarily from the spasms, prompting Jungkook to grip you tighter; he licked you fervently, teasing your clitoris with the tip of his tongue. Just the way you liked it, a technique you’d learned from him.

"Aegi, please…" — You pleaded in a muffled voice, lifting your eyes toward him. A thin thread of saliva connected his mouth to your pussy. — "Easy now." — Jeon murmured gently; though it didn't seem like he was holding back as he devoured you. He immediately went back to sucking you, instantly penetrating you with his tongue.

"Shit, Ggkie…" — Your fingers found your hardened nipples beneath your shirt, squeezing them to cope with the pleasure driving you mad. Jungkook sucked your clitoris, licking it like a sweet treat, then moved down to your wet, pulsing opening; you could feel his nose brush against your clitoris every now and then. — "Like that, just like that…" — You stammered.

That bold tongue — the one that used to curse you out whenever he ran into you in the paddock or the Ferrari garage — was sliding in and out of you. It savored his favorite taste, working over your entire pussy and leaving no spot unattended. He knew his chin and nose were slick with the mixture of your juices and his saliva.

"Always doing your job so well." — His words vibrated through your body; Jeon knew how much you loved praise. He noticed your thighs trying to summon the strength to squeeze him. — "The best of them all." — He kissed your sensitive little bud. — "And you're all mine." —

Shit, shit, shit.

A wave of burning heat, mingled with shivers, intensified in your belly; you felt a tingling sensation and a slight, maddening itch. With your legs trembling and goosebumps racing across your skin, you were drawing closer and closer to orgasm. — The urge to weep from sheer, overwhelming desire, teetering on the edge of ecstasy, washed over you. You tugged at the driver's hair, making him groan in pain, while digging his short nails into your skin.

"Jungkook, ugh," — You whimpered, drool spilling from your lips. — "Please, please…" — You were begging for something, though you didn't know quite what; there was no need to plead or implore him. Jungkook would have given you anything anyway.

"Come on, Jagiya." — He soothed. His voice calm, husky, and sweet. — "Give it to me, come on." — Amidst his licks and a long, deep suck on your clitoris, you climax right into Jungkook’s mouth. The wet, loud sounds coming from between your legs were intense; he didn't want to leave a single drop behind.

Well, the articles and headlines hadn't lied when they called him selfish.

Boldly, Jungkook spread your pussy open with his index and middle fingers in a "V" shape to gain better access and lick you all over, while your legs practically smothered him. — But, unfortunately, his dream of dying between your beautiful thighs was still a long way off. — Disregarding your body's hypersensitivity, he wanted to savor your climax.

That man was impossible, unbelievable. — At least he was yours.

"And here is my reward."

[jennaort3ga]

I need him irl NOW.

[dreamersparacosm]

cowboy casanova ⟡ jjk

SUMMARY. After a brutal breakup, you pack up your entire life into your Honda Civic and drive 24 hours to a new life, away from the liars and dirty cheaters of New York City. Fortunately for you, there’s a new man on the terrain, and he adores you from the bottom of his boots to the top of his hat.

word count. 13k

warnings/genre. cowboy!jungkook, corporate!reader, strangers to lovers??, this is based in texas, usa which earns its own warning, alcohol consumption, smut, fingering, car sex, you ride him while wearing his cowboy hat

note. howdy yall! yeehaw brethren! or whatever they say out there in bumblefuck texas 🙊 cowboy jungkook is near and dear to my heart after he put on a bandana and a cowboy hat … he’s literally just a walking wet dream. this is just the plot of a porno so enjoy sluts! (inspired by this tiktok so pls go watch)

ok final final thing: tysm for 9k i still cant believe it!!!!!!! i love all you horndogs sm here's to love here's to honor if you can't cum in her, cum on her

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| playlist

banner creds | masterlist

At some point in life, everyone must find themselves alone in a run-down bar in the middle of Texas, drinking whiskey and wearing a blazer.

Or, well... maybe that's just rock bottom for you specifically.

You don’t even fucking like whiskey. You’re not a masochist. But after the day you’ve had, self-inflicted suffering feels like the least you deserve. 

You set the glass down and take a look around the bar. 

The place is called Coyote’s—it’s the first place you stumbled upon on your drive home from work. There's a coyote skull mounted above the door, walls wood-paneled and covered in neon beer signs and old license plates. The floor is sticky with mysterious liquids, heels glued to them when you walked in. Somebody’s boots are keeping time to the Zac Brown Band song bleeding out of the speakers, and two men in actual, non-ironic Wranglers are playing pool in the back while eyeing the girls in skimpy outfits. 

It’s a disorienting environment, especially when you’re still dressed in a blazer and slacks after your first day at your new job. 

You had upped sticks in need of a change from New York City, without bothering to think much about the vast differences between Austin, Texas and New York City. 

New York City bars had exposed brick and cocktail menus with names like “Forbidden Muse” and men who wore blazers for their fancy, high-paying finance jobs. Nobody dared to wear cowboy boots, definitely not when they were surrounded by their stuffy superiors. 

New York City was crawling with men that were exactly like your conniving, narcissistic ex-boyfriend, Daniel. 

Fucking Daniel.

You take another sip of the whiskey you don’t like.

You’d caught him on a Wednesday. Not even a Friday night—a Wednesday. He couldn’t even be bothered to cheat on you on a respectable day of the week. You had come home early from work, key in the door, bag on your shoulder, and there he was in your shared apartment. Balls deep in a girl who was, insultingly, very pretty.

Then, he had the nerve to act surprised to see you in the apartment you two shared. 

Texas was never supposed to be in the cards. In fact, it wasn’t even a blip on your radar. It was a job offer that paid two times what you made in New York, but giving up your city lifestyle had sounded deranged. You only applied because a very eager recruiter reached out to you and begged you to. 

But getting cheated on really put things into perspective for you, and before you knew it, being a marketing director at a regional firm in Austin that paid good money, offered a fresh start, far enough away that you wouldn’t have to see Daniel’s face sounded ideal. You’d accepted it at 11PM that same Wednesday, half a bottle of wine deep.

You look down at your outfit again. Silk blouse underneath your blazer, tailored slacks and pointed heels. Nothing like the girls line-dancing by the jukebox, batting their eyelashes flirtatiously at the men with cowboy hats on. 

Honestly, you didn’t think cowboys were real up until you landed in Texas three days ago. Lo and behold, they’ve managed to outdo your wildest fantasies. 

Clearly, you’ll need to redo your wardrobe if you plan on enjoying your new gig. Your boss wore a bandana around his neck in the office, and if that was the norm, you were either severely underdressed or accidentally cosplaying as someone’s accountant.

You take another slow scan around the room, mostly to give yourself something to do that isn’t drinking whiskey you hate and thinking about Daniel.

The women here seem to move differently. Easy and dallying, hips finding the beat of the music. A line of them near the dance floor step and turn in unison, boots striking the wood, and there’s something hypnotic about it—they laugh without covering their mouths, take up space without apologizing for it. Not for the first time tonight, you feel like you’re watching a nature documentary from behind glass. The men in Texas are far more shameless, with no pretense of disinterest. A guy in a tan Stetson tips his hat when a brunette catches him staring. She grins back, winking. 

Your gaze drifts toward the back, toward the crack of pool balls and low laughter. Groups of men pile around the table, clearly big-dicking each other. They all look similar. Tall, muscular, chiseled, charismatic…

Your eyes land on the far right of the pool table, where one man in a black cowboy hat stands. His arm is covered in tattoos, hair poking out underneath the hat in what you assume is a mullet. His tongue pokes out, toying with the lip rings adorning his bottom lip. 

And despite the commotion buzzing around the bar, or the game of pool that’s been ongoing for at least an hour, he’s not paying attention to any of it. He’s watching you. 

Your neck snaps back toward the direction of the bar, struggling to focus as the bartender, Stacey, pours bourbon into a glass for a patron. You’d barely gotten a full look, but you’d caught enough, you think. Broad shoulders filling out a black button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbow, black cowboy hat pulled low and a black bandana tied loose at his throat. 

Fuck. You need another drink. Or about two shots of straight whiskey to handle the kind of eye contact that man is making with you. 

“Uh, Stacey?” You’d only learned her name an hour ago, but now’s as good a time as any to use it. She whips to face you, blond hair tousled from the rush. “Am I able to get another glass of whiskey?”

“Sure thang, sweetheart.” She grins. 

While she pours, your eyes make a point to not care about the man staring you down across the room. He can’t possibly be looking at you, what with your corporate outfit, heels, and resting bitch face. There are better options in this bar, ones who know how to two-step and ride a horse. 

Stacey places the glass of whiskey in front of you. “This one’s on the house. Looked like you needed it.”

Before you can protest, she tosses you a wink and saunters off to serve two men. Clearly, you’re not as unreadable as you thought you were. 

The brown liquid slithers down your throat, burning your lungs. The thing about drinking whiskey neat is that you’re not going to remain a respectful amount of tipsy for long. Instead, you’re going to teeter on the line of drunk, something you don’t normally allow yourself to get. 

And transparently, drunk you wants another look at the dark-haired cowboy. 

Maybe you should let her. Maybe you should stop being so weird about it. It’s not like you’re not going to marry the man. Maybe you just need to get fucked.

Your eyes scan the crowd, lingering on every man wearing the same black bandana, half-convinced one of them might transform into him. With each passing moment, your heart skips in your chest like a toddler playing hopscotch. 

Maybe he went home. Probably realized the women here were duds and made his grand exit. Honestly for the best. You can’t even remember the last time you flirted with someone who wasn’t Daniel, and look how spectacularly that turned out.

You down the rest of your whiskey in one go. Stacey whistles playfully from the sidelines. All you can manage is a feeble smile in response. It feels as though the lights dim a little lower, the sound of boots hitting the hardwood floor echoing in your ear. Euphoria pumps through your bloodstream, and then Country Girl (Shake It For Me) starts blasting on the jukebox, and well—your brain just sort of short-circuits. 

“Can’t possibly be comfortable in that outfit, sugar.”

Warm breath fans against your ear, woodsy cologne trailing close behind. Your heart thumps, almost as if the organ knows who it is before you do. 

Slowly, you turn to face the owner of the voice. 

The first thing you see is a black bandana. Your eyes travel further up, up, up, until they snag on the plumpest mouth you’ve ever seen on a man, two metal rings looped through the bottom lip. They continue their climb, landing on captivating eyes that sink their teeth into you. Dark brown tresses poke out from under the brim of his hat, but you can still make out every inch of his sharp features. 

“Never seen you ‘round here before.” He raises an eyebrow. “Anyone with that outfit on gotta be from the East. Ain’t seen a girl in heels in this bar in my whole life.”

“Maybe I like standing out,” you say, tilting your chin up and puffing your chest out. The whiskey’s doing wonders for your nerve. “Someone’s got to remind you boys what real shoes look like.”

The edges of his mouth curve upwards, pondering if he’s impressed or amused by your bite. Secretly, you hope it’s both. 

“Sugar, those things are a workplace hazard. You’re tellin’ me you can run in ‘em?” Under the dim lights, his eyes twinkle, setting your chest ablaze with something other than the burn of whiskey. 

“I don’t need to run anywhere. I’m a New Yorker. We walk at a fast pace in 7-inch heels.” You’re not well-versed in the whole flirting thing, but this has to be what it’s like… right?

That gets a real laugh out of him, head tipping back, and you feel an absurd little spike of pride at having caused that sound. 

“That so?” He moves from behind you, leans an elbow against the bar, angling his body toward you. He travels in languid movements, like he’s got nowhere else on earth to be. “And here I thought you Yankees just had bad manners and worse weather.”

 “We’re not rude,” you scoff. “We’re blunt. Honest. There’s a difference.”

He takes a step closer, and the scent of him encroaches, your brain turning fuzzy. “Mm. Didn’t realize those were the same thing.”

“Cousins. Close enough.” You shouldn’t have downed that drink. Now you really need another, because you’re certain you won’t make it out of this conversation in one piece.

“Then let me ask you somethin’, since you’re so honest.” His eyes flicker to your parted lips before jumping back to your eyes. 

“Go ahead.”

The music comes to a halt, and Carrie Underwood’s voice blasts through the speakers. You’ve never really liked her music all that much, but her misplaced pep talk might be exactly the kind of bad influence you need.

His head tilts in your direction. “You ever met a Southern boy before me?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“So you must not have heard ‘bout Southern charm, sugar. That’s supposed to be our whole thing down here.” His eyes dare you, jaw twitching with glee at the way you press your thighs together.

“I’ve heard that.” Carelessly, you shrug. “Haven’t seen much evidence of it yet.”

“Keep talkin’ like that and I might have to prove it to you,” he says, voice only a little mocking. 

Your body can’t help but lean in his direction, like sunflowers facing the light on a warm summer’s day. “I’d like to see you try, cowboy.”

“Mm.” The man hums, studies you for another moment. Then, he straightens and reaches for the brim of his hat. “Well. Where are my manners?”

He pulls the hat off his head, revealing disheveled chestnut hair that’s longer than you anticipated. You want to run your hands through it, know what it feels like to tug on the locks. The gesture is almost comically formal against the backdrop of the bar, but on him, it doesn’t look like a joke at all. He reaches for your hand. His palm is warm, calloused, swallowing yours whole. “Jungkook.” His eyes don’t dare leave your face. “And who do I got the pleasure of speakin’ to?”

A shuddering breath escapes you, legs clenching. 

“[Y/N],” you stumble over your words, trying to find your voice. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl. Must be my lucky night,” he grins, and you have to wonder if he says that to every girl who isn’t from here. You stick out like a sore thumb in this bar, but how his eyes track your every movement suggests he doesn’t mind one bit.

“What’re you drinkin’, sugar?” he asks, nodding toward your empty glass. Oh. That. You had almost forgotten it was there, lonely and sad. 

“Whiskey.”

His eyebrows lift, mouth curving into disbelief. “You sure about that? You don’t seem like a whiskey girl to me.”

He’s right, which only makes it worse. Turning to the bar, he lifts two fingers. “Stace. You mind makin’ one of those strawberry margaritas for our city girl here?”

Stacey’s already grinning cheek-to-cheek before she even gets close, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Absolutely.”

While Stacey works, you take the opportunity to look at him properly without the panic of being caught. He’s tall, like most cowboys that are written in romance novels. His chest looks like it could double as a wall. A very nice wall you wouldn’t mind being pressed against. 

Stacey slides the margarita across the bar, sugar-rimmed and flamingo pink. “Here you go, hon.”

“Add it to my tab,” Jungkook says, not bothering to glance over.

“Of course, Kook.” She tosses you another friendly wink, and the swell of confidence bubbles up inside you.

He nudges the glass another inch toward you with two fingers. It’s a little dominant, something you’re not normally used to. But you follow the order, taking a sip. It’s exactly what you wanted. Cold, candied, the tequila barely whispering under the sugar, and you have to stop yourself from outright moaning at the bar.

“So why you out here, sugar?” he asks, “Don’t seem like a bar for a girl like you.” Jungkook places his hat atop his head again, and you’re almost devastated to see his hair go. 

You set the glass down, lick a stray grain of sugar off your bottom lip. His eyes stalk the movement. “I live here now. I work downtown.”

His gaze doesn’t move from your mouth fast enough. “Like a corporate job?”

“Indeed.” As you speak, you notice his pupils are blown so wide there’s hardly any brown left. He hasn’t moved his eyes from your lips. “And I’m assuming you ride horses?”

He barks out a laugh, loud enough that a couple heads turn near the pool table. “A little more than that.” His finger points off toward the back of the bar, toward a broad-shouldered man laughing with the group by the pool table. “That’s Namjoon. Owns a ranch a few miles out. I handle his shit. Y’know, paperwork, horses, bulls, all of it.”

“So you’re a rancher.” You toy with the straw in your glass, and you can’t miss the way he seems entranced by every move you make. 

“I’m a lotta things.” His tongue runs over his bottom lip. “Rancher’s one of ‘em.”

“What are the others?” 

There’s something lingering in the air. New city, new boy, new life. You’re back to square one, the bottom of the societal food chain. You get to forge your own path here in Austin. For one night—and maybe other nights—you get to be someone else. 

“Depends who’s askin’.”

“I am,” you retort coolly. 

“Then I guess you’ll find out,” he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear “Eventually.”

The bar noise fades around you, Carrie Underwood’s righteous fury bleeding into another tune, until it’s just the two of you and a few inches of space neither of you seem all that interested in closing yet. “Hmm,” you hum. “Horses and bulls sound dangerous.”

He chuckles. “Knowin’ how to handle somethin’ wild is mostly about knowin’ when to be gentle and when not to be.”

“Is that supposed to be a metaphor?” 

“Could be." He shrugs. “But also, I just really like my job, sugar.”

“As do I,” You take another sip, making a point to pucker your lips around the straw. 

Jungkook’s gaze is different, far more scandalous than any other man you’ve been with. It almost feels dirty when his eyes scan your face. “Figured someone like you’d be home by now. What is this, your first night out since you got here?”

It is, in fact, your first night out since you got here, and you’d rather die than confirm it.

“I wanted to immerse myself in the culture,” you say instead, lying through your teeth with admirable conviction. “It’s one of my greatest fantasies, actually. Cowgirls, horses, the whole lot of ’em.”

“Oh really?” he smirks. You’re distracted by the strand of hair flopping from beneath his hat, and you wonder if the curtain matches the drapes. “How ‘bout cowboys?”

“I’m still gathering data on them.” You tap the rim of your glass thoughtfully. “Field research, if you will.”

His knee brushes against yours as he leans in. The man has never heard of personal space. “I would love to hear your findings.” 

“Well, actually, I think I need to run a few final experiments.”

“Like what?” He tuts, fingers migrating from the bartop to your pant-covered thigh. They linger, not pressing down harshly. “Humor me, sugar.”

A burst of confidence rushes through you. You get one chance, and you really, really, really don’t want to make the same mistakes again. Reaching up, you pluck the hat right off his head. 

It’s heavier than you expect, but soft in your grasp. Warm, like it’s been sitting against him long enough to steal some of his body heat for itself. You settle it on your own head, tipping it back so it doesn’t slide down over your eyes. You must look ridiculous, blazer and silk blouse under a cowboy hat that’s seen ranch work.

But how he’s looking at you, you might as well be wearing nothing at all.

Jungkook’s jaw goes taut, gaze darkens, and the fingers placed on your thigh flex before relaxing. 

“Well, sugar.” His voice drops several octaves, and the whole bar spins on its axis until you nearly topple over. “If you’re gonna wear my hat, you know what they say?”

Your response is no louder than a whisper. “What?”

Smirking, he leans in until his breath ghosts your ear. 

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”

Oh god. 

Your eyes flicker down to his lips, then his captivating eyes, and he follows suit. If he really wanted to, he could probably kiss you right now, could take you right on the bartop and you’d let him. The sugar from the margarita and the whiskey swirls in your stomach, mixing with butterflies you haven’t felt in years. There are moles scattered across his face, a few near his lip and some under his cheek, and you think that you could connect them into a constellation if you had a pen and several more drinks.

But then he steps back, and tips two fingers toward the brim of the hat that’s no longer on his head.

“I’ll see you ‘round, sugar.”

He strolls off toward his friends, and you blink into the void, hat heftier on your head than when you first put it on. 

God help you, you really want that ride. 

Frankly, this is the most desperate thing you’ve ever done. 

That’s really saying something, considering one time, you sprinted after a situationship four blocks down Fifth Avenue in four inch heels, caught your foot on a crack in the sidewalk, and introduced your face to the concrete in front of a hot dog stand. Or, there’s also the time you showed up to a first date a week early, realized halfway through appetizers that something felt off, checked your phone, and had to sit alone with a bread basket before leaving. 

All of that pales in comparison when you realize you’re sitting at the same bar, in your corporate outfit, awaiting a man who you may never lay eyes on again. 

You take a nervous sip of your strawberry margarita, the periphery of your eyes doing more work than usual. Coyote’s is quieter tonight, a few stragglers nursing drinks at tables, and playing something slow on the jukebox. No pool game in the back, no men in cowboy hats, no broad shoulders filling out a black button-down. 

You’ve probably made a colossal mistake. 

“Need a refill on the marg?” Stacey circles back after tending to some older men at the end of the bar, brows raised.

“Nah, I’m okay,” you sigh. “Thanks though.”

Slowly, Stacey looks around the bar, stares at the drunk men at the end of the bar, and decides you’re more worth her time. She places both elbows on the bartop and leans in. “You lookin’ for someone special, hon?” 

“No!” you yelp, practically leaping out of your stool in dissent. “Absolutely not. I just—don’t even know anyone here. I just like the margaritas.”

“Uhu,” Stacey nods, something in her eyes twinkling. 

“I really do. You make a mean marg.”

“Sure you do,” she toothily grins. Her eyes pan over your outfit, a similar vibe to the one you wore yesterday to work. Today, you’re wearing a silk blouse and a pencil skirt that jugs your curves. “You know, most people take their work clothes off before they come out for a drink.”

“Well, I came straight from the office.” You square your shoulders, puff out your chest as though you have something to prove. 

“Two nights in a row?”

“I’m testing out the bars in the city,” you quip. 

“Mhm.” She doesn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth, and she’s not even trying to hide it. “What is it you do, exactly?”

“Marketing director. I just started.” You take a sip of your cocktail to bide time as Stacey widens her eyes in shock. 

“No kidding.” Her eyebrows lift. “What brought you all the way out to Austin? You don’t exactly scream Texas, no offense.”

“None taken,” you giggle. You’re not entirely sure how your silk blouse and skirt could come off as anything but condescending, uppity New Yorker. “Believe it or not, an ex-boyfriend who doesn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants.”

Stacey’s pupils blow up, and she throws her head back to cackle, loud enough that one of the older men down the bar glances over. “Oh, honey,” she says, reaching for the cocktail shaker without seeming to realize she’s doing it. “You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

“Well,” you swallow, exhale a shaky breath. And then you say, keeping your eyes on nothing but your near-empty glass, “My boyfriend of three years was always upset I was busy at work. He said I cared too much about it, but not about him. I thought I was doing a good job at dividing my time equally… but I guess not. Found him in bed with a girl on a Wednesday night in our apartment we shared.”

Your mouth is so dry your tongue sticks to the roof. Retelling the story allows you to replay the night like a horror movie film outtake reel. And everytime, you ask yourself, how could you be so stupid? So naive? So nonchalant?

Stacey slides a fresh margarita across the bar. “Please tell me you at least threw something.”

“Nope. Just stood in the doorway, said his name, turned around and left.” Even now, it’s as clear as day; you marched out, heart drumming in your chest as you fled down the stairs of your building, not even bothering to listen if he even said your name or chased after you. It didn’t matter either way, because he never once tried to beg for you back.

He let you go. 

“Men,” Stacey snorts, shaking her head. “Wouldn’t know a good thing if it slapped them ‘round the head.”

“Men,” you agree.

Sometimes, you can’t help but blame yourself, and wonder if it’s less about men, and more about your inability to care about anything but your career growth. 

“You know what your problem is?” she says, pointing at you. "You’ve been datin' the wrong kind of man. All that New York finance guy, blazer-wearing, artisanal-coffee-drinking bullshit. What you need is a little Southern charm.”

“Oh really?” You have to hide the smile that threatens to bloom on your face. 

“I’m just sayin’ what the people are thinkin’.” 

“No one, especially me, is thinking that.” Except you are. More precisely, of one that loaned you his hat and never claimed it back. 

“It’s what I’m thinking," she says, wiping down the bar. "You ever even dated someone who works with their hands? Outdoors?”

You open your mouth to argue and realize you don't have a rebuttal for that. Every man you’ve ever dated has had some stuffy job, like finance or law, which is somehow the most depressing thing that’s popped into your head all week. 

“I just need to get back on my feet,” you say instead. “New city, new job, new start. I’m not looking for anything.”

“Sure, sure.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll pretend I believe ya.”

You slump forward on the bar. “I just need to focus on myself for a while. Get settled. Figure out what I actually want without someone else’s opinion clouding everything.”

“Healthy, but you’re no fun,” she pouts, flinging the rag over her shoulder. “Look hun, your ex sounds like a real piece of shit. But you deserve way better than that.”

“Yeah,” you swallow past the lump in your throat. “I’m starting to think so too.”

Stacey wipes her hands on the towel over her shoulder, turning back to you. “A fresh start in Austin, Texas. You picked a hell of a place for it.”

“Yeah…” Your eyes avert around the shoddy bar. You try not to make eye contact with the coyote head. “It’s a lot.”

“You’ll love it. Give it a month.”

“You think?”

“Ella Langley didn’t write Choosin’ Texas ‘bout us just for shits n giggles,” she chuckles. “People come here thinking it’s temporary and then they wake up one day and they’ve got boots and a favorite two-step song.”

A shiver runs down your spine. “Good god.”

“That’s just Texas, hon.”

You laugh, and she looks awfully pleased with herself. The two men down the bar gesture her over, and her eyes flick over your shoulder before a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. 

“Southern charm might be closer than you think,” she murmurs, and then saunters off to her customers. 

Shaking your head, you take a sip of the margarita, and you swear it’s stronger than your last. Stacey clearly plans on fucking you over. 

“Didn’t think lightning struck the same place twice. Guess I was wrong, sugar.”

The hair on the back of your neck stands tall. Anxiety and desire blend in your stomach until the two become indecipherable. 

The sip of your margarita stalls its path down your throat, making a home, and an embarrassing croak exits your mouth. Your eyes water, one hand firmly placed on the bar, looking like one of those warning ads for choking customers.

A strong hand lands between your shoulder blades. Pats once, twice, with an ease that makes your heart rate kick up a notch. 

“Easy there. Bar’s not the place to go out.” You can hear the sarcasm in his tone, the smirk that’s probably curled upon his pink lips. 

“I’m fine,” you wheeze. 

“Uhu.” He takes the stools beside you, coming into plain view. You;re not sure what you expected him to look like this evening, but somehow, he looks even more delectable than last time. He’s sporting a new cowboy hat, a black one with white detailing that matches his jeans and top. Once he settles, he signals to Stacey for a drink with two fingers. “Surprised this place didn’t scare ya away after the first time.”

You square your shoulders, wiping the final tears from your eyes. “New Yorkers are resilient.”

“Hmm,” he mindlessly hums, letting his eyes drag up and down your figure, a clear assessment that has your thighs clenching to hide the arousal pooling in your panties. “Nice to see you again, by the way.”

There’s a smudge of something on his forearm, below the edge of his tattoos. Dirt, maybe, or grease. You wonder if he came straight from work, or errands, or whatever it is Jungkook does with his day besides looking like a wet dream. 

“Is corporate attire all you own, sugar?” He tosses bills on the table as Stacey slides a cold beer toward him. You do your best to ignore her pointed smirk. 

“Are boots and hats all you wear?” you retort. 

He laughs and leans an elbow on the bar, angling toward you the same way he had last time, almost as if his body naturally points in your direction. As you gaze into his brown irises, you can’t stop thinking, can’t slow the waterfall of thoughts gliding down your brain. You’re not from here, don’t dress like anyone in this bar, don’t know the words to a single song on that jukebox, and can’t two-step to save your life. There are women in this city right now who are objectively better suited for him. Your brain implodes trying to understand his interest in you. 

“Can I ask you something?” you say.

“Go ‘head.” He takes a swig of his beer, lips shiny from the liquid.

“Why are you over here?” 

He deadpans. “Come again?”

“I mean…” Vaguely, you gesture around the room, at the bar that’s filling up with women laughing near the jukebox. “You could be anywhere in this bar right now. Talking to anyone. So why are you sitting here talking to me?”

A flash of expressions shift across his face. “You think you’re not worth talking to?”

“Never said that.”

“Implied it,” he grins. He pauses, traces the condensation on his beer bottle. “Maybe I’m intrigued.”

A feeble laugh escapes you, but he doesn’t mirror the action. Oh. He’s not joking. “For the record, I don’t know how to ride a horse.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You’re real terrible. Don’t know why I bother.”

“I am serious. I have no plans on learning either.”

He holds your gaze for a moment. “Never asked you to get on one, sugar.” His eyes rake over your face as if he’s searching for more, and finally, he pushes on, voice steady. “I’m over here because I wanted to be. That a problem?”

It’s an offer as much as it is an out. If you told him it was a problem, you’re certain he’d leave you alone, never talk to you again. But you really, really don’t want that. 

“Not at all.”

Jungkook nods in finality and takes a pull of his bar. Silence follows, but it’s not uncomfortable. 

“Can I ask you something now?” he says.

“Fair’s fair.”

“You don’t got someone back in New York, right?” 

“No,” you sigh. “Not anymore, at least.”

His eyebrows scrunch together. “He let you go?”

“Kind of.” You don’t really feel like elaborating, and he lets it go, but you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches, there and gone in a breath. 

“His loss.”

“What about you?” you wonder. “You’ve got to have someone, or something.”

“Ain’t got a girl,” he shrugs. His body slants toward you so that your knees brush. Your cheeks warm at the contact, but he doesn’t move away. 

“No?” Your margarita is watered down and vile now, but you take a sip anyway. 

“Ranch takes up most of my time. Sun up to sundown, most days. Not a lot of room left over for much else.”

“Doesn’t that get lonely?” you ask. 

He considers it, tilts the neck of his beer bottle between two fingers. “Sometimes… but it’s a good life. I don’t need a lot. Just the ranch and the right company, every now and then.”

His pupils are blown so wide you can’t spot any brown in them. He’s staring at your parted lips. “I could probably settle for the right girl. A good girl. Smart, funny, prettiest in the damn room.”

You think he’s talking about you. He must be. It might be wishful thinking, but just maybe, just this time…

“That’s a very specific type,” you retort. 

“Gettin’ more specific by the minute.” With that, he takes a swig of his beer, eyes never leaving yours. 

You pick up your own drink, taking a long sip that burns your esophagus. “Stacey made this too strong,” you awkwardly laugh. It feels like someone turned the temperature up on the thermostat by ten degrees, shut all the fans off. 

“Stace always does,” Jungkook shrugs. 

When he sets his beer down, you can calculate how little space exists between his stool and you. Mere centimeters divide the two of you, and you can soak up his scent, a woodsy musk. “If you’re up for it, I’d love to show you the ranch sometime. Horses get real excited around pretty girls. Scout’s honor.” He holds up two fingers. 

“You were a boy scout?” you laugh. 

“Three weeks in the 4th grade. Got kicked out for letting the ponies loose at the state fair though,” he shrugs. “In my defense, they looked very unhappy.”

He watches, mystified, as you laugh again. “I don’t know if the ranch is for me.”

“It’s just horse, open land, some fresh air. Nothing like what you’re used to, I’d imagine.”

“Exactly,” you knowingly smile. “All we have is smog, overpriced coffee, and tall buildings.”

“Can’t have that.” Disapprovingly, he shakes his head. “Come out to the ranch. I’ll make you coffee that costs nothing and tastes better than anything you’ve had in your life.”

“Bold claim, cowboy,” you tease. 

“Think you can tell I always get what I want, sugar,” he retorts. You open your mouth to reply with something witty, but a tingle, pins and needles, lands on your thigh, and when you look down you see Jungkook’s veiny hand resting. Fingers splayed wide, palm radiating heat through the thin fabric of your slacks.

“How many horses do you have on the ranch?” Your voice has gone airy. 

“Seven right about now. We lost one last spring, and Joon took it hard.” His hand doesn’t waver. Instead, his thumb moves, carelessly tracing patterns on your pants. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you mumble, staring daggers into how large his hand is compared to the rest of you. 

“It’s the nature of it. You get attached. Hard not to.”

“Do you…?” you pause, swallow thickly until your tone gets warbly. “Get attached?”

The double entendre isn’t lost on him. “I do.”

You are going to need Stacey to pour a glass of ice water directly over your head. His thumb traces another path up the inside of your thigh. Your mouth dries up like the Sahara desert in late August. 

You want to be someone who leans into this. Want to be the girl from night one, the one with liquid courage and reckless new-city energy. You want to tilt toward him and let whatever this is become whatever it wants to be. But underneath it, a quieter voice resides within you. 

The one that remembers thinking everything was fine right up until it wasn’t.

“I don’t know if I’m..” you start, then press your lips together. He taps your thigh twice, urging you on. “I’m not sure I’m ready to be attached yet.”

Automatically, your body is bracing for impact, like he’ll toss you on the side of the road for something shiner, something ready. 

But Jungook’s expression does not falter. He finishes the last of his beer and sets the bottle down, rising from the stool to his full height. “When you’re ready, sugar,” he reaches out, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “you know where to find me.”

For most, life isn’t sunshine and rainbows.

And it’s not like one wakes up and the color has drained from everything overnight. It’s small increments, tiny ones, that add up, and they’re unrecognizable until you can’t remember the last time you did something for yourself. You used to believe in love the way meteorologists believed in weather—inevitable acts of nature that happened to everyone sooner than later, in its own time, in its own particular way. You believed that people who found each other meant to find each other. 

But just like weather, the clouds part and things unravel in messy ways. The couple in your freshman dorm who were so in love you deemed it aggressive, who broke up over Thanksgiving and couldn’t look at each other in the dining hall after. Your college roommate, whose boyfriend of four years sat her down on a Sunday morning and said I just don't think I’m in love with you anymore. She sat very still for a long time after she told you, and you thought I will never let that be me.

But then it was you, it was your own demented heart, it was your own boyfriend who cheated on you, and you suddenly didn’t know which ordinary Tuesday was the last good one. 

You still don’t know if there was a last good one at all. 

“You gonna liquidate my bar tonight, hon?” 

Stacey’s shrill voice cuts through your train of thought, and you blink back into the bar. The neon sign flickers above the bar, and the usual horny men sitting down the bar tip their hats at you.  A shudder of disgust travels through you. She’s leaning on the bar in front of you, brow arched, nodding at the margarita you’ve been nursing for the better part of an hour, contemplating the nuances of life. 

“Perhaps.”

She refills your water glass without asking and props her chin in her hand. “You know damn well not to do all that thinkin’ round my bar. Tell me what’s wrong, I might be able to help.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you sigh, playing with the straw wrapper. You slump against the bar, the fatigue of your mind raving catching up to you. 

“I ain’t Sherlock but I can tell something’s up, sweetie.”

You could deny it one more time, but you think Stacey will dropkick you out of the bar and leave you without any more alcoholic beverages. 

For a week, you’ve avoided this very bar. Thus, you haven’t run into Jungkook in a week. It was on purpose, simply because you couldn’t give him the hope that you were ready by running into him again. But bars that you felt comfortable being alone at were far and few between, and you knew Stacey would be waiting for you. 

It’s been seven days of you daydreaming of walking into this bar and scanning the back corner by the pool table before you’ve even found a stool, of telling yourself you’re not looking while very obviously looking, and telling him you’re ready for whatever he wants to offer. And at the very least, give it a shot. 

One week feels longer than it should for a man you’ve spoken to twice. You don’t know his middle name. You don't know his family lore or his favorite pair of boots or whether he’s ever read a book for pleasure or what he sounds like when he’s just had a bad day. 

But you do know one thing: he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, like he was ready to lean over the bar and devour you whole. 

No one’s looked at you like that in a long time. 

“Fine,” Stacey squints her eyes into evil little slits. “If you won’t talk I will. You’ve looked at that door eleven times since you sat down, and I’ve got a fresh margarita with your name on it, and sometimes thinkin’ about nothing looks a whole lot like thinkin’ about something… or someone.”

A massive gulp of your margarita slithers down your throat. Then another, and another, until you set it down and peer at Stacey with drunk goggles. Her jaw is set in a no-nonsense way, and you recognize how she’s only ever seen you at your most pathetic across this bartop.

What’s one more time to add to the tally?

“Am I stupid for not hooking up with Jungkook?”

Stacey’s face remains stone cold. She reaches for the tequila. It’s not your usual brand, a more expensive one you haven’t touched since New York.

“The thing is, I wanted to.” Stacey should really file a restraining order against you for sharing your deepest, darkest thoughts with her under the influence of one very strong margarita. “I really wanted to. He’s very attractive. And he’s not how I expected him to be, like a bimbo cowboy.”

Stacey says nothing. Continues making the margarita, pouring strawberry puree into the shaker. 

“And it’s not even, it’s not like I’m opposed to it. I am a grown woman. I know how sex works. I’ve had one night stands before, and they’ve generally been fine, sometimes better than fine, and Jungkook looks like he would be better than fine, which is part of the problem too.”

Her hair flips wildly as she mixes the shaker behind her shoulder. You barrel on, “I don't know if I’m actually not ready or if I’m just scared, and I don’t know how to tell the difference anymore between self-preservation and self-sabotage. Daniel made me feel like an idiot.”

You prop your chin in your palm. “Was it my body? My personality? Was it the way I talked too much at dinner parties or the fact that I can’t fall asleep without the TV on or just, like, was I boring? Was I just boring to him? Am I even hot?”

A glass filled with pink liquid slams in front of you, dropping with a decisive thunk, sugar on the rim. 

“Drink.”

Your nose scrunches up in disgust as the smell of tequila wafts into your nostrils. Stacey rolls her eyes, smacking your arm playfully, and you fold under zero pressure. 

“Sweetheart, even in that god-awful collared shirt, I can see you’ve got a hell of a body on you. I would throw you down on that pool table and find out for myself if I swung that way,” she nonchalantly shrugs, and it takes all your might not to spit out your drink. 

“Stacey,” you scold. 

“Nuh-uh,” she tuts, “You’re stunning, darlin’. You are not the problem. You were never the problem. The problem is a man who ain’t know what he had and traded it in for a girl who’s probably not even half of you. That’s his cross to bear, not yours.”

When you sip the margarita, the tart taste of strawberries floods your tastebuds. Stacey has ruined every margarita you will ever have anywhere else for the rest of your natural life.

She raises an eyebrow. “What are you scared of with Jungkook, specifically? Ol’ Kook has been around the block, but he ain’t dangerous.”

“Well… I’m more scared that it’ll be good.”

It even sounds ridiculous leaving your mouth. You know it’s idiotic to place all of your emotional baggage on a cowboy who wants to fuck you. 

“I’m scared it’ll be good. That he’ll be… that it’ll be good, and I’ll want more of it, and wanting more of it means having something to lose again, and I just,” you stifle a humorless laugh. “I just got here. I just put my furniture in an apartment I’ve never lived in, in a city I don’t know yet, in a state I didn’t grow up in.”

Stacey purses her lips in the way your mom usually does when you know you’re being irrational. “I’ve worked at this bar for nine years. I’ve watched a lot of people sit on that stool and talk themselves out of things, and not one of them has ever come back and said I’m so glad I stayed scared.”

“Whatever.” You wave your hand in the air dismissively. “I don’t even know why I’m getting all worked up over this. He probably doesn’t even think about me. Probably just another girl on his list to bother when he’s drunk.”

Stacey deadpans, expression souring. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Uh, I don’t think so.” Although, after two of her strong margaritas, you might be. 

Her dish rag comes flying across the bartop, smacking you straight in the arm, leaving a vibrating pain in your arm. “Ouch!---”

She flings it again, leaving another welt on your skin. “Stacey, what the fuck—”

One more on the other arm to even the score out. “Alright, enough with the smacking, I’m a customer—” “You’re my charity case and you’ll take what you can get.” She tucks the rag back into her apron. “That man has come into this bar every single night for the past week lookin’ for you, only to take one look around, find me instead, and leave lookin’ like somebody canceled Christmas. I’m insulted.”

Before you can even roll your eyes, the rag comes flying out of her pocket once more, aimed at your arm. 

“I said enough—”

“Then don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“I didn’t even—”

“Kook doesn’t care about girls,” Stacey continues. “Never has. He’s got his ranch and his boys and that’s the full extent of his social calendar. He doesn’t go out of his way to chase people.”

Then, as almost an afterthought, she adds, “I ain’t never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you in those little work outfits.”

Under wishful thinking and margarita-induced delusion, you have been trying to ignore the truth of her words. Even as you think about that first night when you met him, you remember it as the most natural thing in the world. Neither of you seemed to be searching for anything other than a drink in the bar. But of all the connections people make in this world, you two stumbled upon each other.

Jungkook could’ve kissed you that night, you think. You probably would’ve let him. But then he let you have the out, left you sitting there with his hat on your head, the hat that sits on your windowsill now as a reminder of your almost. 

Stacey’s expression resembles compassion, eyes softening as she watches the gears turn in your head. “Can I tell you something without you waving your hand at me again?”

“Probably not, but go ahead.”

“He did ask me about you the other day,” she says. “Asked if I’d seen you and if you were doing alright. Last night, you two just missed each other. He sat right where you’re sitting now for twenty minutes nursing one beer before he gave up and left. Kook nurses a beer for nobody.”

“He doesn’t even know me,” you snort, gathering the condensation of your watered-down drink. 

“He knows what kind of drink you like. For some men, that’s further along than most.”

And that’s a lot more than you plan on giving to anyone else but him. 

“Stacey, can I ask you something else?”

“‘Course, darlin’. Anything for you.”

You know what to do. It’s as clear as the sun after a summer storm. 

“What do cowgirls wear?”

Oh god. 

Oh god. 

Who knew cowboy boots were this tight around the calves? The white fabric digs into your skin, leaving imprints you’re sure will never erase. The hem of your ridiculously short denim shorts rise up your ass, practically digging into your thong. Before you left your apartment, you made a promise to yourself—one you’re very close to breaking—that you won’t pull those shorts down. 

This get-up can’t possibly be comfortable, but never mind what you think. It’s not about you or your outfit choices tonight. 

This was not what you had in mind when you asked Stacey what cowgirls wear. What you had in mind was something tasteful. What Stacey had couriered to your apartment via her cousin Deanna, who runs a boutique off Fifth Street, was a white lace top cropped to somewhere just above your navel, distressed denim shorts, and boots the color of fresh cream that zip up the side and are currently engaged in warfare with your calves and ankles.

You felt like a prize cow up for auction. A very well-dressed prize cow, but one nonetheless. 

You swing the door open to Coyote’s. It’s rowdier on a Friday night. The place is packed shoulder to shoulder, girls in outfits like yours and boys in their finest everything, hats and buckles and boots, the jukebox fighting to be heard over the noise of two dozen conversations happening at once. You push your way through the packed space, fighting your way to the bar where Stacey and her counterpart are furiously making drinks. 

God, these shorts are really tight up your ass.

Her hair whips around as she tries to tend to five people at once. You don’t dare try to get her attention on a busy night like this. But as if she can sense your presence, she turns around, and the shaker nearly flies out of her hand. “Good god almighty.” Her eyes grow to the size of saucers, then lets out a whistle that anyone can hear above the music. “Atta girl!”

She slaps the counter with one palm, then grabs her colleague by the sleeve without looking at him. “Pete. Pete, turn ‘round.”

The aforementioned man turns around, mimicking Stacey’s expression. “Well. Welcome to Texas, ma’am.”

You smile politely. “Thank you, Pete.”

“Told ya,” Stacey squeals, reaching for the tequila, pointing at you like she’s won first place at an arcade. “Told you. Did I not tell you?”

“You told me.”

“What’d I tell ya?”

Your brows furrow, racking your brain as you try to remember words, which for your sake, were many. “That I had a hell of a body and you’d throw me down on the pool table—”

“No!” she rolls her eyes. “That you’d clean up nice,” 

She shoots Pete a look that makes him stop ogling your tits and find the other end of the bar very interesting. She starts on your margarita, and you settle onto your stool and try not to let your eyes do the thing they want to do, which is scan the back corner by the pool table.

Three older men are nursing beers at the far end, next to a couple sharing a basket of fries. A row of women line the jukebox, scanning the room in hopes of finding their cowboy for the night. Somehow, you relate to them now more than ever. 

“Ain’t no way a pretty girl like you is all alone tonight.”

A man’s voice appears behind your left shoulder… and it’s completely and utterly the wrong fucking voice. Not the right timbre, or warmth, or scent underneath it that makes you want to lean into it. 

Said man sidles up beside you, and you peer up at him. All things considered, he’s not unattractive. Brown hair, good jaw, a Miller Lite in one hand and a handsome smile that’s probably worked on most people. He tips his hat and leans against the bar. “Colin,” he offers.

“Nice to meet you. [Y/N].” You give him your hand to shake, and he does so politely. 

“You new ‘round here?” His flirting is more than apparent. 

“That obvious?”

“Little bit.” He grins. In a life where you hadn’t spent the last two weeks being dismantled by a man with a lip ring and a ranch, you might have smiled back with intention. “Can I get you a drink?”

“She’s got one.”

Stacey slams the margarita down on the bartop with enough force to make the sugar on the rim jump, and looks at Colin with an implacable expression. “Move it Colin. This one’s Kook’s girl.”

Colin’s hands defensively come up, the universal gesture of a man who knows what hills are and are not worth dying on. “My bad. Have a good night, ma’am.”

“Sorry about her,” you call after his retreat. Colin was perfectly nice and none of this is his fault.

“Don’t you dare apologize to him,” Stacey scolds. “You’ll be fending ‘em off all night with that outfit. I hope you prepared.”

You gaze down at yourself, and a flicker of doubt moves through you. “I don’t look dumb, do I? Be honest. I can handle it.”

“Sweetheart, the only person in this bar who’s gonna think you look dumb is you.”

Of their own accord, your eyes drift around the bar again. 

Stacey takes the time to add, “And Jungkook, is definitely not going to think you look dumb.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes for the nth time since you’ve met her. 

“Move along,” Stacey says, turning back to her next customer, waving you off with the dish rag, “Go on. I’ve got work to do.”

“I haven’t seen you care about a work since the day I met you—”

“Scram, kid.”

You peel your hand off the bar like a kid being dropped off on the first day of school, a pit of reluctance settling in your stomach. 

Almost immediately, the attention begins. A few men tip their hats at you, while another does a double take while aggressively elbowing his friend in the ribs. Someone lets out a low whistle that you feel in your spine, and you nod politely, keep moving. 

It’s profoundly strange. Sure, you can recognize you’re a pretty girl. But in New York, you were invisible, which is to say completely unless someone wanted something from you. Here, people look at you like you’re someone they want to be near, no matter what they can get from you. You just wish it was one specific person doing the looking.

Migrating towards the back, you push through clusters of people, squeezing through gaps in the crowd. The women are less forgiving than the men. Some eye your outfit, then look away in disgust. 

Eventually, you find a sliver of wall near the back and stand near it, not on it, margarita held tight to your chest. From here, you can see the layout of the bar. The dance floor, the jukebox, bodies packed between you and the exit. Groups of men cluster together like men do at bars. 

“Kook! Over here, man!”

Your eyes find the source before your brain catches up. A blonde, fit man weasels through the crowd, waving down the one person you’ve been hoping to see. 

There’s no slow motion, no cinematic lighting change, no romantic song swelling up from the jukebox at the precise moment. People around him part without noticing they’re doing it, a gap opening up like the bar itself is making room for Jungkook’s grand entrance. 

Your stomach drops through the floor. Butterflies that you want to convince yourself are just anxiety or tequila detonate all at once, wings beating against your ribs so feverishly you press your hand flat to your chest to hold it all in.

This is stupid, you think. This is so stupid. He’s just a man.

He reaches his friend, and you can see him under the dim lights. Jungkook’s in a black jean jacket, wife beater underneath, black hat adorned on top of his head. He’s smiling, saying something, unaware of you pressed against this wall.

Two women near the jukebox drop their voices, heads together as they giggle. A girl in red boots nudges her friend while eyeing him. 

Fuck. You hadn’t once stopped to think about all the competition you might have. 

You wonder how many girls he’s offered a ride, or to see his ranch. 

His eyes move across the bar, and on instinct, your spine straightens. He seems to scan the bar, eyes moving through the crowd. Past the jukebox, the dance floor, past the bar.

And then, after what feels like eons, his eyes land on you. 

The noise of the bar goes fuzzy around the edges, heart leaping into your throat as you hold his gaze. His eyes drag down the length of your body, pausing at the sliver of your waist. He continues on, past the shorts and down to the boots that hug your feet. From meters away, you watch his jaw set and gaze darken. 

Jungkook tips his hat, and you raise your glass. 

Turning to the friend beside him, he whispers something brief into his ear. The friend turns to look at you then swivels back to Jungkook to shove him in your direction. 

Electricity lights behind your sternum and radiates outward, down your arms, into your fingertips where they’re wrapped around the cold glass, and you think Carrie Underwood was right. Those damn cowboy casanovas. 

He moves through the crowd in your direction, eyes unwavering from yours. His musky, tree-like scent hits you first. Up close, the black jean jacket sits across his broad shoulders. His lips are curled into a sinister smirk that would scare you if you didn’t find him unbelievably attractive. 

“Howdy, cowboy,” you grin up at him. 

Jungkook cocks his head. His hand comes out, two nimble fingers catching the hem of your lace top. Your heart leaps clean out of your chest and goes somewhere it can’t be retrieved from. “This all for me, sugar?”

“Don’t get too cocky.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “I’ll try not to.” He doesn’t bother pretending he’s not ogling you. 

“Trying to get in touch with my Texan roots, y’know?” you joke, playing with the straw in what you hope is flirtatiously.

“Yeah? C’mon then.” He holds his hand out, chin tilting up. “Give me a twirl, sugar.”

With a smile, you place your hand in his and turn, jutting your hip out. You rotate under the light and when you come back to face him, his eyes have darkened enough that you can hardly see the brown in them. 

He politely whistles, still holding your hand but bringing it down. “Well. If I knew Texas was gonna do that to a city girl, I’d have started recruitin’ from New York a long time ago.”

“You scouting for others?”

“Never,” he chuckles. He braces one hand against the wall beside your head. “You know, I’ve had a cowgirl fantasy or two as well.”

“Have you?”

“Mhm. Used to think it was about the boots." His eyes drop to your shorts, the way your hips hug the fabric. “Think I might’ve been wrong about that.”

“What’s it about then?”

“The girl wearing ‘em.”

“Scout’s honor?” you tease, and the smile that curls upon his lips sets your insides on fire. 

“Always,” he salutes. “I was getting worried I wouldn’t see you ‘round here no more.” 

From here, you can really see the height difference between you two, the way he towers over you. “I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“Is this a goodbye, sugar? Don’t break my heart,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest. 

Involuntarily, you grin. “I wanted to make sure when I came back here, I knew what I wanted.”

For a moment, he’s quiet, expression shifting. His fingers are still intertwined with yours, and his thumb rubs circles on your knuckles. “And now what do you want?”

“Hi, Kook.”

It’s one of the girls you spotted earlier. She’s batting her eyes like she’s got a speck of dust in it, and is eyeing Jungkook in a way that makes her intention crystal clear. 

“Hey.” Jungkook glances at her for a second, maybe two, before his gaze is back on you. 

“I wanted to come over and say hi. Know it’s been a while since we last saw each other,” she purrs, ignoring your daggered eyes. 

“I guess,” he shrugs, a protective finger looping through the belt holes in your shorts to pull you an inch further into him. Suddenly, you feel painfully inadequate. She’s actually trying to dissuade him to pick her instead of you. 

“Remember when we spent that night under the stars last month? Just you, I, and a bottle of Jack—”

She shifts her weight onto her other foot, and she casts a furtive glance at you as if to question your presence. You’re questioning your existence right about now too. 

“Hm.” He interrupts, tucks a strand of your hair behind your ears. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Her lips twist as though she’s just bit into a lemon. Then she sends a harrowing look in your direction, and you’re reminded that you’re the reason he won’t give her the time of day. You don’t really give a shit, though. 

“Oh. Alright, then. Have a good rest of your night.” Her tone is tinged with hurt as she turns on the heel of her boots and flocks back to her group of girls, all of whom are busy throwing dirty looks at you. 

Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t pay much mind. His dark eyes are still fixed on your face, thumb still looped through the hole. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” you say into your drink. 

“You want me to be nice to her?” he coyly smiles. 

You think you’d rather lose all your limbs in a fire. 

You shrug in silence. Jungkook tilts your jaw up to meet his eyes. “You were about to say something before.”

“Was I?”

“Before we were interrupted,” he retorts, settling his hand in your jean pocket. 

“Oh.” Finding the words doesn’t come easy, even if you know exactly what you want to say. Instead, you settle on, “Did you drive here?”

“‘Course, sugar.”

“Well… you wanna get out of here?” 

Amusement crosses his face. “Damn right I do.”

He plants a warm hand at the small of your back, guiding you toward the door. You drop your half-drunken margarita on a nearby table. As you let yourself be steered by him, there’s a smug smile glued to your face, especially when you catch the eyes and whispers of girls. There’s something about this city, this man, that makes you confident in yourself. 

Jungkook parked his car in the back of the filled lot. From there, the noise dissipates into nothingness, nothing but the sound of bugs chirping and cars in the distance on I-40. Out here, you can forget about your old life. 

“Earlier, you asked what I wanted.”

“I did, sugar.” He’s loitering with his keys in his pocket, a smirk evident on his lips as he leans against the driver’s door of his pickup truck. 

You gnaw at your lower lip. “I think I want to repay my debts to you.”

“Really?” In the dark of the night, you can hardly make out his obsidian eyes, the shadows on his face settling. “How do ya plan on doing that?”

“Think I owe you that ride still.”

His lips come crashing down onto yours, large hands weaving into your hair, tugging on it. You unabashedly moan into his mouth as he tugs you further into him, like he wants you to live in his skin. Your hand lands on his chest, and you feel the broad muscle under his tank, the rapid flutter of his heart. His tongue licks into your mouth, sloppy and full of desire, and you don’t even care about how your whimpers sound against him. It’s all so sudden your body takes a moment to find its rhythm, but when you do, you realize how soft his lips are, how such a good fucking kisser he is. You probably shouldn’t have expected anything less from the Austin's communal mattress, but that’s neither here nor there. 

The hand once pressed against your back wanders down, down until he’s cupping your ass firmly. He kneads the skin, and he groans into your mouth, lips hot and wet against your own. Austin, Texas is known for its sweltering heat, but with Jungkook’s body against yours, the brisk, night air can’t even cool you down. 

His lips trail off your lips, pressing against your cheek, and you feel the cold metal of his piercing against your burning skin. “You look so pretty in this outfit, sugar.”

Your body combusts under his weight and words. His tongue slides back into your mouth, hand moving from your ass to your neck where he gently clutches around it. “Wore it for you,” you whisper between kisses. 

“Hm.” he pecks your lips once more. “I was hoping so. Must be real lucky to be the first cowboy to have you.”

“And the last,” you say before leaning back in for another messy kiss, drunk off the way he tastes, more than any alcohol could ever give you. 

His hands come down to cradle the back of your thighs, and before you can protest, he’s lifting you, pressing your back against the door of his truck. Gasping, your hands scramble for purchase around his neck, thighs snugly hugging his waist. Jungkook’s lips press against your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses wherever he can. You want all of him, more of him, by any means you can get it. Your fingers entangle in his dark locks, tugging at the nape. He groans, “F-fuck, we need to get in the car, sugar.”

“Mhm, take me there, then,” Your smile is dopey as he carries you around to the passenger side, opening the door and sitting down so he can plop you directly onto his lap. His thighs are firm muscle beneath you. He slams the door shut, lips finding yours once more. Your knees cage him in, and he digs his fingers into your flesh. You can hardly keep up with the movement of his tongue, can’t really do anything but open your mouth and take whatever he gives you. 

For once, you don’t care about anyone seeing you, or what anyone might think. Luckily, the lot is empty, save for people who are far more worried about entering the bar than leaving, or whatever you’re doing in this vehicle. 

“Lift your hips up for me, doll,” he mutters, lips hardly breaking from yours, fingers deftly unbuttoning your shorts. You do as he says, allowing him access. He slides your shorts down your legs, depositing them on the floor of his truck. Your knees feel like jelly, quivering with anticipation as he tugs your underwear off next. Desperately, you fall back into his lap, clit pressed against his jeans for as much friction as possible. 

Beneath you, you can feel his hard length poking through his jeans, and your cheeks warm up at the thought of him getting hard from just some kissing. You gently test the waters, hips rolling into his crotch. He grunts, hands steadying your movements. “Fuck, sugar, I won’t last long if you plan on doing that.”

“Who says I want you to last long?” you whisper, lips tracing the shell of his ear. And then he’s grabbing you by your jaw and pulling you in, in, in, kissing you like he wants to swallow your essence entirely. He pulls the straps of your top down until your tits pop out. You gasp at the sudden exposure, cold air causing your nipples to perk up. His fingers come to play with the pert bud, and you whimper atop him. 

“Most perfect tits I’ve ever seen, sugar.” He trails open-mouthed kisses down your neck to your collarbone, tongue licking a path down to your breasts. His lips wrap around your perked nipple, and a choked moan escapes you. 

Your fingers intertwine in his hair, tugging, and that elicits a groan from him. His tongue flicks the nipple up, down, and your back arches against the dashboard. You tug at his hair as he messily sucks your tits, leaving bruises you’re sure will last weeks. Jungkook’s hips rut into your sopping entrance hopelessly, and his length pokes into your inner thigh. You’re pretty sure you’re creaming all over his pants, not that he even minds. On every hitch of his hips forward, his teeth grazes your nipple, undoing you. 

Truth be told, you’ve been soaked since the moment you laid eyes on him. Since the moment you saw the hat upon his head, muscles bulging out of everything he owns. You push his jean jacket off his shoulders, seeing the tattoo that extends across his biceps and collarbone, a myriad of color. 

Finally, he peers up at you, swollen lips and blown pupils. You waste no time in pressing your lips to his again. He can probably taste the remaining sugar from your margarita on your tongue, and if anything, the thought seems to excite him, the thought that other parts of you may be sweet as well. Gripping onto his biceps, you can feel the veins that trace up his arms. A whine exits from the back of your throat. “Jungkook, touch me.”

“Hm, where, sugar? Use your words.” He presses a chaste kiss to the edge of your lips. 

Words aren’t something you can muster, so you take his hand and place it against your clit, right where he can feel how fucking soaked you are, dripping onto his jeans. “Shit,” he curses, swallowing thickly. “You’re dripping. You been like this the whole time?”

Eagerly, you nod like a broken bobblehead. 

One finger dips between your folds, gathering your essence before taking it back to his mouth and licking it clean off. “Just as sweet as I imagined.”

There’s no air left in your lungs to form words with, no brainpower beyond the feeling of wanting more, more, more. His finger finds your clit, and you throw your head back, moaning loudly that you’re damn near certain the entirety of Texas heard you. Toothily, Jungkook grins, pointer and middle finger rubbing circles against your clit. His tongue comes to lick a trail up your neck, sucking the sweet spot behind your ear. It’s like he has a map to you, knows exactly where to touch you to have you writhing. 

A finger slides through your wetness before finally pushing into your entrance, down to his knuckle. Your fingernails rake down his biceps, leaving red marks in its place. He fucks the finger steadily in and out, thumbing at your clit simultaneously. “Ngh—fuck, don’t stop,” you moan, grinding into his finger. Just one isn’t enough, you know it won’t be, need to feel him fill you up. 

“P-please,” you beg, although you’re not quite sure what you’re begging for. But he seems to understand, pushing a second finger inside you, curling upwards to your sweet spot. Your body jolts forward, nails now digging crescent moons into his skin. “Oh fuck, feels so good.”

“Can’t wait to be inside you,” he groans. “Your pussy’s so tight and warm. Gonna be a dream to fuck you, sugar.”

“M-me either.” You shiver, and on autopilot, your shaky fingers come to undo his belt buckle, unzipping his jeans. “Please fuck me, Kook. I want it. Want to feel you inside me.”

“Yeah?” He presses open-mouthed kisses against your cheek and nose, “Want me to fuck you the way you deserve?”

A long, languid moan escapes you, anticipation leaping into your throat. “Please. Please l-let me give you that ride.”

“If you insist,” he devilishly smiles, pulling his fingers out of you, licking them clean once more. He pulls down his boxers as much as he can with you on top, gets out his cock, and hisses as he strokes himself a few times. 

Shit. You should’ve known he would be big, but he’s at least twice the size of your ex. Saliva pools in your mouth at how veiny and red his cock is. His hat hangs over his eyes as he looks down at his cock, chest heaving and bottom lip tucked underneath his teeth. 

It’s like a lightbulb flashes over your head, with an idea so sinister you almost can’t believe you came up with it yourself. 

You get your hands on the soft fabric of his hat, nudging it off his head and placing it on yours. It’s a little too big, hangs over your eyes, but Jungkook’s jaw goes slack nonetheless. “You gonna give me that ride while you wear my hat?” His cock twitches in his palm as he lazily strokes it, eyes never leaving yours. 

“Uhu,” you agree, replacing his hand with yours on his cock. He’s girthier than you imagined, can hardly fit the whole of him in your palm. He quickly moves to kiss you again, and you take the opportunity to glide the tip of his cock through your folds, gathering the arousal that’s pooled. You both moan in unison. 

“Fuck, don’t tease me, sugar,” he grunts, eyes glazed over with lust. 

Whimpering, you obey him, and his cock enters you in one go. Your walls stretch to accommodate him, and it’s a slow, torturous slide down, until your folds hit his pelvic bone. He sharply inhales, cursing as his head hits the headrest. Your legs tremble with how full of him you feel, how much of him bulges in your stomach when you look down. “Fuck, Kook. Y’you’re so big.”

Jungkook’s calloused hands run up and down your sides. His face is mostly hidden behind the shadows in his car, but you can make out his rosy lips and cheeks. “I know, baby, but you can take it. Go ‘head and give me that ride you owe me.”

Slowly, you move up and down, only a mere inch at a time. Just enough to see the bulge inside your stomach move a tad. The hat slides further over your eyes as you gently move. He tips it back, cupping your cheek so he can see how fucked out you look already. “C’mon, use me, sugar. Show me how you ride dick.”

You nod in response, your cunt clenching around his length. Arousal drips down his cock onto his abdomen, and your head hits the ceiling as you use all your strength to bounce on his cock. Loud whines and curses fill the space, Jungkook’s mouth buried into your neck, hands coming to spread your ass cheeks so you can take him deeper. “Yeah, that’s it. Ride my fucking cock, sugar.” 

The sounds fog up the window—your pussy squelching with each thrust, the slap of his balls against your ass, his throaty groans. 

“These fucking tits. Wanna see them bounce in my face all the time,” he says, a hand coming up to slap your hardened nipples, and you moan. A trickle of sweat falls down your back, falling into the fabric that has now pooled around your waist. “You doing good, sugar?” His voice is sinful, and your cunt clenches around him again. 

“Mhm. Your cock is so deep inside me.” Bouncing becomes more tiresome, thighs trembling with pent-up desire. Unfortunately, it’s not as easy to ride cock as one had hoped, but you’re determined to get you and him over the edge. 

His hair is ruffled by your fingers as he trails a path of sloppy, wet kisses to the valley of your breasts. “You look so fucking good with my hat on.” Even though the edge is tipping over your eyes again, he fondly peers at you, how utterly blissed out your expression looks, cheeks ruddy. 

Somehow, he must feel the exhaustion creeping upon you, because he plants his boots onto the floor and bucks up into you, causing moans to elicit from you. “Fuck, your pussy’s so tight n’ wet. It’s like a fucking drug, sugar,” he croons into your neck. 

His cock plunges in and out of you with more force. Jungkook wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you tight, tight, tight to his chest, tits bouncing against him. You hold onto the hat, leaning against the dashboard so he can hit your sweet spot, just where you want him. “Oh—fuck, right there, Kook!”

His teeth drag against your skin, hips pistoning in and out. Puffs of breath escape his mouth and hit your skin. “If you were mine, would never let ya go,” he babbles, clearly pussy drunk. “Ain’t never letting you get near another cowboy. You’re all mine now, sugar.” 

Clearly, your body takes a liking to the buckets of filth he’s pouring in your ear, and your walls clench around his length, your imminent orgasm creeping up on you. “Jungkook,” you whimper, and the pit in your stomach grows and grows, the knot almost coming undone as he continues hitting what you think might be your cervix. 

You swear you feel him in your stomach as he says. “You gonna cum? Gonna cum all over my cock? Make a mess of my truck?” 

“Gonna cum, Kook. Please make me cum,” you chant, and then it’s a gush of wetness escaping you, back arching far enough that the hat falls onto the console, thighs trembling and jaw slack. Normally, you’d be embarrassed, but all you can think about is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, walls frantically clamping down on him as you ride out your orgasm. 

“Are you gonna cum inside me?” You’re sure you sound desperate when you ask, but he peers up at you with hooded eyes and responds, “If that’s what you want, sugar.”

It only takes a few more pumps of his hips to send him over the edge as well, hips stuttering, before groaning and emptying himself inside you. Slumping against his chest, his cock twitches, then softens inside you, and all that can be heard in the truck is the sound of you two struggling to catch your breath. 

“Holy shit,” is all you can say. 

His nails gently run down your spine, sending goosebumps blossoming across your skin. “Good ride?” he jokes, pressing kisses down the slope of your shoulder. 

“Totally worth it.”

And you mean it, every ounce of it. Can see the sunshine and rainbows, the things you thought were once hidden behind dark clouds. 

Just like you thought it would, it was good. Probably even better than that, probably impossible to find a word in the English dictionary to describe it. Enough so that maybe, you’ll extend your year-long lease in Texas. Make it two, perhaps. 

“Jungkook?”

“Hm, sugar?”

“Can you take me to the ranch?”

A chuckle reverberates through his chest, and you feel it everywhere his skin touches yours. “Yeah, darlin’. How ‘bout tomorrow?”

perm taglist. @mimi1097 @almatiarAU @absolutelyjeons @Sabrinahiddig @yooniepot @ggukivrse @Deluluvalerie @Sugak00kie134340 @Angelxkoo @yange7l @mellyyyyyyx @Senaqsstuff @jjkkkk15 @likecrazy22 @impossiblecopoaffire @readingbee44 @EyesforJungkook @lvnderdreams @vintagemoonsstuff @mauveliz @allysh @jeontylv @neurospicynugget @jxniana @haniiii @bo-rimmy @j0cgr0c @roseda @ggukreqz @dltyum @xxxxx1415 @annyeongbitch7 @nesha227 @Cannotalwaysbenight @Satisfied18 @qielica @Mar-lo-pap @remgeolli @Seolhyuningg @secretspam699 @Bangtansfav-7 @m4aimm @jeontylv @ot7girl4l @hoemeprazole @lovingkoalaface  @crackedby2017jungkook @taevescence @starlitkook @chwrryppie @jjkszn @junqive  @kookdollia @Mninotjungkook @odetomeringue @stargguki @lovingkoalaface @rockstarjeonjk @yeskookii @hellomynameis-jessica @lovjeongukkie @bjoriis @taelvvrzz @celliez @jibjoilij  @dilfdixon @sc05 @wonderlandkook @drwonderbread

[jennaort3ga]

I nearly came twice just from reading this omg

[themfchase]

All works are exclusive by @themfchase​ do not copy, repost, or save. Updates are posted here.  Requests are currently closed. MDNI. (Minors do not interact under any circumstance)  « tracking » ☀︎ humor/crack    ☁︎ fluff    ☾ angst    ♥ mature  ✎ incomplete    ✓ complete WORKS ARE ALL NSFW.

.never see you again ➻  ( ♥ ) - One Shot.  ✓  (Rewriting) “After a strike delays BTS’s schedule to fly out of a foreing contry, Yoongi and other members find themselves at the hotel bar having a drink, when a lonley woman catches his eye.”

.tempter (the twilight creature) one-shot.  ( ♥,  ☾ ☾ )  ✓ complete  “Everyone told the tale of the Twilight Creature, none knew what it or they really were, you had no plans on every encoutring such a thing, until you do, and oh… He makes your heart stop.” .blindfold. ➻  ( ♥,  ☾ ) - ✓ complete  - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 “Strange things happen all the time, just like what you’re being offered by a strange tall man in a quiet coffee shop near campus. Strangers that you can’t see and only hear, and a strange boy that barely speaks but seems to be everywhere aren’t that common, on the other hand. But for some reason… You’re really keen on strange things.” or “that one sex contract au but with a twist”  .raven unit. ➻  ( ♥,  ☾ ) -  chapter one: gallaticus, chapter two: red hawk, chapter three: seamore, chapter four: armstrong chapter five: safe house, chapter six: raven  ✓ complete “With your life at risk and several people around you dead, your loyal head of security makes sure your safety is taken care of when he’s out of the picture. Three ruthless, dangerous and deadly men take on the task to protect and hide you, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok and the one in command, Jeon Jungkook.”  .endings & beginnings   one-shot.  ➻  ( ♥,  ☾ ☾ )  ✓ complete “After the sad passing of your grandmother, you take on the task to pack up her things so you can sell the house, but you’re interrupted by someone you haven’t seen in years, and oh, he’s hurt.”

.hate me one-shot.  ➻  ( ♥ ) ✓ complete ″You really do hate everything about Jeon Jungkook. From the way his strong hands bulge with veins and the way he smirks lazily, all the way to his obnoxiously pretty face.” or “that one e2l au because I’m a bitch for e2l and hate fucking” .drabbles: .raven unit:   drabble #01   drabble #02

.souvenir.    series  ( ♥,  ☾ ): chapter I, chapter II, chapter III, chapter IV, chapter V, chapter VI (ongoing) This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution - Non Commercial - No Derivatives 4.0 International License

[jennaort3ga]

These fanfics brought me to Nirvana I swear

[rosalescent]

between books and cigarettes || JJK

Oneshot

↬ you're holding a star, and eventually, he's going to realise you're just a rock₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook's entire universe revolves around the girl who holds his heart, but when a cruel influence weaponises her unspoken insecurities, she begins to quietly unravel from the inside out, leaving him to pull her back before she is consumed entirely.

Genre/Tags: university au, romance, angst, fluff, established relationship, hurt/comfort, soft Jungkook, crying Jungkook, domestic fluff

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings: substance use, smoking cigarettes and joints, inferiority complex, overthinking, panic attack, manipulation, gaslighting, toxic friendship, fear of abandonment, emotional breakdown (pls lmk if i have missed any)

Notes: i really enjoyed writing this, literally binge wrote it in like a night and a bit, hope you like it!! oh, and if you notice any timeline inconsistencies... no you didn't. also i saw bts and holy shit... i've actually peaked in life... i fear it doesn't get better than this

Requested By: @poetryrosee

╰› fanfic masterlist

Morning arrives not with the harsh rattle of an alarm, but with the slow warmth of a thumb tracing the curve of your cheek.

You stir against the covers, the crisp scent of his laundry detergent and his distinct, sun-warmed skin enveloping you. When you blink open your eyes, the world is a soft, blurry haze of amber morning light filtering through the sheer curtains, yet his face is in perfect, sharp focus. And, of course, he is already looking down at you. He has clearly been awake for a while; you can tell by the way his silken hair is messy but softly pushed back from his forehead, and by how his eyes are clear, dark, and utterly consumed by the sight of you.

"Morning," he murmurs. His voice is a low, raspy velvet, thick with sleep but entirely focused on your face. He doesn't just look at you; he anchors himself to you, as if waking up and verifying you are still here is the most critical part of his day. His warm hand slides from your cheek down to the nape of your neck, his long fingers tangling into your hair, gently guiding your face closer to press a soft, lingering kiss against your forehead. Then to your closed eyelid. Then to the very tip of your nose.

"Jungkook," you giggle, the sound muffled against his bare chest. You attempt to pull the thick duvet over your head, a desperate, instinctive shield against the glaring sunlight and the violent flusters you get from the sheer intensity of the man beside you.

But he simply laughs at your feeble attempt. It’s a low, rumbling vibration that echoes right against your ribs, and with an effortless flex of his arm, he pulls you right back against him. He holds you tightly, your front flushed against his chest, his strong arms locking around your waist with a firm but incredibly gentle grip: the possessive, protective hold you've grown entirely accustomed to over the past year and a half.

"Don't hide from me," he whispers into your hair, kissing the crown of your head, his breath warm and comforting. "Let me look at you. I haven't seen your face all night."

"I was sleeping right next to you the entire time," you point out, a small, sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you rest your chin on his chest, looking up at his sharp jawline.

"Doesn't count," he declares shamelessly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Your eyes were closed. You weren't talking or looking at me. And you were turned the other way. It was pure torture," He dramatically states before leaning down to capture your lips in a deeply sweet kiss. It’s a possessive sort of affection, the kind that makes your knees weak even whilst lying down, making you feel like you are the absolute centre of his universe, the axis upon which his entire life rotates. To Jungkook, you hang the moon, and he looks at you as if every piece of literature you study, every mundane, passing thought you voice, is absolute gospel.

He pulls away just an inch, his doe eyes searching yours. "Are you hungry? I made breakfast. Oatmeal with the berries you like, and I brewed the dark roast."

"You didn't have to do that," you say softly. He’s a fourth-year law student with a mock trial preparation checklist that could double as a legal encyclopaedia, and yet he spends his precious morning minutes curating your breakfast.

I must've been a saint in a past life to have him, you think. But right on the heels of that thought, a cold, heavy weight drops into your stomach. Or maybe I'm just living on borrowed time before the universe realises a mistake was made.

"I wanted to," he corrects easily, shifting his weight so he can pull you up into a sitting position against the headboard. He reaches over to the nightstand, lifting a perfectly presented bowl of oatmeal, steam still rising from it in lazy curls, alongside a heavy ceramic mug of coffee. He places it carefully on your lap, watching your face with an expectant, eager expression that reminds you of a golden retriever waiting for praise. "Eat up. You have that long seminar today, right? The automatic modernism one? You need energy."

"And you have IP at nine," you say, taking a slow, steady sip of the coffee. It’s perfect, the exact amount of milk, the perfect temperature. Of course it is. Jungkook doesn't do anything halfway. He doesn't know how to fail. "Did you finish revising your brief?"

"Finished it at two," he says casually, stretching his arms high over his head. He shrugs it off as if staying up until the early hours of the morning to master a legal brief while maintaining a perfect GPA and a leading role in the upcoming campus theatre production were simply light work. "It’s fine. I’m ahead of schedule. Tell me about your day instead. Are you going to finish your Pavlov draft?"

"I’m trying to," you murmur, your enthusiastic tone slipping away as you stare down at the dark blue berries in your bowl.

The sudden, suffocating weight of your own academic pressure settles heavily in your chest, instantly souring the sweet taste of the breakfast. Being a second-year Literature major, a field which is volatile, entirely subjective, and agonisingly hard to prove yourself, has had you drowning more times than you’d like to admit. Yet at the same time, Jungkook operates in a world of absolute, ruthless metrics, and he dominates every single one of them without breaking a sweat.

He reaches out, his thumb catching a stray crumb near your lip, his gaze softening into something so profoundly tender it almost hurts to look at. "You will draft it beautifully. You’re the smartest person I know, Y/N. You make my rigid law arguments look like child's play. No need to stress about it."

He means it. That’s the most terrifying part of this: he genuinely, truly believes you are his equal. He looks at you through a warped, beautiful lens of blind devotion, completely blind to the vast chasm between his effortless perfection and your frantic, and practically undignified, sprint just to stay in his peripheral vision. Every compliment he gives you feels less like praise and more like a debt you have no idea how to repay.

You force a tight nod, swallowing past the bitter lump of inadequacy in your throat, and quickly finish the food he prepared so he won't see the panic starting to manifest in your eyes. The clock on his wall ticks forward, cruel, mechanical, and relentless. It’s 7:45 AM.

"I need to get ready," you say, setting the empty bowl aside on the nightstand and shifting your legs to swing them out of the warm bed.

Jungkook instantly hooks a firm hand around your wrist, his grip warm and unyielding as he pulls you right back into his space for one more desperate, lingering hug. He buries his face deeply into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. "Stay. Five minutes. Please."

"Jungkook, I don't even have my clothes here," you laugh, though the sound is noticeably strained now.

He groans into your skin, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second, his possessiveness flaring, before he reluctantly lets you go. "Fine. But I’m walking you down to the lobby."

"No, don't," you say quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly, the words slipping out in a sharp, defensive spike. You soften your voice immediately, forcing a playful, easy smile onto your face to cover the slip. "You need to prepare for your formal debate later. I don't want the star of the society looking rumpled and distracted because he was escorting his gremlin girlfriend back to her residence hall. Stay here. Focus." You punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheeks.

He huffs, a sweet, exaggerated pouting expression crossing his handsome face, but he relents under your touch, leaning forward to press one final, firm, breathless kiss to your lips. "Call me the second your seminar ends. I want to have lunch with you. I'll buy you that pastry you like."

"I will," you promise, the word feeling heavy.

You gather your scattered things, slipping into his navy-blue university hoodie that completely swallows your frame. It smells strongly of him: rich, clean, and safe. You slip out of his apartment quietly, the heavy wood door clicking shut behind you with a solid click.

The moment you enter the sterile hallway of his block, the protective warmth of his presence evaporates entirely. It is replaced by the icy, creeping reality of who you are when he isn't around.

You walk briskly down the stairs, pull the heavy hood low over your eyes, step out into the morning air, and cross the wide, bustling quad. You pull the fabric tighter around yourself, feeling entirely like a thief, an imposter who managed to survive another night in a world where she simply doesn't belong. You aren't matching his pace; you are just a ghost wearing his clothes, desperately praying no one notices the difference.

The lecture hall you have found yourself in is grand, old, and suffocatingly prestigious. Wood-panelled walls rise up to high ceilings, and the tiered seating is packed to the brim with students, professors, and esteemed guests. Even the air smells of old paper, leather, and the distinct electricity of competitive intellect.

You sit near the back of the auditorium, your hands shoved deep into the pockets of your jacket, trying to make yourself as small and inconspicuous as possible. You shouldn't even really be here; you have a mountain of reading for your contemporary prose class, but Jungkook had looked at you with those wide, pleading eyes last week, asking if you’d come watch his debate. “I speak better when you’re in the room,” he had told you, entirely earnest.

Down on the stage of the hall, Jungkook is standing behind a heavy mahogany podium. He is dressed in a crisp, tailored black suit, the uniform of the university’s law debate society. He looks terrifyingly striking. His broad shoulders fill out the jacket perfectly, and his hair is neatly styled away from his face. He is currently adjusting his microphone, speaking casually to one of his teammates, completely devoid of the nervous tremors that are currently plaguing every other speaker in the room. He is entirely in his element.

"Is anyone sitting here?"

You blink, jolting slightly out of your thoughts as a girl gestures to the empty seat next to you. She is fashionable, carrying a sleek leather tote bag and a tablet, looking every bit a pristine student.

"No, go ahead," you say softly, offering a polite, small smile.

The girl sits down, smoothing out her skirt, and immediately focuses her gaze down on the stage. She sighs, a dreamy, slightly envious sound. "Thank god I managed to grab a seat. The turnout for these competitions is always insane when it’s the senior tier."

"Yeah, it’s really crowded," you agree, keeping your voice neutral.

The girl turns her head to look at you, her eyes scanning your casual attire, a plain tee paired with an oversized jacket and jeans, a stark contrast to the numerous sharp blazers surrounding you. She tilts her head. "Are you a law first-year? I haven't seen you around the faculty building."

"Oh, no," you say, a familiar tightness squeezing in your chest. "I’m a Literature major. I’m just... visiting."

"Ah, an arts student," she says, her tone perfectly pleasant but carrying that subtle, unvoiced condescension that STEM and law majors always seem to harbour. "What brought you all the way over to this side of campus? Just curious about legal rhetoric?"

You hesitate. You could lie. You could say you were just bored or that you were researching classical speech structures. But a small, stubborn part of you, the part that loves Jungkook and wants to claim the space he so willingly gives you, makes you speak the truth.

"I’m actually here to watch Jungkook," you say, pointing a finger toward the podium where he stands. "I’m his girlfriend."

The girl’s eyes instantly widen. They snap from you down to Jungkook, then back to you, scanning your face with a brand-new, hypercritical intensity. The casual friendliness vanishes, replaced by a look of sheer, unadulterated shock.

"Ohhh," the girl says, the syllable stretching out, heavy and loaded. "So, you’re the golden boy's girlfriend?"

The phrase lands like a physical weight in your lap. The golden boy's girlfriend. Not Y/N. Not a person with her own merits, her own thoughts, her own identity. Just an attachment. An anomaly.

"Yeah," you say, your voice dropping a fraction.

"Wow," she says, a forced, tight laugh escaping her lips as she looks back down at the floor. "Everyone on campus talks about him, you know. He’s practically a myth in the law department. Top of his class, literally won the regional theatre showcase last semester... people joke that he’s a synthetic human created in a lab because nobody can actually be that perfect at everything." She pauses, her eyes lingering on Jungkook as he confidently shuffles his note cards. "You must feel... incredibly lucky."

Lucky. The word feels like plastic in your mouth.

"I am," you whisper.

The debate begins, and the hall falls into a dead silence. When it is Jungkook’s turn to speak, he steps forward with an effortless grace that commands the entire room. His voice rings out through the auditorium: clear, articulate, layered with a brilliant, biting sarcasm that makes the professors nod in approval, and the students chuckle. He navigates complex legal precedents as if he’s recounting a simple childhood story. He doesn't look at his notes once. He looks entirely, utterly flawless.

At one point, during a brief pause while his opponent frantically searches through papers, Jungkook’s eyes sweep across the crowded tiered seating. He searches the back rows, scanning the sea of faces until his gaze lands directly on you. The sharp, intimidating glare of the star debater melts away for a split second, replaced by a tiny, private smile meant only for you. He gives a barely perceptible nod, a silent acknowledgement that he knows you’re there, before turning back to crush his opponent's argument.

The girl next to you lets out a soft, defeated breath. "See? Effortless. He’s just... on a completely different level than the rest of us."

You don't reply. You can't. Your throat feels tightly constricted. As the auditorium erupts into thunderous applause at the conclusion of his speech, you feel yourself shrinking smaller and smaller into your seat. You look down at your hands, rough and stained faintly with ink from your afternoon lectures.

In this grand, wood-panelled room full of brilliant minds and high ambitions, you feel like a ghost. A plain, monochromatic background character accidentally spliced into a vibrant, high-definition movie about a boy who can fly. You love him, god, you love him so much it scares you, but looking at him down there, bathed in the adulation of his peers, the insidious whisper in the back of your mind grows into a deafening roar: You don't belong here. You are holding a star, and eventually, he’s going to realise you’re just a rock.

The evening is supposed to be a celebration. The society booked out a student lounge, which is filled with the warm glow of string lights and the low hum of indie music playing from a mini speaker hooked up to someone's phone. A small group of you are gathered around a low coffee table: you, your friend Leah, Jungkook, and a few of his friends. Some of them you've come to know quite well, Jimin, and Taehyung; others you guess are from his lectures and the society. Jungkook has his arm slung casually over the back of your chair, his fingers occasionally playing with the sleeve of your shirt, his presence a constant, anchoring weight.

"I’m telling you, the judge was practically ready to hand Jungkook his degree right there on the spot," Jimin laughs, leaning back against the worn leather sofa, a plastic cup of cheap cider in his hand. "The other guy looked like he wanted to cry by the third rebuttal."

"He was just unprepared," Jungkook says modestly, though a proud, boyish smile breaks across his face. He bumps his shoulder against yours, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "Did I do okay? Truly?"

"Are you kidding me? You were amazing, Kook," you say, and you mean it. You turn your head to smile at him, forcing the shadows from your eyes. "They had no chance."

He beams, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and he presses a quick, sweet kiss to your cheek, utterly shameless about his affection even in front of his closest friends.

Taehyung snorts from across the table, tossing a peanut at Jungkook. "Get a room, you two. Seriously. A year and what later, and you guys are still acting like you’re in a romance drama. It’s sickening. Let us single people breathe."

Jimin chuckles, shaking his head. "Let them be, Tae. Honestly, we should all be grateful to Y/N. Do you remember what Jungkook was like before he met her? A complete menace. Driving his motorcycle at ungodly hours, staying up all night, smoking a pack a day behind the engineering building because he was stressed out of his mind..."

"Oh, god, the smoking," Taehyung groans, laughing. "He smelled like an old pub twenty-four-seven. And then he meets Y/N, and boom, overnight transformation. The bad boy becomes a model citizen. It’s a miracle he hasn't touched a cigarette since their first official date.”

"It wasn't a miracle," Jungkook says softly, his gaze dropping to look at you, his eyes filled with a raw, intense seriousness that makes your breath catch. "I just realised I wanted to be clean for her. I didn't want her to have to taste ash every time I kissed her. She deserves better than that."

The comment is entirely harmless. It’s meant to be a testament to his love, a beautiful, romantic declaration of how much you mean to him. Jimin and Taehyung let out collective coos, teasing him for being the hopeless romantic that he is.

But inside your head, the words twist. They warp and morph into a grotesque, jagged mirror.

She deserves better than that.

Your stomach drops, a cold, heavy lump of guilt settling deep within your ribs. You remember that night, eighteen months ago, sitting on the steps of the humanities building. You had both been stressed and exhausted, huddled together under his jacket. You had both pulled out a cigarette, lit them, and watched the smoke rise into the crisp night air. And then Jungkook had looked at you and said, "Let’s stop. Together. It’s bad for us, and I want to be better. For you. Let’s make a pact."

You had agreed. You had smiled, kissed him, and thrown your lighter into the trash.

Except you didn't stop.

The laughter of the guys fades into a dull, white noise as the phantom taste of tobacco fills your mouth. You think about the crumpled pack hidden at the very bottom of your makeup bag in your dorm room. You think about the secret, shameful moments on your building's fire escape late at night, your hands shaking as you light it, inhaling the toxic, calming smoke just to keep your racing thoughts from tearing you apart.

Jungkook thinks he changed for you. He thinks he became a better, cleaner version of himself to match the pristine, perfect girl he thinks you are. He has stayed entirely clean for over a year, exercising his iron willpower because his love for you is that pure. And you? You’re a liar. A fraud who couldn't even keep a simple promise, who uses a toxic vice as a crutch because you are too weak to handle the pressure of being loved by him.

"Hey," Jungkook’s voice breaks through your spiral. His hand shifts to rest on your thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles through your jeans. "You okay? You look a bit pale."

"Yeah," you force a voice out, your throat dry. "Just... a little tired with all the lectures and that seminar."

"Do you wanna leave?" he asks instantly, completely ready to abandon his friends, his celebration, everything, just because you look a little worn down. "We can go back to my place. I'll make you tea."

"No, no," you say quickly. "Don't be silly. Stay and celebrate. I actually have a couple of library books I need to return before the night drop closes anyway. I'll just head back to my dorm early."

Jungkook frowns, his eyes darkening with immediate reluctance. "I'll walk you."

"Jungkook, stay," you say, your voice carrying a rare, firm edge that surprises him. You soften it immediately with a gentle touch to his cheek. "Please. I'll go with Leah. Hang out with the guys. I’m just going to go straight to bed. I'll call you in the morning, okay?"

He stares at you for a long moment, searching your face for whatever secret you’re keeping, but you force your expression into one of serene exhaustion. Finally, he sighs, leaning forward to press a long, heavy, almost desperate kiss to your lips. "Fine. But text me the exact second you get into your room, or I’m getting a search party."

"I will." You chuckle. He would.

Ten minutes later, you aren't in bed. You are standing on the freezing, rusted metal of your dorm's fourth-floor fire escape, the wind biting through your thin tee; you shouldn’t have left your jacket on your chair. Your hands are trembling violently as you flick a silver lighter, the flame illuminating the dark, empty alleyway below. You press the cigarette to your lips and inhale, the harsh, burning smoke flooding your lungs. It stings, it tastes bitter, and it makes your chest ache with profound, suffocating waves of guilt.

You lean your forehead against the cold metal railing, staring out at the distant lights of Jungkook’s building across the quad. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, hot and angry, as you take another long drag. You are lying to him. You are rotting from the inside out with secrets and self-doubt, while he sits over there, completely, purely, and terribly in love with a girl who doesn't exist.

The university library is supposed to be a sanctuary, but today it feels like a cage. You are surrounded by towers of leather-bound volumes, literary journals, and half-empty cups of lukewarm coffee. Your laptop screen glows blankly back at you, a cruel, flashing cursor mocking your complete inability to string together a single coherent sentence.

Your essay on medieval science fiction is due in forty-eight hours. You have written three paragraphs, and every single one of them reads like absolute garbage. You delete the last sentence for the fourth time, letting out a sharp, frustrated breath that cuts through the dead silence of the humanities floor.

“Come on,” you mutter to yourself, tapping your pen aggressively against the desk. “You’re a lit major. This is the one thing you’re supposed to be good at. Just write the damn analysis.”

But your brain feels entirely blocked, clogged by a thick, suffocating fog of inadequacy. You keep thinking about Jungkook’s perfect legal brief from earlier this week. You keep thinking about how he handles his workload with a calm, systemic efficiency, while you are here, unravelling over a mere two-thousand-word analysis.

"Staring at a blank document won't magically make the words appear, you know."

You flinch, your head snapping up. Standing at the end of your study desk is a girl. She is older, probably a fourth- or fifth-year, dressed in a perfectly tailored tweed blazer and carrying a stack of texts. Her hair is sleek, her makeup flawless, and she carries herself with that distinct, high-class confidence that practically screams that she has her life together. The more you look at her, the more familiar her face becomes.

Oh.

She’s in Jungkook’s year. Serena..? She’s the vice president of the Competitive Debate Society.

"I’m aware," you say, your voice carrying a sharp, defensive edge. You are too tired for polite pleasantries, and your naturally snarky instincts tend to flare up when cornered. "Thanks for the profound psychological insight, though."

Serena doesn't look offended by your bite. Instead, she lets out a soft, elegant chuckle, pulls out the chair opposite you, and sits down without being invited. She sets her heavy law books down with a soft thud. "Don't snap. I’m just offering some sympathy. I see you here all the time, huffing and puffing over those literature books. I’m Serena, by the way. I work with Jungkook in the society."

"I know who you are," you say, closing your laptop slightly, an instinctive gesture to shield your failure from her eyes. "Jungkook mentioned you helped organise the regional tournament."

"Oh, did he?" Serena's eyes flash with a strange, fleeting look of satisfaction before she settles into a warm, patronising smile. She tilts her head, looking at your cluttered desk, the crumpled sticky notes, the highlight-stained pages. "You look completely overwhelmed, sweetie. Are the undergraduate lit modules really that brutal? I always assumed arts degrees were a bit more... flexible."

There it is. The first tiny prick. It’s subtle, buried under a sweet tone and an endearing nickname, but the jab lands perfectly. Arts degrees are flexible. Arts degrees are easy.

"They require a different kind of critical thought," you say smoothly, your eyes narrowing just a fraction. You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "We actually have to formulate original arguments instead of just memorising legal codes written by dead white men from the nineteenth century. It can be quite taxing."

Serena's smile tightens for a microsecond before smoothing out into a soft, airy laugh. "Oh, absolutely. I didn't mean to minimise it. It’s just... cute to see how hard you try. You’re always buried in these books, sprinting to catch up. It reminds me of myself when I was a first-year. So young, so inexperienced, just desperate to prove that you belong in a university setting."

"I'm a second year, actually."

"Oh." She reaches across the table, gently patting the back of your hand. Her touch is warm, but it feels like ice against your skin. "Don't stress yourself out to the point of a breakdown, Y/N. Jungkook's a very understanding guy. He knows you operate at a different academic level. He doesn't expect you to match his pace, and that’s perfectly okay."

Your heart hitches in your chest. He doesn't expect you to match his pace.

The words are delivered under the guise of elder-student comfort, a senior reassuring a stressed junior, but they carry a terrifyingly potent poison. Serena is stating out loud the exact nightmare that keeps you awake at night. She is confirming your deepest, darkest fear: that everyone looks at you and Jungkook and sees a brilliant, mature man babysitting a struggling, inferior child.

You pull your hand away from her touch, your fingers curling into tight fists under the table. Your defensive snark dries up in your throat, replaced by a sudden, choking wave of panic.

"I have to get back to work," you say, your voice dropping into a flat, cold register.

"Of course," Serena says easily, standing up and gathering her books. She offers you one last, beautiful but destructive smile. "Good luck with your little essay, Y/N. And tell Jungkook I'll see him at the mixer tonight, okay? Don't forget to take a breath."

She walks away, her heels clicking softly on the library's linoleum floor. You sit entirely frozen in your chair, staring at the blank laptop screen. You picked up on the bite in her words; you aren't stupid. You know she was throwing passive-aggressive shade. But instead of dismissing it as the petty jealousy of a rival student, you can't help but let the words sink into your skin. You don't dig into it immediately; you don't want to admit that she got to you. But as you open your laptop again and stare at the blinking cursor, Serena's voice echoes in your head, loud and clear, drowning out every original thought you had left: He doesn't expect you to match his pace.

The university’s Arts and Culture Alliance mixer is held in a historic courtyard on campus, illuminated by heavy iron lanterns and the warm glow of string lights woven through old ivy. It’s a joint gathering between a few departments and societies, an attempt to foster interdisciplinary collaboration. The air is alive with the chatter of students, the clinking of glasses filled with cheap wine, and the soft strains of a student jazz quartet playing in the corner.

For the first hour, everything is wonderful. Jungkook is by your side, his hand firmly locked with yours, completely ignoring the various law professors and senior debaters who keep trying to pull him into serious conversations. He is completely, utterly focused on you.

"Look at this," he whispers, leaning down to show you a small, terribly drawn caricature of his constitutional law professor he had sketched on a napkin while someone was giving an opening toast. "If I fail my finals, I’m joining the fine arts department. What do you think?"

You let out a genuine, bright laugh, the tension in your shoulders melting away. "It’s terrible, Kook. Truly. Please stick to the law. For the sake of visual arts everywhere."

"Harsh," he pouts, wrinkling his nose in that sweet way that completely contradicts his intimidating campus reputation. He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder, entirely unbothered by the hundreds of people around them. "But I'll do whatever you say. You’re the boss."

You turn your head to kiss his cheek, a warm, fluttering feeling blooming in your chest. In moments like this, when his warmth is physical, and his laughter is loud in your ear, the doubts feel small. They feel like distant shadows.

"Jeon!"

The loud, commanding voice breaks your bubble. A senior professor from the Faculty of Law, a notoriously stern man who rarely speaks to undergraduates, is standing a few yards away, gesturing sharply for Jungkook to come over. Next to him stands a prominent local judge who had acted as an alumnus guest for the debate tournament.

Jungkook sighs, his grip on your waist loosening with visible reluctance. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with an apologetic, frustrated expression. "I’m sorry, sweetheart. Professor Kang has been trying to corner me all week about an internship placement. I need to quickly greet the judge. Will you be okay for five minutes?"

"Of course," you say, offering a reassuring smile. "Go. It’s important. I'll just grab another cider and wait by the fountain."

"I'll be right back. Five minutes, I promise," he says, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your lips before turning and walking away, his posture instantly shifting into that confident, professional demeanour as he approaches the elders.

You watch him go, your smile slowly fading as the cold night air fills the space he left behind. You walk over to the refreshment table, pouring yourself a plastic cup of cider, feeling suddenly very exposed without his large frame shielding you from the crowd.

"Left all alone so soon?"

You don't even need to turn around to know who it is. The voice is smooth, sweet, and entirely toxic.

Serena steps up beside you, holding a glass of white wine. She is dressed in an elegant silk blouse that perfectly matches the sophisticated atmosphere of the faculty guests. She looks down at your casual denim jacket, her expression one of gentle, masking pity.

"He’s just networking," you say, keeping your voice steady as you take a sip of your drink. "It’s part of his career."

"Oh, I know," Serena says, leaning against the table, her eyes tracking Jungkook across the courtyard. He is currently bowing politely to the judge, speaking with an elegant, mature eloquence that has both older men smiling in deep approval. "Jungkook’s a natural. He fits into that world seamlessly. It’s just a shame he has to constantly worry about leaving you behind in the corners while he does it."

Your grip tightens around the plastic cup, the plastic crinkling slightly under your fingers. "He doesn't worry about that."

"Are you sure?" Serena turns her head to look at you, her eyes sharp and predatory beneath her soft makeup. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks exhausting. He has to balance a high-profile academic career, a massive future in the legal field, and a girlfriend who looks like a lost freshman every time he steps away for five minutes."

She takes a slow sip of her wine, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial, whisper-soft tone that makes it sound like she’s sharing a painful truth for your own good. "Don't get me wrong, Y/N. It’s sweet that he loves you. But look at him over there. He belongs with the best. He needs someone who can stand beside him at these dinners, someone who can converse with judges and partners, someone who understands the weight of his world. Instead, he spends half his time checking his phone to make sure you aren't having an anxiety attack in the library. It’s... a bit of a burden, don't you think? You’re keeping him tethered to the ground when he could be soaring. I’m not saying it’s your fault or anything, but you do want what’s best for him… right?"

The words hit you like a series of physical blows to the chest. A burden. Keeping him tethered to the ground.

Your breath stutters. You want to snap back, you want to use the sharp, biting literature-major wit that usually protects you, but the terrifying truth is that her words align too perfectly with what you've been thinking this whole time. She isn't planting a new seed anymore; she’s watering a plant that has been growing in the dark corners of your mind for eighteen months.

Before you can force a response, a heavy, warm hand settles on the small of your back.

"Sorry I took so long," Jungkook’s voice cuts through the freezing air. He steps into your space, his presence an immediate shield. He nods politely to Serena, his tone completely professional but distinctly cool. "Serena. I didn't know you were over here."

"Just keeping your lovely girlfriend company," she says, her toxic edge vanishing instantly, replaced by a bright, friendly colleague smile. "We were just talking about how wonderful your debate performance was. I mean, it’s you, you’re always amazing.” He shyly chuckles at this, “Anyway, I should go greet Professor Lewis. See you both around."

She glides away, disappearing into the crowd of law students.

Jungkook immediately turns all his attention back to you, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his brows furrowed with deep concern. "Hey. Are you okay? Your hands are freezing, and you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did something happen? Did she say something to you?"

"No," you lie, your voice sounding small, distant, and hollow even to your own ears. You force a bright, synthetic smile onto your face, looking up at his perfect features. "No, she was just being nice. I’m just... the cold is hitting me, that’s all."

Jungkook doesn't look entirely convinced, his dark eyes searching yours with that desperate, analytical intensity, but he accepts the excuse, pulling you tightly against his chest, wrapping his coat around your shoulders. "Let’s go home. Forget the mixer. I’ve had enough of these people anyway. Let’s just go back to my place and lock the door."

You bury your face in his chest, nodding silently. He holds you so tightly, so sweetly, but as you walk out of the courtyard with his arm securely around your waist, you can't shake the freezing, terrifying chill in your bones. You look at his profile in the moonlight, and all you can think is: She’s right. I’m an anchor dragging him down. I’m the burden.

The rain taps a steady, rhythmic cadence against the glass of Jungkook’s bedroom window, blurring the green leaves of the campus trees into watercolour streaks of grey and emerald. Inside, the room is warm, smelling faintly of the cinnamon pastries he had sprinted out in the drizzle to buy you, and the rich, dark aroma of fresh espresso.

You are sitting at his wide oak desk, surrounded by your library books and your heavily annotated copy of Beowulf. Jungkook is sitting on the floor right beside your chair, his long legs stretched out, his back resting against the table leg. He has one hand resting casually on your thigh, his large thumb moving in slow, absentminded strokes over the denim of your jeans as he reads through a massive casebook on property law.

It’s a perfectly domestic afternoon. The kind of effortlessness that used to make your chest ache with pure happiness.

"Hey," Jungkook murmurs, not lifting his eyes from his text. His thumb continues its soothing, rhythmic sweep. "You haven't touched your pastry. It’s gonna get cold."

"I’m just reading, Kook," you say softly, keeping your eyes glued to a paragraph you've re-read three times but still have no idea what it says. "I'll eat it in a minute."

"Mhmm." He lets out a low, rumbling sound of agreement, but a moment later, he closes his heavy textbook with a soft thud. He shifts his weight, rising to his knees so he is suddenly level with you. Before you can blink, his large hands settle on your waist, and with that effortless, terrifying strength you love so much, he lifts you slightly and pulls you right out of the chair and down into his lap on the floor.

You let out a small, startled gasp, your books tumbling slightly onto the desk. "Jungkook!"

He just laughs, a bright sound that echoes warmly against your neck as he wraps his arms tightly around your waist from behind, locking you against his broad chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. "You’ve been staring at that monster book for three hours straight. Look at me instead. I’ve been missing you."

"Jungkook, you're literally sitting right next to me," you giggle, though the sound no longer rings entirely true. It feels a bit hollow, a bit forced.

Inside your chest, the ghost of Serena's words from the mixer is clawing at your lungs. “He spends half his time checking his phone to make sure you aren't having an anxiety attack... You’re keeping him tethered to the ground.”

Jungkook leans forward, pressing a warm, lingering kiss right beneath your ear, his hands sliding up to cover yours, intertwining his long fingers with your smaller ones. "Doesn't matter. If you aren't looking at me, you're too far away." He squeezes your hands, his voice dropping into a soft, reflective register. "You know, sometimes I look at you sitting here in my room, and I think about how lucky I got. I wasted a whole year before I finally found my track and came to this university. If I hadn't taken that gap year, I wouldn't be here with you. The universe actually did something right for once."

He means it as a beautiful, romantic sentiment, a declaration that the timeline of his life aligned perfectly just to give him you.

But your brain, poisoned and hyper-vigilant, takes the beautiful sentiment and warps it into an ugly weapon.

Two years, the voice whispers. He’s two years older than you. That’s two extra years of maturity, of life experience, of academic dominance over you. He is a man who knows exactly who he is, and you are a shaking, insecure second year who can't even handle a single mixer without wanting to run away and smoke.

A sudden, suffocating wave of claustrophobia hits you. The warmth of his chest against your back suddenly feels less like a sanctuary and more like a beautifully constructed cage. The weight of his arms around your waist feels heavy, heavy with the burden you are convinced you are forcing him to carry.

Jungkook breathes out a soft sigh, leaning down to capture your lips in a slow, sweet kiss. His lips are warm, soft, and taste faintly of the espresso he drank. It’s a kiss that demands nothing and offers everything.

But for the first time in eighteen months, you don't kiss him back with the same intensity. Your lips remain slightly stiff under his.

And then, you do it. You plant the very first seed of the distance that will eventually tear him apart.

You gently but firmly place your hands against his forearms, breaking the embrace. You slide off his lap, shifting back onto the hard hardwood floor, creating a deliberate foot of empty space between your bodies.

Jungkook blinks, his dark eyes widening in immediate, subtle surprise. His arms hover in the empty air for a split second before dropping to his thighs. "Y/N?"

"Sorry," you force a light, breezy tone out of your throat, avoiding his gaze by reaching up to shuffle the papers on the desk. "My... my leg was falling asleep. And I really need to finish this section before the library closes its digital archives for maintenance at four."

"Oh," Jungkook says softly. The word is tiny, carrying a faint, barely perceptible note of confusion and rejection. He looks at your profile, his sharp, analytical mind trying to calculate the sudden shift in your energy, but you keep your expression entirely neutral, buried in your notes. Finally, he offers a small, understanding smile and gently pats your knee. "Right. Sorry. Go ahead. I'll let you focus."

He pulls his casebook back toward himself, but he doesn't open it immediately. He sits quietly for a long moment, staring at his hands, a tiny, faint crease appearing between his brows.

Later that afternoon, after you have gathered your things and, despite his fierce protests, insist on walking back to your dorm alone because you "need the fresh air to clear your head," your phone buzzes four times in your pocket.

You pull it out as you cross the rainy quad.

Jungkook [15:42]: Text me the second you get to your room, sweetheart. Jungkook [15:42]: Miss you already :( Jungkook [15:43]: Eat the pastry I packed in your bag Jungkook [14:44]: Love you

Usually, you would reply instantly, sending a flurry of hearts and sweet messages back. But today, you stare at the glowing screen, Serena's voice ringing like tinnitus in your ears: “a burden.”

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. Your chest aches with a dull, throbbing agony. Slowly, deliberately, you press the lock button on the side of your phone, darkening the screen. You slide it deep into your pocket, leaving the notification unanswered, letting the silence begin its quiet, violent work.

The go-to campus fried chicken place is loud, greasy, and packed with students seeking a reprieve from the weekend midterms. You sit at a long wooden table in the corner, surrounded by a large group. It’s a rare, massive gathering, you, your two closest friends from the Literature faculty, Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin, and, unfortunately, Serena, who had tagged along with Taehyung after a student council meeting.

The atmosphere is boisterous. Plates of spicy chicken and pitchers of draft beer cover the table. Jungkook is sitting next to you, his thigh pressed firmly against yours under the table, his hand occasionally dropping to squeeze your knee. He is currently engaged in a loud, passionate debate with Taehyung about a soccer match, his laughter booming across the table.

You try to participate, but your energy is entirely drained. You sit quietly, picking at a piece of radish, your eyes drifting across the table.

That’s when you notice it.

Serena is sitting diagonally from Jungkook. She isn't eating. She is leaning her chin on her palm, her eyes completely fixed on Jungkook’s face. She tracks every movement of his lips, every toss of his head when he laughs, her gaze filled with a quiet, intense longing that is impossible to mistake. It’s a look of profound, massive infatuation.

You feel a strange, dull ache in your chest. You don't feel immediate anger or jealousy; you just feel a profound sense of exhaustion. You look at her, brilliant, beautiful, sitting comfortably in Jungkook’s social circle, and then you look at yourself, hiding in his shadow.

A few minutes later, Jungkook stands up, excused by Jimin to go line up at the counter for another pitcher of beer. Taehyung accompanies him, leaving the rest of the table chatty. Your two literature friends get pulled into a deep conversation with Jimin about an upcoming campus festival, effectively isolating you and Serena on one side of the table.

Serena shifts, leaning closer to you over the restaurant's noisy chatter. She looks at your quiet demeanour, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

"You're very quiet tonight, Y/N," she says softly, her voice carrying that smooth, comforting older-sister cadence she always uses when she’s about to drop poison. "Still stressed about those essays?"

"Just tired," you say flatly, keeping your eyes on your cup.

She sighs, a soft, sympathetic sound. She looks over at the counter where Jungkook is standing, his broad back to the room, laughing as he ribs Taehyung. "It must be hard. Maintaining a relationship with someone like him when you’re dealing with your own insecurities."

You flinch slightly, your eyes snapping up to meet hers. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, don't be defensive," Serena says smoothly, waving her hand dismissively. "I’m actually just feeling a bit sorry for you. I know how it feels. I had a boyfriend exactly like Jungkook during my first year. Brilliant, popular, excelled at everything. He was my first serious boyfriend, too, just like Jungkook is yours, right?"

You don't answer, but the silence confirms it.

"Yeah, I thought so," she murmurs, her eyes darkening with a faux-nostalgic sadness. "Let me tell you a story, Y/N. From someone who has been exactly where you are. I used to think that as long as we loved each other, everything was fine. But the truth is... men are men at the end of the day. Especially guys like Jungkook. They have... needs. Physical needs, emotional needs, a need for a partner who, you know, can match their intensity. And when they’re with someone who’s constantly stressed, inexperienced, and hiding away... those needs get suppressed. They don't go anywhere; they just get bottled up."

She leans closer, her voice dropping into a sharp, venomous whisper that slices through the restaurant's loud music. "My ex used to act perfectly sweet to my face, just like Jungkook does. But behind closed doors? When he was out with his guy friends, drinking and letting off steam? He would complain constantly. He’d vent about how suffocated he felt, how he felt like he was babysitting an insecure little girl instead of having a real girlfriend, how he felt tied down by my guilt. It broke my heart, but it was the truth. High-achieving men will always resent the anchors that keep them from flying."

She tilts her head, her eyes boring into your pale face. "Look at him, Y/N. He’s twenty-three, a law star, a literal god on this campus. Do you honestly think he doesn't vent to Taehyung or Jimin when you shut down and fake being tired? Do you honestly believe he doesn't feel the weight of you? He’s just too polite, too loyal to say it to your face. But it’s rotting him from the inside out."

She doesn't stop there. "And I mean, you also deserve someone on your level. Think about how freeing it will be when you don't have to constantly catch up to someone."

The restaurant around you completely vanishes. The laughter, the clinking glasses, the smell of food, all of it dissolves into a cold, endless void. Serena's words wrap around your throat like a chokehold.

He complains about you to his friends. He feels suffocated. He feels tied down by your guilt.

Your chest heaves, a sudden, violent wave of nausea hitting you. You look over at the counter. Jungkook is walking back, holding a pitcher of beer, a massive, bright smile lighting up his face the moment his eyes find yours. He looks so pure, so incredibly perfect. But as he sits down beside you, his warm hand instantly finding your thigh, Serena's words echo like a death knell in your mind.

He’s just too polite to say it to your face.

You pull away from his touch just an inch, a subtle movement under the table, your entire body trembling with a sudden, catastrophic influx of self-doubt. You cannot help but overthink. Every laugh he shared with Taehyung tonight, every private whisper with Jimin, did it involve your failure? Were they pitying him? You look down at your lap, completely consumed by the quiet, violent rot of your own mind.

The silence of Jungkook’s apartment is thick, heavy, and dark. The only illumination comes from the faint amber glow of the city lights filtering through the large window, casting long, dramatic shadows across the hardwood floor.

You are sitting on the edge of his bed, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. Jungkook is standing directly in front of you. He has already discarded his jacket and blazer; his white button-down shirt is half-unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the intricate ink sprawling up his right arm.

He steps closer, his large hands coming up to gently cup your cheeks. His gaze is intense, dark, and heavy with a year and a half of unyielding devotion. "You’ve been so quiet all night," he whispers, his thumb tracing the sharp line of your cheekbone. "Talk to me. What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

"Nothing," you whisper, the lie tasting like ash on your tongue. "Just... tired."

"Let me fix it," he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, breathless register. He leans down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is completely different from his usual gentle morning greetings. This is the kiss of a man who is deeply, passionately in love, intense, hungry, and heavily possessive.

He slides his hands from your face down to your shoulders, pushing the denim jacket off your arms until it drops to the floor. His lips leave yours, tracing a burning path down the column of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. His large hands slide down to your waist, his grip tightening, pulling your body flush against his until there is absolutely no space left between you.

It’s how you usually make out, intense, passionate, a private language built over several months. His hands slide under the hem of your shirt, his fingers warm against the bare skin of your waist, his kisses becoming deeper, more desperate, as if he is trying to physically pull you into his soul to keep you from drifting away.

He loves you. You know he loves you. You want to match him- god, you want to melt into him and forget the entire world.

But suddenly, Serena's phantom voice explodes in your mind.

“Men have needs. You’re inexperienced. He complains about how suffocated he feels. You’re an anchor.”

The words flash like neon lights behind your closed eyelids. You freeze. Your hands, which had been tangled in the fabric of his shirt, go completely rigid. A sudden, terrifying wave of inadequacy floods your veins. You look at Jungkook, so beautiful, so experienced, so effortlessly perfect, and you look at yourself, a broken, trembling mess of secrets and lies. You feel entirely inadequate, a plain background character trying to play a role she isn't qualified for. If you give in, if you try to meet his needs, you’ll just fail. You’ll be awkward, clumsy, and a disappointment. He deserves a woman, not a struggling, insecure girl.

You panic.

You place your palms flat against his chest and push. It’s a sudden, frantic movement.

Jungkook jolts, his body resisting for a fraction of a second because his grip around your waist is so naturally strong, but the moment he registers your resistance, he instantly pulls back. He steps away, his chest heaving, his lips flushed red, his dark eyes wide with immediate confusion and alarm.

"Y/N?" his voice is breathless, slightly raspy. "What’s wrong? Did I... did I hurt you?"

"No," you choke out, wrapping your arms tightly around your own torso, shielding yourself from his gaze. You can't look him in the eye. The guilt is suffocating. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. I’m just... I’m just really tired, Jungkook. My head hurts. I can't tonight."

It’s a blatant, terrible fake. Your voice is shaking, and your eyes are wild with unshed tears.

Jungkook stares at you for a long, agonising moment. You wait for the flash of hurt, frustration, annoyance, anger, even. But it doesn't come. Instead, you're met with overwhelming sweetness. The alarm in his eyes melts into a look of profound, gentle care. And for some reason you can't put into words, that hurts more.

"Hey," he says softly, stepping back to the edge of the bed and sitting down beside you. He doesn't try to touch your waist again; instead, he gently reaches out and captures your hand, his large fingers intertwining with yours, squeezing softly. "Don't look like that. You don't ever have to apologise. You don't owe me anything, Y/N."

He leans over, pressing a soft, lingering, profoundly sweet kiss to your temple. "Don't worry about it, okay? Come here."

He shifts, pulling the heavy duvet back and guiding your body down until you are lying against his chest. He wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you securely into his warmth, his chin resting on the top of your head. He reaches over to grab the remote, turning on a random movie at a low volume, his hand coming down to stroke your hair in a slow, rhythmic, soothing pattern.

He is being perfect. He is being the most understanding, loving, incredible boyfriend anyone could ask for.

And it makes you feel a hundred times worse.

As you lie there against the steady, calm heartbeat in his chest, staring blankly at the television screen, tears fill your eyes, but you will not let them fall. You can't burden him with this, too.

Every sweet stroke of his hand through your hair feels like a hot iron against your skin. You are a parasite. You are starving him of the intimacy he deserves, forcing him to suppress his needs because you are too broken to handle his love. The overthinking morphs into a monstrous, absolute certainty: He is going to leave you. And he should.

The humanities square is bathed in the harsh, blinding sunlight of a Tuesday afternoon, but your world has gone entirely grey.

You are walking back from a meeting with your academic advisor, a meeting where she gently informed you that your latest essay draft lacked its usual depth, a polite way of saying you were failing to meet your potential. Your fingers are shoved deep into your pockets, your head low, your throat burning with the desperate craving for a cigarette.

You turn the corner by the law faculty building, intending to take the long cut back to your dorm, when your boots freeze against the concrete.

There, on the wide stone steps of the law school, are Jungkook and Serena.

They are standing close together under the shade of a large oak tree. Serena is holding a folder of debate briefs, pointing to something on a page, her face bright and animated. Jungkook is looking down at the paper, a wide, genuine, beautiful laugh breaking across his face. He says something, tossing his head back, and Serena joins in the laughter, her hand lightly, casually touching his forearm for a brief, familiar second.

They look perfect. They look like a matching set. Two star students, two impeccable minds, standing together in the sunlight where they belong.

The sight hits you like a physical car crash. Every single word Serena had ever whispered to you: “He complains about you... he feels suffocated... he belongs with the elite” just solidifies into a concrete, absolute reality. Your brain goes into a catastrophic, violent overdrive of overthinking. You don't see a boyfriend sharing a casual academic laugh with a colleague; you see a man finding the joy, the intellect, and the compatibility that you have been starving him of for months. You see the inevitable future unfolding right in front of your eyes.

A sudden, violent wave of panic claws at your throat. You stumble backwards, turning on your heel, and sprint away before they can look up and see you standing there like a pathetic ghost.

The next five days are an agonising blur of isolation and self-destruction.

The panic inside you grows into a living, breathing monster. You begin to actively, systematically distance yourself from Jungkook. When he texts you in the morning, you wait three hours to reply, claiming you are trapped in a mandatory library workshop. When he shows up outside your lecture hall, you slip out through the back fire exit and hide in the basement bathrooms until his tall frame disappears from the square. You invent a never-ending cycle of group projects, late-night research seminars, and sudden academic emergencies just to avoid being in his presence. You push him away with a frantic, desperate intensity, convinced that if you don't cut the cord yourself, the pain of him doing it will kill you.

And your coping mechanism escalates.

The crumpled packs of cigarettes are no longer enough to numb the roaring, deafening noise of your inferiority complex. The simple tobacco doesn't quiet the thoughts anymore. You slip out to a shady alleyway behind the off-campus convenience store, purchasing a small plastic bag of joints from a computer science senior who smuggles them in.

Every night, when the clock strikes twelve, you lock yourself on the high fire escape of your building. Your hands shake to the point where you can barely spark the lighter. You press the rolled joint to your lips and inhale deeply, the heavy, pungent smoke filling your lungs, dragging the THC into your bloodstream. You smoke until your eyes burn red, until your chest feels like it’s on fire, until your brain finally, mercifully goes completely numb, allowing you to slump against the cold brick wall and forget, for just an hour, that you are the worst thing to ever happen to Jeon Jungkook.

From the moment the clock strikes midnight on the seventh day of the silence, the world shifts into a stark, cold reality. Jungkook stares at his phone screen, the bright light illuminating the deep circles beneath his eyes.

He is sitting on the floor of his living room, his back against the sofa, surrounded by legal briefs he hasn't read in days. His hair is unwashed, messy, falling into his eyes, and his crisp white shirt is wrinkled and unbuttoned. He looks entirely unravelled. The star law student, the golden boy of the university, has completely vanished, replaced by a man who looks as though he is physically starving.

He scrolls through the text thread.

“Still at the library, Kook. Group project is running late. Don't wait up.” “Got a big seminar tomorrow, going to sleep early. See you.” “Too much reading to do today, sorry. Have lunch without me.”

Cold, polite, distant sentences. For a week, you have been a ghost. He has shown up at your faculty building, stood outside your lecture halls, called your phone until his battery died, only to be met with a brick wall of vague excuses.

Jungkook lets out a ragged, shallow breath, his chest tightening until it feels like his ribs are going to crack. A terrifying, clawing panic has been living in his throat for seven days. He doesn't understand. He has spent every second of the last week replaying every moment of the last year and a half in his head, going over what he did wrong. Did he push too hard during that last kiss? Did he make you feel uncomfortable? Did he say something to you that he can't remember? Did someone else say something? Did someone hurt you? Are you bored with him? Do you not love him anymore?

The thoughts are torture. To Jungkook, you aren't just a girlfriend; you're his anchor. The quiet, beautiful sanctuary he runs to when the pressure of being "perfect" for the rest of the world threatens to crush him. You are the only person who looks at him and sees Jungkook, not the golden boy. And now you are drifting away, pulling up the anchor, leaving him to drown in a stormy, empty ocean.

"I can't do this anymore," he whispers to the empty room, his voice cracking, thick with an unshed, agonising grief.

He stands up, his movements sudden, frantic, and entirely desperate. He doesn't grab a coat, he doesn't care that it’s raining outside, he doesn't care that it’s nearly one in the morning. He grabs his keys and storms out of his dorm, his heart hammering a violent, terrifying rhythm against his ribs. He is going to you. He is going to force his way into your space. He doesn't care if you hate him for it. He cannot survive another hour of this silence.

The heavy door of your dorm room doesn't just rattle; it shakes on its hinges under the force of the sudden, aggressive pounding.

You bolt upright on your small bed, your heart leaping into your throat. You are wrapped in a faded blanket, your eyes heavy and dilated from the joint you finished just twenty minutes ago, the room still faintly smelling of a heavy, herbal sweetness you tried to clear by cracking the window.

"Y/N! Open the door!"

The voice through the wood is a raw, ragged shout. It’s Jungkook. But it doesn't sound like him; it sounds like a man who is being torn apart alive.

Before you can even move, the handle rattles violently, and because the cheap dorm lock tends to slip under enough pressure (and you always forget to add that additional lock Jungkook talks about), the door bursts inward with a loud, echoing slam.

Jungkook stumbles into your room.

You gasp, backing up against your headboard, your eyes widening. He looks entirely unravelled. His clothes are damp from the rain; his dark hair plastered to his forehead. His face is pale, his lips are trembling, and his eyes are violently bloodshot, wide with a frantic, wild look that terrifies you. His breath comes in short, shallow, ragged gasps, his broad chest heaving as if he had run a marathon just to reach your door. He looks physically, visibly terrified.

"J-Jungkook?" your voice cracks, small and trembling.

He slams the door shut behind him and closes the distance between you in two massive strides. He drops to his knees right at the edge of your mattress, his large hands reaching out to grab your hands with a grip that is unyielding, desperate, and trembling violently.

"Please, Y/N. Why are you doing this to me?" he cries out, the sound a raw, agonising sob that tears from his throat. Tears are streaming openly down his face, hot and rapid, carving tracks through the dampness of his skin. He drops his head to rest on his hands, which are enveloping yours. "What did I do? Please, Y/N, tell me what I did wrong! Did I hurt you? Am I not enough? D-do you... Do you not love me anymore? Are you breaking up with me?"

His voice cracks on the last few words, a pathetic, broken sound. He is begging. The perfect boy everyone loves is on his knees at your feet, completely shattered, weeping like a child because he thinks he has lost you.

"No, Jungkook, no-" you try to speak, your own tears spilling over instantly, but your voice is choked by the sheer, overwhelming weight of the scene.

Jungkook lifts his head, his wild, frantic eyes scan your face, searching for answers, but as he pulls closer, his head jerks to the side. His gaze lands directly on your small bedside table.

There, sitting out in the open, is a heavy ceramic ashtray. It is packed to the brim with crumpled cigarette butts and the unmistakable, charred remains of two half-smoked joints.

The room is silent save for his shallow, ragged breathing. Jungkook freezes. The world seems to stop spinning. He stares at the ashtray for a long, painful five seconds, his expression shifting from terror into a look of profound, absolute confusion and betrayal.

He slowly lifts his eyes back to yours, his voice dropping into a hollow, trembling whisper. "What... what is that?"

You can't breathe. The guilt collapses on top of you like a fallen building. "Jungkook..."

"You said you quit," he whispers, a fresh wave of tears spilling from his bloodshot eyes. He lets go of your hands, rocking back to rest on his heels, placing a little distance between the two of you. His hands shake as he gestures to the ashtray. "We made a pact that night. I stayed clean because... because I wanted to be better for you. And you’ve been... you’ve been hiding this? You’ve been smoking this entire time? Behind my back? Lying to me?"

"I’m sorry," you sob, going to reach for him, to ground yourself. "I’m sorry, Jungkook, I’m so sorry-"

"Why?!" he suddenly screams. It’s a loud, messy roar that bounces off the small concrete walls of your room. He stands up, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, his hands gripping his hair. "Why would you lie to me about this? Why did you shut me out for a whole week because of this? You think I care about the cigarettes? I don’t.” He pauses. “Do you know what I’ve been thinking for seven days? I thought you hated me! I thought I did something terrible to you! I’ve been losing my fucking mind!"

The dam inside you finally, catastrophically breaks. The months of suppressed agony, the poison whispered by Serena, the choking weight of your own inferiority complex, all of it explodes out of your throat in a raw, defensive scream.

"Because I’m a burden to you, Jungkook!" you shriek, standing up on the bed, looking down at him with a face distorted by tears and raw, ugly agony. "I hide it because I’m drowning! I smoke because it’s the only thing that stops my brain from screaming at me about how much I don't deserve you! Look at you! You’re perfect! You excel at everything: law, sports, music, theatre. Everyone on this campus looks at you like a god! And look at me! I’m a plain, failing literature major who can't even string a coherent essay together without having a panic attack!"

Jungkook stops pacing, his hands dropping to his sides, his eyes wide with utter shock as he stares at you.

"I’m dragging you down!" you scream, the words tearing your throat raw. "You spend half your time babysitting my insecurities, checking your phone to make sure your pathetic girlfriend hasn't collapsed in a corner, when you should be soaring! You have physical needs, emotional needs, a life that belongs at the top, and I’m keeping them suppressed because I’m too inexperienced, too broken, too much of a little girl to match your pace! You’re just too polite and too loyal to admit it to my face, but you must be so suffocated! You probably vent to Taehyung and Jimin about how tied down you feel by my guilt! You should just be with someone on your level! You should just be with Serena! She matches you! She belongs in your world! I don't!"

The room goes dead, terrifyingly silent. Your breathing is a harsh, ragged wheeze, your chest heaving, your face soaked in tears as you stand there, entirely exposed, having finally laid bare the entire ugly, rotting interior of your soul.

Jungkook doesn't speak. For a few seconds, which feels like hours, he just stands there. His face goes completely blank, his eyes darkening into an expression of sheer, unadulterated, dangerous snap.

He snaps.

In a fraction of a second, he closes the distance. He reaches up, his large, incredibly strong hands wrapping around your waist, and physically rips you off the mattress, slamming your back against the hard concrete wall of the dorm room.

You let out a sharp gasp, but before the air can even leave your lungs, Jungkook crashes his mouth down onto yours.

It is not a sweet kiss. It is a violent, breathless, completely desperate collision. He kisses you with an intense, terrifying fury, his lips crushing yours until you can barely breathe. It is a kiss meant to completely obliterate your words, to silence the catastrophic doubts in your head by sheer physical force. You try to push him away, your hands coming up to hit his shoulders, but Jungkook is too strong, his broad chest pressing firmly against yours, pinning you to the wall, his arms locking around you like iron bands. He consumes you, tasting like rain and raw passion, refusing to let you go until your resistance melts away and you are forced to cling to his neck just to stay upright.

He pulls back just a millimetre, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in hot, ragged gasps against your lips. His grip on your waist is so tight it almost bruises.

"Don't you dare," he whispers, his voice a low, terrifyingly angry register that vibrates against your teeth. "Don't you ever say that to me again. I am so fucking angry at you right now, Y/N. I’m furious."

Tears are still spilling from his eyes, burning against your skin. "You let some petty bitch like Serena plant those disgusting lies in your head? You listened to her instead of looking at me? You honestly thought I was complaining about you? You thought I wanted perfection?!"

His voice breaks, the anger instantly melting away, replaced by a profound intimacy that rolls between your bodies like a wave. His grip on your waist softens, his large hands shifting to cup your face with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

"I don't give a shit about the law faculty," he chokes out, his thumbs wiping the fresh tears from your cheeks. "I don't give a shit about the professors, or the judges, or being perfect. Do you want to know why I try so hard at everything, Y/N? Do you want to know why I sprint through my life? Because I am so terrified that I’m not enough for you. Because you are the most brilliant, beautiful soul I have ever met. Every time you talk about literature, every time you look at the world with those kind eyes, I feel like a stupid, clumsy caveman trying to understand a star. I don't want someone on my level. I want you."

He lets out a long, broken sob, and suddenly, his strength leaves him.

Jungkook falls to his knees.

He slides down your body until he is kneeling on the cold floor at your feet. He wraps his long, strong arms tightly around your waist, burying his face completely into the soft fabric of your sweater at your stomach. He clings to you as if he were a shipwrecked sailor holding onto the last piece of timber in a storm. His entire frame shudders with violent, heavy sobs.

"Please," he begs, his voice cracking, entirely muffled against your stomach, sounding small, raw, and utterly desperate. "Please, Y/N... never cut me off like that again. Don't ever hide from me. If you’re drowning, let me drown with you. If you need to smoke, let me hold the lighter for you. Just don't shut the door on me. I can't survive a world where I can't see you."

He holds your waist tighter, his face burying deeper into your skin. "All you have to do is talk to me when times get tough. I don't want perfection. I don't want a trophy girlfriend. I just want my Y/N. I just want you."

You stand there, frozen against the wall, looking down at the back of his dark, damp hair, his broad shoulders shaking with his love for you. The toxic, jagged mirror Serena had built shatters into a million harmless pieces, dissolved by the raw, unyielding reality of his obsession. You slowly slide down the wall so you're directly in front of him. You bring your hands up to cup his face. You wipe a few of the tears from his cheeks and lean into him. He immediately accepts you, wrapping his own arms around you, one holding your head to him, the other around your lower back. He holds you tight. Like he's scared to let go.

"We do this together." He mumbles into your hair. "Okay?" He whispers.

You nod. Lifting your head to meet him with another kiss. One that speaks far more than words ever could.

@willowpains @hellomate1234 @starlight-1010 @knhlotus @thefireintheshadow

[jennaort3ga]

This actually made me want to scream like 4 times it’s so cute and romantic HELP

[cupidsbling]

Best mistake | J. JK

Being the heirs of rival mafia families means that you and Jungkook are supposed to be sworn enemies. Yet, as much as you claim to hate each other – deep down, you both know that the feeling is so much more than that. A feeling you both act oblivious to and bury under a haze of lust.

genre – enemies to lovers au, smut, denial,angst¿.

pairing – jungkook x fem reader.

warnings – explicit language, smut, pussy-whipped possessive jk, jk & oc bicker a lot, fingering, rough fucking (oc likes it rough), oc is very vocal (jk LOVES it) , mentions of creampie, spanking, oral (both receiving), titty worship, jk praises oc, squirting, okay basically they're obsessed with fucking eo. etc.

wc – 14k+

you're currently sitting in one of the most grand and luxurious ballrooms in the city. tonight is supposed to be something neutral - a friendly ceremony. one of those where every major family in the underworld pretended civility for a few hours before going back to fortresses to plan their next betrayals.

the jeon family is occupying the left side of tables, whereas your family is occupying the right - as far away from each other as possible. your father is standing near the bar, looking every bit the rich, powerful and dangerous mafia, he is, while glaring at his rival - the head of the jeon family, jungkook's father. who, in return, stares back at him with the same cold, hateful look.

they hate each other so much. if there's a feeling stronger than that, then that is exactly what they feel for each other.

your eyes continue to roam around the room until they find jungkook. he's leaning against a pillar near his family's side, looking so fuckable in that tailored suit he's wearing, with the first few buttons left open, giving you a glimpse of his chest and the ink on his shoulder. his hair is a bit longer than the last time you ran your fingers through it, which you're thankful for because it looks even better than it usually does. 

he looks bored until his eyes find yours. you hate how your heart stutters at the eye contact. it's been three weeks since he last had you pinned against his office desk, three weeks since he had you whimpering beneath him, three weeks since he fucked the living daylights out of you.

you tear your gaze away first, accepting champagne from one of the servers who happens to be too scared to even meet your eyes. every few minutes you would catch him staring holes into you, eyeing you. you knew that he'd be here drinking you in and that's exactly why you've decided to wear an elegant gown that's just a little revealing - cut low at the back with a slit running up your thigh. easy access.

after a few minutes of sitting, you decide it's time to slip away for a little while. you excuse yourself and no one questions it. heirs disappear all the time, whether it's to powder their noses, make discreet calls or converse with family allies, so it's a normal thing to do without getting suspicions.

you walk through the crowd until you reach the long corridor that leads to the private restrooms, inside the women's restroom is pristine and polished. there's a massive mirror stretched across the wall above the vanity. you set your bag down and study your reflection. you look perfect, but still, you tuck a small strand of hair behind your ear and adjust your hair - not because you need to, but because you know that he'll be here soon.

and right on cue, the door opens slowly, closes once he's inside and locks. instead of turning to face him, you watch him in the mirror. he leans against the wall with his arms crossed and head tilted, watching you watch yourself.

"still primping?" his voice is rough and a little mocking. "thought you'd at least pretend that you weren't waiting for me."

you roll your eyes at him. "thought you'd at least pretend that you aren't desperate enough to follow me into the bathroom like some horny teenager."

he huffs out a laugh. "three weeks is a long time, princess."

"don't call me that."

"why not?" he pushes off the wall and approaches you slowly. "you know you love it when i call you that."

"i love a lot of things you do with your mouth. talking isn't one of them."

he stops directly behind you, his hands settling on the vanity on either side of you, caging you in without touching you. his scent fills your lungs, something that isn't too strong, but still expensive, that signature smell of his that's grown to give you some kind of comfort you're unable to explain.

"look at you," he murmurs. "all dressed up, standing there and trying to convince yourself you hate me."

"i do hate you."

"yeah?" his lips brush your earlobe. "then why're you shaking? nervous?"

you scoff before speaking. "because i'm imagining all the ways i can kill you."

he chuckles against your skin. "liar."

your breath hitches when you feel one of his hands sliding up one of your thighs, under the slit of your dress, until he finds your core and cups it over your underwear. his palm rests there, making you suck in a breath.

"i missed you," he says quietly,

your eyes snap to his in the mirror. he doesn't have that cocky look on his face. his eyes roam your body with that hunger that makes you feel weak.

"three weeks," he repeats. "way too fucking long."

his lips find the side of your neck.

"don't." you warn.

"don't what?" he leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. "don't tell you the truth? or don't do this?"

"both." you breathe out.

"too late," 

his other hand goes up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging it back so your head is leaning on his shoulder. in the mirror you watch your reflection, noticing how your lips part and eyes darken.

"look at us," he rasps against your throat. "look how fucking perfect you look with my hands on you."

you try to glare at him, but unfortunately your eyes look more pleading than anything.

"shut up, jeon."

"why don't you make me?"

you gasp in his mouth when he suddenly kisses you roughly and passionately, showing you just how much he's been needing this the past few weeks. you arch back into him without thinking, your ass pressing against his cock through his slacks, making him groan into your mouth.

your hands thread through his hair, angling his head where you want him so you can lick deep into his mouth. he groans again, and rewards you by cupping your core harder, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit causing your hips to buck forward.

"fuck," you gasp into his mouth.

he swallows the sound and kisses you harder while his fingers slip into your underwear. two of them caress your folds, gathering your wetness before circling your clit the way you like. he starts off slow at first then picks up the pace, going faster. you can't help the needy moan that slips out of you and the way your pussy clenches around him.

he breaks the kiss to murmur against your lips. "so wet already. been dreaming about this pussy for three weeks straight.

"oh, shut up," you hiss.

he pushes two fingers inside you until they're knuckles deep. your eyes flutter closed as you let out soft moans of pleasure that become more audible when he starts pumping his fingers inside you deeper. you meet the thrusts of his fingers shamelessly.

"how nice that you're clenching around my fingers in a bathroom while our families are a couple feet away plotting each other's deaths."

again, you try to glare at him but miserably fail when he curls his fingers inside you.

"jeon-"

he pulls his fingers out of you and your eyes open widely at the loss. you whip your head around to glare at him properly now. he just smirks down at you, looking all cocky again. that sight makes you want to slap him and ride him at the same time. 

without breaking eye contact with you, he brings his hand to his mouth and sucks your arousal off his fingers. his tongue swirling around each of them slowly. you stare at him. he's so filthy and you love it.

"asshole," you say.

he ignores your rude comment and spins you back around so fast your hands slap down onto the vanity to steady yourself. you're facing the mirror fully now with him behind you. his eyes locked on yours in the reflection again. he doesn't say anything, he reaches down and unbuckles his belt, opens the buttons of his slacks then pulls down the zipper.

you watch every single thing he does in the mirror. watching as he pulls his pants and boxers down halfway. watching as his hard length springs free. your mouth goes dry (even as you mentally salivate at the sight). he wraps a hand around himself, giving himself a few strokes, from the base up to the tip, spreading his precum with his thumb. he reaches down between your legs again, collects more of your arousal and uses it as lubrication on himself as he keeps stroking his cock. you clench around nothing just watching until he stops touching himself.

with one hand he reaches for the hem of your dress and pulls it up over your hips, bunching it at your hips. the other hand he uses to pull your underwear down, so it pools at your ankles. the cool air hitting your soaked core and the anticipation make you tremble a little. jungkook groans at the sight of you like this -trembling, your ass bare and pussy glistening.

"so fucking pretty." he mutters mostly to himself.

after admiring you for a few more seconds his fingers are on you again rubbing your clit until you twitch and chase the pressure for a short while before he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth again, sucking them clean with a hum of satisfaction.

"you're disgusting." you whisper.

he leans over so his chest presses against your back and talks near your ear.

"don't act like you don't love it."

you want to say something to argue, but he's right. very much right.

he lines himself at your entrance, sliding his tip inside and pulling out, teasing you (and himself)

"jungkook–"

"tell me you want me." he says.

you bite your lip when he sinks in a little deeper, stretching you open.

"say it, princess."

"fuck you." you hiss.

he lets out a little disbelieved scoff. but pushes in slowly, filling you with his large length until he's all the way in, buried to the brim with his hips flush against your ass. you both freeze, eyes locked in the mirror. both of you looking wrecked. jungkook flexes inside of you causing you to whimper. he stays there buried inside you, not moving, just giving you a stern look.

you put your pride aside and whisper, "i want you, jungkook."

"good girl." he murmurs.

he pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in. again and again. his thrusting in and out of you drives you insane. your palms slide against the vanity, fingers curling, wishing you could grip on something instead.

"faster," you demand with a sweet gasp.

he leans down, speaking near your ear. "beg for me."

you lift your head to glare at his reflection. "fuck. you."

he grins, knowing his luck wasn't going to work. he gives you what you want. he increases his pace, fucking you with a rhythm that has you seeing stars. the entire time you try your best not to look away from him. you want to watch him fuck and mark you.

his free hand slides up your back pushing it down so you're arching beautifully, giving him a better and deeper angle. your moans and his groans grow louder as the pleasure builds for both of you.

"you feel too good," he pants. "so tight and wet. you've really been waiting for me, hmm?"

"i wasn't." you lie as your walls flutter around him.

"liar." he growls and punctuates it with a hard thrust.

you cry out from pleasure and a little bit of pain. one of his hands slide down to find your clit, rubbing it circles that match his brutal thrusts.

"jungkook- fuck. don't stop."

"i won't," he says through gritted teeth. "not until you're coming all over my cock."

you whimper and clench hard around him. the sensation causes him to groan loudly.

"f-fuck," he grunts.

you do it again. your walls clamp down on him hard making his thrusts stutter. his hips slam forward one last time, buried in completely before he halts his movements.

"stop," he grits out. "stop clenching me like that, you're gonna make me come too fast."

you let out a breathless, mocking laugh before speaking. "poor baby. can't handle it?"

after registering your words, his hand comes down to deliver a sharp smack to your ass. the sting is delicious and causes you to involuntarily flutter around him again.

"brat," he hisses. "if you want me to fuck you properly then behave."

you force yourself to relax, trying to loosen your muscles even though your body is screaming to pull him deeper, to keep him there inside you where he belongs.

the second you unclench around him, he rewards you but pulling all the way out and slamming back in with a force that has your eyes rolling back.

he sets a perfect pace that makes it impossible for you to stay quiet as much as you can try. sweet loud moans and profanities leave your mouth that is definitely audible to anyone outside; "jungkook– oh God–yes right there! – fuck–"

he curses under his breath before placing his palm over your mouth, muffling your loud, inappropriate sounds before you attract any attention.

"shh. you wanna get us caught? want your father kicking down the door while i'm balls deep in his little princess?"

the image of that terrifies you. it would be an abomination if something like that ever happened. your father has been very vocal about his pure hatred for the jeons, including the one currently giving you one of the best fucks of your life. but still jungkook always feel too good for you to control yourself, so unfortunately you cannot help the whiny, muffled moan that slips out of you.

"fuck's sake."

he slides two fingers past your lips, pushing them deep in your mouth until they hit the back of your tongue.

"suck." he orders. "keep that pretty mouth busy."

you obey without hesitation. wrapping your lips around his fingers and sucking hard, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue the same way you'd done to his cock more times that you could count. thinking of the blowjobs you've given him makes you hum around his fingers, eager to feel him in your mouth again.

"that's it." he rasps. "prettiest sounds i've ever heard."

you whimper around his fingers. his thrusts get harder and deeper, making your toes curl. 

after a few minutes, your pussy starts fluttering around him causing his breath to hitch.

"there it is," he groans and picks up the pace even more. "love when you do that. when your greedy little cunt starts begging for it."

you try to speak, try to beg, but his fingers are still deep in your mouth so all that comes is a desperate, garbled whine.

"come with me. let me feel you." he orders.

after the last thrust, you release with a muffled sob of his name. your pussy spasms and milks him so hard he swears violently under his breath. he follows you right after, burying himself as deep as possible and releases inside you until you feel it leaking out around him, dripping down your thighs. his hand goes up to cup your jaw gently, tilting your face so he can leave a soft kiss on your temple before carefully pulling out. you whimper at the loss, he watches himself leaving you as your combined release drips.

"fuck, that's so hot."

you shake your head despite the heat warming up your cheeks at his words. "we have to get cleaned up, jeon. we've got something to get back to."

he reaches for one of the thick towels from the stack on the counter and wets it under the tap. he kneels behind you. the sight of jeon jungkook on his knees in a tailored suit is definitely something out of your wettest dreams.

he cleans you up, wiping between your thighs. he's so gentle it  surprises you, because some seconds ago he was fucking you like he hated you. once most of the evidence is gone, he looks up at you and leaves the softest kiss to the back of your thigh before standing up again.

"don't get used the princess treatment, yeah?" he murmurs, tossing the towel in the bin. "next time i'm leaving you dripping down your legs."

you roll your eyes at him for the one millionth time. "next time you'll be lucky if i let you touch me at all."

"sure."

he turns his attention to your messy appearance. your dress is a bit creased and still bunched up at your waist. your hair looks - well it looks like you've been thoroughly fucked, which of course you were. your lipstick is smudged and your mascara smeared under your eyes. he steps in close and starts fixing you. neatening your dress, adjusting your dress's straps with his fingertips mistakenly grazing over your breasts.

"careful." you warn.

he hums amused and then moves to your hair, combing it with his fingers and brushing a stray strand behind your ear in a way that seems way too tender for people who are supposed to be enemies.

"there," he says quietly, stepping back to survey his work. "you look almost respectable again."

you turn to face him now. he looks delicious. his hair falls into his eyes, lips swollen from your kisses, his collar wrinkled and he's a little sweaty. he looks like he deserves the best and sloppiest head in the world.

you reach up without thinking, straighten his collar and smooth his shirt. before you can pull away, he catches your wrist and holds it there, near his chest.

"why're you looking at me like that, hmm?" he asks, staring down at you.

"like what?"

"like you want me to take you again. i will if you want me to."

you yank your hand free from his hold. "in your dreams, jeon."

"yeah, almost every night." he shoots back with a smirk.

you ignore his statement, despite the wanted eruption of butterflies you feel in your stomach. jungkook checks his watch with a sigh.

"we've been gone too long already." he says.

"you go first. i'll wait for a while then come out."

he nods before leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. he gives you a little smirk then slips out the door. you give it at least two minutes before exiting the bathroom and slipping back into the hallway.

once you get back to your family's table you take your seat next to your mother, softly wincing at the dull, delicious ache between your legs. your mother turns to you immediately, her eyebrows knitting.

"what took you so long?" she asks while her eyes inspect you. "and your hair... it's a mess. are you alright?"

you force a smile. "i wasn't feeling well. must be the champagne and all the people. i needed a minute to breathe."

she studies you for another few seconds before her face softens. "poor thing. we won't stay much longer, i promise. your father's already been itching to leave anyway."

she reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "you sure you're okay?"

"fine, mom, really."

she squeezes your hair once then turns back to whatever conversation she was having before you came. across the room, you see jungkook at his table again. he's sitting with his legs spread and an arm draped over the back of another chair. he looks so hot, still so fuckable, you wish you had agreed to let him take you again.

a server places a dish in front of him. a large piece of steak with some vegetables on the side. he picks up his fork and knife and digs in as if he hadn't just fucked his sworn enemy senseless in a bathroom minutes ago. 

you've grown to learn that jungkook loves food, he loves eating. loves the way food feels on his tongue, loves the flavours, loves everything about it. but you've also grown to learn that if there's anything he loves to eat more than food - it's you.

you can't help but think about how he devours you like he's a starved man, instead of the rich, cocky bastard he usually is. the way he feasts on you, holding your thighs spread open until you're crying, shaking and begging him to stop but also to keep going.

your whole body heats up traitorously fast. damn jungkook and the stupid effect he has on you.

•───୨୧───•

a week passes by slowly, excruciatingly slow. all because it's been seven days of radio silence between you and jungkook. no messages, no random calls ending with you two having phone sex, no nothing. not that you really expected anything else, that was the deal. fuck and forget and hate each other. except this time you can't find yourself enjoying the last two very much.

you've spent most of the week locked in your own head, isolated in your fortress of an apartment. the one your father spent hundreds of thousands on. another one of the luxuries in your life that's starting to feel like a cage.

your parents love you, you know that, it's unquestionable. but love, in your family comes with terms and conditions. because your mother had complications getting pregnant again, you're an only child. the sole heir, the future of an empire that's built on money and dead bodies. you have a lot of expectations. one day the power will be yours, whether you want it or not.

and of course, you do not want it.

you want something better, something that actually makes you happy, something that's nothing like the obligations you're forced to have. 

you want to write, live in your head and put your wildest thoughts on a piece of paper. you want to express all the thoughts you've never gotten to word into a book - every fantasy you've lived, every fantasy you have yet to live. it's all you ever wanted since you were a little girl.

you've majored in literature at a university your father only tolerated because it was an ivy league and it looked good on paper.

even in your free time, writing feels like the only thing that allows you to be your true self. so when you can, you write. most of the stories you write about one specific person you despise. jungkook. he's such an interesting source of inspiration for you, especially in all of the erotic stories you write. well of course he would be. that man gives you the time of your life every time his dick is buried deep inside you.

But your dreams and ambitions don't really matter. Because at the end of the day, your parents want security, powerful alliances and legacy. And lately whenever you were alone with your parents they started dropping hints.

"Have you ever thought about settling down?" your mother would casually ask.

Your father would nod before adding on. "There are good guys out there. Sons of men we trust. Strong families. It would solidify things."

They didn't name anyone yet, but you knew many of their friends from over the years. They were all powerful, all of them safe for you. All of them so fucking boring you wanted to scream.

You didn't argue with them because you didn't think you had a right to. You have to please your parents no matter what. Even if it means putting your own happiness on the line.

So you spent the next week in your own isolated bubble - writing whatever came to mind, treating yourself to whatever you wanted, ignoring the ache between your legs that could go away if you had Jungkook.

By saturday morning you still weren't feeling too good. Which is why you've decided to text your best friend Megan for a little spa day - which of course, she immediately agreed to.

After the most relaxing day of facials, body scrubs, massages, manicures and pedicures - you and Megan are finally feeling surreal, chilling in a jacuzzi. After a while of silence, Megan turns her head to look at you.

"You've been rather quiet today. What's up?" she asks.

"I'm always quiet."

"Not like this." she nudges your foot under the warm water with her own. "Something's on your mind. I can see you're thinking too hard."

"I'm just tired." you lie.

"bullshit .

You crack one eye open, noticing that she's watching you. Who are you kidding? This is Megan, your best friend of over nineteen years. If something's wrong with you, she'd definitely know.

You let out a defeated sigh. "It's a lot." you admit. "The empire, the expectations

. And there's - the rest of it,"

"The rest of it being your extremely hot, extremely forbidden hate sex situationship with Jeon Jungkook.?"

You groan and give her an annoyed look. "Don't start."

"I'm not starting. I'm just stating facts." she gives you a small smirk. "You two still pretend you hate each other's guts while simultaneously trying to break each others's pelvis everytime there's a gala?"

You glare at her. "I do hate him."

"Mmh."

"I can't stand him."

"Sure."

"He's arrogant, stupid, fucking annoying-"

"That's funny, you say." Megan cuts in. "You light up like a Christmas tree the second his name comes up."

You open your mouth, close it then open it again. "I only need his dick." you force the words out, knowing that they might not be entirely true. "That's it. Hate fuck. No feelings. No complications."

"It's okay to want more than that, you know." she says softly.

"I don't want more. I just want to write. I want to be free. I want to be... happy,"

Megan reaches over and squeezes your shoulder. "It's okay, y/n. You're allowed to want all of that. You shouldn't be forced to do anything you don't want to."

You swallow a little lump forming in your throat. "They think marriage will fix everything and we'll have more power. They haven't said it yet but I can feel it coming."

"So what're you gonna do when they pick someone?" Megan asks softly.''

"Then I guess I'm gonna have to learn to live with it." you let out a bitter laugh.

She doesn't say anything, silence sits between the two of you for a minute before she bumps her shoulder with yours.

"Jungkook's not on that list, is he?"

You grin in disbelief. "Definitely not. My father would sooner shoot him than shake his hand."

"You're not gonna miss him afterwards?"

You don't answer her right away. Because if you had again, it would taste too bitter. Would you miss Jungkook? You're not just scared to admit the truth to Megan, you're afraid to admit the truth to yourself as well. The ugly truth that's been developing for the past few months.

"That doesn't matter."

Megan smiles sadly. "You're gonna be okay."

You lean in closer and lay your head on her shoulder, feeling relieved that you've finally gotten some things off your chest,

•───୨୧───•

Once you get into your apartment, you kick off your shoes by the door and take off your coat, dropping it somewhere. With a loud sigh, you head straight towards the bar cabinet and grab the most expensive wine you have and pour a generous glass.

As you sip on the wine, you think to yourself. You don't want to marry some stranger. Wake up next to someone you know absolutely nothing about. Be with a person whose touch would feel foreign to you. Someone who would be polite with you, instead of the possessiveness you're now used to.

But, at the same time, you don't want to disappoint your parents. Legacy means everything to them, so you're not going to let them down. Even if it means spending the rest of your life being a miserable trophy married to a business partner.

Just as most times when you're feeling stressed or uneasy, your mind wanders off to Jungkook. How addictive his touches are. How rough he can be, yet so gentle. How he fucks you so good, you can't think of anyone else but him.

You want him here right now. Want him to shove you against the nearest surface, wrap your legs around his waist and fuck every last coherent thought out your head. You want him here to make you forget all about the weight of the crowns you never asked for...

You set the wine glass down and pick up your phone, opening your messages with him. Most of the texts are filthy things - provocative, sexy pictures sent to each other. Coordinates for hookup spots. Before you can think yourself out of it, you're typing a message

You : you busy tonight?

The three dots appear almost immediately,

Jungkook : yeah. Got things to handle til late.

After reading his message you let out a highly frustrated groan and carelessly toss your phone onto the couch.

"Fucking asshole. Busy when I need something."

You gulp down a huge sip of wine before you end up cursing him out.

You love sex, love the intimacy of it, love the way it feels, love absolutely everything about it. You've always been a rather needy woman, always. And when things first happened with Jungkook, your needs had become even more unbearable.

The first time with him happened almost a year ago. You were both dealing with business when something went wrong for both of you. You both ended up hurt, cornered somewhere with nowhere to go - stuck with each other.

The details of what happened that night is a story for another time ;) But somehow, for some reason, Jeon Jungkook had ended up kissing you. For unknown reasons you had started kissing him back. You kissed each other as if you were fighting, tongues colliding together, teeth clashing,saliva dripping down your chins.

Soon enough clothes were getting pulled off, bodies were gettting marked up and you were moaning the name you despised the most as he gave you the best orgasms of your life.

Since then, the two of you had made it a thing. Instead of killing each other, you used each other - fucking where you could - in his car, in yours, in private jets, in warehouses, in hotels he'd book.

The sex you have with Jungkook was undoubtedly the best thing you could ever experience. He's perfect when it comes to giving you a good time. He loves when you ride his face, loves eating you out until you're oversensitive and screaming his name, loves fucking you good and edging you until you're crying, creampies he'd finger back inside you while whispering the filthiest things in your ear. There are so many things that you and him have tried and have yet to try, and the thought of that excites you every single time.

You're certain Jungkook loves this as much as you do, if not, he loves it even more than you do. He is pussy-whipped for you. You can tell by the way he moans when he sinks into you, the way he messages you at the oddest hours to tell you how horny he is thinking about you, the way he usually cancels everything if you send him something provocative, and so much more.

It's just a mutual hate-addiction thing between the two of you. You hate his guts. You tell yourself that every time you come around his cock. And anyways, he's just a cocky bastard who loves to get under your skin, especially when he teases you about your 'princess' status even when he's balls deep inside you.

You want to kill him sometimes, strangle him with your bare hands, shoot him - anything.

But there's another part of you that hated those thoughts (even though you'd probably wouldn't actually kill him). Sometimes you thought to yourself; What if you don't actually hate him? "What if you and him actually got to know each other? What if there could be something more between you two?

You push the thoughts away, drinking some more wine. Jungkook's a good fuck. The best fuck. You don't need more, neither do you want more. You just need him to relieve your stress and give you pleasure. But unfortunately, tonight he isn't coming.

You walk to your bedroom, lay on your bed and stare at the ceiling, trying not to think about how empty your bed feels since Jungkook isn't in it. You try not to imagine him on top of you, pinning you down, kissing while promising to fuck you exactly how you like it...

•───୨୧───•

The next few days go by quickly. You haven't done much, since there wasn't a lot for you to do - other than a few errands your parents asked you to handle, or random outings with Megan.

It's been a bit boring, but rather peaceful and relaxing, the only thing that had been worrying you was the fact that you had no messages from Jungkook. Not a single text asking to see you, not a single picture from him, not even a single voice note. Usually he'd reach out at least once or twice a week, sometimes more if the week had been boring. But now there's been nothing but silence.

Throughout these days you've tried to convince yourself that it doesn't matter, you don't even care. He's busy, he's an asshole, maybe he's got his dick up someone else. It's fine. Good for him. It doesn't bother you. You don't need him.

Except you do need him. And that's been abundantly clear every time you touched yourself and failed to bring to yourself even a quarter of the pleasure he brings to you.

By Thursday evening you were feeling rather miserable, and to make your matters worse, your phone buzzed with a message.

Mother : Sweetheart, we have another event this Saturday. Your father insists we all attend together. Dress appropriately.

You groan loudly. Yet another night of forced smiles, politics and fake performances. You're so tired of it, you almost tell your mother that you're in no mood to attend when you remember something. Jungkook will be there, of course he will. None of the Jeons ever miss prestigious events, they show up to these things as if it's the biggest blessing.

You're itching to see Jungkook. He hasn't said anything in longer than usual, so you're very curious about his whereabouts. On Saturday night you'll corner him somewhere quiet and kick him in his groin and demand he tell you why he's been ghosting you.

•───୨୧───•

It's finally Saturday night. You're standing in front of your mirror assessing how you look. You look beautiful, wearing a long, emerald-coloured dress with the neckline dipping enough to show some cleavage and a slit that shows your thigh every time you take a step. Your hair is let down and you've touched up with just a bit of make-up. You look perfect, but inside, you're far from it – you're feeling nervous.

Once you reach the venue with your parents, you enter and take your seats. As discreet as possible, you start scanning the crowd. The Jeon table is already occupied. Mr Jeon sitting beside his wife, along with some of their other family and advisors, but no Jungkook. Your heart drops. Jungkook is always here, he'd never miss such events.

You force your gaze away and accept a glass of champagne from a passing server. Your mother says something to you, but you barely register her words, since your mind is completely elsewhere. Where the fuck is he?

You keep your eyes forward as the elderly host welcomes all the guests. For the next couple of minutes you watch as people converse with one another. Watching as you sit alone, hoping that he'll just show up soon – not because you're eager* to see him or anything! But because he really deserves to get kicked in his balls. That's all.

After a while, the doors open again. You turn your attention to the late arrivals, and there Jungkook is. Painfully looking as handsome as ever in a black tuxedo with his hair a little messy, just as you like it. His movements cause multiple heads to turn to him and look at him with either respect, admiration or envy.

But he's not alone. A woman is clinging to his arm. She's beautiful and elegant-looking wearing a silky pink gown that hugs her curves. She leans into Jungkook as they walk, her head tilted on his shoulder, and he... he's smiling at her. Smiling at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the room.

The glass of champagne freezes halfway to your lips. They walk over to the Jeon family table together. When Jungkook's mother sees them, the warmest smile spreads across her face. She stands to greet the woman, lightly kissing both her cheeks. "So lovely to see you again, darling." she says clearly enough for everyone around them to hear. The girl smiles back sweetly and lets Jungkook guide her into the seat right beside him. 

A cold shiver runs down your spine. You force your gaze back to the stage to whatever the host is talking about. Your fingers tighten around your glass, you're certain it might break. A few minutes later, you glance back at Jungkook, he glances at you too, making brief eye contact before he looks away. He looks away as though so very recently, he did not fuck you so passionately, so needily.

Your blood turns to ice. Is this why he ghosted you? He found himself a real girlfriend? One who he can bring to fancy events. Someone who his mother clearly approves of. Someone who isn't a secret he has to hide. You want to walk over there, yell at him and beat the shit out of him, but how can you?

Despite all the anger you're currently feeling, buried deep beneath, something you don't want to acknowledge is that you may be hurt. But of course, you tell yourself that you don't care who else he fucks, who he dates because you hate him. And right now you hate him more than ever.

You don't look at him again, you keep your eyes anywhere but him. Though many times, you've gotten the feeling of him looking at you.

You look completely unbothered, but mentally you're cursing him. Piece of shit. How dare he?

The event isn't even halfway done when you watch movement in your peripheral vision. Jungkook and the girl are standing. He murmurs something to his mother before offering the woman his arm again, she takes it with a smile. He walks her toward the exit with his hand on her lower back as she continues clinging to him.

You endure the rest of the event with your parents, until it's time to go home.

•───୨୧───•

The days after the event were unbearable for you, and unfortunately for everyone around you as well. You were being rather bitchy to your assistants, your mother and anyone else really. Everyone has been getting the worst of your mood swings.

One of the days, you had printed a booklet filled with pictures of Jungkook's face so you could use them on dummies at your family's private shooting range to practise your headshots. And not so surprisingly, you had blown the heads off of all the dummies. At a sparring session, you had taped one of the pictures to the punching bag and beat it up, vividly imagining that it actually was Jungkook

A few nights after that, as if he was trying to get under your skin, he had the audacity to message you.

Jungkook : you up? Can I come over.

The audacity that this man has astounds you. You type messages swearing at him before deleting them, deciding to be mature and block him instead.

the following evening you sit at your desk and decide to pour your rage into pages. You describe your male as very similar to Jungkook (which you often do) and describe the female lead as similar to you. In your little story, the female lead becomes aggravated with the male and ends up trying to physically harm him.

Somehow, things end up becoming even more tense between them and they share the most heated kiss, until things elevate. You write the scene until it starts to read like something too close to reality. Something too close to what you and Jungkook would end up doing.

You slam your laptop shut, telling yourself that none of those stories you've written are about him. None of the stories you've written in there are anything about the experiences you've had with him. You'd never write about him. You love to write whereas you have nothing but hate for Jungkook. It would be too ironic.

୨୧

On Saturday evening, you're still feeling quite awful. You need something urgently, something to make you feel good. You reach in your freezer for some soju, just to help quiet the noise in your head. You're about to open the bottle when you hear a sound upstairs, the sound of your window opening followed by steps.

Your heart skips a beat. Nobody gets past your security, absolutely nobody.

Quietly you take one of the knives from your kitchen drawer. Your parents have made you train how to fight, you know how to use weapons, so you know exactly how to draw blood without killing.

You walk up the stairs to your bedroom. The bedroom door is cracked open; you push it open with your shoulder whilst keeping your knife raised. A hooded figure is stepping in, a figure you recognise immediately despite the darkness. Once he's properly inside, he gently closes the window.

Without hesitation, you close the distance, hook your arm around his throat from behind and yank him backwards and hold the knife firmly to his throat.

"Don't move." you warn him.

He freezes before pulling his hood down.

"Hey hey, it's me." he says quickly with his hands up. "It's just me, princess. Put the knife down."

You stare at the side of his face, remembering how he brought another woman to the event, yet still has the guts to show up here as if you're just going to allow it. Your grip on the knife doesn't loosen, instead you press it harder against his skin.

Jungkook's breath hitches and his eyebrows knit together, his confusion turning more cautious.

"Baby... what are you doing? It's me." he whispers.

You lean in closer so your lips brush his ear.

"What the hell are you doing breaking into my house?" you ask. "You think you can just come here after ghosting me?"

Jungkook swallows. "I just came to see you. I've been calling and texting, you haven't picked up once. I thought something was wrong."

You huff out a bitter laugh. "Something wrong? Yeah. You. You're what's fucking wrong, Jeon."

He blinks once, confusion mixing with his fear. He's scared, not necessarily scared of the knife being pressed to his throat (he's been threatened with worse), he's scared of you, like this.

"You blocked me?" he asks.

"Yes, I did."

He exhales through his nose. "Then why the fuck are you acting like i ghosted you on purpose? I've been-"

"Shut up." You press the knife even harder, until a thin red line appears on his skin "You're stupid for coming here. I don't want to see you. I could kill you right now and nobody would know."

His adam's apple bobs. And then faster than you can process, he twists. His forearm knocks the knife out of your hand while the other grabs your wrist tightly, causing the knife to clatter on the floor. You don't even have time to gasp when he spins you and slams you back against the wall, pinning both your hands on top of your head, using one of his hands.

He uses his body to keep you in place, his chest pressing against yours, his hips flush against yours, his thigh slotting between yours. Your breath hitches when his free hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, a bit roughly.

"Gotcha." he teases

Your heart's racing so fast, you're almost sure he can feel it.

Fuck, you love this. You hate that you do. You love the way he manhandles you, so rough and possessive, all dominating. Your body reacts before your brain can catch up, your nipples harden and you feel that little flutter in your lower belly. But even despite your growing arousal, you're still so fucking angry.

He leans in slowly, his nose brushing the side of your neck. Earlier on you had the longest bath, shaved, used the sweetest smelling soap and applied your favourite moisturizer. You've done that for yourself, to feel good. You surely did not expect Jungkook to be here inhaling your smell as if you're a drug. He exhales shakily, letting out a soft groan.

"Fuck," he curses against your throat. "You smell so good."

His kisses on your neck start off soft, then they become open-mouthed, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You gasp when he starts biting you. He goes further up to suck just below your ear, hard enough to leave a mark.

"What's wrong, princess?" he asks roughly. "You're angry. Talk to me."

You keep quiet, not wanting to answer him. He pulls back to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

"Baby..."

"Don't call me that."

He exhales through his nose again, sounding a bit frustrated. He kisses your neck again while rolling his hips against you, grinding his hardness against you causing you let out an involuntary high moan.. Jungkook pulls back to look at you again.

"Tell me what I did."

You say nothing, he waits for your answer that is not coming anytime soon. You just stare up at him. He sighs before dropping his forehead to yours.

Soft and almost pleading, he asks; "What's wrong? Why are you being like this?"

Hearing him ask what's wrong, as if he's not the source of your anger further enrages you. You're not sure what comes over you, but you do what you've been meaning to do – you knee him square in the balls.

He groans and sucks in a sharp breath, followed by a few curses. He stumbles to the side, one of his hands going down to cup himself as the other hand braces on the wall. The pain he feels is strong, but it's not excruciating. It was your intention just to hurt him a little, not to break your favourite part of him.

After the pain seems to fade, he straightens with his jaw clenched. You don't wait to see how he recovers, instead you walk towards the bedroom door, eager to get away from him. If he values his life, he better get out the same way he came in.

You make it about three steps to the door when suddenly strong arms are being wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet. You squeal, shocked and furious.

"Jungkook! Put me the fuck down!"

He does not listen to you, instead he carries you over to your bed and drops you face down on it. Before you can get up to swing at him, he delivers a very hard smack to your ass. Involuntarily you let out a high pitched gasp, jerking forward a bit.

The delicious sting of his smack goes straight between your legs. Fuck. You hate how your body betrays every single time. You're a sucker for his hands on you, you've always been one. You love his touches - whether they're rough or gentle, punishing you or praising you. The second Jungkook touches you, your brain short circuits and you get rather excited*

He leans over you, so his chest is pressed against your back. One knee is between your thighs to keep you spread open. He delivers another smack to your ass, this time it's even harder. You fail to hold back the moan that makes its way from your throat, it's so needy that you want to punch yourself.

"There she is." he murmurs against your ear lowly. "My princess making those pretty sounds for me."

"Fuck off." you try to say, as petty as possible. Though, it just comes out breathless.

He chuckles at that, rubbing your ass cheek softly, soothing the skin through your thin, silky shorts. His hand goes down to caress you where your thigh meets your ass cheek. He bends to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss there then a lot more.

You squeeze your eyes shut. How the hell can he do this? How can he climb through your window, man handle you, spank you and kiss you so intimately after everything?

You hate him so much right, yet you've missed him too. You've spent nights alone, dreaming of him being here, doing exactly what he's doing now. But now he's here, aching to please you and all you want to do is dig his eyes out. Jungkook shifts a bit, pressing his hips forward so you can feel exactly how hard he is.

"Been thinking about this pretty pussy nonstop. You gonna make it better, baby? Or you gonna keep being a brat and making me beg?"

You bite your bottom lip, wanting to do both of those options. But you're still feeling petty so you keep quiet instead, not giving him any answer.

He lets out a long, frustrated exhale. "You're really gonna do this tonight."

Again, you don't answer.

"Do you want me gone?"

"Yes."

He stops for a few seconds, breathing in and out, his cock throbbing against your ass. Eventually, he sighs deeply and pushes off you. The sudden absence of his weight on you feels awful. You didn't think that he'd actually get off.

"Fine," he says softly. "If that's what you want."

He stands, adjusts himself and turns to your room window, walking toward it. Once you hear him opening it, panic claws its way up your throat. You roll over fast.

"Jungkook. Wait "

For a while, he stands there for a moment, with his back turned to you. Slowly, he turns back to face you, his eyes meeting yours, you notice that he looks a little hurt.

"I'm not gonna force you. If you want me gone, I'll go."

You stare up at him with your chest tight. You want him to stay, you need him to stay, and you hate the fact that you do.

"Don't go." you whisper.

Jungkook sighs, walking back over to you. You're looking up at him with the prettiest expression he's ever seen. Your eyes are a little glassy, your lips slightly parted. The look undoes him, makes him weak, so fucking weak. He's faced dangerous men who've had loaded guns pressed to his forehead, and even then he'd been okay. But with you - you unravel him in ways he never thought were possible.

He stops right in front you. He reaches out, his knuckles grazing your jaw. His hand opens to cup the side of your face as his thumb caresses your bottom lip. Your breath hitches, he uses the opportunity to press the tip of his thumb inside your mouth. Your lips close around it gently first before you start sucking and twirling your tongue around it while maintaining eye contact with him.

Jungkook swallows hard, his other hand balling into a fist at his side as if he's trying to hold himself back from grabbing your hair and yanking you down to suck onto something else.

"What's the matter, baby?" he asks rough, yet tenderly. "You've been so mad ever since I came."

He pulls his thumb free with a wet pop, brings it to his own mouth and licks your spit off it with his eyes locked onto yours. You stare back at him, your mouth opening and then closing, still holding back your answer.

Jungkook sighs again softly before leaning down close. So close that his nose brushes yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks.

You give him a confused, almost amused look. How dare he act polite now after spanking your ass the way he did?

Your lips pout just a little - enough for him to understand what you're saying. He grins, closing the distance. The kiss starts off gentle and soft. But you're not in the mood for his gentleness or softness. Your hands fly up to his hoodie, bringing him closer to insert your tongue into his mouth whilst kissing him harder.

He lets you dominate for a few seconds until he takes control as usual. His hand makes its way to the back of your neck, threading into your hair to tilt your head exactly where he wants it. His other hand goes to your waist, pulling you flush against him. He kisses you like he's trying to suffocate you, it's filthy and possessive. His tongue thrusts into your mouth making you whimper into his mouth. He sucks onto your bottom lip, nips on it then soothes it with his tongue

You try to fight for dominance – pushing against his chest, trying to change the angle, trying to get control. Jungkook just tightens his grip, growls low in throat and keeps dominating you. Until the memory of him walking into that event with that woman on his side, smiling with her, being glued to her, his mother beaming at her as if she's her future daughter-in-law - the memory hits you, ugly and unwelcomed. You bite down hard on Jungkook's lip.

He winces and breaks the kiss with a hiss, a little bit of blood blooms on lip. He looks at you with something dark and wild in his eyes, before suddenly placing his hands on your hips and flipping you onto all fours with effortless strength. You squeal, surprised. Before you can snap at him, his fingers find the waistbands of your shorts and your underwear underneath and pulls them down.

They pool at your knees, so now you're presented to him with your bare ass up, back arched and pussy glistening. He groans before leaning down to sink his teeth into one of your ass cheeks, biting on it as revenge.

You gasp and moan loudly at the same time. "Jungkook-"

He soothes the mark almost immediately, kissing his bite mark softly.

"Payback." he says against your skin.

He leans down lower, spreading you wider with his hands before latching his mouth on you. He doesn't start off slow, he licks you from your entrance to your clit greedily. You cry out loudly, your hips bucking back against his face.

He groans into you as if you're the best thing he's ever eaten. Because you are. He missed this – he missed you. Missed the way you taste, missed the way you get so wet for him, missed the you sound. He eats you out like he's starving. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking softly then becoming harder, thrusting his tongue into your entrance, while his tongue nudges your clit every time.

You're loud, you're always extremely loud. Moans escaping you loud and needy. "Jungkook- fuck. Right there, don't stop."

He hums against you, the vibrations turning you on even more. His hand grips your thigh tightly, holding you in place to prevent you from moving an inch from his mouth. After a very few minutes, you're shaking, moaning even louder.

"Jungkook- I'm- ah."

Jungkook always knows when you're close. He doubles his efforts, sucking and tongue fucking you even harder until you're releasing while moaning his name. He doesn't stop. He keeps licking you up slowly until you're whimpering softly. He pulls back to breathe, before leaving a few pecks on your swollen and sensitive pussy

He straightens and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You turn over so you can watch him. He reaches behind his neck to pull his hoodie over his head, his shirt follows afterwards.

You missed this sight more than you'd ever admit. The sight of Jeon Jungkook standing near your bed shirtless, flushed, looking so lustful. He's definitely the most attractive man you've ever seen – handsome, tall, muscular, tatted. You can't look away from him.

He catches you staring, his eyes darken and he gives you a small smirk. His hands move to his belt so that he can unbuckle it and put it aside. He pulls down the zip on his pants and pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. His cock springs free, hard, thick and leaking at the tip.

You get off the bed, getting to your knees. Your mouth waters and your pussy clenches at the thought of having him in your mouth as soon as possible. At this moment all you think of is how you're about to give him the best head. You're concerning yourself with the event, with the other woman, nothing.

You wrap your hand around his thick cock and guide the tip to your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, licking and swallowing the precum. Jungkook hisses through his teeth. One of his hands finds the back of your head - not controlling your movements, just holding instead.

"Ah fuck, good girl..." he breathes.

You hum around him, content at the praise. You know he likes it so you take him deeper and hollow your cheeks as you suck on him. You've given  him head countless times so over time you've learnt how to give him the most enjoyable time.

You're pleasuring him exactly the way he likes – deep throating with saliva dripping down your chin. Jungkook's hips start jerking, chasing your mouth as you start bobbing your head.

"Just like that." he groans.

His free hand finds yours near his thigh and he intertwines them together.

"You're taking me so well, princess."

You moan around him, high and needy. Again, loving his praise. You pick up the pace, going faster until wet, slurping sounds fill the room. Saliva drips down your chin onto your chest, but you don't stop, you suck him deeper until your eyes water. Jungkook's losing it. His hand grips your hair tightly now as he thrusts into your mouth as gently as he possibly can.

"Gonna come-" he pants. "You want it down your throat?"

You answer by twirling your tongue around him, trying to take him impossibly deeper. He groans as he comes hard, down your throat. You swallow it as your head still bobs slowly. Jungkook curses under his breath.

When he finally stops pulsing, you pull off slowly until the tip is out your mouth with a string of saliva still connecting your mouth to him. You look up at through your slightly wet lashes, he stares down at you with an unreadable look.

You stand up slowly and sit back on the bed, propping yourself on your elbows. Jungkook stands there frozen for a few moments. Fuck, you're gorgeous. Eyes watery, chin wet, hair messy. He wants to tell you, wants to drop to his knees and tell you that you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, that just looking at you makes his heart flutter, that he'd climb through your window every night if he could, just to see you for five minutes.

But the small ache that's still there in balls reminds him that you'd probably knee him again if he tried to be soft with you. So he doesn't speak, he just climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. He kisses you filthy and hungry. Your tongues slide together, tasting each other. Both of you moan and groan into each other's mouths animalistically.

It's one of your nastiest make-out sessions yet - teeth clashing, tongues colliding. He sucks onto your tongue, pulls it between his lips and thrusts his tongue into your mouth. He grinds against you causing his cock to slide against your inner thigh.

You arched up into him, nails digging into his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He breaks the kiss to lift your camisole top up so it bunches at your arms. He doesn't pull it completely off yet, he just leans down and licks between your cleavage. He comes back to lick one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth.

You gasp, back arching off the bed and fingers flying to his hair. He groans around your nipple before switching to your other breast. He sucks and bites on it, making sure to leave his marks on you. As he sucks on the one, he palms the other, squeezing while using his thumb to play with your nipple.

"Gonna fuck you so good tonight." he mumbles roughly. "Gonna ruin this pretty pussy so every time you walk you'll remember I was here, so you remember that you're all mine."

You love this side of him. You love how possessive he sounds over you, how he praises you, but the words do not sit right with you tonight. 'Mine.' When he walked into that event with someone else by his side. The anger suddenly surges back, but you don't say or do anything yet. You know how you're going to torment him and you're about to enjoy it more than anything.

Jungkook pulls your camisole off completely, tosses it somewhere then gets his pants and boxers off. He's completely naked now. He settles between your thighs while he keeps kissing you wherever he can reach – on your throat, your collarbone and between your breasts.

One of his hands reaches down to wrap around his length, guiding himself to your entrance. He nudges the tip through your folds, teasing the both of you and he smears his precum with your wetness until you're both softly groaning. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and wild and lustful.

"You want me, baby?" he asks, his voice rough and heavy with restraint.

You stare up at him, your nails now digging into his shoulders a bit angrily. Instead of answering him, you lift your hips, trying to slide yourself down onto him, taking him slowly. Jungkook curses and pushes in the rest of the way, stretching you open until he's buried all the way.

You both freeze for a second, breathing in each other's air. After a short while, Jungkook starts to move into you. His hands find yours and he intertwines them above your head. He pulls out then sinks in even deeper with a loud groan.

"Fuck." his forehead drops down onto yours and his eyes flutter shut. "This is the best feeling in the world. Nothing comes close to this.

He truly means it. To him there's nothing better than being buried inside you and feeling you wrap around him. It's addictive to him, he could spend the rest of his life buried in your pussy and be the happiest man on Earth.

You're soaking wet, allowing him to thrust into you with ease. He moves slowly at first, pulling out and pushing back in, until he goes deeper and harder. Fucking you in the way that drives you insane for him.

By now you're moaning, unfiltered and needy. Your nails rake down his back, hard enough to leave your marks on him. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his lower back to pull him deeper.

Jungkook loves how you get when he fucks you. He loves how needy you get, how pretty you sound. He doesn't know why it gets him so hard and turned on, why hearing you fall apart because of him makes him feel so possessive over you. Jungkook wishes he could experience this feeling forever. Just you and him, being so intimate and desperate for each other.

"Listen to you." he groans against your ear, fucking you harder now. "So loud for me. Taking me so well."

You're enjoying this way too much. Jungkook is being so perfect tonight. He's rough and praising – just the way you love him. You can feel him everywhere, on top of you, inside of you, surrounding you.

This has to be one of the best fucks you and him have ever had. Maybe it's because you're angry at him, and maybe it's because you felt something you'd hate to admit when you saw him with that woman. Maybe those are reasons why you're enjoying it so much, it's because a part of you is glad that he's here, pleasuring you.

But even as you melt under him and the pleasure builds, your mind still wanders off to places you wish it wouldn't. What if he fucks that woman like this? What if he whispers the same filthy praises in her ears? What if he tells her that being inside of her is the best thing ever?

Your nails grip into his back harder, with a small intention to hurt him. To make your marks on him even more visible and obvious. Jungkook hisses, both in pain and pleasure. His pace increases as if you marking him turns him on more.

"Fuck, mark me up, baby." he pants. "Let everyone know who I belong to."

You almost let out a bitter laugh, because it sounds so ironic. Purposely, you clench around him hard, pussy fluttering tightly around his cock causing Jungkook's perfect rhythm to stutter. A moan escapes Jungkook and his hips jerk forward.

"Fuck – don't - don't do that–"

He loves when you do that, when you squeeze tightly, clenching around his cock, trapping him inside you. But on the downside, it makes him come way too fast – embarrassingly fast. Every time you do it, he begs you to stop. His hips thrust forward as he pant.

"Baby stop. I'm gonna – "

You do not stop, instead you clench and unclench around him until he's groaning loudly and releasing into you. He buries his face in your neck, hips bucking as he comes with a curse.

When it's over he stays there breathing hard with his hands still laced with yours. The bliss for him does not last. He lifts his head slowly and looks at you, realising that he hasn't made you come. You're just looking at him with something mean in your eyes. Jungkook's eyebrows knit together.

He does not like this. He never ever likes coming before you. It feels wrong, like he failed you somehow. He always wants you to come first, or at least to come with him. That's how it should be. Your pleasure before his own. Your pleasure is his priority.

He pulls out slowly and braces himself on his forearms above your head. "Baby..." you notice he sounds quite pissed off. "What the fuck was that?"

You blink up at him, looking like the picture of innocence. "Hmm?" you hum sweetly. "What was what?"

Jungkook stares down at you. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something. He wants to question you, wants to accuse you. He wants to ask what the hell is going on in that head of yours? Why are you doing this? He swallows his questions and leans in slowly to kiss the corner of your mouth before pulling back to look at you.

You stare at him, he's all flushed with his hair messy. You can't help but think that he looks cute like this. Way too cute for someone who can kill with his bare hands. Your heart does something stupid and infuriating. You hate him for making you feel this way.

He reaches down, grabs his discarded shirt and uses it to wipe between your thighs where his release still spills out. He tosses the shirt somewhere and lines himself at your entrance again.

You're still wet, but still, he pushes in slowly until he's deep inside. You both exhale. He stays still for a second, feeling how you're still lightly fluttering around him. He starts to move through your tight walls against your sensitive spots that he knows so well. He knows your body better than his own, so he definitely knows how to give you a good time.

You moan right against his ear and he groans lowly in response. He buries his face in your neck and starts kissing you there, open-mouthed and hungrily. You tug his hair, pulling him closer, motivating him to pick up the pace. Your breasts bounce with every one of his thrusts and Jungkook cannot stop staring at you.

"You're so pretty when you're getting fucked." he rasps.

He hooks his hands under your knees and brings your legs up over his shoulders. The new angle allows him to sink in even deeper. Your eyes flutter shut at the perplexing feeling.

Minutes pass, sweat forms on Jungkook's temple, dropping down to his jaw, making him look even hotter. His stamina is insane, he could usually go on for hours. His focus right now is on making you come all for him.

He's been very needy as of recently, since he hasn't been sexually active in a very long time, so when he feels his own pleasure building in his lower belly and his thighs starting to shake, he's not surprised.

He can feel that you're close as well, your pussy starts fluttering around him. You're so close. He brings your legs down and hooks them around his waist so he can hover over you with his forearms braced on either side of your head. He's close enough to you that you both breathe in each other's breaths. He kisses your jaw, the corner of your mouth and you cheek bone before leaning to your ear to speak roughly.

"I'm close, baby. Come with me." he whispers. "Please – wanna feel you come on my dick. Wanna come together."

Your pussy flutters around him greedily and he groans. "Fuck, yeah–"

You're milking him hard, making his head spin. He cannot hold himself, he comes hard, burying himself inside you with a moan, his hips jerking through it. He waits, waiting to feel your walls seize him deep and gush around him. But there's nothing, absolutely nothing. You're panting and breathing heavily but you haven't released.

Jungkook processes it for a few seconds, then slowly, he pulls out. His cock is still hard, but softens now that the pleasure is being replaced by something else entirely. He braces himself on his forearm, hovering over you.

He asks, low and quite annoyed, "Are you doing this on purpose?"

Again, you look up at him innocently. "Doing that?" you tilt your head at him, faking confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jungkook clenches his jaw. He exhales through his nose, frustrated. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're not coming. You're holding it back just to fuck with me."

You let out a small scoff. "Maybe you're just not doing a good enough job."

The words hit Jungkook right where it hurts the most. He freezes for a few seconds. Then his eyes darken, his fingers grip the sheet as if he's trying to hold himself back. What you just told him is the worst thing you could've ever told him, it bruises him like nothing else. You've told him that he isn't good enough for you, that he could not satisfy you.

He growls low, "You fucking brat."

He roughly flips you over so you're on your stomach. You gasp and barely have time to brace yourself before he yanks you up, so you're on fours in front of him. Your face is pressed into the sheets and your ass in the air. His slaps your ass cheek hard, so hard that the sound echoes in your massive room. You yelp and moan, jerking forward.

His hand wraps around throat, tilting your head back so you're arching. He pulls you up until your back is against his chest and your head resting on his shoulder. His warm breath fans your ear. His other hand goes down to deliver a smack directly to your clit. You cry out shamelessly, pain and pleasure shooting through you.

"Stop your fucking shit." he growls against your ear. "Right now."

You laugh breathlessly, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Why? What are you gonna do about it, Jeon?"

His grip on your throat tightens slightly and his teeth graze your earlobe. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you."

His hand between your thighs moves up higher, he slides two fingers through your folds, circling your clit. You whimper, melting into his touch even as you try to stay defiant.

"You think I don't know what you're doing?" he murmurs. "You think I don't know how you're trying to make me mad?"

His fingers press against your clit harder as he kisses your neck, sucking onto the marks he's left. He inserts his fingers inside you again, curling them deep. He finger-fucks you until you're panting and moaning again.

He carries on until he knows you're about to release, but still, you don't. You refuse to give him what he so desperately wants, you continue denying yourself just to spite him. You're still winning whatever fucked up game this is.

Jungkook pulls his fingers out abruptly and uses his hand to deliver another smack to clit before cupping it, feeling you throb against him. He tries to catch his breath, he's fuming at this point. What kind of torture is this?

But Jungkook being Jungkook, is not going to give up. He lines himself at your entrance again and sinks into you in a hard thrust. You moan, nails digging into his arm where it holds you across your stomach. Again, he starts fucking you, but harder and deeper now, keeping one arm securely around your waist and the other loosely around your neck.

You're so loud, whimpering and moaning softly – those sweet sounds he lives for. He goes on for long until he can feel the pleasure building for himself, warning him that he was going to come yet again but he can still feel you holding back.

He stops moving, his hips thrust forward one last time and he stays buried deep inside you. He lets out a frustrated groan as his forehead drops to your shoulder, both his hands moving to your hips now.

"What is your fucking problem?" he asks furiously, almost pleading.

For a moment, you say nothing. Then you finally let it out. "I can't stand you." you say, your own voice furious. It kind of sounds like you're at the verge of crying. "You're so stupid, Jungkook. So fucking blind. How can you be here, fucking me, when you brought someone along with you to the event? Let your mom beam at her, like she's something important to you–"

Jungkook freezes, although his grip on your waist tightens as he processes your little outburst. After a few seconds, he huffs out a laugh against your neck.

"Is this funny to you!?" you hiss, yanking forward trying to pull away from him.

His cock almost slips out of you, but you don't make it away because he pulls you back against him so roughly, your ass recoils against his hips. You hate yourself for the pure moan that spills out of you.

Jungkook's lips brush your ear as he speaks, "You're jealous." he says, smug and delighted.

"I'm not jealous." you spit, rageful. "I hate you. I hate that you think you just parade with someone else, then climb through my window like I'm yours to fuck whenever you want me."

"Oh, princess." he pulls out and thrusts inside you. "You are still mine. And yeah, I brought someone else to the event. She's just a family friend. An old arrangement my mom's been pushing for years. She doesn't mean shit. I don't want her, baby."

"Bullshit."

He presses a soft, tender kiss to the side of your neck. "You think I'd risk everything, my reputation, my life – just to be someone who isn't you?" his tone turns serious, losing the smugness. "You're the only person I want."

You're speechless, not believing what you just heard. But of course, you're not going to admit how happy his words have made you, so instead you clench around his cock hard. He winces and his hips jerk forward.

"Fuck." he grunts, letting out a ragged breath. 

He sucks another mark onto your neck while rolling his hips into you.

"You think I look at anyone else the way I look at you?"

He thrusts into you deeply again, making you moan and arch your back.

"You're the only one," he growls, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. "The only one who makes me this stupid, this weak. This fucking desperate."

He punctuates each sent with a thrust before sticking to the perfect rhythm that has you moaning his name. He removes the hand from your throat and brings it down to your breasts to knead them.

"Look at these tits. So fucking perfect." he groans. "You know how many times I jerked off thinking about them?"

He pinches one of your nipples, making you whimper before he soothes it.

"You're so tight," he continues, his hips carry on thrusting in and out of you. "So wet, so fucking greedy. No one else feels like this."

He sucks more marks onto your neck while his hand goes down to rub your clit, causing you to cry out his name.

"Jungkook–ah"

Fuck. He wants those sounds in his mouth, he wants to swallow it, he wants to taste you. He grabs your face with his other hand, turning it to give you a messy kiss. He pushes his tongue inside your mouth,exploring and swallowing your pretty sounds.

Jungkook doesn't even understand what he wants anymore. All he knows is that he wants all of you. He never wants to ever pull out, he just wants to spend the rest of his life buried deep inside of you. His thrusts become even more relentless. He pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in. He puts a hand on your hip, pulling you against him to meet his thrust.

You're fluttering around him wildly, more than usual. Your breathless words become incoherent now, making Jungkook dizzy.

"Come on, baby." he growls against your mouth. "Come for me. I need to feel you."

You shamelessly scream his name as you gush around him. Warm liquid drips down his cock, soaking his thighs and sheets. Jungkook's eyes open wide as he feels the sensation, the wetness drenches him from the base to the tip. His thrusts stutter as he continues slamming into you

"Oh fuck–"

Jungkook is gone. He must be in paradise.

He releases, burying himself as deep as possible, coming into you while panting. He carries on going while you tremble and whimper beneath him.

When it finally ends, he collapses over you, his forehead on your back. He stays inside of you, not being able to out since you're still fluttering around him.

Jungkook is astounded. After a moment, he finally speaks. "Fuck... you just squirted all over me."

You immediately stiffen, feeling a sudden sense of embarrassment. You try to squirm away, but he tightens his hold on you, staying inside of you. You bury your face into your pillow and let out a mortified groan. Jungkook softly kisses your shoulder and then your neck.

"That was the hottest fucking thing ever." he rasps against you. "I'm gonna make you do it again and again."

You whimper, wanting to protest, but deciding against it, because you know that once Jungkook wants something, he's determined to get it. Especially if it revolves around you.

•───୨୧───•

Minutes later, the room is quiet. Jungkook lay on his back, an arm over his eyes, the other resting on his stomach. The sheets are damp beneath him, but it doesn't bother him. He stares at the ceiling, thinking. 

He turns his head to look at you. You're laying on your side, facing away from him with a blanket covering half your naked body. Jungkook looks at you in pure admiration and desire. He could go again right now. Slide inside you from the back and go for another round or two, but he decides not to – he's a bit tired and you must be even more.

The distance between the two of you feels wrong, he wants your bodies to be touching, he wants contact with you. He shifts over, closing the gap until your back is pressed against his chest. He puts his arm over your waist, bringing you closer to him. You let him pull you close until your ass is nestled perfectly in between his thighs. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent – you smell like your sweet body wash, sweat, sex and mostly him. He kisses your neck a few times.

"Why're you so away from me?" he asks, against you.

You sigh. "I feel gross." you admit.

"I don't." he kisses under your jaw softly. "I feel incredible."

He caresses your stomach soothingly. "But I do think you should pee. And we should shower."

"Yeah..." you say.

He kisses your shoulder one more time before standing up. "Come on." he lets out his hand for you to take.

You take his hand, letting him pull you up. Your legs are wobbly so he steadies you by holding you and guiding you to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, Jungkook opens the taps, making sure that the temperature is perfect for you, while you pee.

After you're done, you step past him and into the shower. He follows after you. The hot water cascades over you, it feels absolutely amazing. Jungkook squeezes some of your body wash into his hands, planning to wash you. But you shrug him off, not wanting him to touch you.

His hands fall away. He takes a moment to look at you. You look really tense as if something is wrong. As much as he wants to, he doesn't try to get you to tell him. He just stands under the shower next to you and washes himself as well.

Once you're both done, you turn off the tap. Jungkook grabs a towel and wraps it around you. He then gets two more, one to wrap around hips and the other for your wet hair.

"Thanks." you tell him

He nods before following you out the bathroom and back to your bedroom. The sheets are a disaster so he takes them off, dumps them into the laundry basket and puts new ones on the bed.

Jungkook glances at you every now and then, watching as you dry your hair with a stoic expression. He finds his discarded boxers and puts them on before getting into bed with a tired sigh.

He watches you pull over a silky, short sleep dress and tie up your hair. You look like something out of a fever dream. A little ruined, his marks all over you, limping a little. You're so beautiful.

You get into the bed next to him, laying on your side, facing him now. None of you speak, you just stare into each other's eyes.

After a while you speak. "When did you start being so... affectionate?"

He raises an eyebrow at you, amused.

"Most of the time you just fuck me and leave, or I leave. You don't stay, hold me or do any of this."

Jungkook gives you a small smirk and moves closer to you, putting an arm around your waist to pull you against him so that there's absolutely no space between you. He dips his head to peck your lips then looks at you again.

"I feel bad.. For making you think that there was someone else."

You snort softly in disbelief.

"Although," he smirks. "You being jealous was so adorable."

You smack his chest. "I was not."

He hums sceptically. "Sure you weren't."

"I was not."

"Uh huh."

You glare at him, half-heartedly. He tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer to make you snuggle against him.

"Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight, Jungkook."

୨୧

The next evening comes quickly. Jungkook snuck out of your room early in the morning, making sure that nobody had seen him. Before leaving, he cradled your face in his hands and kissed you deep and desperately, asking you to unblock him and text him when you can. After he left, you felt a great sense of relief, but also missed him.

The rest of the day went by sprightly. You made yourself a delicious breakfast, you wrote and took a heavenly bath. Around six, your mother texted you, telling you to come by for dinner and to dress elegantly. You chose a beautiful outfit and got ready.

Soon, you're arriving at your family's estate, walking inside your childhood home to the dining room. When your mother sees you, she stands up and walks over to you.

"Sweetheart, there you are." she kisses your cheek before leading you to the table.

Your eyes wander over the scene before you. Your father sits at the table, across Mr Kim* and Mrs Kim, both of them looking sophisticated as always. And beside the, Sits a guy around your age.

He's tall, handsome, almost bewitching, you find yourself staring at him for a few seconds too long. You vaguely recognise him. He's Taehyung, heir of the Kims.

Your mother squeezes your waist gently and a little too enthusiastically. "Y/N, you remember the Kims?"

You nod politely, faking a smile.

"This," your mother says excitedly, "is their son, Taehyung. Taehyung, this is our daughter."

Taehyung stands. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly." he says, sounding rather amused.

"Likewise."

Your mother beams, looking between the two of you. "Why don't you sit, darling? Dinner's almost ready."

You nod and walk over to the table, taking a seat. Taehyung slides into the chair next to you and you catch the scent of his cologne, it's almost identical to Jungkook's, though you find Jungkook's much more preferable.

Your father clears his throat before raising his glass to make a toast. "To family and legacy."

Everyone raises their glasses and clinks together. Your mother waits until the clink fades, before she speaks.

"Sweetheart... we wanted to tell you this in person."

You stare at your mother with a poker face, though your awful suspicion grows. You want to throw up when your mother actually confirms your fear.

"Taehyung is your fiancé."

hii pookies, i worked so so so hard on this! i hope you guys enjoyed it🩷if you're interested, you can find part two on my patreon. either as a normal product — Best mistake 02 or on my membership tier — rkive (comes with other benefits, i will be posting everything on here first, along with extras in the future. feel free to check it out). also, ios users please try purchasing via the web to avoid paying extra fees. and once again, if you guys do support me, please know that i sincerely appreciate you <3

warnings – y/n's kinda emotional, mentions of period sex, possessive and kinda crazy jk, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, mentions of oral, fingering, praising, jk makes out with her pussy, deep and rough sex, boob sucking, explicit language, i cannot mention a few things as it will spoil the story lol, but there's drama and a lot of cracking, etc...

wc – 11k+

[jennaort3ga]

Overly gagged everyone please go do yourself a favor and read this

[femme11fatale]

R E D

summary | You, Jeon Jungkook, forbidden attraction, and one red dress… pairing | jungkook x f!reader elements | jealousy; kissing; fingering; desk sex; rough sex; attraction; explicit content  word count | 9.6k author's note | I'm exhausted after writing and having to edit not just this fic, but two others, IN THE SWELTERING HEAT THAT IS HITTING EUROPE RN, so please excuse any errors I may have overlooked. What can I say? It’s Jeon Jungkook. No other words required.  •𓂃𝜗𝜚 bts masterlists ( ❛ p a r t • o n e ❜ ) | ❛ p a r t • t w o ❜ ) ( ❛ bts taglist ❜ ) ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃 jungkook masterlists | p a r t • o n e | p a r t • t w o

You didn’t do jealousy −why would you? 

Jealousy was for insecure and desperate people who had no sense of self-worth −not confident, successful people like you. The kind who didn’t believe in fawning over men like Jungkook, who as par for the course for an idol of his calibre, had women throwing themselves at his feet left, right and centre. 

Except…

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t been bothered. You had noticed the woman who had been stuck to his side a few days ago like a bad case of superglue, giving him the eye, dressed up as though she were vying for Oscar-level fashion. Too much for a simple, informal meeting −no matter the clients in question were a top five American producer and Jungkook himself. 

Not one to be outdone, you had finally pulled out that dress. The one you had bought about a year ago, telling yourself you would save it for a really special occasion. Tonight’s party was that occasion, and if you had to show your appreciation on behalf of the company for getting an exclusive signature he had given them, that dress ought to do the job. 

It was gorgeous −a real statement piece with a price tag that made you wince when you remembered it to match, in a deep, rich shade of crushed roses under evening light. It draped over your body, skimming every curve flatteringly, the neckline dipping just enough to be intriguing as it framed your collarbones to hint at more without giving it all away. Thin straps trace your shoulders, the back mostly bare in an unexpected daring but elegant reveal. 

As you move, the material shifts like liquid, the high slit that runs along one leg effortlessly flashing a glimpse of skin with each step in an undeniable alure that turns heads without trying too hard, making you the one who commanded all the attention in the room. From lustful stares to piercing envy, it was all about you −the vision in the scarlet dress that everyone wanted a piece of. 

But all you could focus on was him. Not because it was part of the job description to ensure he was your priority as a senior member of the A&R legal team, but because he was by far the best-looking man in the room. In any room.

From your central position, your eyes find him over and over again as he makes his way around, stopping intermittently to mingle politely. He fidgets a lot you notice, hands constantly fiddling with something, fingers interlocking, touching at his hair, eyes darting around −sometimes shyly, sometimes curiously. He’s not bored, but whatever was happening so far at this party wasn’t quite his idea of a good time. 

You swallow back a smile, watching as he looks like a rabbit in headlights when he’s descended upon by a group of giggling women who give you second-hand embarrassment as they coo and ogle so openly it was mortifying to see. He probably got that everywhere he went, poor lamb. 

You sigh. You should probably go and save him −for the good of the company of course −right? 

His eyes find yours immediately the moment you come into his line of sight, something flickering in them that lodges in the back of your mind, something that you would later come back and revisit.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, ladies,” you say, putting on your most formal but firm tone. “I just need Jungkook for something urgent.” 

You force a smile as three pairs of irritated eyes look you over as if you’d just eaten the last popsicle on a hot summer’s day. Nobody says anything, because when their eyes see the discreet red band around your wrist to indicate your position, they realise it would be entirely futile. 

But the daggers aren’t sheathed yet, and their expressions make no secret of the fact that to them you’re basically stealing their man. They also make no attempt to disperse. Despite the fact you would love nothing more than to tell them that you were pretty tight with the department who had organised this event and they could sling their hooks if they had any objection to your talking to the artist whose latest collaboration had been closely overseen by you, but you gracefully rise above it and turn your attention to Jungkook. 

Jungkook looks back at you with a hint of amusement playing about his lips, the tip of his tongue flicking out to run over the silver piercing he had. Momentarily you lose your bearings, distracted by the gesture in a way you weren’t prepared to acknowledge. 

“Uh, Jungkook−” you begin. “We need to…” 

You stall, unsure what you should say next. You hadn’t exactly thought this through with much planning. You’d met him a few times now, but you’d never had a one-on-one conversation with him before, and certainly never had any conversation with him that wasn’t purely work related. In fact, you had never even been alone with the man before. Maybe this wasn’t your best idea−

“Yeah, sure,” Jungkook says suddenly, astutely catching on. “−Let’s do it.”

“Right,” you say, exchanging looks and playing along. He’s seeming less rabbit in headlights and more dominant panther right now. It’s pretty attractive. 

“If you wouldn’t mind coming with me,” you tell him, avoiding the still annoyed gazes that bore into you with all the power of a drill on max power as Jungkook bids them goodbye. 

Bitches. 

Jungkook tails you until you are both out of earshot, somewhere near the bar where you come to a stop and face him. He looks as giddy as a kid in a candystore now, it’s quite cute. 

“Thanks,” he says. 

You flash him a quick professional smile. “Anytime.”

He nods and shrugs. “So, what now−?” He leans forward to get a better look at the nametag pinned to your dress, and you realise with a pang of disappointment that despite all the meetings that had taken place over the past few months, he probably didn’t even remember your name. “Y/N.”

Your disappointment is quickly swallowed down at the sound of your name on his lips, and you look back at him in surprise. He smiles back at you, and a stupid blush starts to creep up the back of your neck that you can’t seem to control. 

“What now?” you say, sounding a little short and impatient, this conversation you’ve ushered yourself into and the way you’re reacting to him leaving you feeling a little rattled. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, unperturbed. “I’m sure they’re still watching me, right?”

Casually you make a quick, non-obvious, sweep in the general direction you had come from, and sure enough they’re gathered like the witches of Macbeth, probably plotting your downfall or putting a curse on you or something. 

“Yep, they sure are.”

He laughs, and you decide you like the sound more than you should. It’s rich and deep, but it’s also playful and… sexy.

Oh God. What was the matter with you? Jeon Jungkook had a sexy laugh? Seriously. You roll your eyes at yourself and straighten up as if you meant business. 

“Why don’t we give them something to look at?” Jungkook suggests, his dark doe eyes widening in mischievous excitement. “Come on, join me for a drink. That’ll get their tongues wagging.”

“Are you trying to get them to give me death glares or something?” you ask with mock surprise. “Haven’t you seen the evils they’re giving me already?”

Jungkook waves a hand. “Just ignore it, I do.”

“Easy for you to do, they aren’t wishing for your imminent death.”

He raises an eyebrow. “That’s a bit drastic, isn’t it?” he says, but after he mulls it over for a moment. “You’re probably right though, that’s the scary part.” He smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, his expression a little sad. “Perks of the job.”

You feel a pang in your heart for him. He wasn’t the first idol you had seen suffer the trappings of fame and fortune, and he wouldn’t be the last either. Who was responsible for inviting whoever they were to the party anyway, you make a mental note to track them down later. But a few bitchy looks and sneaky comments weren’t enough to drag you down, and there was the small matter of keeping Jungkook happy. 

“Let’s get that drink,” you say. “I am thirsty anyway.”

After about ten minutes had passed, you realise that having any kind of actual conversation with someone like Jungkook in an environment like this one was near impossible. 

The witches had by now regressed somewhere no doubt to drum up some potion or other, but in their place had now come the stream of endless people who all seemingly wanted a piece of Jungkook. Time and again you had had to stand in the background while Jungkook out of sheer politeness had to go through what sounded like the same exchanges over and over again with various figures from the industry. 

Unfortunately you had been called away for something else, so you had needed to leave him with the circling sharks, but it was all part of your job so what choice did you have. You couldn’t devote all your time to one man. 

Despite your extensive experience at events like this one, you had never had to deal with someone quite as famous as Jeon Jungkook before, it was an entirely new experience. Things like this probably happened to him daily. You weren’t even the one at the centre and you were already tired of watching it go on, so you couldn’t even begin to imagine how he felt. 

He catches your eye from across the room, and you shoot him back a sympathetic look. The instinct to save him bubbles up inside you again, but there’s little you can do as you are also acutely aware that if he’s seen with anyone anyone alone for longer than 2.0 seconds, it might be damaging not just to them but to him too. 

He’s smiling but in between the smiles, you can see his discomfort beneath the idol mask the world was used to. You bite your lip, steely determination filling you suddenly. You don’t even know why you care so much but somehow you desperately wanted to give him a few minutes of breathing space because God knows he looked like he needed it. 

You exchange greetings with a few other people as the mingling goes on, but somehow those big, bright doe eyes of his seem to find you constantly, as if he were calling you. There’s another woman with him now, tall and blonde, dressed in a fitted blue gown, sparkling head to toe as she flashes him a matching glittery smile. 

Irritation rises within you as you survey Jungkook’s reaction, watching as he nods and grins back. Midway through whatever she’s talking to him about, she stretches out a hand to brush away something on the lapel of his jacket and something inside you snaps. It’s not like you’re jealous or anything, but surely he doesn’t want to be touched. 

You sigh and swill back the remains of your champagne and wince as the fizz races down your throat. Alright, you tell yourself, you would make just one more timely intervention, and then you would leave it alone. It wasn’t exactly your place to bodyguard Jeon Jungkook. 

You gesture for Jungkook to enter the unused office you had remembered from earlier. You close the door behind you, turning the light on and setting it onto a dim glow. 

“You should be left alone here for a bit,” you tell him from the doorway with a gentle smile. “Take as long as you need.” 

He looks up at you from the office chair he’s sunk into. “Hold on −you’re leaving?”

Inside the small room, at such close proximity to you, Jungkook looks even better than he did outside. He eases off his black jacket and lets it rest over the back of his seat, and then he sets about loosening his tie, eyes riveted to you. You imagine the headlines if anyone found you both in here, and the scandal that would follow in the aftermath, and quickly force yourself to resume focus. 

“I have to,” you say. “Someone will notice if we’re both not around.”

He scoffs. “So let them,” he says bluntly. “Other people will be missing too, won’t they? Does nobody ever go to the restroom, or take a minute to make a call, or I don’t know, actually leave? Or is all of that monitored too?” He sighs, remembering himself. “I’m sorry− I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“No need to apologise, I get it,” you tell him. “But you know you’re not just any person though, right? When you’re missing, it’s going to be noticed. You know that.”

He closes his eyes briefly, letting out a sigh. “But I am, Y/N,” he says. “I am just another person.” He sits up, eyes on you. “Stay for a little while please. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

“Jungkook, it’s not really me I’m worried about, it’s you,” you reply. “Do you really need bad press just before a big release?”

“There won’t be any,” he replies confidently. “All I need is a few minutes, and as strange as it sounds given everything out there, I just don’t want to be completely alone.” 

He’s making it difficult to leave, how can you ignore such a sweet, heartfelt request from such a handsome man? 

“Alright,” you relent. “Just for a few minutes.”

His face breaks out into a smile that teases at your heart with its sincerity. It’s a real smile, not the polished ones you had seen him give all evening outside. He looks so devastatingly good when he smiles, it’s no wonder so many fell for him. “You truly are my saviour tonight,” he beams. 

You chuckle, even though you’re blushing, his compliment warming you inside. “I don’t know about saviour, but I’m always happy to help if I can.”

“Hm, always huh?” Jungkook echoes thoughtfully. Then he shakes his head as if to jolt himself out of whatever train of thought he had been in. He tilts his head to one side and surveys you. “Come on, admit it. You wanted to be out of that room too, didn’t you?” 

You give a soft laugh. “That’s my job, I kind of have to be there.”

“Oh, really?” he says sceptically. “Is it in your job description to be leered at by guys old enough to be your grandfather?” 

Your face burns and you shift a little uncomfortably on the spot. “Uh− I don’t really pay that stuff any mind,” you tell him. “That’s not where my attention is. I barely notice.”

Jungkook rises and begins walking towards you, and your heart jumps at the sight of him. The crisp white of his shirt stretches across the taut muscles of his biceps and chest, and the tailored cut of his pants that skim over long, lean, muscular thighs. From the end of his shirtsleeve and loosened collar, inked patterns come into view that are marked over his skin, leaving your eyes thirsting to see more. 

You force yourself to look at his face, but that is even more alluring than the rest of him. He comes to a stop before you, pinning you with the most intense gaze you had ever been on the receiving end of. “It was noticeable,” Jungkook tells you with conviction. “Every time I looked over, someone had their eyes on you in that way −like you were a meal to be devoured.”

A soft gasp escapes you, your mouth opening to say something, but your brain can’t seem to engage with words in front of him after that. You struggle to regulate your runaway heartbeat as you try to focus on something that isn’t his really dangerously close lips, settling for the cute mole on the tip of his nose. It doesn’t help much because all you can think of is what it would be like to kiss it. 

“To be perfectly honest−” Jungkook continues, snapping your attention back to his eyes. “I can’t really blame them.” 

His eyes drop to your mouth and then down, over your dress, all the way down and then back up slowly. The way he does it is like nothing you’ve ever felt before, as if his gaze were a physical touch that had just caressed you head to toe. 

“So tell me,” he probes softly and dark all at once, “This dress,” his eyes run over your body slowly, bringing your breath out in shallow gasps that you struggle to keep contained, “−Did you wear it for me?” 

You’re pretty sure your face matches the dress as your mind scrambles to formulate a denial, or something to steady your nerves. Nothing comes and he gives you a look that should be illegal. “That dress is made for you,” he says simply. 

You somehow manage to utter a bashful thanks that’s barely audible and Jungkook smiles knowingly at you. He must know the effect he’s having on you. He’s loving it. 

“I knew from the moment I saw you that there was more to you than meets the eye,” he reveals, taking a small step closer to you. “You weren’t like everyone else.”

You back up a little, only to be met with the door behind you, and Jungkook smirks. “Are you trying to escape?” he says. “Do you really want to be out there instead of in here with me?” 

“No, it’s not that,” you stutter. “It’s just− if somebody finds us in here, it might cause problems for you.”

“Didn’t I tell you I’d make sure nothing bad happened?”

“Yes, but−”

“Then trust me,” he says firmly. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

Jungkook looks at you like he hasn’t the ability to see anything else in the room, so intent is his focus. Heat starts its way at the base of your stomach, rising to spread through your veins and finds every single corner of your body in a burning need. This sort of proximity with him had not been even in your boldest fantasies. Jungkook has you pressed back by the wall as he closes in. 

The moment carries a feeling with it that leaves you breathless with excitement, and your nerves flutter like feathers in the breeze. It feels like you’re standing on the verge of something lifechanging, something that makes your anticipation rise and your heart thunder like the galloping hooves of carefree wild horses. 

Every word you try and conjure up seems to freeze on the tip of your tongue, and helplessly you stare up at him, your eyes desperately trying to gage whether this is serious for him, or if he’s just messing about. His gaze is unflinching, eyes like coals that burn into you with an intensity that makes you feel like you might go insane. 

Surely this couldn’t be happening, and you find yourself wondering whether the alcohol is making him bolder. You don’t want to be a drunken mistake −not even for the sought-after Jeon Jungkook. But he doesn’t look remotely inebriated as he looks into your eyes as if he’s trying to read your mind. He looks like a man who knows what he wants and is going to get it, and in Jungkook’s case, right now his target is you.

You can’t find a single shred of logic as you lose yourself in the intensity of his eyes, and the proximity of his hard, hot body that eases ever nearer to yours, the fabric of his shirt brushing you softly. He lifts a hand and places it against the door, leaning against it, his face looking down at yours as his other hand snakes its way around you to find the lock. You hear him turn it and your eyes widen, half frightened and half excited. 

“Don’t be scared,” Jungkook says, his voice deep and low, like a seductive caress that reaches deep into you, commanding your body to listen. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” you whisper. 

His hand moves from the lock behind you, finding its way up to your face where it hovers just a fraction of an inch away from your skin. Your blood rushes, heart thumping as your mind wills him to touch you. Just once. Just so you could know how delicious it would feel before this fantasy ended. 

Jungkook’s eyes are dark, like onyx nights that swallow you in. You feel like you haven’t got any control over yourself as he watches you. You bite at your lip nervously, which distracts his attention from your eyes to your mouth briefly. He flicks the tip of his tongue out over the piercing on his lip, and you know you’re in serious trouble now. 

In an instant, his hand wraps around the back of your neck, a strong thumb stroking against your cheek as he eases your head back a little, his head dipping lower until his breath ghosts over your now parted mouth. 

“You promised−,” you warn weakly, your words fading into a broken breath as his lips graze lightly over yours unexpectedly. “Fuck!”

You clasp a hand over your mouth and apologise instantly for the slip, but Jungkook’s face only breaks into a grin as he pulls your hand away from your face and lowers it back to your side. “I’ve never heard you swear before,” he says, amused. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“Don’t be,” he tells you gently, his thumb running over your jaw. “−It’s just a word.” 

You look up at him, feeling like the ground under your feet was slipping away. Suddenly you feel your own vulnerability, knowing you are completely under his mercy, your professional reputation hanging by a very precarious thread as you continue to unravel in his presence. “Jungkook−,” you whisper. “I’m scared.”

His expression softens and you feel his hand tighten around your waist. “I promised I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you,” he reiterates with conviction, his eyes never leaving yours. “And I meant it. Nothing bad will happen to you, okay?” 

You nod, unable to speak, but you do start to believe him. You’re also dizzy from the wanting, the anticipation and the intoxicating sight of Jeon Jungkook this damn close to you. “I’ll take care of you, Y/N,” he tells you, as this time, he uses both hands to cup your face, lifting it with care upwards, his face serious. “I want you to trust me, can you do that?”

“Yes,” you say quietly. 

“Alright,” he says. “Then there’s nothing to worry about.” 

“Okay,” you manage, exhaling shakily. 

You do trust him, strangely enough. You know he isn’t going to hurt you or do anything you don’t want him to, but it isn’t him you’re worried about. At this point it isn’t even your reputation. It’s the huge issue of anyone finding out what was going on back here, although you yourself aren’t sure what is happening. 

The other problem was your runaway feelings. Jungkook seems to have a way of drawing out emotion from you that you can’t prevent from taking over you, leaving you exposed and falling. Catching feelings for him wasn’t the best idea, because no matter how much you believed his words, he simply wasn’t realistically viable for you. 

Once more you try to back up, only to be stopped by the door which you keep forgetting about. “I should get back,” you say quietly. Your voice doesn’t even sound like your own, and your tone lacks even the slightest shade of conviction. You realise that you don’t mean a single word a fraction later than Jungkook does, because he’s already moving in. Before you can find the words to attempt another half-baked protest, you feel his mouth cover yours. 

For a second you are taken by surprise but that doesn’t last. In a matter of moments, you find yourself reacting to him, kissing him back, your mouth opening under his searching one, tasting his tongue against yours. It’s exquisite, sensual and urgent. You clasp at the hem of your dress tightly as you feel the hardness of his body start to press onto yours, solid and heated. 

You let out a soft, desperate moan against his mouth, and he pulls back, his thumb lingering on the swell of your lips as he swipes across before inserting the digit into your mouth, resting it on the tip of your teeth. Your tongue instinctively swirls around it and it’s his turn to groan. 

“I want to be the one who gets you out of this dress, Y/N,” he says hotly. “It’s taking every ounce of self-control I have to hold back from you right now.”

Your legs feel like they might give out and your arms instinctively reach out to brace yourself, pressing against the firm broadness of his chest. Your fingers curl against the material of his shirt, feeling the expanse of muscle under the fabric beneath your touch. You have never wanted anyone as much as you want Jungkook in this moment. This forbidden Adonis of a specimen was telling you that he wanted you, and you haven’t a clue how to react. 

You don’t know what to say, what to tell him, how to behave or how to get out of this −not that you actually wanted to. But you were meant to be at work, you did have a professional reputation at stake which would be blown to pieces if you were caught like this −how much could Jungkook protect you then? How could anything happen without someone finding out? You were probably already being sought after right now for something or the other. And even if you weren’t, Jungkook’s absence would definitely garner attention.

But he had kissed you though, hadn’t he? It was the briefest of moments, a mere brush of lips, that you were starting to think you had imagined it. You feel like you might actually go crazy as your head begins to spin with too many thoughts all at once, and your body continues to burn with longing for Jungkook that you couldn’t quench. 

You can feel yourself quiver from the inside out, right from the base of your feet to each root of your hair, your every nerve alive and responsive to him. The whole thing feels surreal enough that you just want to let go, forget your own reality just for a moment, and give in to your rising desire for the beautiful man who stood before you with the scent of heightened arousal. 

You feel Jungkook’s hands find your shoulders, the warmth of his palms over your skin, radiating the heat of seven suns as he dips his head lower, his mouth grazing the area where your neck meets your collarbone. He trails the gentlest of kisses up and along your throat as you arch your head back, moaning softly as he reaches your ear. 

“See how you’re responding to me,” he whispers, his voice reaching places inside you that you didn’t even know existed and bringing them to life, brimming with excited impatience. Your breath comes in shallow gasps, throat dry as your legs weaken at the knees further. “Like you want me to know what’s underneath,” he continues, lips grazing your earlobe and making you shudder uncontrollably, “−you’re inviting me in, aren’t you, hm?”

“Jungkook!” you exclaim in a whisper, knowing your resistance was next to nothing now. “−Please.”

He lets out a soft groan right by your ear that steals your breath away. “Fuck!” he breathes. “I’ve imagined you saying my name like that a million times over, do you know that?” 

One hand curls around your waist suddenly and he pulls you towards him until your body is flush against his. “Will you let me take this dress off?” he asks, need flowering his voice as he nuzzles the tip of his nose at the crook of your neck. 

Your entire body has never felt weaker. You can barely summon up the energy for a coherent thought or anything above a whispered moan to respond with. Jungkook’s teeth have located your left dress strap, and he begins tugging it down over your shoulder. You make no attempt to stop him, too lost in the overwhelming feelings of want and excitement that are welling up inside you, now on the verge of spilling over. 

He eases you back until your back is against the door, his other hand sliding down the right strap of your dress now until both hang over your upper arm, leaving your dress held up solely by the curve of your breasts. 

“We shouldn’t−,” you sigh, attempting to mount another feeble protest. “Jungkook, we can’t do this. It’s−.”

“It’s what?” he interjects, his head snapping back so he can look right into your eyes. “Forbidden?”

The word sends a thrill down your spine. 

“Doesn’t that make this so much hotter?” Jungkook says, looking down at you with a predatory gaze that sends your pulse through the roof. “Doing something we shouldn’t.”

He’s not wrong, it does add an extra dimension to an already steaming hot situation. Maybe the fact you shouldn’t be doing it was what was making this so difficult to turn down, but you doubt it. More like one of the world’s hottest men practically gagging to see what was under your dress was closer. 

“Didn’t you ever think about it?” Jungkook probes, closing his hands over your fallen straps and slowly easing them downwards, his eyes still fixed on you. “What it would be like with me? Like this?”

For a dizzying moment, you contemplate telling him just how many times you had laid in bed on sleepless nights with your hands under the waistband of your panties, feeling how soaked you were thinking about Jungkook’s muscles under your fingers, bringing yourself to the edge at the thought of how he would stretch you out so satisfyingly, before finally letting go imagining just how much he would fill you up when he came inside you. The thought makes you blush crimson, and you bite at your lip so hard you almost draw blood. You hiss, the pain seeming to add to your pleasure. 

Jungkook surveys you, his eyes lingering on the corner of your mouth where you had just bitten. You still as the dress straps go low enough that they can’t go further down without revealing your braless breasts. He looks at you so intently you feel as if you are naked already. Your skin flushes, your heart feeling like it is in freefall behind your ribs. 

“The way you’re looking at me tells me you’ve thought about us before,” Jungkook declares confidently. “I can tell.”

This build up is agony. Jungkook’s teasing has you in a limbo between agony and ecstasy. You almost want him to either let you go or tear the damn dress of you right this moment and ravage you in the way you had dreamt of so many times before. This waiting was killing you, and his words were unravelling you like thread on a fallen bobbin. 

A realisation dawns on you. There were only two real outcomes available to you. The first was you summon every ounce of willpower and logic that you possessed and get the hell out of here and back to the party upstairs, or the second. You let Jeon Jungkook fuck you right here against the wall and have what promised to be the best few minutes of your life. 

The choice was yours −just about. 

“That tells me what I wanted to know,” Jungkook says, his voice rough and strained. “Now let’s not waste any more time.” 

He traps one of your wrists in his strong grip and pulls you to him, close. His other hand finds your throat, fingers curling possessively around your neck. You make a strange sound as you find yourself leaning into his touch. You feel his palm press onto your collarbone, pushing against your skin firmly. 

“Jungkook!” you breathe raggedly, one of your hands flying up to cover his. 

“Relax,” he coos. “I won’t hurt you. Didn’t I already tell you that?”

You manage a small nod as you swallow nervously, breath catching as your heartbeat races as fast as startled wild horses. 

“Just relax,” he says again, softer, like a soothing hush as he tilts your head to an angle, your neck exposed, mouth parted in anticipation of whatever he was going to do next. Nothing else mattered, just him, and his touch. 

Your next breath is cut off by his lips as they claim yours in a deep kiss. The hand at your throat squeezes a little, causing a rigorous shudder to course its way through your body. A moan lodges itself at the base of your throat that spills into his mouth on its way out. Jungkook responds with one of his own as he swallows up your sound. 

You continue the kiss, his body crushing you against the door, hips grinding into yours enough that you can already feel the hardness of his cock inside his pants. Your cunt clenches needily around nothing and your mouth opens wider under his, your hands reaching up to curl around his broad shoulders, digging into the expanse of his muscular back, wishing it was his skin beneath your fingers and not the expensive fabric of his shirt. 

Jungkook’s mouth leaves yours and he eases himself apart an inch, looking down at you. He’s breathing heavier, his eyes darker still, arousal evident in his expression. “We’re doing this, right?” he asks, panting slightly as his hands leave your throat to rest on your shoulders again as he takes in your reaction. “Tell me now, because I don’t think I can hold myself any longer.”

The gravity of your choice hits but doesn’t seem to leave any negative impact. It’s as if you had already made that choice the moment you had agreed to stay behind with him. It was far too late to back away now, and you knew it. 

The sleeves of your dress are being slid down again, and you offer zero resistance. “Say it, Y/N,” Jungkook breathes. “Tell me you want this.”

You gasp shakily, watching as his eyes travel down your body, then back up to meet yours. You couldn’t hide the truth even if you wanted to, it was written all over your face. “I do,” you confess. “I want this, I want you.”

Jungkook tugs the dress down with one quick motion, letting the material slide down to your waist to reveal your bare breasts. The cool air from the building’s aircon hits your skin, causing your nipples to jut out under his hungry, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. 

“Oh, fuck,” he says under his breath, exhaling jaggedly as he takes you in. 

He moves in, his hands moving around your waist and then behind your thighs. Suddenly you feel your feet leave the floor as Jungkook lifts you up as if you weighed no more than a sheet of paper in his arms. Your hands wrap around his neck, your hair cascading down over his face as he carries you over to the large glossy Italian desk that sits at the corner of the room. 

With one hand, he pushes away a few bits and pieces to clear a space on it and sets you down gently, teasing your legs apart and positioning himself between them, his mouth finding yours in a heated kiss. He starts to tease the hem of your dress upwards and over your thighs, until it’s high enough to expose your panties. 

Jungkook eases you back slowly until you are propped up yourself up by your elbows as his kisses blaze a trail down your neck and onto your decolletage. His erection presses onto you more like this and you hear yourself moan quietly as his mouth reaches the tops of your breasts. You glance down to watch as his head dips between the valley of your chest and then to the dark circle of your nipple. His pierced lip brushes over it, the cool metal making your breath hitch, before his tongue flicks out to lick at the jutting peak. 

Your eyes close, cunt filling with restless need as his mouth closes around your breast, his other hand finding the other, caressing the soft flesh between his fingers, pinching the nipple with a little force. 

“Jungkook!” you cry out.

He climbs back up, kissing at your mouth. “Shh,” he whispers against your lips. “Not too loud, baby −I got you.”

Jungkook kisses you again, licking into you with soft, teasing presses of his mouth, swallowing up your uncontrollable moans. Your hands bury themselves into his hair, your legs parting involuntarily under his weight, the hardness of his cock prominent at your stomach even through the layers of the pooled fabric of your dress. 

“This is going to be quick,” he tells you between kisses. “I’m sorry, baby. I usually like a bit more time, but−.”

The way you’re feeling now, even a second feels like too long. You need this man like air, and you need him now. 

“−As you know, we might be a little pressed for time,” Jungkook concludes. “So why don’t you tell me how you want it, hm?” He nuzzles his face into your neck, biting at your earlobe, hand over your breast, still tweaking at your nipple. He sucks a kiss into your skin, teeth nipping. “You want me to be rough with you?” he whispers hotly, “Fuck you hard?” 

You shiver in ecstasy, barely able to breathe. How was he so good at this? You had gotten it so wrong thinking he was a rabbit in headlights. No, he wasn’t. You wonder how many others had heard him like this, spread themselves open for him, and felt the dangerous press of his arousal on them as they waited to be ravaged. Your mind wanders to the woman who had effectively sort of started this. Had Jungkook fucked her like this, dress around her waist, long legs wrapped around his head as he pounded her into the furniture...  

The thought spurs you irritably to movement, and you have a moment of clarity. You suddenly turn your face away from Jungkook’s heated kisses and shove hard at his chest. It takes monumental resolve and the second you do it, you can barely believe you have. You don’t want to be his latest conquest, the latest in a line of women he fucked and discarded. How would you ever resume working here again? Facing Jungkook every day, knowing how easily he had made you relent to him, desperate enough you put everything on the line for a quickie. Your career here would almost certainly be over. 

But although you are trying desperately to convince yourself this was about work, you know the truth. This was pure and simple jealousy that was overcoming you. There was the thought that you might have to see him with someone else at some point or stand by and watch as he followed someone else into a back office for some action. 

You realise you’re being irrational, but the wheels are already in motion, you can’t pull out. So much for not doing jealousy. 

“What the−?” Jungkook begins, clearly taken by surprise by your shift in gear, but you aren’t listening. 

“Did you fuck her?” you interject, spurred into a moment of bravery, uncaring what he would think or how envious you would seem. 

Shock registers on his face as he pulls back, allowing you to sit up. “Who?” he replies, looking utterly bewildered by this sudden change and your unexpected question. 

You place an arm across your chest to shield your modesty, the other reaching down to wrench your sleeve up. But it’s far too difficult to do, the dress won’t come up enough properly without the other side. You grunt in frustration, feeling humiliated at your body’s betrayal and furious at the stupid dress. You never should have worn it.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook says, attempting to touch you but you bat away his hand, embarrassed tears burning at your eyes. “Who are you talking about? Fuck who?”

“Her!” you snap. “The one with the forever legs. You were stuck to her side. Everyone could tell she had the hots for you.”

Jungkook looks perplexed, but then recognition slowly filters into his expression. “Amanda?” he offers. 

So he remembered her name too. He hadn’t remembered yours, and you had been around for longer. Your fury rises, wounded at the revelation. You try again with your sleeve without success. “Yeah, her,” you say sharply. “It’s so good of you to remember her name, she must have been special. I’m sure she remembers more than just your name too.”

You knew you weren’t sounding classy or dignified, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You weren’t even sure you wanted to. 

And then, just when you think your moment of utter despair and humiliation couldn’t get worse, Jungkook smirks. He fucking smirks. Clear as day, right in front of you, as if you were a source of amusement. It’s too much, and in one go you’re off the desk, dress straps forgotten, eyes blazing as you head towards him. 

“You asshole!” you rage, fists coming up to pound at chest. 

But this was Jeon Jungkook −he is simply too fast for you, and you don’t even manage to land one solid hit. He catches your wrists with strong hands and pins them together, transferring both to one hand as his eyes meet yours, stormy and dark. Even in your anger, he’s breathtakingly hot. 

“Fuck you!” you hiss defiantly. “I wouldn’t let you fuck me even if hell froze over and you were the last man on earth.”

He lets his gaze travel over you agonisingly slowly, saying nothing. His eyes linger on your mouth, then down your collarbone and further, taking in the swell of your breasts−

Fuck. 

That’s when you remember the damn dress hadn’t even been pulled up, and you are standing topless before him, exposed and inviting. Amusement still plays about his mouth, and you watch as his tongue flicks past his lips to lick at the corner of his mouth. He tuts quietly, then lets out a short whistle. 

“That’s some temper, baby,” he tells you, his voice seductively deep, his eyes boring into yours with burning desire. “You’re fire.”

He’s turned on, and it’s turning you on too. You can’t deny it. 

His fingers tighten around your wrists to tug you close to him again, your breasts pushing onto the hard heat of his chest as his other hand finds its way beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers splay against the bare skin of your thigh, travelling up, the dress rising with his touch. 

“I didn’t fuck her,” he tells you, the dress being moved up higher. “She’s not my type.”

His eyes hold you in place like hypnosis, and you make no effort to stop him, the sensations that his touch is invoking too strong to resist. 

“I’ve known your name since the first day we met,” he continues. 

“Liar,” you retort. “You read it from my nametag. You did it right in front of me.”

He snorts. “Your nametag is back to front, your name isn’t even showing −you can check it if you like.”

You can’t even check it now because it had been buried somewhere between the folds of your dress, but it was hard to imagine Jungkook would lie about that. Your anger begins to dissipate, clouded by his assurance, and the ferocity of your pure want. 

He gives a short laugh, “I had no idea you were so into me.”

“I’m not!” you say instantly. 

He raises that pierced eyebrow, looking fine as hell. “Now who’s lying?”

Your face flames, but there’s no escape. He still has you prisoner and isn’t showing any signs he wants to let you go. “This dress definitely suits you,” Jungkook says, head dipping low beside your ear where he whispers, “−And I am going to fuck you in it. Right here, right now.”

“You arrogant…” You sound strained and unrecognisable, and so very far from anything resembling convincing.

“And when I do−,” he goes on, his voice rougher, deeper. “You are going to love it.” 

You shudder at his words, your body quivering as his hand goes higher, coming to rest at the edge of your panties. His mouth moves closer to yours, the heat of his breath ghosting over you. Your breathing is ragged with the remnants of anger and anticipation, and you can feel yourself willing him to kiss you. You want him to kiss you so bad. 

He smiles. “You don’t seem like someone who wouldn’t let me fuck them,” he says. “Last man on earth or not.”

“Asshole,” you repeat, but there is no conviction in your tone.  

“You should see yourself,” Jungkook says, fingers sliding under the waistband. 

You hear yourself gasp, and your hands struggle in his grasp weakly. He only holds tighter, you’re no match for his strength. 

“So fucking beautiful when you’re jealous and angry,” he hums, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “You’re making me crazy hard, do you know that?”

The combination of Jungkook’s proximity, his teasing, his words, his touch, his breath, his restriction on you, and the anticipation of what he was going to do next has your mind reeling. Weakened by his seduction, and with nothing left in you to turn him down. 

“You want me to touch you?” he asks huskily. “You want to feel my fingers in your pussy?”

“Jungkook, please−“ you breathe, your voice catching. 

He smirks again, knowing he’s won, fingers edging closer to your soaking cunt. “Please, what?” 

“Touch me,” you plead, hearing the urgency in your voice. “I want you to touch me.”

He licks across your lips before kissing you open mouthed. “That’s my good girl.”

Unexpectedly, Jungkook lets go of your hands and lifts up the other side of your dress. He looks down, hooking his thumbs into the hem of your panties and sliding it down. The garment slides to your ankles and he bends down to retrieve them. He rises, lifting your underwear to his nose and inhaling deeply, eyes on you. 

“I’m keeping these,” he tells you, shoving them into his pocket. 

You have no time to say anything because he’s already in the process of lifting your dress further up for better access. He steers you backwards until you feel the edge of the desk behind you, cold to the touch. 

The whole situation feels dangerously erotic, and you’re hopelessly drowning in it. In him. 

He cradles your head in one hand, kissing you with feeling, with need. You return the kiss with equal passion, your mouth accommodating to the invasion of his probing tongue, wanting more as your hands bury into his hair. He’s still hard, harder than before it seems, his clothed erection a permanent reminder of what he wants against you. 

He reaches down, fingers trailing over your inner thigh and up. He moans softly as finally, he makes contact with your glistening, wet folds. “Fuck−,” he whispers against your mouth as his hand slide over the slickness, parting your folds with two fingers. “You’re so wet, baby. So good, so ready for me.” 

He strokes at the sensitive bud of your clit with his thumb slowly, and you can’t even form any coherent words as his kisses swallow your helpless sounds, your body completely at his mercy. His finger lingers at your opening, and your legs part, your breaths coming in stuttered, jolting gasps as you feel his fingertip push into you. 

“You want to feel me?” Jungkook growls, looking down into your face, eating up your reaction as his finger goes deeper. 

“Yes!” you whine, grinding yourself against his hand. You look down, hips bucking under his touch. There was something so sensual about seeing his veined, tattooed hand moving between your legs. 

He inserts another finger, both sliding between your slick walls, curling upwards to find your sweet spot. “So tight, baby,” he hisses, biting at his own lip. “−So fucking tight and wet.”

He begins to stroke you so slowly, teasingly massaging your clit and scissoring into your dripping cunt until you are almost in tears with the excruciating pleasure he’s giving you. It’s overload, and you can’t hold on much more. You can already feel how your wall begin to quiver, contracting around his fingers, squeezing around him. 

When he adds in a third finger, you can’t keep back the cry that breaks from your throat, so you bury your face into Jungkook’s neck, your fingernails digging into his back so hard you know they’ll leave marks on him, even through his shirt. “God, it feels so… so good.”

“Come for me,” he encourages you hotly, increasing the pace, going deeper yet until he’s right against your cervix, moving in just the right way at the very spot which is your most intimate place. “Show me how much you want me.”

You moan breathlessly. “Jungkook… oh fuck, I’m close…. so close!” 

“I can feel you, baby,” he coos. “Let it go for me. I want to feel you come for me.”

You keen against his hand, knowing you were going to shatter any second now. “Mm, Jungkook−“ you mewl. “Harder. Fuck me harder!”

He duly obliges, fingers pumping your cunt quicker and harder, thumb toying with your swollen clit, hitting it right at your cervix. You can feel how soaked you are, the scent of your arousal heavy in the air as your juices run messily down his fingers. “That’s it, baby,” he whispers, stealing a greedy, wet kiss from your parted mouth. “Look at you now, hm,” he says hotly, biting at your lower lip, grazing right at your sweet spot, “Such a dirty slut for me, aren’t you?” 

It sends you over the edge and you come undone spectacularly. Your body convulses, legs shaking as your walls contract violently around his fingers, slick coating the length as your orgasm hits. You don’t know what words are coming out of your mouth or his, all you can feel is how fucking good it feels. Like pure, unadulterated pleasure you never want to end. 

Jungkook fucks you through it, offering soft, hushed words and kisses, his fingers continuing to work at you until the shuddering calms and he slips out his fingers. You let him take you into his arms, weak and dazed. You had never had a climax quite like that one before, and right now, you can’t even talk. 

You feel him lift you onto the desk wordlessly, spreading your legs. Your body is compliant and eager, wanting to feel him inside you again. He reaches for his belt, his movements hurried now, an indication of how far gone he was. 

You gasp when he unzips and pulls out his cock. It’s huge and hard, like a weapon waiting to devour you with. The thought excites you and you feel yourself stirring again. Jungkook wraps a hand around it, pumping himself a few times as he looks at you. 

He slots himself between your legs and you lean back, legs spreading out as he bends over you, positioning his cock at your wet, ready opening. “I told you I was going to fuck you in this dress,” he says. 

“You did.”

He kisses you again, his cock pushing at your cunt. Within seconds, he’s inside you, and he thrusts into you without warning, his entire length entering you in one go. It’s rough and raw, but you love it. You hear him groan as you cry out his name, his cock filling every inch of you beautifully. 

“Fuck me,” you whisper. “Fuck me hard, Jungkook.”

“I always imagined you would want it rough,” he tells you. “You ready?”

You look back up at him, reaching up to touch his mouth, fingers running over the metal at the corner. “Do it.”

Jungkook begins to pound into you like an animal, the tip of his cock hitting your pelvis, his width stretching your walls to their sorest point, his hips grinding at you as your back slides up the desk. 

Your legs grip him, fingers tugging at his hair as he bites into your neck as he fucks you relentlessly. He’s groaning, panting, his cock hardening further inside you as he chases his end like a man possessed. He’s so strong and sexy, you feel almost like a doll beneath him, the ease in which he can move you however he wants, take what he needed from you at his own pace, kiss your lips swollen and make your cunt sore with his perfect cock. 

As he hits it over and over, you can feel a second climax nearing. You clench around him, eyes closed as the sensations intensify. You’ve always wanted to have sex like this at least once. Raw and unplanned, forbidden. But you had never had the right person there for that. 

Until Jeon Jungkook. 

“You want to come on my cock?” he asks raggedly as he thrusts into you, reading the signs your body was giving him. “You want to come again for me?”

“Yes!” you whimper, your body gearing up, hips snapping up to meet his rhythm. “You’re so big… it hurts so good.”

“Take it, baby!” Jungkook grunts, your praise turning him on more as he drives into you. “You can take it.”

He smells so damn good, and feels even better, one inked hand pinning you down on one side, one at your hip, holding you in place as he slams into you. It doesn’t take long before he’s claiming your second climax from you, and with a whine your cunt flutters around him, this orgasm feeling more intense than the first. 

“Oh fuck, baby−,” Jungkook pants. “You feel so tight coming like that for me. I can feel you.”

You groan, the last trembles of your climax still fading as he pulls out and leaves you empty. He eases back a little, taking his cock into his hand to jerk himself off with quick, hurried movements. 

He grunts, eyes half-lidded, teeth biting at his lip ring every so often, tongue peeking out of his parted mouth as he moans cuss words alongside your name in a mantra. It’s quite the sight and you watch mesmerised, waiting for him to explode all over you. 

“I’m coming−,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m−!”

Spurts of hot cum splutter from his cock as he comes hard with a series of rough groans that should come with a warning. Warm seed goes all over you, landing in various places from your neck and over your breasts, right down to your stomach and even on your bunched up dress that still sits around your waist. 

Jungkook looks utterly wrecked, sweat slicked and breathless as he drags his thumb over his cockhead to squeeze out the last drops of milky liquid. It just might be the hottest you had ever seen him look and he’s not even naked. Not even close.

Your mouth open instinctively as he brings his thumb to your mouth and smears it over your bottom lip, looking at you the whole time as your tongue slides out to taste him. You swallow the salty tang down, licking your lips as you look back up at him with a playful smile. He looks impressed. “Next time, I’ll be sure to give you the lot,” he tells you as he puts away his softening cock. 

“Next time?” you say tentatively as he helps you up and off the desk. 

Jungkook shoots you a look as he tucks his shirt in and belts up. “Yes, next time. Why? Don’t you want−?” Then something seems to click into place in his mind. “Oh that’s right, I remember,” he says. “You have me down as some kind of player, don’t you?”

You shake your head, looking guilty as charged. “No− it’s not that,” you say quickly as you pull your straps back up. “It’s just−.” You trail off, not even sure you had any excuse to offer for the assumptions you had been making. 

Jungkook catches you before you can try again, bringing you to him. “You didn’t think you were just going to use me for a quick one-off, did you?” he asks mischievously, his dark eyes settling on you. 

“No, of course not!” 

“Relax, I’m joking,” he tells you with a grin. “But I just want you to know that I’m no player.” 

He smooths back your hair before his fingers settle on the nametag you had affixed to your dress. He gestures with his head for you to look down. You do, seeing that indeed there was no name visible on it, just like he had told you. 

“When I’m serious about somebody I like and they feel the same, I don’t play,” Jungkook confirms. “I go all out.” He draws you closer, placing a kiss at your brow. “Besides, I don’t want you thinking this is all I’ve got,” he adds, his voice deepening. “There’s so much more I want to do to you…”.

thanks for reading |

[jennaort3ga]

Bring me there bring me there bring me there this is so freaking good I nearly wet myself

[suga-kookiemonster]

ctrl alt del | jjk

summary⇢ you graduated bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but, to your extreme disappointment, your big girl job isn't turning out to be nearly as exciting as you thought it would be. still, you're holding out hope that your talents will soon be recognized and your coworkers will stop trying to include you in their gossip sessions. enter jungkook, the quiet IT guy who's gradually making your days more bearable. (and if you find him easy on the eyes, that's nobody's business but yours.) pairing⇢ jungkook/reader word count⇢ 19.8k 🤭 genre⇢ smut | humor | office!au warnings⇢ sexual content, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, corporate nonsense, jk is a nerd but he's also really hot 😩 a/n⇢ omg, she's finally here 😭 this fic has been sitting in my drafts partially finished for literal YEARS lmfaoo. as in, jungkook didn't even have tattoos yet years ☠️ in fact, the whole plot for this was spawned from that time namjoon was on a live in his studio and jk visited in this yellow buttonup looking like a hot nerd and namjoon said he looked like he had an interview. it had to be 2018ish...i know my OGs know exactly what i'm talking about, but i'll put it below the cut for reference. ANYWAYS this was fun to imagine, but it's also entirely fiction so please don't attempt anything that happens in this fic lmao. mood for this fic is this. hope you enjoy~ 💜

When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.

Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.

While you’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every quarter the company sponsors an employee barbecue where everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.

“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”

Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though friendly, she has zero filter and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in certain situations where you found her topic of choice inappropriate. 

Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate instead of your measly Assistant means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started and is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing).

“I think it’s nice,” you reply truthfully. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”

“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”

Your eyes dart to said Sales Boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?

An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from Accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”

“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.

“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “That sounds unnecessarily smelly. He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”

“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.

The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.

“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.

He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue button-up. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.

The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.

“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”

Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”

“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”

“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”

“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”

He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up. 

“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.

“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”

“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.

Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.

Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”

“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”

“IT guy?” you prompt, hoping to slide past that last remark.

“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. They rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.

Wendy scoffs in disinterest. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”

“Soccer game?” you ask distractedly. A glance back to the coolers shows Jungkook is gone, and you don’t see him in the immediate vicinity.

“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy reminds you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”

To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching his athletic display across the grass anyway.

Monday morning—the start of the workweek, but also, rather depressingly, the end of the weekend. Everyone tends to be more tired and grumpy on Mondays (yourself included), and this is why your team considers it essential that you always stop by their preferred coffeeshop and bring in their drinks for a morning pick-me-up. You’re the lowest on the ladder, so you weren’t exactly sure how to refuse when you were asked one day if you would mind picking up some drinks for everyone, and then, after that, people kept sending you their orders like it was expected of you. The café is technically on your way to work and everyone always pays you back, but it’s still pretty irritating to have to forgo those extra precious minutes of sleep just so you can beat the long lines and get to work on time.

Today, you’re lucky enough to get ahead of the morning rush, but that means that you end up trudging into the building much earlier than you anticipated. You hope the coffee’s insulated cups do their job properly, because you really don’t have the energy to listen to Joy huff and puff about having to reheat hers.

Your trek to your cubicle slows when you realize that someone is already there, sitting in your chair and typing away on your keyboard. Their back is to you, swathed in an olive button-up, and it’s not until you get close enough to curiously crane your head to see their face that you recognize him. The guy from the barbecue last week—the one by the coolers.

He startles a bit when he sees you approach in his peripheral vision, eyes darting up at you in surprise.

“Hi.” You raise the tray you’re holding in an awkward greeting. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to creep up on you.”

“That’s okay, _____,” he replies softly, wide eyes blinking a little from behind his round glasses. “I can get kind of spacey when I’m focused on something. I was just doing some updates on your machine and didn’t see you.”

“You…” Your head tilts curiously. “You know my name?” 

A small smile touches his lips as he points to your computer. “I’m updating your machine,” he reminds you.

Not to mention the fact that he’s literally sitting in your cubicle, you name tag clearly posted on the frosted glass that separates your space from Joy’s. An embarrassed chuckle leaves you when you realize your dumbass mistake. “Oh. Duh. Wow, that was a stupid question. Let me just get out of your way.”

“No, no, I’m clearly the one in the way!” His head shakes apologetically. “I couldn’t do this update remotely and I thought you didn’t clock in for another half hour—sorry about that.”

“I don’t,” you confirm. “But I tend to get here a little early so I can sort out everyone’s coffee order.”

A brow raises in surprise. “Do they really have you making coffee runs?” he asks incredulously.

You hmm in confirmation, moving to set the coffee on everyone’s desks. “Rite of passage, I guess,” you call over the divider as you work. Joy’s order today isn’t as over the top as you know she can be, but you were still rather embarrassed to order it (vanilla latte with oatmilk—one and a half pumps cinnamon, one pump hazelnut, an extra espresso shot and extra foam with honey drizzle). The barista had looked at you tiredly but hadn’t voiced her obvious judgement when she rung you up. 

“I guess,” you hear him say, but he doesn’t sound too convinced. 

Coffee distributed and hands finally free, you return to lean against your cubicle, hovering as he continues to quickly type and click. You look at him pointedly, a small smile creeping across your face. “Speaking of grunt work, I hear you’re the printer guy.”

His lips quirk. “I’m also the expert at updating Microsoft Word, just so you know.”

You laugh, and his eyes crinkle in amused response. “Oh, well excuse me, sir.”

“I’ll let it slide this once. Since you’re new.”

“And so are you. That’s why you’re the printer guy.”

He just lets out a puff of air that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. This close, you can now see the tiny holes that are trailing up his earlobe—he clearly has multiple ear piercings, not just the ones you saw at the barbecue. There is no jewelry in them now, though. 

“Jungkook, right?”

It’s his turn to look surprised, and you find yourself satisfied by the flush creeping up the back of his neck when he ducks his head in confirmation. 

“Us newbies gotta stick together,” you stage whisper behind a conspiratorial hand before leaning decidedly away. “Anyway, let me stop bothering you and go make some coffee.”

His eyebrows scrunch in clear confusion. “Didn’t you just bring some?”

“…Yeah, I am only just now recognizing just how bizarre this must seem,” you say sheepishly. “But none of those were for me—fancy specialty drinks aren’t really in my budget, so I tend to just brew a cup here.” 

“Did you say drinks?” a voice croaks, and when you turn your head, there’s Joy, walking towards the two of you. If her body’s sluggish movements weren’t enough to clue you in to the fact that she’s exhausted and possibly hungover, the designer sunglasses she’s wearing to tactfully hide half her face certainly do.

“On your desk,” you chirp as she walks past you without another glance. “Good morning!”

There is no response from the other side of the cubicle wall, and Jungkook frowns a bit, but you just give him a small shrug that translates to what can you do? before pushing off the wall to continue your trek to the kitchen. “You want one?” you offer. “I make a mean cafeteria coffee. Trial and error has taught me the exact temperature of tap water to use to make it taste less like sludge.”

His mouth smoothes back out at your joke, and though you wait for him to call you out on your ridiculous declaration, his gaze is already back on your computer. “No thank you,” comes his soft reply.

With a nod to yourself, you move to complete your task and leave Jungkook to work on his. When you return minutes later, newly-filled mug in hand, he’s already gone.

Today starts out pretty typically. After bringing everyone’s coffee, you settle into monitoring the company’s social media accounts. (When Joy first delegated this task to you, you were a bit confused, as social media is so vital to brands nowadays that handling it is technically a whole other full-time job. But it turns out you don’t have to do much above the intern level anyway—just answer customer questions and escalate issues if need be.)

Your manager has been out traveling for a week, but today she finally comes back to the office, and it makes for a nice change of pace when she hands you all of her scattered, hurriedly-scribbled notes and asks you to please transcribe them into something more cohesive and legible. Well, not nice, exactly (because at the end of the day, this is still busywork), but if you have to reply to one more Facebook comment with instructions that are clearly already on the product packaging, there is a pretty likely possibility you will scream. 

This is at least slightly less mind-numbing. Instead of copy-pasting things from a prewritten script, you get to try to make sense of what your boss had been trying to say when she wrote turkey club in the corner of a page filled with random numbers and dates. Was this important? Was it simply her plans for lunch that day? You and your fancy college degree have the pleasure of trying to figure that out while Joy and Alan, the web manager, get to actually do important things that are in their job descriptions.

Still, like every day, you try to dampen your frustration, try to keep a positive attitude. Because ultimately, this is an opportunity to grow your boss’s confidence in you, and that’s exactly what you want. Though you’re a little disheartened by all the busywork, you remind yourself it will all be worth it in the end. Your hope is that if you put in the time, you’ll eventually be trusted with more of the nitty gritty stuff. 

(You know…the stuff you actually got your degree for.)

But no matter how positive you are, things of course don’t go as smoothly as they should. After you’ve done a pretty fantastic job (if you say so yourself) of organizing and typing everything up, you send your manager the digital version. And, because you know the email may accidentally get buried in her inbox, you decide to print a physical copy for good measure.

You give the printer pretty simple, straightforward directions. One copy, double-sided (to do your part to save Mother Earth), the whole document typed in plain old black and white. But when you walk over, there’s nothing waiting for you in the printing tray. No humming to clue you in to the fact that the printer was working on your job. Nope. Instead, the admittedly ancient machine is quiet and still, and it stays that way for long enough for you to walk back to your computer to press the print button again, just in case you forgot to do so the first time. Still no dice. You frown, opening the paper tray to make sure it was full, then opening every other compartment that can possibly be opened to make sure there isn’t a paper jam somewhere.

Nothing.

Irritated, you stalk back to your desk, your first inclination to check with Joy and see if she has been having any of the same issues, but you find her chair empty. Probably got pulled into a meeting that they don’t find it necessary to loop you in on, even though it will ultimately be you who does all the grunt work for any action items the meeting produces.

Positive, you remind yourself, falling back into your chair and drumming your fingertips against your desk in thought. Maybe it’s not the printer at all. Maybe it’s your computer. You search your desk drawer for the introductory employee contact sheet HR had given you when you first started, and there he is—Jeon, Jungkook.

For a second, you consider sending him an email, but the green dot that displays he’s online has you shooting him a message instead. Much less formal, but likely quicker for the both of you.

You Hey Jungkook! Sorry to bother you, but I can’t print for some reason You The printer over here is ignoring me, and I don’t think I’m set up to print by the art directors

Despite what you originally assumed, he doesn’t answer immediately, obviously focused on something else. Still, you only have to wait a few minutes before you hear the soft ding you were waiting for. 

Jungkook Jeon Hi, _____. You mean the large printer by the marketing department, correct?   You Yes! I tried a couple times, but I don’t think the job even went through You Thought it best to just ask the printer guy 🙂

There’s a pause, one long enough that you worry that he’s forgotten about your lighthearted exchange from this morning. Shit. That was stupid of you. You’ve probably offended him. Fuck.

But if Jungkook is upset with you, he’s professional enough that it doesn’t come across at all in his next message. If anything, he just seems a little preoccupied. 

Jungkook Jeon Hmmm, let me check it out for you. Mabel can be a little uncooperative. You Mabel? 

Silence again, this time for a good five minutes. You answer some emails so you’re not just sitting there twiddling your thumbs. 

Jungkook Jeon Sorry, was running some diagnostics in the background to see if I could find the problem  IT kinda calls that printer Mabel because we’re pretty sure she’s worked for the company for longer than all of us combined. Seems fitting

You can’t help but snort at that. Cute, and likely not inaccurate. Mabel, it is.   

Jungkook Jeon One of these days Mabel’ll finally retire, but it won’t be today—looks like she’s running fine. Do you mind checking for me and seeing if you can access the marketing server? 

A few clicks, and when double clicking on the server icon doesn’t bring up the same list of folders it usually does, it confirms the conclusion the both of you have already come to—your computer is the problem, not Mabel.

You No dice 😕 Jungkook Jeon Got it. I think something went weird with your network connection after I updated your machine this morning. I can fix that for you! You Awesome! I appreciate it! Jungkook Jeon Of course! Can’t have my sparkling reputation as the Printer Guy tarnished so easily 😉 You LOL

You allow him remote access to your computer when a pop-up prompts you to, and he gets you up and running before your manager’s meeting is even over.

Lunch has always been an interesting—albeit potentially exhausting—part of your day. You learned early on that attempting to take the break you were legally entitled to at your desk did not stop anyone from continuing to ask you for things. Unfortunately, there weren’t many solutions to this problem—you didn’t get paid enough to be able to consistently eat your lunches out, and you lived too far away from the office to go home for lunch instead. So, you started taking your lunch break a little earlier than most of your other coworkers did, ensuring that the cafeteria was pretty empty and allowing you the space to decompress and eat your bagged lunch in peace. 

And as things usually went with this company, it didn’t take long for that peace to be interrupted. Once she noticed you disappearing from your desk, curiosity had Joy tagging along one day, and after that, it only took a couple weeks before both she and Wendy joined you. 

(Later, you would have the great idea to simply enjoy your bagged lunch in the park a few blocks away, but the weather wasn’t always great and at that point, the other two started to expect you to eat with them.)

So that’s exactly how you’re spending your lunch now—scarfing down the soup you made a few days ago that you’ll eat until it’s completely gone, while Joy and Wendy giggle and gossip to each other. As much as they apparently want to eat lunch with you, they tend to be pretty nonplussed by how you never contribute much to their inane conversations. 

And you’re fine with that. In the time it’s taken them to get comfortable invading your zen time, you’ve learned how to properly tune their tittering out. You’re good at nodding at the right times, at throwing in perfectly placed hums that indicate you’re listening, even when you’re not.

Today, it’s a sudden, uncharacteristic pause in their chatter that prickles against your diverted attention.   “That’s weird,” you hear Wendy mutter, and that officially throws you out of you mentally making your grocery list. The intrigued way she’s looking behind you makes you reflexively turn, and that’s when your eyes set on Jungkook.

He hadn’t been there when you first sat down for lunch, but he is now, sitting alone a couple tables away. He’s the only other person in the cafeteria, but from the AirPods in his ears and the way his eyes are focused on his phone screen, you doubt he’s even noticed this fact.  

Joy’s lips downturn slightly into a puzzled frown. “Hmm. IT guys never come down voluntarily from their tower.” 

Your head tilts as you mull over that. That isn’t exactly true. You have only seen Jungkook in passing a few times over the last couple weeks, but those few times prove IT aren’t exactly the antisocial specters the two women in front of you keep painting them as. You have even exchanged the short pleasantries with him that are socially expected when crossing paths at the coffeepot.  

“Wonder what he’s doing here?” Wendy says, not nearly quietly enough in your opinion. Embarrassment  flashes hot through you, inwardly chastising yourself for continuing to associate with such casually judgmental people. You’re already mentally preparing to apologize for your lunch mates when a covert glance out of the corner of your eye shows that Jungkook’s still paying your group no attention, taking distracted bites from his sandwich as his head bobs slightly to whatever is playing through his headphones.

“Whatever,” Joy says with a dismissive shrug, and then just that easily, the two are back gossiping about Cindy in HR.

From then on, you notice that Jungkook continues to eat lunch in the cafeteria at the same time as you. Sometimes, he beats you there, already at his designated table and munching on whatever he brought that day. If your eyes meet, he’ll send you a small smile in greeting before immediately dropping his focus back to his phone. If you’re there first and throw him a wave of acknowledgment, he always returns it, as is polite and expected of two coworkers who don’t know each other beyond their forced proximity.

And you think nothing of it, too busy being your department’s errand girl, the person who gets assigned all the tasks no one else wants to do. The amount of interaction you and Jungkook have is only marginally higher than what you have with Namjoon in Finance, who periodically reaches out to you for any missing receipts for charges on the Marketing department’s credit card.

This slowly starts changing as you begin to have more and more technical problems. You being assigned to put together multiple PowerPoints and research whatever market trends tickles your boss’s fancy means you constantly have an ungodly amount of tabs and applications open. This means you’re not really surprised when your computer—an older model that is definitely on its last leg—starts freezing and giving you pop up errors. A force restart seems to fix the problem, but a new one emerges—now, no matter how many times you hit the print button and walk over to your designated printer, nothing awaits for you to pick up. Even scrolling through the printer’s print history shows no record of your jobs being in the queue. It’s bizarre—you even make sure to confirm you’re connected to the servers, and that doesn’t seem to be the issue this time.

Frowning, you make your way back to your desk and scroll down your chat messages until a familiar face appears.

You  Hey Jungkook! I can’t seem to print—think something weird is going on with my computer today

A soft sigh of frustration escapes your lips, fingers drumming irritably against your desk. It isn’t even noon, but the day is already looking to be a long one.

Resigned, you settle in to wait for him to answer you in the chat, but the little bubbles that indicate he’s typing never pop up. Instead, you’re surprised when movement in your peripheral produces Jungkook himself, slowing in approach of your desk, though his focus is still on his phone screen. He must have gotten your message in the midst of doing something else. 

“Oh! Hi,” you greet him eagerly. “Just the person I was looking to see.”

He looks up at you from beneath the curtain of his bangs, a small smile touching his lips as he stuffs his phone back into the pocket of his slacks. “Just the person I was looking for,” he returns. “What seems to be the problem?” 

“Mabel is being a bitch again,” you say with an irritated sigh. “Every time I try to print, nothing is happening.” 

Jungkook snorts, amused, and it’s only then that your brain registers exactly what you just said. Swearing at work is unprofessional so you make it a point not do it, but that one slipped out so casually. “Oh—sorry.”

But if Jungkook is offended, it certainly doesn’t show in the responding chuckle he lets out. “That’s definitely on brand. I can fix that—let me take a look.”

You move to relinquish your seat, but he’s already leaning over you before you can do more than shift your weight. So you just let go of your mouse so he can control it instead, scooting to the side a bit and trying your best not to think too hard about how he’s close enough for your clothes to brush. Christ does he smell good.

Jungkook clicks around a bit, no doubt checking to make sure your computer is up to date and connected to everything it’s supposed to. “Is this what you’ve been trying to print?” he finally asks, brows furrowed in concentration.

You blink at the question, realizing with dawning horror that you were accidentally distracted by his proximity. You clear your throat, shaking your head a little at yourself in an attempt to clear it of all thoughts that aren’t solidly on the task at hand. “Yeah.” 

He clicks the print button, just as you have done for the past ten minutes, then straightens with a shrug. “Let’s give our old girl a visit and see what her deal is.”

You stand, following him around the corner to the copy room, where Mabel has proudly taken residence for who knows how many years. The fact that you can already see she’s humming with activity as the two of you approach has your eyebrows knitting in confusion.

Jungkook seems equally confused, reaching in the tray for the stack of paper that was just spit out and turning it over to confirm both of your suspicions. The report you’ve been trying to print for the last twenty minutes sits in his hand, likely still warm from how quickly and easily Mabel completed Jungkook’s request. He holds it up for you to see, his big doe eyes peering at you quizzically through his glasses. “This printer was the one that wouldn’t work for you?” he asks.

“Yeah, I definitely sent it to this one. Repeatedly,” you insist. Embarrassment prickles across your skin. “I swear it wasn’t working two seconds ago!”

Jungkook smiles when he hands you the papers, and it somehow softens his naturally cherubic face even more. “You just wanted to say hi to me, huh?” 

“Clearly Mabel likes you more than me,” you sniff at his teasing. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“You didn’t,” he says simply. He hovers for a few more moments as you check to make sure all the pages are there. “Let me know if you have any more issues, okay?”

“Will do,” you agree, mind already back on your work as you both turn to part ways. “Thank you so much for your help!”

“Anytime.”

“Didn’t you have a date last night?” Joy asks. 

It’s lunchtime again, early enough that the three of you are still the only ones in the cafeteria. While both Joy and Wendy are munching on some overpriced salads they had delivered from a restaurant a couple blocks away, you’re eating a boring ham and cheese sandwich that you haphazardly slapped together in your rush to get out the door this morning. Vaguely, you do remember Wendy mentioning something about an upcoming hot date, but she was always rambling about a hot date, and frankly, you don’t care enough to keep up with any details. Everything you know about her love life—and her, in all honesty—has been dumped onto you without you having any say in the matter. 

“I did,” Wendy squeals, excited as always to have the opportunity to talk about herself. “His name was Miles. We’ve been talking on Tinder for the past week—he was really sweet and seemed to want to get to know me. Last night he took me to a nice restaurant, really wined and dined me.”

“Wow,” Joy says, eyebrows raised. “That sounds promising. When are you gonna see him again?”

“I’m not,” Wendy scoffed. “He was nice and all, but he’s only 5’7. It’ll never work out.”

“True.”

You’ve been trying your hardest to zone them out, but the longer Wendy prattles on, each sentence more baffling than the last, you can’t help but interject, “Doesn’t the app let you filter out height preferences?”

Wendy pauses, a raise of an eyebrow betraying her surprise at you finally participating in her lunchtime shenanigans. “Not on the free version.”

“So why did you even entertain him if you knew you would never consider him seriously?” 

“..because I wanted to go to dinner?” Wendy replies flatly, the look on her face doing nothing to hide how stupid she thinks your question is. “Besides, he got what he wanted out of the deal. After dinner I took him home and let him fuck.” 

The flippantly casual way she throws out the vulgar word feels like a record scratch, especially since the three of you are, in fact, still very much on company premises. Wendy doesn’t seem to notice just how much she’s scandalized you, continuing to prattle on at full volume about how the sex was pretty good for a Tinder date, even though he refused to eat her out. 

At this point, you’ve long slowed in your chewing, now entirely too incredulous by the absurdity of the situation you’ve found yourself in to eat. 

“You didn’t suck him, did you?” Joy asks.

Wendy scoffs. “Of course not! I’m not giving head to some random anyway, especially if he’s not gonna give me mine first.”

“Can we not talk about this?” you mumble.

They both turn to stare at you, judgement plain on their faces. Wendy snorts. “Wow, _____. I never took you to be a prude.”

“I did,” Joy slides in under her breath.

You let out an agitated huff. This is ridiculous. “I’m not a prude.”

The two of them share a look. After a pause, Wendy finally asks in a way that indicates that it doesn’t really matter what you say because her mind is already made up, “Then what’s the problem?”  

Aside from this conversation being a massive HR violation?

Wendy continues smugly, as if she’s figured you out, “Talking about oral hit a nerve…interesting.”

Yes, Wendy! you think sarcastically, fighting the intense urge to roll your eyes. The whole rest of the convo was good and dandy—oral was definitely the line, though! 

Joy just looks at you, her eyes narrowing the longer she does. Her scrutiny makes your skin prickle in irritation. “You have gotten head before, right?”

“Okay!” you say sharply, stuffing the uneaten half of your sandwich back into the bag. “One, that’s neither of your business, and two, this conversation is completely inappropriate. Let’s change the subject, please.” 

It’s quiet for a moment, both of them visibly surprised by your response. Joy actually looks a tiny bit proud that you stood up for yourself, but Wendy just sniffs and mutters, “That obviously means no.” Ultimately, they both back off, choosing instead to chatter about the newest design of Joy’s nails.

You exhale a tiny sigh of relief. Wendy was hitting the nail too close to the head and you truly didn’t feel like explaining your life story to a nosy coworker who was nothing more than your acquaintance, at best. Now that they’ve finally let you out of the hot seat, you’re fully planning to spend the rest of your lunch hour zoning out in relative peace. 

But before you can properly dissociate, you hear someone cough behind you. 

Your blood runs cold. You already know who it is—no one else tends to eat lunch this early.

“How long has he been sitting there?” you whisper, already dreading the answer.

Joy waves an unbothered hand. “I don’t know, like five minutes?”

Five minutes. Long enough to have heard… 

You’re immediately mortified, and it must show on your face, because Wendy just snorts and says way too loudly for your comfort, “Oh, relax, this is probably the most action he’s gotten in months. I’m doing him a favor.”

What the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK. “Are you serious right now?”

“Calm down,” Joy says, rolling her eyes. “Look, he’s not even listening to us.”

And a slow, discrete turn of your head confirms what she says—Jungkook, in an ugly salmon button-up today, has his earbuds in, eyes downcast to his phone screen, lips soundlessly forming the words to whatever song he’s listening to. You feel a tiny bit of relief, but embarrassment still roils deep in your belly, suddenly making your half-eaten sandwich completely unappetizing.

You stand, grabbing the brown paper bag that contains the remnants of your lunch and hoping against hope that you’ll be able to bolt without him noticing.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” Wendy sighs, annoyance bleeding into her tone. “I told you I didn’t realize you were a prude. We can talk about something else.”

You bristle, but tamp down the urge to defend yourself and point out again that you aren’t a prude, you just don’t want to be the office harlot either. “It’s not that,” you lie. The judgmental look in Joy’s eye only softens when you say, “I just remembered I forgot to print the printouts for the meeting this afternoon. I’ll see you guys later?”

“Sure,” Joy says dismissively, and Wendy says nothing at all. They’ve already moved on, no longer interested in your swift escape, attention eagerly back on the details of Wendy’s weekend. That’s works perfectly fine for you—you’ve had enough of being the center of attention for the day.

Blessedly, Jungkook doesn’t even look up when slink past him and out the door.

 It’s hot.

Third quarter is well underway, which means that it’s time again for the quarterly company barbecue. That also means it’s hot as balls. 

You suffer quietly, trying not to add to the stank atmosphere Joy and Wendy are already creating due to the heat. It’s an ambitious goal, especially since you’re already sweltering beneath your blouse—which was reasonable to wear within the chilled walls of the office, but feels rather ridiculous now, under the relentless beat of the sun. Despite being grateful for the free food and break from your maddeningly boring work, you can’t help but mentally yearn for the indoors, where there’s proper shade and air conditioning and decidedly less bitching. 

“I don’t know why they don’t just cater something for us to eat inside,” Joy mopes, dabbing at her brow with what you already know from experience to be a cheap, scratchy napkin. “How is anyone supposed to enjoy themselves if we’re melting?”

“It’s probably a ploy,” Wendy quips. “The more uncomfortable we are, the more likely we are to get back to work.”

“The date’s been on the calendar for months,” you point out wearily. “They had no way of knowing there’d be a heat wave today. Besides, the company’s already paid for the food. I doubt they intended to purposely waste that money.”

Joy scoffs in retort. “The company also knows throwing an outdoor event in July is the same as throwing one in Satan’s asshole.”

Wendy sniggers, but you don’t answer, biting back your response that outdoor barbecues are common during summer, and at least they don’t have you out here in the snow. Because honestly? This is only your second quarter with the company, and who knows what the fourth quarter barbecue looks like. 

All you can do is free some of the buttons on your blouse, undoing as many as you can while still being office-appropriate. As it is, you now have a little cleavage peeking out, but with how hot it is, you figure no one will say anything.

“Look,” Wendy says with an unsubtle tip of her head. “Looks like the soccer game is still on, at least.”

Fluttering the hem of your blouse in an attempt to get some circulation, you reflexively respond to her prompting, eyes following her line of sight. A few tables down, the Sales team has finished their meal and appears to be actively gauging coworker interest in joining their game. From the decently-sized group that’s starting to form by the open field, you think they’re pretty successful, despite the heat. 

Joy groans, lifting her long hair with a hand in an effort to cool off the back of her neck. “I don’t know how they’re doing all that when it feels too hot to breathe.”

Inwardly, you agree with her, but Wendy just gives a lazy shrug and says, “Hey, if we’re gonna roast to death, at least we’ll be properly entertained.”

“True,” Joy muses. “And they’re gonna be sweatier than usual.”

Wendy’s eyes glaze over a bit at the thought. You grimace, amazed that these two always seem to have their heads in the gutter. That’s my cue. “I’ll be right back,” you say, brushing off the back of your slacks as you stand, but they pay you no mind when you walk away.

You’ve already finished your meal, but it can’t hurt to take another look at the coolers. It’s so hot that you’ve already downed your first beverage, so a new one is in order. When you arrive to the area, two people from Customer Service pass, nodding at you in acknowledgment as they make their way back to their table. You’ve only just started to reach for a cooler lid when you hear someone address you again. 

“Hey,” a familiar voice says timidly behind you. “How’s it going?”

You reflexively turn your head, simultaneously surprised and not at all to find Jungkook standing there. He’s got on a long-sleeved button-up despite the heat—grey, checkered with a red and navy plaid—and you can’t help but wonder how he’s not sweltering. Though, the noticeable sheen on his face and the way his damp bangs are starting clump together tells you he just might be. 

“I’ve had better days,” you answer honestly, swiping the back of your hand across your forehead. Before you can catch yourself, that same hand is vaguely gesturing at him, head to toe. “How are you not melting?”

His lips twitch, amused. “I definitely am,” he admits. “I actually hoped no one was over here so I could stuff some of the ice from these coolers down my shirt without being judged.”

You snort. “Hey, who’s judging? Certainly not me. Knock yourself out; just make sure you leave me some.” 

He taps his chin, jokingly in thought, but to be honest, he does mildly look as if he’s actually considering it. “Well, we wouldn’t want the beverages to get cold…”

“Eh, there’s probably not that many in here anyway. They could probably consolidate coolers.” To prove your point, you bend over, cracking open one of the red ones next to you and peering inside. The expected assortment of generic sodas greets you, looking admittedly very refreshing floating in their ice bath. “See, this one isn’t even full.”

You angle your torso a bit so you can meet his eye properly over your shoulder, but as soon as you look up at him, his gaze hurriedly skirts away, color crawling up the back of his neck. You stand with a frown, confused by this, but ultimately brush off his weird behavior when you notice Namjoon from Accounting sidling up to the two of you. 

"Hey guys,"  he greets you, a friendly smile dimpling his cheeks. "We're getting some people together for a soccer game. I know it's really hot, but would either of you want to join?"

You’ve often seen Namjoon chatting with Hoseok in passing, and twice have even seen them leave the building for lunch together, so it doesn’t surprise you that the accountant is helping recruit for the Sales team's traditional barbecue pastime. What does surprise you, however, is that when he casually claps a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, the younger man first responds by blinking owlishly at him behind his glasses, and then, a few seconds later, giving him a nod of assent. 

Obviously you don't know Jungkook very well—not at all, really, outside of your ongoing feud with Mabel. But you didn't take him to be the type to be into playing outdoor sports, particularly in this weather, and you certainly didn't expect him to agree so easily. A smile from Namjoon and suddenly all thoughts of stealing cooler ice are gone. 

Namjoon turns back to you, but you're already shaking your head. "Nope, no thank you! Y'all have fun. I'll just supervise from over there in the shade."

"Fair enough," he chuckles, and then he's leading Jungkook across the open field to meet up with the others.

Mildly more interested in the game now, you take this as your cue to grab the beverage you came for—a can of a Lipton knockoff and a bottle of water for good measure—and return to your table.

Joy and Wendy are still yapping when you approach, though in your absence, Joy has apparently decided to move to Wendy’s side of the table. It only takes you following their line of sight to quickly recognize why—that side of the table has an unobstructed view of the upcoming soccer game. Well, unobstructed, so long as you change your seat too. Awkward about intentionally getting in the way, you pause for only a moment before ultimately reaching for the end seat perpendicular to them instead. 

When you lean over a little to pull your chair out from under the table, Joy finally deigns to acknowledge you, ticking an eyebrow. “I can see down your shirt,” she tells you offhandedly. 

Your head snaps down, and you realize she’s right—undoing those few extra buttons has made the billowy fabric more susceptible to gravity, particularly when you leaned over. You yourself could see your whole chest and the basic bra that supported it, and at this angle, you doubt your blouse covered much of that from Joy’s gaze. A hand immediately snaps up to press the material back in place, but before you can even get properly embarrassed, her attention is ripped from you, eyes wide at something behind you.

“Holy—”

Wendy's jaw drops. Your head reflexively turns in the direction they're gawking at.

And before you can stop it, your jaw drops too.

Your tablemates have been known to be dramatic, and are certainly the type to stretch a fact or two. But it’s only now that you fully understand their fixation on these Sales soccer games, because yes, sometimes they do indeed take their shirts off. Like now.

Other than one girl from Compliance, all of the game’s recruits appear to be men, and as such, the group has chosen to distinguish teams by shirts vs. skins. And while the sudden appearance of skin naturally draws most people’s attention, your attention only gravitates towards one person. Cause what the fuck.

You almost don't recognize him, your brain rapidly shuffling through the information it's collected about him over the past few months and struggling to reconcile with what your eyes are actually seeing. Because the Jungkook you know wears glasses and long sleeves and has an unassuming hairstyle that looks suspiciously like a bowl may have been involved at some point. 

But the person you're looking at now? Glasses have been discarded, apparently no longer needing optical assistance, and he’s ditched the button-up, sweat making the white sleeveless tank he has on underneath spottily transparent and divulging the dusk of his nipples. Now that you can properly see the taper of his slim waist, his shoulders are proportionally more broad than you realized. And, since he clearly has no regard for your rapidly rising blood pressure, Jungkook decides now is the perfect time to reach over said shoulders, grab fistfuls of damp fabric, and pull. The sight of him slipping the shirt over his head—the ink of his hair sinfully mussed, the muscles of his back rippling with the movement—has you reflexively swallowing, mouth dry.

He's absolutely ripped. 

There's no other way to say it. A superior specimen, built and honed in a way that's only possible through years of hard work and discipline. He's still lean enough that you can rationalize how you’ve never picked up on that amount of muscle hiding beneath his unassuming dress shirts, but you're still gobsmacked. 

Your mind spins, struggling to come to terms with the near impossible fact Jungkook actually pulled a Clark Kent on you. Well, pulled a Clark Kent if Clark Kent was also covered in gorgeous ink, pigment swirling up his right arm from wrist to shoulder. From this distance you can’t see the exact designs that make up his intricate sleeve, but you can tell it was composed with a purposeful eye. 

Jungkook is absolutely ripped and tattooed. Jungkook. Printer guy Jungkook.

Flustered and trying not to be, you quickly look away, clanking your jaw shut and trying to focus on the plastic tabletop instead. Dear god, this is embarrassing. You really just gawked at your coworker! He was minding his own business and your jaw just reflexively unhinged like a degenerate. God, you hoped he didn't see that.

But any mortification you have is apparently not shared by the other two at your table.

“Is that Justin?!” Wendy demands rather shrilly, eyes wide, and the volume of her question would embarrass you even more if your brain could process any other reaction right now other than straight static. “Justin from IT?!”

You swallow thickly, your responding correction weak and delayed. “Jungkook.” 

“Finally,” Joy groans, pushing her plate away dramatically. “Some good fucking food!”           

You can’t help it then—your eyes drift back up, lured to the soccer players once more and zeroing in on him immediately. Seemingly unable to stray from his form, the heat already producing a sheen over his golden skin even though the game hasn’t started yet.

Surrounded by a few surprised male coworkers, Jungkook’s slightly hunched into himself, shy at the sudden attention. Even with the distance, you can see how Hoseok claps Jungkook on the back, just as animated over his newly revealed physique as the members of your table. But while everyone else is excited by this revelation…

Across the field, Jungkook innocuously turns his head in your direction. Like magnets, his eyes hone in on yours, your gaze locked for a few seconds until another loud What the fuck?! from Wendy frees you from the spell and you hurriedly look away again, a completely different kind of heat washing over you.

Jesus, you need to get ahold of yourself. There’s no way he was actually looking at you—it’s too sunny, and he’s not even wearing his glasses! He probably can’t even see that far.

But when you brave another peek in that direction and realize you can literally count his abs from here—

What the fuck, indeed.

Mutely, you watch the game unfold, not as self-conscious when it becomes clear that the whole office is doing the same. Though Joy and Wendy have been very salacious in their excitement for it, the soccer game is evidently a company barbecue highlight for others as well. And you’re sure Jungkook joining the fray has only added to the interest, as he’s a completely new addition to the equation.

And to your continued astonishment, Jungkook is good. He’s fast and lithe and brazen. He proves to you, again and again, that he can kick the ball with such ferocious accuracy that the other team’s goalie eventually stops trying to get in his way and simply resorts to trying to protect their vulnerable body parts instead. His intensity only entices reciprocal energy from everyone else, and what has traditionally been a lighthearted game between coworkers has now transformed into a group of competitive men who feel they now have something to prove. 

Joy and Wendy are delighted by this development, squealing and cheering and tittering amongst themselves. You sit quietly, still trying to mentally process this new development, but when you start to feel embarrassed by just how much you’re staring, you decide to call it a day. No one really notices when you stand and gather your trash, and luckily the distraction of the game means you’re able to slip out without any fanfare.

This quarter’s barbecue being on a Friday means you’re blessed with a weekend to decompress and regroup. Unfortunately for you, the office doesn’t just…move on from the event like it has in the past. Instead, this particular barbecue was apparently such a success that you continue to hear chatter about it for the next week, mostly in passing. But while everyone else makes small talk about how much fun they had, Joy and Wendy choose to hone in on the only thing they truly consider worthy of discussion—Jungkook. 

Today, just as they have every day for the past few months, they join your table when you take your early lunch. However, to their increasing irritation, the object of their current fixation isn’t here. In fact, Jungkook hasn’t showed up to the cafeteria during your lunch time since before the barbecue, and you inwardly have to admit it’s a little strange without him. You sat at different tables and the two of you never really said much to each other beyond the expected niceties, but you’ve gotten used to his presence all the same. 

You actually have barely seen him at all, with Mabel on her best behavior this week and Jungkook seemingly busy with something that has kept him mostly out of common areas. Still, with your embarrassingly strong reaction to him at the barbecue, it’s probably for the best. You’re a little wary of what your first proper interaction is going to be like, and you’ve been mentally preparing yourself to be as normal as possible. 

Your female lunchmates don’t seem to have that same mindset.

“Does he just not eat anymore?” Joy huffs. “I literally haven’t seen him all week!”

Wendy picks at her salad, lips twisted in a displeased grimace. “I actually saw him yesterday.”

Joy’s head snaps to her. “What?! You didn’t tell me that. What happened?”

“Since casually running into him doesn’t seem to be working, I figured I’d try getting him to come to me. So I unplugged my keyboard and messaged him, but he didn’t show up for like 40 minutes,” Wendy sighs irritably. “And when he did, he looked at me like I was a moron.”

Your lips twitch in amusement before you can stop them. Joy immediately says exactly what you’re thinking. “Well, you are a moron. You sat there for 40 minutes with your keyboard unplugged!”

Wendy soldiers on like she didn't hear her, undeterred from her gossiping. “So he came over in his ugly button-up and judged me! Plugged the keyboard back in and walked away without even saying anything.”

Despite not properly running into him all week, you actually did see Jungkook’s shirt in passing yesterday as he was turning down a hallway at the far end of the office. Wendy’s right—it had been an ugly puce. You found it endearing.

“He didn’t even roll up his sleeves,” Wendy mourned. “The least Jamal could have done was give me that.”

You pause in the chewing of the tuna sandwich you brought from home, exasperated. “Jamal,” you repeat flatly. “Really?”

Wendy waves her hand at you dismissively. “You know who I mean!”

“I mean, he’ll probably be more willing to talk to you if you treat him like an actual person.” Your quip is reflexive and indignant, and it kind of throws all three of you off guard. Joy raises an eyebrow at you and your sudden vexation, but you still add, though more subdued, “You know. Making an effort to remember his name is a good start.”

“Damn, who pissed in your Cheerios?” Wendy sniffs, though she doesn’t seem very offended by your callout. Over the months you’ve superficially gotten to know her, you’ve come to notice that she doesn’t really take much seriously—a simultaneously admirable and frustrating trait. “If you wanted dibs, you could have just said that.”

You feel heat flush up your neck, denial attempting to sputter from your lips, but true to form, Wendy has already moved on, tittering about how it’s about time the office had some proper excitement that wasn’t just meetings and spreadsheets.

“And speaking of meetings,” Joy pipes up, passing you a nonchalant look, “don’t forget to order those sandwiches for the client meeting tomorrow.”

“Sandwiches?” Your mind blanks. You knew your boss was hosting some clients in the office—had even been working on a lot of grunt work to prepare for it—but no one had mentioned anything to you about any sandwiches. “I thought she was wining and dining them?”

Joy let out a mildly irritated huff. “No, they have to catch an early flight home, so the plan has changed to a working lunch. Weren’t you listening in Monday’s meeting?”

No, you hadn’t been listening, because you weren’t invited to the Monday’s meeting. So it looks like a plan had been made and tasks assigned to you…without anyone bothering to communicate that. Typical.

You close your eyes for a second, jaw working as you attempt to tamp down your ever-brewing frustration. If they intend on you ordering from the usual place, it may be too late to cater for delivery, which means you’ll probably be stuck figuring out how to transport multiple giant platters from a restaurant five blocks away. 

“Do you mind forwarding me the request you sent? I must have missed it,” you respond neutrally, knowing full well the original email had never been sent to you. You stand to leave, the rest of your lunch break instantly soured by the revelation that you apparently have time-sensitive action items that are encroaching dangerous territory. “Just want to make sure I get the order correct.”

Joy nods, attention already back on Wendy and only half-listening. In the meantime, you’ll have to research alternatives, just in case.

While you’re lucky enough to find an acceptable last-minute catering option that will also, blessedly, deliver, that doesn’t mean you’re free to take a breather. 

It’s now the end of the day, and one by one, you see everyone around you log out and head for the elevator. Even Joy, who leaves right on time, despite knowing just how many tasks your small team still needs to complete for the big meeting tomorrow. What’s left is mostly grunt work, and while you are undoubtedly a grunt, it’s been clear for a while now that Joy no longer sees herself to be included in that category. So even though having more hands on deck would speed things along considerably, she still gathers her purse and gives you a cheeky finger wave on her way out.

At some point, the cleaning lady makes her rounds, scooting past you with a murmured apology to empty your trash can, but eventually even she disappears. Hell, even the sun abandons you, the soft glow fading from all the windows and stranding you with the cold fluorescent lighting that only remains on in your part of the office, because the lights have motion detectors. 

And so it’s just you, kneeling on the carpet and surrounded by a gazillion binders. Ensuring relevant reports and Powerpoint presentations are accurate and sending digital copies to your boss for her to have on-hand. Attempting to print physical copies and assemble them into binder portfolios your clients will be able to follow along with during the meeting. 

Attempting, because Mabel is, of course, choosing now to live up to her bitchy reputation. She won’t print on the right-sized paper. She won’t collate. She won’t be cooperative at all, and you’re too exhausted for this shit. Physically and mentally exhausted, trying your hardest to rein in the frustration that’s slowly expanding in your chest, crawling up your throat and triggering a familiar burning behind your eyes. It’s not fair. 

An exasperated noise escapes you without thinking, a loud, guttural thing. None of this is fair.

“_____?”

Your head snaps over your shoulder in surprise, not at all expecting anyone else to still be in the building. It’s Jungkook, because of course it is. Brows knitted in confusion, a black leather jacket thrown over his marigold button-up for some reason. He’s standing near the doors that exit into the lobby, evidently about to begin his trek home before you unwittingly paused his endeavor.

“What are you still doing here?” he asks, but before you can even deign to answer, he’s already taken a few steps towards you and followed up with a clearly concerned, “Are you okay?”

You take a breath, struggling to calm the storm within you. None of this is his fault, nor his problem, and you should just force a smile on your face so he can be on his way and leave you to your self-pity. But you’re tired, so tired, and simply don’t have the capacity to pretend anymore. You swallow around the lump in your throat, and when you do speak, the thickness of your voice betrays the tears that you’re fighting to keep at bay. “No.”

This only seems to alarm him more. He’s standing next to you now, as close as he can get with the array of binders and papers you have scattered on the floor around you like a fortress not meant to keep anyone out, but rather, to keep you inside.

“What’s the matter?” he asks gently.

“Oh, nothing,” you snort derisively, blinking rapidly at the ceiling in an effort to try to stop the inevitable. “Nothing. It’s just well past 7pm and I’m still here in this godforsaken building attempting to print out and hole punch and assemble twenty copies of this presentation. I can’t even get the printer to do what I’m asking it to! And there’s no fucking reason I should still be here because the could have been done last week if my boss didn’t keep making nonsensical changes based solely on vibes. And tell me why there are six people on my team but no one thought to help me or take any sort of ownership of this at all—as per usual—or even buy me a fucking coffee for once! I haven’t eaten a proper meal all day but everybody just assumes they can go home because things will magically get done like they always do because they will! I will always make sure that they will! Every day it becomes increasingly clear that nobody in this fucking company gives a flying FUCK about me or my free time or my sanity—”

If he’s put off by your potty mouth, Jungkook certainly doesn’t show it. He just manages to catch your gaze from behind his glasses and simply replies, “I do.” 

Your never-ending rant rapidly dissipates on your tongue, brain struggling to comprehend what he just said. “…What?”

“I care,” he repeats softly. “How can I help?”

The sincerity in his tone renders you mute, too stunned to do anything more than watch as Jungkook drops the backpack he’s had slung over a shoulder onto the floor, tossing his newly removed jacket on top of it without much thought. He’s unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves, the reemergence of an ink-covered forearm making your brain stutter even more. Now that there’s much less distance between you, you can more accurately make out the shape of a delicate tiger lily, the languid form of a snake.

Jungkook clears his throat, the noise snapping you out of your stupor and making you realize you were just staring at him in silence, for who knows how long. Dammit. “What do you need?” he tries again. 

“Um, first we can start with Mabel,” you croak, mouth now embarrassingly dry. “No matter what I do, she refuses to collate.”

Jungkook shoots you a smile that softens his whole face. “Lucky for you, I’m the printer expert, remember? Don’t worry. We’ll get this fixed and be out of here in no time.”

He holds out a hand and you reflexively grab it, allowing him to guide you to your feet. Together, you make your way to the copy room, where Mabel has stubbornly been giving you hell all night. Jungkook gets right to work pushing buttons while you stand to the side, awkwardly shifting your weight a little from foot to foot.

“So why are you still here?” you ask, curiosity finally forcing you to voice the question that’s been looping in your mind since he first appeared. “It’s late.”

“It is,” he agrees, focus still on the printer. He kneels down, opening the paper tray. “There’s this huge system update that’s set to roll out next week. My whole team has been hunkering down and pulling late nights.”

Oh. That explains why you haven’t seen him around much since the barbecue. “That’s tough.”

“We’re finally almost done,” he shrugs. “And I’m clearly not the only one working overtime.”

You don’t say anything when he looks up at you pointedly, so he turns back to the printer, pulling a stack of paper out of one of the trays.

“I think this may be part of the problem. Someone put the wrong-sized paper in here. Or, at least, Mabel thinks it’s wrong. She’s confused.”

“Well, she can join the club,” you mutter, and he puffs out a laugh, shutting the drawer and pressing some more buttons.

“Come on, let’s try again.”

Something touches your elbow, and though it shocks through you like he electrocuted you, you have the good sense suppress any embarrassing reaction to what you quickly realize is just his hand. Instead, you let him guide you back to your desk, trying not to focus too intently on the heat of his skin on yours. 

Jungkook waits for you to login to your computer, clicking around and changing some settings once you step back and allow him free rein. Then, you can hear a distant hum coming from the copier room, and you know immediately that he’s succeeded. Dutifully, he goes to check anyway, returning to you with a stack of perfectly collated paper.

“Thank god,” you groan. “Now let me just print fifty more of those so I can start organizing these binders.”

With the crisis averted and his job done, you fully expect him to gather his pile of stuff and hustle to the elevator before you can trap him into doing anything else. Instead, Jungkook goes to pick up the additional copies from the printer for you, and he actually gets down on the floor next to you to start putting everything together. He watches you assemble one binder for reference, but then he’s easily doing the same and doubling your completion speed. 

And slowly, gradually, your nervous system calms. The two of you work like a well-oiled machine in what would be comfortable silence, if your brain wasn’t so loud. Now that you’re not actively panicking, a completely different feeling starts to seep into you—embarrassment.  You can’t believe that Jungkook actually caught you on the cusp of a breakdown, during which you looked so pitiful, he felt morally obligated to stop what he was doing and help you.

“I’m sure you have somewhere to be,” you say after a while with a grimace. He’s way too nice and you’re way too pathetic. “I didn’t mean to ruin your night—I promise you don’t have to stay with me. Now that everything’s printed and organized, most of the work’s done. I should be out of here in no time.”

“Well, I promise you didn’t ruin anything. And with two of us, you can be out of here in less time than that.” He looks up with a soft smile from where he’s hole punching a stack of paper, the muffled ka-chunk of the device punctuating his point. “I don’t mind, _____. Really.”

“But I do,” you murmur, looking away. Unable to meet his eyes. “I really appreciate your help, but I feel bad taking up so much of your time.”

“Well, don’t. I didn’t really have plans tonight anyway, and I’ve been working so much that it’s probably better that I get in some socializing time.”

“Not that I’m very good company,” you snort derisively.

There’s a pause, one long enough that you wonder if he heard you. But then he’s moving a little closer to you, tipping slightly sideways to tap his shoulder against yours. Reflexively, you turn back to him, finding his eyes kind.  

“We all have our off days, and that’s okay. But they’ll dull your shine if you let them. Don’t.” He bumps your shoulder again. “Besides, you and I have to stick together, remember? Or did you not really mean it when you told me that?”

You did tell him that, didn’t you? Months and months ago. You're surprised that he even remembers that.

There's an amused quirk to his lip, one that you can't help but feel yourself soften to, even as his focus turns back to the task at hand. And all at once, you feel yourself flooded with gratitude. You've been thankful for his help this whole time, of course, but now you almost sag with it, the relief at knowing someone is finally in your corner, the sudden sense of security and support visceral and a little overwhelming.

Before you fully realize what you're doing, it's you who leans closer, aiming to give a him a grateful kiss on the cheek. But your lips don't quite land on their intended target, because just before you succeed, Jungkook unconsciously senses your increasing proximity and reflexively turns his head back to you.

It's his lips yours coincidentally brush against, the accidental kiss timid due to his surprise and your chaste intentions. But the kiss is also soft, his lips plush and rather easily yielding to yours. 

Quickly realizing your mistake, you pull back, eyes as big as saucers. You stare at him in stunned silence and he stares back, eyes all pupil.

A horrified apology is immediately crowding the back of your throat, but right before you set it free, Jungkook's Adam's apple bobs, an errant tongue absently swiping across his lips. 

Huh. This isn’t exactly the reaction of someone repulsed by an unwanted kiss. He still hasn't said anything, but he hasn't moved away from you either. He's just watching you. Waiting. 

...Waiting?

With caution but with clear intent, you lean back in, and to your surprise, he meets you halfway, noses bumping a little before he tilts his head and your lips slot perfectly together. 

This kiss is immediately different from the last. Jungkook mindlessly drops he binder he's holding, body angling more solidly towards you so he can properly meet the rapidly rising intensity. Well, meet may be the wrong word, because he's the one whose hand quickly reaches up to cradle your chin, gentle pressure a silent request to  for you to tilt your head a bit more. And when you comply with the change in angle, it's him who deepens the kiss, the slow lave of his tongue coaxing your lips to part, open and wet.

You pant hot into his mouth and he breathes you in, offering no resistance when you push even closer, hands wandering across his shoulders, fingers ghosting up the back of his neck before drifting to idly toy with the hair at his nape. He hums contentedly, not unlike a purring cat, and does it again when your tongue joins his in a slow glide. 

You lose yourself in the sensation of it all, unable to notice anything beyond the heat that is rapidly building between you like fireworks ready to explode. Your head spins, swimming with endorphins and high off the smell of him. The taste.

A playful nibble of your lip unexpectedly has a rather desperate keen escaping your throat. You pause, making to pull back in your embarrassment, but the sound only seems to activate Jungkook, who follows you in your attempted retreat, mouth chasing yours in its reluctance to part. It's only when your back finally touches the floor that you realize he's slowly guided you there. You've been in a haze, too swept into the plot of the movie you've somehow found yourself in to do anything but be pulled along.  

As naturally as breathing, your find your knees have parted, and Jungkook easily slips into the space you've created for him, almost trancelike. As if he doesn't even realize he's doing it, too focused on exploring the fever of your mouth. He's leaning most of his weight on the hands he has posted on either side of your head; even still, every single millimeter of you that does touch him is sparking like live wires, euphoric goosebumps rippling across your skin. You let out a shaky breath that fogs his glasses, but even that doesn't stop him, just makes him pull back from you just enough to be able to whip them off and toss them somewhere, wholly unconcerned.

Emboldened by this, you sling a leg over his hip, and he eagerly accepts your invitation, settling on you properly. You're covered in him now, pelvises properly flush, and now that he's caged you in, Jungkook takes the opportunity to glide his lips away from yours and trail across your jawline instead. You shiver, every atom of you buzzing at his touch, and his mouth continues its trek, sucking hot down the column of your throat with just enough pressure that you know color will bloom there later. 

Your hips reflexively jump at his ministrations, your skirt riding further up your thighs, and the hard press of him against your panties has you swallowing down a moan. He freezes for a fraction of a second, but then his hips respond to the lure of yours with a more intentional roll. A contented sound rumbles in the back of his throat, tongue dipping to meander across your collarbone.

This is crazy. This is crazy. But you can't quite find it in yourself to care much as the two of you rut against each other on the office floor, your hand gliding up his back to root in the hair at his nape. 

Your hips undulate restlessly, eager to meet the crest of his wave, and Jungkook matches your intensity, catching your earlobe between his teeth. Your shared grind is measured but deliberate, and even through his pants you can feel the hard shape of him pressing right against your aching core. A particularly pointed roll has Jungkook shuddering hot into the shell of your ear, and that is what finally tamps down the last of your restraint and triggers something much more primal.

Dizzy with want, your hands scrabble between you and aim for the button of his slacks, eager to be properly introduced to what’s underneath. But to your slow horror, Jungkook freezes at the touch, motionless for a few breathless seconds before he actually starts lifting off of you and pulling back. It’s only when he’s completely sat up and is staring at you that the full weight of what you’ve just done hits you like a freight train.

Holy shit. Holy shit. 

You really were just dry humping. A coworker. And you were doing it on the premises of the place that pays your fucking bills! Making out, dry humping, and you were actively aiming to do much more if he hadn't stopped you. 

What the fuck has gotten into you? 

You scrabble upright, dizzy with the mortification rapidly seeping deep into your bones. Stupidly, you blink at him, paralyzed with embarrassment but unable to look away. A deer in headlights.

Jungkook stares right back, eyes dark and all pupil. Dazedly, you wonder if you look as fucked out as he does—there’s a smattering of red across his cheeks, and his hair has been thoroughly mussed by your own hands. A tongue dips out to swipe over kiss-swollen lips, stealing your attention away from the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

And suddenly, you’re able to kickstart into gear.

“I am so sorry,” you burst out, panic nearly choking you. “That was highly inappropriate and I seriously don’t know what came over me—”

It takes you a few moments to register that he’s moved back in, and that it’s the returned press of his lips that interrupts your babbling apology before it can properly catch its stride. You’re almost too afraid to respond in kind, as if you’ll somehow scare him away again, but the insistence in his kiss practically knocks the breath from your lungs. Patiently, he coaxes your rigid lips back pliant. And only when it’s clear you won’t try to run away does he lean back a second time, but only enough to see your eyes properly.

“No,” he murmurs, breath fanning hot over you. “That was very much appropriate.” 

You’re not quite sure how to respond to that, too shell-shocked by this turn of events and actively battling your triggered fight or flight response. “Um. Then…then why did you…”

Jungkook’s eyes flutter closed, as if he’s gathering himself. “I want to,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself, but then he’s looking right at you again, gaze heavy with resolve. “It’s just…do you mind if I try something first?”

That throws you for a loop. Your jaw opens then shuts again while you contemplate his question, as well as your answer. “I mean, I guess? It depends on what it is.”

That you don't instantly reject him visibly unwinds a tension in his body that you only now realize was there. A rather feral look crosses his face, immediately inciting goosebumps to ripple across your skin in anticipation. But then the intensity of his expression dims, edged with something more contemplative. Jungkook gives you a pensive nod then stands, looking around curiously. “Hey, where does that viper sit?”

You blink, bewildered. “…The who?”

“The one who’s always with you at lunch.” He locks eyes with you, tongue poking through his cheek. “You know. The one who’s on your team but still had no second thoughts about leaving you here tonight by yourself.”

Joy. He’s talking about Joy. 

The question makes you pause in suspicion, but you still hook a thumb towards the cubicle next to yours, on the other side of your shared wall. “There. Why?”

“No reason,” he says with a sly grin, holding out a hand to you. You take it without question and he easily helps you to your feet. But then before you can process it, he’s slid both hands around your waist and easily lifted you off the ground, already in route to the exact cubicle you called out. You yelp in surprise, your arms reflexively circling his neck—your legs, his middle—in your body’s scramble for balance. But Jungkook’s hold on you is secure, grip moving down to the back of your thighs instead, and now that your chests are once again flush, you can actually feel his chuckle. His amusement provokes yours, and you can’t help but giggle as he carries you over to Joy’s cube as easily as if you weigh nothing.

Clearly, his exercise routine is working out for him.

After using a hand to sweep some objects out of the way, Jungkook carefully sets you down on Joy’s desk, right next to her monitor. Your mirth only grows at the feeling of whatever printouts she left for later review crinkling under your weight, at the sight of displaced pens rolling off the edge and disappearing to the ether that is the floor.

Jungkook has set you down, but he doesn’t pull away, just leans down and recaptures your eager lips. He’s tall enough that he’s kind of hunching over to kiss you, neck really craned, but he doesn’t seem to care much about that, kissing you with the same ferocity as moments before, when the two of you were entangled on the carpet. And you can’t help but match his fervor, hands reaching to guide his slim hips even closer, into the widening gap you naturally create for him between your legs. 

Time constricts and expands, an endless and meaningless concept. Because all that matters now is the tongue he slips past your lips to slide against yours, slowly, like he’s savoring the taste of you. All that matters is how fucking great he smells—like clean laundry and smoke and warm skin speckled with sweat—something you’ve always caught whiffs of, but now completely surrounds you, invading all your senses and sending your lust into overdrive. 

“Is this what you wanted to try?” you pant hotly when your lips finally separate for a moment in your quest for air. “Defiling Joy’s desk?”

He’s leaning his forehead against yours while he also attempts to catch his breath, and he’s so close that it would be hard for you to miss his amused flash of teeth. “Sort of. I’d like to defile it more thoroughly, though. Starting with this.” 

Jungkook leans in for one last kiss, one that starts at your mouth, moves to your neck, and to your surprise, continues down the line of your body. Over your collarbone, careful hands popping open a few buttons of your blouse so he can nestle more surely into the curve of your breasts, warm lips skating across eager skin. For a few moments, he actually nuzzles his face into your middle, a gesture you find rather sweet before he incites a shiver through your body by licking against your clothed navel. And before you can fully realize what’s happening, he’s slipped to his knees.

You look down at him in surprise, body still slotted between your legs, but this time more eye-level with the secret, needy part of you that has been thrumming excitedly with every beat of your heart. “What are you…”

“You’re always doing everything for everyone else,” comes his murmured reply. “Will you allow me to do something for you?”

Your brain is still so hazy from the spell of his mouth that it takes you a moment to recognize what’s happening. What he’s asking for. But when his large palms are hot against the naked skin of your thighs, gentle pressure urging them to part even more, it all hits you like a truck. Your eyes dart around, paranoid. “Jungkook,” you hiss. “…Here?”

“They’re too cheap to put cameras anywhere other than the lobby.” He turns his head, lips pressing reassurance into the side of your knee. “And no one’s here.” His reminder as gentle as the kisses he continues to adorn you with. “Just you.” Kiss. “And me.”

He’s right, you know. No one else is here to witness the series of bad decisions you’ve just made—to witness the ones you’re still seriously considering. 

Still, you hesitate.

Jungkook’s staring intently at you, doe-eyed and cherry-lipped and deceptively innocent despite what he’s requesting of you. “Please?” he asks again, oh-so-sweetly. Reverently prostrating before your altar, praying for the blessing of an ambivalent goddess. You. “I just…I really want to. Ever since that day, I can’t stop thinking about it and I—please?”

Your brows furrow as you try to make sense of what he’s saying, still scrambling to keep up with this current turn of events. What day? Your mind whirrs, jumping around before finally settling on an embarrassing memory you’ve willed yourself to forget. 

Lunch, where Wendy somehow got you to admit you’ve never gotten head, and Jungkook, purportedly oblivious, too busy on his phone to ever pay your table any attention. 

…Except from what he’s saying right now, he had heard every word. Heard, and filed it away for safekeeping, only revealing to you now, when he can possibly do something about it.

Absently, your tongue dips out to swipe across your lips, and Jungkook’s attention visibly strays towards the action, thumbs rubbing slow circles into your thighs and sending electricity straight to your core. God, do you want to say yes. Even though you’ve never done this before, your inexperience is not at all the reason for your reluctance. It’s the optics. You’re at work.

Your head tilts as you try to accurately take stock of the situation. You’re at work. But technically, you should have clocked out hours ago. Technically, this job has been stealing a lot of time that should have been yours to choose what to do with. Case in point—you’re the only person on your team still within a five-mile radius of this godforsaken building. Because everyone else deserted you without a second thought, designating you to be the one who struggles to print presentations for a meeting that has been on the calendar for literal months.

But. 

While it’s easy to assume they forced this fate upon you, Fate is not one easily compelled to do another’s bidding. And, trapped in the gaze of the sweet man still patiently awaiting permission to ruin you, you can’t help but wonder if this has been Her plan all along. 

For months you’ve been doing everything for everyone else, so unhappy and stressed that each day in this place only wound you tighter and tighter. So…what if you finally just let yourself snap? Did what you wanted for once? Stopped following the rules that nobody else ever seemed to and just let go? 

You exhale. Fuck it.

“Okay.”

Jungkook grins, boyishly innocuous at first, but rapidly morphing into something much more devilish as you watch. He turns to kiss your knee again, and you startle a little at the action, newly on edge. “Don’t be nervous,” he says, still holding your gaze. Making sure you can see his resolve. “I got you.” 

“Okay,” you say again, but that’s easier said than done, especially when he takes the opportunity to gently push your knees even further apart. Naturally, your skirt rides further up, and you can’t help the apprehension that washes over you at your increasing lack of modesty. Still, you hold true to your word, aggressively tamping down the urge to scramble off the desk and pretend this all never happened. But though you brace yourself for what comes next…

Jungkook doesn’t move.

Long moments pass before you can’t help but say something. “Are you just gonna look?” Because that’s all he seems to be doing, laser-focused on the juncture of your thighs.

He visibly stirs at the sound of your voice, but still doesn’t do much more than tsk at you. “Don’t rush me,” comes his light reprimand, eyes still locked on what you’re sure at this point is a growing dark spot on your panties. “I don’t half-ass things and I definitely won’t rush this. No one’s here, so just relax and enjoy the ride.”

Your jittery nerves have you reflexively mouthy, but your retort swiftly dies on your tongue when his hand finally moves further up your skirt—further inward—and two fingers pointedly press right against that dark spot and glide over your clothed lips. You gasp, fighting against the urge to snap your legs shut when he slowly circles your clit and sends sparks dancing down your legs. 

“Better?” he murmurs.

“Much,” you squeak.

“Good,” he says, eyebrows knitted in thought as he circles and circles. Your thighs twitch, and he leans forward like he can’t help himself, nose pressing solidly against you with a long, audible inhale.

A fascinated oh falls from your lips, heartbeat accelerating excitedly in your ears, but Jungkook only responds by nestling further against your pussy, tracing the length of your lips with a slow, wet swipe of his tongue through the fabric. He breathes hot against your clit and you inadvertently buck at the stimulation, only inciting the wicked curl of his lips. He looks up at you darkly through the curtain of his bangs, and something unexpected and primal simmers beneath your skin.

“Can I have these?” he asks huskily, lightly snapping the elastic of your panties against your skin. 

You clear your throat, suddenly wishing you had the foresight to put on something more interesting today than your unassuming cotton undies. “Have as in you won’t give them back?”

He lets out an amused puff of air, tilts his head. “I haven’t decided yet.”

You nod your assent. You’re now impossibly invested in where he plans to take this, and it’s not like you don’t have more pairs at home. “Knock yourself out.”

Immediately, his hands are up your skirt. They’re big, but they’re also gentle, caressing your thighs and even taking a slight detour to the meat of your ass before continuing their mission to the band of your underwear. When he starts to pull, you help him, shifting your weight so he can slip the fabric over your hips and down your legs.

Jungkook’s Adam’s apple dips when his eyes are finally able to feast on you without a barrier. “So fucking hot,” he mutters, almost to himself, and then without further warning, his mouth seals around your sex.

You whimper in surprise, not at all used to the sensation of someone kissing you there. And kiss you he does, carefully at first, judging your reaction. But when you do nothing but grip the edge of the desk, biting your lip in an attempt to stifle the rather desperate sounds crawling up your throat, he swiftly devolves into kissing you with the same passion as he had the lips on your face. His tongue laps at you with sure, even strokes, dragging across the seam of you and then through it, making sure to slide along your clit on every upstroke. 

Your breath quickens, jaw falling slack. You weren’t sure what you imagined oral sex to be like before this, but you never expected how easily your body submits to his ministrations. Almost without you realizing it, your thighs part even more, hips automatically canting down to meet his eager mouth. A hand reaches for him, fingers winding through his hair and rooting there, and Jungkook hums in approval, his own hands wrapping securely around your thighs, your ass. His fingers sinking into the yielding softness of you, gently holding you steady against his face while you start to gyrate and moan.

God, does he look good down there. He’s always looked good, even before you knew what he was hiding behind those shy smiles and nerdy glasses, but something about the sight of him, jaw working as he sucks on you, lashes fluttering in pleasure in his quest to please you—

Without warning, he detaches with an audible pop, and a disgruntled sound reflexively leaves you. Breathless, you start to ask him why he stopped, but the words die on your tongue when you realize he’s staring at you again. That he pulled back for a moment just so he can get a good look at the mess he’s making of you. So he can properly see how your pussy aches and drools for him.

“Good?” he asks, voice deep and thick.

“So fucking good,” you sigh. What you know he wants to hear, but also 1000% the truth. You’re starting to understand what Wendy has been blathering about, but is it always like this? Or is it Jungkook in particular who is making you so unbelievably aroused? Is your rapidly snowballing crush on him that strong, or does pussy eating simply rank high on his skillset?

As if he can hear your thoughts, Jungkook moves to slip a finger into you, and you can’t help but moan when he breaches you, the digit sliding in so easily that he quickly adds another, thumb pressing surely into your clit as he starts a slow drag in and out. 

“Shit,” you shudder, eyes rolling back into your head. Hips sliding further off the desk, reflexively seeking the delicious stimulation. One of your hands scrabbles across the desk, unconsciously trying to root you, and you’re much too preoccupied with how good he’s making you feel to notice when you accidentally knock over a mug full of pens. A stapler clanks to the ground. “Fuck.” 

“Look, baby,” he breathes, moaning along with you when the pet name immediately makes your pussy flutter. “Look.”

At his encouragement, you do. You watch the flex of his tattooed arm as his fingers continue to disappear within you, a lewd squelch coinciding with his movements. You watch as he adds another finger, the additional stretch immediately noticeable but even more delicious. You watch him watch you, eyes all pupil, lips swollen and slick with your desire.

“More,” you whine, frenzied and greedy. And Jungkook immediately heeds your call, leaning back in. He sucks on your clit with three fingers sunk in you, expertly crooked towards your pelvic bone, and you jolt, accidentally knocking something else off the desk. Neither of you pays the resulting clattering any attention, too wrapped up in the way you writhe at his ministrations. He hums in approval, the vibrations only intensifying your ecstasy. He flattens his tongue as your hips desperately circle, letting you control the stimulation. And when it’s clear you still need more, he changes tactics and rapidly laps at you instead, as if you’re a melting ice cream cone, while he beckons, beckons. 

Your blood is volcanic, hot pressure bubbling beneath the prison of your skin, building and building within your core. The higher he takes you, the more the grip you have on his hair unintentionally tightens, but that only seems to urge him on, locking eyes with you as the thrust of his fingers turns harder and more calculated. Giving you no other choice but to finally erupt.    

You cum with a loud groan, gasping through it while your cunt rhythmically clamps down on his digits, hard. Jungkook talks you through it, murmuring encouraging words your buzzing brain has trouble deciphering because his hand still doesn’t stop, pounding right into your g-spot and making your eyes cross and toes curl with the force of it. And when you finally can’t take anymore, jerking with oversensitivity, you grab him by the wrist in a wordless plea for mercy.

And Jungkook grants it. You can tell that he wants to play with you more—wants to guide you over and over to the precipice just see the look on your face when he shoves you off—but ever the gentleman, he reins in his enthusiasm and obediently slips his fingers out of you. He takes a few seconds to admire his handiwork, eyes shining with in reverence as he marvels in the dripping, throbbing, panting aftermath that is you.

“Wow,” you say, still dizzy with endorphins. Never in a million years did you think it would feel like that.

“Yeah,” he agrees, voice thick. “Wow.” He lifts his hand, remnants of you visibly slicking his fingers and webbing between the digits, and without a second thought, sticks them in his mouth and sucks. The resulting slurping of his errant tongue is nothing short of obscene, but your cunt flutters again anyway, interest clear despite being thoroughly satisfied only moments before. And when line of your essence starts to drip down your thigh, Jungkook makes sure to lean in and catch it with his tongue.

You shiver with the feeling of him on you again, mouth hot and wet, thighs still trembling. He’s taking his time, tongue dragging a slow path back up to the source, determined to feast upon the rewards of his efforts. But you can’t take it anymore. God, he’s so hot. He’s so fucking hot and you want him so fucking bad.

You need him. Biblically. 

Near delirious, you reach for him, hands scrabbling across his shoulders, fingers trailing the back of his neck and guiding him to stand. Arms circling his waist and pulling him closer to you—close, close—Jungkook easily slotting into spread of your thighs.

He follows your unspoken commands easily and without question, looking down at you with a rather pleased smile that crinkles his eyes in the corners. Determined to steal the breath from his lungs, just as he just did to you, you lean in to lick that smile pliant and open. There’s a curious taste on his tongue that it doesn’t take long to deduce is you, and that’s only even more of an aphrodisiac, revving you up further. 

Your hands continue to roam, sliding down a little to grope his backside, startling a laugh out of him. But when your fingers tease the waistband of his slacks, his delight visibly shutters away into something else entirely.

“You don’t have to do that,” he breathes, even as he reflexively bucks into the hand you’re using to palm him over his pants. “This was about you.”

“Then let it be about me,” you counter, a mischievous smile curling your lips. Even through his pants you can tell he's hard. That he wants this just as badly as you do.  Still, when he gasps out a wait, you obediently stop your ministrations and move to take your hand back. 

He doesn't let you get far, lacing his fingers through yours and visibly considering his next words for a few moments before settling on, “What do you need?” 

It’s a simple enough question, but you can't help but be immediately reminded of him saying these exact words to you, a little over an hour ago. Now, however, they sit heavy on his tongue, heady and syrupy in hushed invitations. 

The revelation hits you all at once, heart pounding excitedly in your ears.

You need only ask. You’ve only ever needed to ask.

And since all caution was thrown to the wind the moment you agreed to let him suck your soul out through your pussy...

“You said you’ve been thinking about me? Well, I’ve been thinking about you too. For a while, even though I’ve been trying not to.” 

You’ve had his attention this whole time, but the way Jungkook's regarding you now, now that you’ve said that? He's hanging onto every word, so hyper-focused that it would unnerve you if this wasn’t exactly what you were looking for. 

“So…” Adrenaline has your fingers restless against his, but you still dive headfirst. “What I need is for you to fuck me and finish what you started.”

A beat. One where he holds your gaze, the space between you so electrified that you’re surprised you don’t see sparks. But then he’s on you again, mouth meeting yours in a frenzied clash of lips and teeth, and this time he doesn’t stop you when your hands scrabble for his fly.

Jungkook wastes no time, smoothing his hands up your legs and pushing your skirt out of the way. He lets out a shuddered breath when you stroke him through his underwear, when you reach down the waistband and grip him properly.

He’s warm and thick in your hand, and the thought of him finally in your guts damn near has you vibrating. Just like you thought before, he’s already nice and hard, but you still pump him a few times just to revel in the proof of what you’ve done to him. Velvet over stone.

And despite having all the time in the world when the foreplay is for you, Jungkook doesn’t seem to have any patience for himself. You’re only able to enjoy the weight of him in your grip for a few passes before he’s surging into action. Strategically, he grabs you by the knees and lifts, maneuvering your legs into the crooks of his elbows. The move opens you up to him further and forces you more horizontal, leaning back on your forearms, nearly pressed against the cubicle wall.  

The way he ate you out moments before ensured you’d be primed for him, your pussy soft and slick and just begging to be filled. When he finally lines himself up and begins the slow press in, your jaw immediately falls open, tongue going lax at the intense pleasure. “Oh my god,” you manage to whine, eyes threatening to roll shut.

The unhurried way he’s sinking into you is likely in effort not to unintentionally hurt you. Because after everything else, why not add another thing to the ever growing list of surprises you’re learning about your unassuming coworker—not only has he been tatted and muscular this whole time, but his dick is also fucking huge. Without even realizing it, you’ve stopped breathing, the pressure of him nudging your walls apart too much stimulation for your body to continue even subconscious functioning. 

As if he can tell your brain is actively short-circuiting, Jungkook’s hands circle your thighs, thumbs kneading the flesh in mild distraction for when he finally bottoms out. It’s only now that you can properly notice the effect you’re having on him—hair starting to stick to his forehead from perspiration, teeth grit as he struggles to stay still for you.  But you don’t want him to be still.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, wiggling in your impatience and making him suck in a breath. “Please. Give it to me.”

The resulting roll of his hips has him swearing and you seeing stars. “Fuck. You can have whatever you want,” he says, already making good on his promise with a slow grid. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

It’s good, so good, especially because Jungkook uses his grip on your thighs as leverage to ramp up his thrusts, easily maneuvering you over his cock in a way that has your toes curling. By the time he’s really fucking you—jaw set, brows furrowed in concentration—you’re crosseyed and mewling incoherently. You should be embarrassed by the sounds he’s pounding out of you, but you’re so focused on the overwhelming pleasure that you can’t find it in yourself to care very much. 

Chasing the high you already feel him leading you towards, you lift one of your legs to change the angle, and he catches on immediately, helping guide your ankle to hook over his shoulder with a distracted kiss against the bone. And it’s deeper this way, the angle ensuring he brushes against your spongy nerves with every stroke, only making you spiral faster. 

He notices, of course. Notices how quickly he’s taking you to your end and revels in it, sliding a hand inward and he thumbing your clit, fast and hard.

You jolt at the extra stimulation, gasping and overwhelmed. “Oh my goddd…”  

“Come on,” he croons, his dulcet tone at odds with the wickedness of his hand. His dick. “Don’t you want to cum for me?”

“I…” you choke out, struggling to form any sort of coherent thought as you feel everything get tighter. “I…”

You see his lips moving as he presumably says something else. But you can’t understand anything other than your own moaning when your pussy finally locks down. This orgasm is somehow more intense than the last one, your thighs rippling with the force of it, your hands desperately scrabbling over the desk in an effort to find something to ground you. 

And Jungkook fucks you through it, still talking, and it’s only when the whooshing in your ears starts to subside that you can finally decipher what he’s saying in between his own moaning. “There you go. Being so good for me. So good.”

Your only reply is your gasping breath as your orgasm slowly fades, replaced with oversensitivity. But you don’t want him to stop. You don’t want this to stop, reveling in the feel of him on you, in you. And Jungkook doesn’t, instead sliding your leg off his shoulder so he can grab you by the waist with both hands and properly yank you forward, moving you over his cock to his liking. 

The desk creaks with your effort, a rhythmic cacophony with the harsh smacking of his balls against your ass. You mewl, needing him closer still, and curl your legs around his hips, locking your ankles. He’s now trapped against you, but he groans like that’s exactly what he wanted, both hands gliding up the length of your body to grasp the back of your neck instead, giving him even better leverage to plunge into you, deep, deep. He leans down and rests his forehead against yours, licks into your panting mouth. 

At this point, his thrusts are turning manic, but you’re meeting every one of them, deliriously following him in his descent into madness. But when he catches your lower lip with his teeth, your breath hollows, and then, quicker than you can register it’s happening, you cum again, spasming around him with a long, high-pitched whine.

Jungkook lets you ride it out, but this time, his thrusts slow while you thrash. And it’s not until your soul finally floats back into your body that you realize he’s already pulled out of you and is bucking into his own fist instead.  

You almost took him over the edge with you, you realize. Though he clearly has incredible stamina, you have finally brought him to his limit, and everything inside you glows at the knowledge that he’s here, roughly pumping himself, moans falling freely from his lips because of you. 

Entranced, you reach for him, delighting in the whimper he lets out when your fingers wrap around his base. His own hand immediately falls to grip the edge of the desk instead, and you glide your fist up, finding his cock sticky with your juices. Jungkook just rests his head in the crook of your neck and lets you jack him off, whining through it when you match his previously punishing pace. And it doesn’t take long before he finally, finally splashes hot over your hand. Against your thigh. 

Your hand slows, twisting your wrist and milking him for every drop. Intent on extending his pleasure, just like he made sure to do for you. And you only stop when he flinches away from your touch, twitchy and shivering as he leans against you. 

Reluctantly, you let go. The two of you share the same balmy breath, struggling to calm your racing hearts. And when Jungkook finally backs away from you, unhurried in the way he gathers himself back into his slacks, there is a wildly satisfied grin on his face.

You’re satisfied too, though you try to have some sense of propriety and use a tissue from the box next to Joy’s monitor to wipe off the sticky evidence of his pleasure. Throwing away the evidence, you hop off the desk, locating your long-discarded panties and slipping them back on, smoothing down your skirt.

“So,” you tease lightly. Your head swims a little with the knowledge of what you just did, but you’re surprised to realize you feel zero guilt about it. “Is your plan to stick it to everyone who’s wronged me? If so, we should do it on Mabel next. That’ll show her.”

Jungkook laughs, a giddy, giggly thing. He’s now doing his best to pick up and replace everything that fell from Joy’s desk during your romp. “Nah, I could never disrespect her like that. That ol’ girl’s been such a great wingman these past few months.”

That’s a rather curious statement to make. You frown a little, shoot him an inquisitive sound.

“You always call me when Mabel’s not working,” he shrugs. “So when I wanted to see you, she was nice enough help.” 

You can’t help it—a smile creeps across your face, equally bashful and flattered. He wanted to see you! For months, by his open admission. “And the printer knew exactly when you wanted to see me?" you joke. “Sounds like dark magic to me.”

Jungkook’s valiantly trying to straighten and smooth out some of the papers the two of you disturbed. “Deleted some print jobs,” he replies offhandedly, clearly distracted by the task at hand. 

Record scratch. 

There’s an extended silence as your brain shuffles through different iterations of his sentence, trying to decipher exactly he meant by that. Because there's no way he just admitted to what you think he just did. “Did…did you just say you've been deleting my print jobs?” you ask incredulously. Because there’s no way.

There’s no way, yet at your words, Jungkook immediately stiffens. His lips part, but he doesn't defend himself. Doesn't say anything at all—just drops the pen he’s holding and stares at you with wide eyes.

Holy shit. Holy shit. He really has been doing it! He obviously hadn't meant to tell you that, but the relaxation of afterglow has clearly removed the filter between his brain and his mouth. 

The weight of his revelation hits you, seemingly happenstance events connecting in your mind and starting to fall into place. All the hassle and irritation that stupid printer has been giving you, and it turns out Mabel has been working just fine?! 

“Please don't be mad,” he pleads, finally finding his voice.  

“Are you seriously saying that all this time—”   

“No! No, I only did it a few times,” he sheepishly rushes to correct you. “And I promise, I haven’t done it in weeks.”

“Seriously?” 

“I just...wanted an excuse to talk to you!”

“Jungkook, you literally talk to me all the time!”

“About work! Not—” he averts his eyes, lets out an irritated breath. “It’s just. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out.”

You blink, gaping slightly as your whirring mind tries to process what he’s just told you. “Ask me…out?” 

“I didn’t mean to do…all this.” He waves a hand over the mess the two of you are still cleaning up, clearly embarrassed. “I mean, at least not before buying you dinner first.”

Moments pass as you stare at him in stunned, disbelieving silence. Then, like a volcano erupting, laughter bursts from you, loud and sudden. Because what the fuck? You can’t believe all of this is actually happening to you. In real life. “You jackass,” you cackle. “Do you have any idea how much grief that printer has been giving me? I’m over here stressed and you’ve been gaslighting me and doing it on purpose?”

“Just a few times,” he repeats, visibly confused by the juxtaposition of the mirth in your voice and the actual words you’re saying. 

“And that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a jackass,” you laugh. “But…” You clear your throat, suddenly somehow shy, despite everything that has occurred and been said. “…I suppose you can still take me out to dinner.”  

“Yeah?” His lips stretch into a slow, hopeful smile.

“Yeah. Now, if you want. I think we’re pretty much done here.” You smile back, quickly taking stock of the binders still scattered across the floor. Most of them are completed, but whatever else you need to do can be done tomorrow morning. “Besides, I seem to have worked up an appetite.” 

Jungkook looks nothing short of smug, but you suppose you can’t fault him that. “Well then,” he practically purrs, “Let’s hurry up and feed you.” 

Moving in comfortable silence, the two of you finish putting everything you’ve disturbed back in their original spots, gathering the last of the binders and stacking them neatly on your desk. You reach for your purse while Jungkook goes to collect his hastily discarded belongings.

“So,” you start. “Where are you taking me? It’s kind of late.” This late on a weeknight, kitchens would be shutting down soon.

He pauses in sliding his leather jacket back on, frowning a little as he realizes you’re right. “Shit,” he mutters. “I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”

“You can,” you say with an unbothered wave of your hand. “That can be next time. Let’s just find something quick now.”

“So you’re saying I get a second date?” he grins.

Oh. That is what you just implied, isn’t it? You would be embarrassed by how forward you were being if Jungkook wasn’t visibly delighted by it. Wow, he really does like you. And since the feeling is mutual, you just look away coyly and say, “If you play your cards right.”

Jungkook hoists his backpack over a shoulder, and it’s only then that you see what else he happened to be carrying in his hands when he dropped everything for you. A helmet.

You gesture towards the object with a curious incline of your head. “What’s that for?”

“My bike,” comes his easy answer, but that’s not the kind of helmet that one wears for bicycle rides. No, this one is made for something much faster. 

Now that you think about it, you’ve seen the motorcycle in the parking lot before—you’ve just never really given it a second thought. And now you can’t stop thinking about it, because the unassuming vehicle you’ve often passed on your way into the building has been Jungkook’s the whole time. Your mind is blown. How many more times is he going to surprise you tonight?  

“…Do you always drive a motorcycle?” you ask incredulously.

“Depends on the day,” he shrugs with grin. “Sometimes I take the bus, but I like to ride my bike when the weather’s nice.” His eyes are bright with pride, visibly happy to have impressed you. 

Your mouth opens and closes, thoughts racing so fast your tongue struggles to hold onto any of them. Before you realize you’re doing it, you blurt, “Alright. Are you even real?”

Jungkook blinks owlishly at you, clearly not expecting that question. “What?” 

“I thought I’ve known you for months. But was any of that real?” you repeat. “Hell, do you even need glasses?”

“Of course,” he rushes to say. “It’s all me. I can just be a little shy, is all.” Wow, he actually said shy with a straight face, as if he didn’t just finish ravaging you over multiple surfaces. “And I like to be professional, so this place doesn’t get to have all facets of me. I know you can relate.”

You can. Your constant struggle to not complain? To be professional and work hard and hope you’ll be rewarded for your efforts? Obviously that’s a reason why the two of you ended up in this situation in the first place.

He ducks his head a little, tapping the glasses he picked up off the floor in petition for their validity. “And these really are prescription. I mean, I can mostly see without them, but since I stare at computer screens all day, it’s less strain on my eyes.”

“Oh,” you say quietly, feeling silly to have even asked. But who knew the quiet IT guy who kept mostly to himself was also this? Buff and tatted with a wicked tongue that you’re now intimately acquainted with. 

Shyly, he holds his helmet out to you. He hesitates before speaking again, almost like he’s afraid of spooking you. “Wanna go for a ride?” And from the way color lightly blooms across his cheeks, you get the sense that he’s offering you more than just protective gear.

You take it without second thought.

The next day you and Jungkook get off the elevator together, a respectable distance between you, but arms still brushing too often to be casual. When you come to the hallway that will force you in separate directions, you pause.

“Have a good day,” you say. Jungkook grins, the delighted brightness of it baring too much teeth and crinkling his eyes in the corners.

“You too,” he winks. “Let me know if Mabel gives you any more issues.”

You snort at his brazenness, biting down a smile as you head to your cubicle. Your whole body buzzes, glowing from inside out.

You’re technically right on time, but you’ve definitely arrived later than usual, and that’s obvious when you head over to your department and find Joy already there waiting for you. She frowns as you approach, no doubt clocking your empty hands and wondering how she’s going to make it through the morning without her expected syrupy caffeine fix. 

To her credit, she doesn’t call you out on it, but you don’t really care if she does. You’re done playing errand boy. From now on, everyone else will have to stop before work and get their own shit, if they want it so bad.

Because it’s all so clear to you now. You’re here, and you’re going to do your best, but you’re not going to let this place wear you down to jaded slivers. You’re going to work hard and learn all that you can, but you refuse to be anyone’s lapdog. 

They will respect you. And your value will be recognized and rewarded—or you’ll simply find somewhere else where it will. 

Joy must sense your new resolve, because she simply hovers by your desk and chirps, “Good morning.”

“Morning.” 

“Did you have a good night?”

Your lips quirk. “You could say that. What about you?”

“Eh, it was okay,” she sighs. “Met a guy for dinner, but I don’t think that’s going anywhere.” 

So while you were stuck here last night, having a grade-A meltdown, she was on a date. That tracks.

Joy chatters on while you put your things away, not seeming to notice or care that you’re not particularly interested in what she’s saying. And while this would normally irritate the living shit out of you, today, it doesn’t. 

Today, your eyes can’t help but glaze over as your mind drifts back to how your night went. Today, you just hum agreeably until she gets bored with you and decides to go back to her own cubicle.

And when you hear her ask over the wall if you’ve seen her stapler, you just smile and smile.   

⇢ my masterlist

[jennaort3ga]

This is literal historical poetry in a tumblr fic THE SMUT THE WAY HE TALKS HIM THE CHARACTER THE WAY HE YEARNED THIS IS LITERAL HEAVEN IN WORDS

[jennaort3ga]

Chat I just saw someone request a fanfic where it’s like the kalogeras sisters doing they’re YouTube videos but instead of it being Eli and Noah it’s yn and JUNGKOOK I actually need this in my life please I’m so upset the person didn’t accept this request PLEASE someone turn this into a reality I love their videos and love Jungkook please please please and tag me if you or anyone do

Can it be something like their kitchen or traveling vids OR omg the camping video genuinely I will take like anything guys I really need this fanfic 😭😭

[katseye-eyekons-world]

260526 Daniela IG Update ☆

Gnaaaarlllyyyy ~

[jennaort3ga]

Latina mami😛

[mikrokookiex]

Do you have any idol jk recs??

I'm sorry for late posting, I'm really very very busy even now but i can't keep you waiting when already three days have passed, so here you are love. i hope you like them. Enjoy.

Idol!Jungkook Fanfics

➛ The Mask of Purity by @lostinbangtan7 (on-going)

➛ Amor Genuino by @kalisburnerphone

➛ Out of Breathe by @bangtanfanfiction

➛ Yearning by @soft4gguk

➛ Hit Me Up by @jjksmagicshop (on-going, smau series)

➛ Late-Night Convenience Store by @97linelover

➛ To Be Loved Is To Be Seen by @twilghtkoo

➛ Creamy Pasta, Heated Love by @kittenan

➛ Just One Night by @smoljimjim

➛ After Hours by @kooggukk

➛ Terms and Condition by @jeonettefics

➛ One Song Too Many by @joonam

➛ Beyond The Camera by @ggukool

➛ Overdrive by @jjksdoll

➛ Encore by @youthguk

➛ The Golden Cage by @97linelover

➛ I'm Sure by @kooksure (on-going)

➛ Makeup Artist by @kooksdollyy

➛ The Rival Idol Experiment by @hvlplvss (on-going)

➛ Forgiving is just one aspect of loving someone by @moodysfn

➛ Don't Get Caught by @kooksdollyy

➛ Daddy Kookie by @jkwrites-m (on-going)

➛ Push and Pull by @awrkive

➛ Decay by @youthguk

➛ Angel by @kooksdollyy

➛ The Surprise by @directionernullneun

➛ Opposite of Sun by @euphorajeon

➛ Light of the Morning by @euphorajeon

➛ Off the Beam by @euphorajeon

➛ If it's a Dream (I'll Come Around) by @euphorajeon

➛ Reckless by @sparklingchim

➛ Not in the Job Description by @jooniesthigh

➛ All Over Again by @delugguk

➛ ADHD Kisses by @zerocoded

➛ Denial by @girlygguk

➛ The Boy with Galaxies in his Eyes by @oddinary4bts

➛ Jungkook: 8:45pm by @bonny-kookoo

➛ Are you going to Stay? by @hollyhomburg

➛ If I Could Lie by @alpacaparkaseok

➛ Decision to Leave by @jungkook97

➛ Hot Hearted by @bonny-kookoo

➛ Can't Get Over You by @jungkook97

➛ Crush on You by @jungkook97

➛ Admit it by @jungkook97

➛ Starstruck by @inthelow

➛ The Humanity Formula by @solecize (on-going)

Happy reading.

[jennaort3ga]

This is literally peak in one blog

[jung-koook]

THE FIT 😳 THE GLASSES 😳

[jennaort3ga]

I’m gonna BUST

[jennaort3ga]

Does ANYBODY have any recommendations for jungkook horror au fanfics 🙏🏾

Like anything wether he’s the killer or specifically readers being hunted by a killer and he’s protecting her and stuff and just being a good protective bf LIKE BRO PLEASE I NEED A GOOD HORROR ANGST SMUT FLUFF FILLED BOOK tumblr Wattpad anything please help drop the recommendations pulease

[luviestarz]

JEON JUNGKOOK FIC RECS ! PART 5 ✺

✺ A Thriller Film - @taechaos (Jungkook's life is his movies, but people don't know his movies are his life. As an anonymous director, no one can suspect him as the villain in a story, but he leaves a clue in his movie about you)

✺ — EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE; 1 (m.) - @junqkook (everything was going great when you first met jeon jungkook. he was a new light in your life with soft smiles and tinkling laughs; but then you noticed a lurking presence that seemed to follow you wherever you went)

✺ eternal obsession - jjk 18+ - @jeonette (Jungkook is everything Y/N ever wanted — tender, protective, utterly devoted. But behind his love lies a trail of secrets, blood, and bodies no one was ever meant to find. As the truth begins to unravel, Y/N is forced to confront a terrifying question... What if the man who would kill for her… already has? And worse — what if she doesn’t want to stop him? Because if there’s no heaven for people like them, They’ll rule hell, hand in hand)

✺ yandere! jeon jungkook x tae's gf! reader - @xxxbananasplit (yandere themes, college au, stalking, manipulation, cheating)

✺ ★ little, naive thing ★ - @luv-gukkie (a small cuddle takes jungkook back down memory lane; a time where he could only admire your pretty-self from afar with a burning need to make you his, an idea your little boyfriend wasn’t so fond of)

✺ claimed — jjk 18+ - @jeonette (In which Jungkook isn’t a fan of the pictures y/n keeps posting on Instagram, so she posts even more to tease him — but it quickly turns into a steamy situation)

✺ All Mine | jjk. (M) - @eternalguk (When Jungkook's jealousy flares, it’s not just a fleeting emotion—it’s a spark that sets the night ablaze. His possessive side takes over, and he’s determined to remind you exactly who you belong to… in the most unforgettable way)

✺ come sit on my lap: - @euphoricfilter

✺ EASY ON-PAPER 전정국 - @gguk-mp4 (Your skin is still damp from the coffee, glistening under the dim lights provided by the lamp on his desk. Jungkook’s eyes roam your exposed skin as he rips the fifth button open, pushing your ruined shirt to the side — fingers brushing over the outline of your bra. “I’m not very fond of Taehyung”, he causally hums, the admission betraying the hint of irritation that simmered beneath)

✺ cold as ice | jjk - @ughseoks (although you and jungkook are teammates, you're also sworn enemies, both on and off the ice. but when you're seriously injured during one of your matches, jungkook realizes that maybe the emotion he feels for you isn't hate-- it's love)

✺ ✶ BLOODY CRAWLING BACK TO YOU - @acheronsociety (in which... you absolutely hate your co-worker, the insufferable Jeon Jungkook. but you're badly hurt, and somehow, your feet led you to his door)

✺ get you back - @ouurchids (the one where . . . jeongguk messed up months ago and now he's trying to right his wrongs (and get you back))

✺ MUSE | JJK - @serinic (Who would’ve thought that his girlfriend’s younger sister would become his favorite muse?)

✺ The Wrong Sister - @jkwrites-m (She was never his choice- until she became his world)

✺ PRETTY ᝰ j. jungkook - @uurstruly (in which ,, jungkook can’t get enough of you)

✺ MEAN GIRLS ⋆ JJK - @girlygguk (the one where a jealous sorority senior tries to set you up for failure during initiation, and jungkook's more than willing to let you use him to succeed)

✺ I'D LOOK SO DAMN GOOD ON YA | JJK - @serinic (brother's bestfriend!jungkook x reader)

✺ NO ORDINARY LOVE - @dianemckein (you find jungkook in the jacuzzi, steam curling around him like sin, his body loose but his stare anything but. he doesn’t move, doesn’t need to — just lets the silence stretch, his legs spreading under the water, the weight of his gaze pulling you in. it’s quiet, filthy in the way only he makes it, like you already know what he’s asking without a single word)

✺ Swan Song | JJK - @wintrbears (All vampires have a special ability which they invoke to lure mortals into their clutches, whether to feast on their blood or for the purposes of their pleasure. For Jeongguk, it’s his siren voice, and he’ll use it in whatever way necessary to attract you to his side and take you as his own)

✺ What a View | JJK x f.Reader - @borathae (Sometimes – when the weather is hot – Jungkook likes to workout shirtless in the garden, giving you the perfect opportunity to watch from your hammock and get needy for him. He obviously knows that you are watching and can’t wait to take care of you. Doesn’t matter if the neighbours hear)

✺ I'LL BE WATCHING YOU | JJK - @serinic (Every step you take I'll be watching you~)

✺ Just a Dent, Baby - @jkwrites-m (You dented his ride- only fair you ride him next)

[sunkissedcheekss]

Recent Reads

(mostly jk centred ficss)

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MDNI!!! 18+ STRICTLY

f-fluff, s-smut, a-angst

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Lie with you by @girlygguk (oneshot) (f,a)

-in which jungkook doesn't realise what he has until he just about loses it

Crazy by @girlygguk (twoshot) (f,s,a)

— you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that's when you realised... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

Turn the lights off by @dailynnt (oneshot) (f,s,a)

-After your fiancé cheated on you, you seek solace at the elite Inferno club in the heart of Gangnam. There you meet a mysterious guy with tattoos, piercings, and charisma that makes you forget your pain. One night of passion, but will it end there?

Gameboy by @matchastwb (twoshot) (f,s,a)

-was it weird to fall in love with someone you’ve never met? maybe. but the guy you’ve been playing video games with for the past few months was simply too charming. unfortunately for you, he was already smitten with some girl in his economics class, and it also didn’t help that he thought you were a boy.

The perfect match by @matchastwb (series- smau+written-ongoing)

-the perfect match is a modern dating app that uses in-app quizzes to bring highly compatible people together based on their personalities, likes, dislikes, sense of humor, and even sexual kinks. so how the fuck did you get matched with your nasty neighbor?

mascot by @matchastwb (kth centred - oneshot) (f)

-when you are somehow roped into being the school's temporary mascot for a basketball game, star player kim taehyung (aka the guy you've had a massive crush on for the past two years) mistakes you for his friend and reveals a secret you would've never been able to guess.

Tenure by @keen-li (series-ongoing) (f,s,a)

-Tired of letting trauma and fear dictate your every move, you quit the job you’ve depended on and head to the city in search of something better -- a career, a life, maybe even yourself. Love is the last thing on your list. But then you meet someone who is both everything you’ve needed and everything you’ve run from, and together, you’ll have to decide what’s harder -- escaping yourselves, or escaping the other...

Popstar by @keen-li (series-ongoing) (f,s,a)

-Struggling artist Jungkook, who wants to be the biggest pop star, faces a dilemma when you come into the picture pregnant with his child: ruin his life or ruin his life. Which does he pick?

Daddy Kookie by @jkwrites-m (series-ongoing) (f,s,a)

-After Jungkook dropped all contact, Y/N was left broken. Seven years later, fate brings them back together.

Just a Trend by @cupidsbling (series-ongoing) (f,s)

-On a random date night with Jungkook, you decide to do the viral Kiss your best friend trend on him to see his reaction.

Boyfriend Hotline by @matchastwb (smau-ongoing) (f,s,a)

-need a shoulder to cry on or someone to get you off late at night? fear not, because boyfriend hotline is a brand new app that will match you with someone who is more than happy to fulfill any of your boyfriend-related needs.

Apologise First by @cupidsbling (oneshot) (f,s,a)

-You and your boyfriend have a little argument, so he suggests something filthy and demented to decide who has to apologise first.

under the mistletoe by @dreamersparacosm (f,s,a)

-every christmas, since you were six years old, jeon jungkook gave you a kiss under the mistletoe. but when you were fifteen, you were replaced by a revolving door of girlfriends. thus began your decade-long aversion to the holiday—this year, however, you’ve been tasked with hosting the annual christmas soirée, and there’s no telling what might be waiting for you under the mistletoe this time around.

streamer jungkook x streamer yn by @ohhowjooniewept (oneshot)(f,s,a)

-confident, cocky jungkook who’s extremely down bad!!!!!!!!

mafia leader x mafia daughter by @ohhowjooniewept (oneshot) (f,s,a)

-dirty, dark and smutty

A glimpse of us by @gukcnt (f,s,a)

-a quiet winter morning where you, jungkook and your babyboy share the same cozy warmth and unspoken love that binds you all into one.

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so this is it for now, hoping to be back with more

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