in which. the idol you work behind the scenes for, who also happens to be your boyfriend, is performing tonight - but something is clearly wrong.
genre. fluff, angst (?)
aus. established relationship au, idol au, bts au
rating. 13+, sfw
words. 1.05k
content/warnings. jungkook kind of faints, anxiety, dizziness, overworking
note. this has been sitting in my drafts for a while. thought i should share it with y’all since this one’s actually kind of realistic): have a good read my babies. ♡
tap. tap. tap.
the heel of your boot hasn’t stopped bouncing against the concrete for the past hour.
you’re backstage. technically on duty, technically coordinating logistics for the post show breakdown. but your eyes haven’t left the stage once.
he’s up there, drowning in lights and screams and pressure, and he’s not okay.
you can see it in the way he moves. it’s subtle, but you know him. the slight missteps in choreography, the way his hand keeps twitching by his side when it should be relaxed. the way his chest rises too quickly even in moments of stillness. the sheen of sweat coating his face. not the usual kind, but the cold, sick kind. like his body is trying to fight something off and failing.
your boyfriend is currently performing for thousands of people, and he looks like he’s one gesture away from losing his fucking consciousness on stage.
and you can’t do a damn thing about it.
you warned him before the show. when he came up to you ten minutes before call time, pale and quiet, and told you his chest felt tight and his breathing was off.
you told him to sit it out. just once. just this one performance.
he looked at you with that stubborn fire in his eyes. told you how there’s ‘no way he’s letting everyone down.’
fucking hell.
you love him, but sometimes you want to shake him until he learns to love himself half as fiercely as he loves his goddamn job.
“five minutes till wrap!” someone yells behind you. one of the audio techs.
your fingers are halfway to your mouth, biting at your nails.. a habit you’d kicked years ago but came clawing back the second he stepped on stage tonight.
you’re so far past nervous it’s not even a word anymore. you’re fucking terrified. because you’ve seen idols collapse. you’ve helped catch them, wipe blood off their faces, call ambulances in the middle of chaos. it’s not glamorous. it’s not romantic. it’s horrifying.
and right now, you’re watching the person you love edge closer to that line every goddamn second.
he hits the last note of the final song and drops into the ending pose. the crowd erupts.
you don’t care.
you’re already stepping forward, motioning to the crew behind you.
“get the towels, the fans, everything. as soon as they’re down, we need cooling stations ready.”
someone nods and takes off running. another follows.
your eyes snap back to the stage when you hear his voice through the microphone. his goodbye speech.
it’s short, too short for jungkook. no jokes, no long winded thank yous. just a few sentences and a forced smile plastered on his face. his voice is hoarse. shaky. his grip on the mic is loose.
and then..
he drops.
not all the way, not unconscious. just to one knee. like his legs gave out and he’s trying to play it off as part of the exit.
your stomach sinks so fast you feel sick.
you take a step forward, ready to run, when a hand grabs your wrist.
“he’s okay,” one of the makeup staff mouths, eyes wide. “he’ll be okay.”
if your heart weren’t threatening to detonate inside your chest, you’d scold yourself for brushing her off with barely a flicker of acknowledgment.
but you don’t even notice.
your mind is too consumed by desperate pleas for jungkook to reach the back of the stage without collapsing. without the crew being forced to surge forward with first aid.
jungkook forces himself up. stumbles. jimin’s hand steadies him for a fleeting moment before the seven of them bow towards the huge crowd together, fingers interlaced.
but the way jimin clings to jungkook, and the sharp look hoseok casts his way makes it clear. they need to get off that stage right now, before it’s too late.
every second stretches into eternity for you.
one by one, the boys slip from the glare of the lights, descending the steps that lead backstage where the entire team waits.
namjoon passes you first. then seokjin, yoongi, taehyung, hoseok.
and then, finally, you see him.
fuck.
the sight of jungkook leaning heavily against jimin as though he’s the only thing keeping him conscious nearly unravels you.
he’s barely standing.
you rush toward them before anyone else can, faster than thought. faster than light. before you can speak, before you can even acknowledge jimin and how fucking exhausted and worried he looks next to him, your boyfriend collapses into your arms as if by instinct. as if it’s the only place he can rest.
“fuck,” you breathe, arms wrapping around his waist as he sags against you. “baby- ”
he’s burning up. drenched in sweat. breathing ragged into your neck.
he doesn’t answer. just grips the back of your shirt like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. groans.
“someone help me!” you shout. “we need water, cooling pads, anything!”
people rush in, for both jimin and you. three staff members carefully lift jungkook from your arms and ease him onto the couch in the center of the dim room. you’re immediately beside him, ignoring protocol, ignoring boundaries, ignoring everything but him.
you press a damp towel to his forehead. someone else brings an oxygen mask to his parted lips. the chaos around you, the shuffling of staff, the frantic voices of the other members only makes your pulse pound harder. jungkook lies slumped on the rough sofa in front of you, his eyes refusing to open, his skin so alarmingly pale it sends fear tearing through you.
your hands cradle his burning, damp face, desperate to coax any reaction from him as you gently tilt his face toward yours. some staff members hold fans and water bottles around him. some watch the two of you like a deer caught in headlights.
the members are all gathered around you, their faces etched with worry and exhaustion. namjoon lowers himself onto the seat beside the two of you, absentmindedly resting a hand on jungkook’s leg, which is stretched out across the table. you’re far too fucking terrified to even notice.
“jungkook,” you call.
no response.
“jungkook, look at me.”
he groans, eyes fluttering open just enough to look around in a daze, until his gaze finally locks on yours.
you exhale like you’ve been holding your breath for years.
“move,” namjoon snaps at the crowd of well meaning staff hovering too close. “back up. give them space.”
they back away. most of them, at least. it isn’t like namjoon to raise his voice or speak to the team with such sharp authority, but there isn’t a single thing normal or composed about this situation. he doesn’t even register the edge in his own tone.
jungkook drags his tongue across his dry, colorless lips, eyes half lidded and heavy with exhaustion as they remain on yours. his sweaty, inked palm comes to rest over your hand where it cups his cheek.
his lips part. “i’m okay,” he whispers. barely, but it’s enough.
you close your eyes for a second and press your forehead against his.
“you idiot,” you whisper, voice cracking. “how could you do this to yourself? you scared the shit out of me.”
he lets out a weak, breathy chuckle.
“m’sorry.”
you swallow down everything you want to scream at him and just breathe. your fingers rake through his hair, pushing the soaked strands back from his forehead. his hand finds yours once again and rests it against his chest like he needs to feel you there.
he tugs gently, silently urging you closer, and you obey.
his head falls to your chest, arms looping around your waist, and you hold him like he’s the only thing grounding you to the earth.
his breathing evens out slowly. the tremble in his hands stops.
you close your eyes and press your lips to the top of his head, arms wrapped around him as the chaos of post show cleanup continues around you.
and for the first time all night, you let yourself breathe.
turns out, the easy part was seducing your brother’s best friend. the hard part was not getting caught.
⤷ a little blurb based on the events following temptress
genre. jungkook x reader. smut. established relationship.
tags. phone used as vibrator. explicit unprotected sex. oral f receiving. he slams it in one go.
wc. 1.9k
notes. LMFAO the rest of this was scrapped since it was lowkey ass but i think this scene is okay! hope u guys enjoyed and thank u to anon for reminding me that this exists! you don't have to read temptress to understand this but i encourage it! sorry for the inactivity lately, boyfriend hotline coming in the next few days i SWEAR :) thank you for reading love u all <3
masterlist
Jungkook was nose-deep in your clit when your phone started to ring.
It was somewhere near your pillow, incessantly vibrating by your ear. He didn’t seem to notice, lapping away as if he were parched and you were the only thing that resembled water.
“Wait,” you managed to gasp. “Someone’s calling me.”
He looked up at you, face glistening with your wetness. “They can wait.”
Then he resumed, tongue gliding up your dripping pussy in one slick motion, before giving it a wet, smacking kiss, and diving in tongue-first all over again. You jolted upward with a cutting exhale, but he held you in place easily, fingers curling into your hips.
While he was busy with that, your hands fumbled for your phone until you found it. Panting, you checked the screen with cloudy vision.
It was your brother.
“Fuck,” you whispered sharply, fisting Jungkook’s hair and pulling him away. His head jerked up, an annoyed glint in his eyes.
“I told you they can wait,” he muttered, already pushing your phone away.
“No, look.” You showed him the screen. “It’s Jimin.”
At this, he actually stopped. It was two in the morning and you hadn’t come home yet. Given Jimin’s protective nature when it came to his little sister, it was no surprise that whoever you ended up being with at this ungodly hour would have to face his wrath.
Even if it was Jungkook, who happened to be his best friend.
“What should I do? I told him I was going out with some friends,” you said, shivering from the sudden coldness of the room, the heat in your womanhood subsiding from the sheer panic of the call alone.
Jungkook was exhausted.
How many times had Jimin unknowingly cockblocked him again? Since that fateful day in the car where you had confessed to him and destroyed all remnants of self-restraint, you and Jungkook had been clawing at any opportunity to get your hands on each other—to no avail, of course.
First, it was after you and Jungkook went on your very first proper date. It was simple; a movie at the cinema, dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant, and then a long drive to a secluded parking lot to watch the stars—and potentially fuck around a bit. Then, Jimin called and insisted that you had to get home in no less than ten minutes, or else he’d have the head of the guy who had you out so late (you told him you were on a date, but you did not specify with who).
Next time, it was when you were moving into your college dorm. You needed an extra car to take your stuff; Jungkook had one. Trying to sneak in a quickie in your dorm’s bathroom was maybe not the best idea, but you looked too good in your low-rise denim shorts and hot pink tank top. Sue him. Of course, you didn’t let him get too far—Jimin was only gone for a few minutes to grab something from the car, anyway.
The most recent incident was two days ago. Jungkook had been begging you to go on another date with him since it had been an eternity since the last one (it was one week), but you declined, citing Jimin as the reason why.
“If some guy wants to go on more than one date with you a week, he has to man up and meet me first,” Jimin had apparently said. “That fucking greedy coward.”
But alas, now you were finally alone with him in his apartment—naked, horny, and unbelievably irresistable—and there was no threat of anyone finding out, unless you picked up Jimin’s call.
So, Jungkook decided to be reckless.
Just this one time.
He snatched the phone from you and declined the call, tossing it away to be forgotten in the covers. You let out a scandalized gasp.
“You did not.”
“I just did.” He smirked.
Before you could protest further, he kissed you—your lips, your neck, your collarbones—and brought his hand downward to see if you were still wet. You were.
He put a finger in, gliding his long digits against your walls in painfully slow scooping motions as you writhed beneath him.
“You’re crazy,” you breathed heavily. “Jimin is going to kill you if he ever—”
He covered your mouth with his free hand, effectively shutting you up. “Don’t worry about that right now, little miss,” he grunted.
He cupped your cheek, sliding his thumb into your mouth and exploring your inner cheek and tongue.
“Suck.”
You obeyed.
Without breaking eye contact, you swirled your tongue around his thumb, letting yourself gag on it as he pressed the roof of your mouth. He seemed satisfied.
Below, he shoved another finger into you with his other hand. Your eyes rolled back as you whimpered in delight, saliva dribbling down your chin. His fingers curled, stretching your walls and making you cry out.
His cock was barely contained by his boxers, looking like it was on the verge of explosion.
“Need—” you panted,“—I need you inside me. Please.”
“Oh yeah?” Jungkook removed his thumb from your mouth, using that free hand to pull down his boxers. His tip was glistening with precum. “Can you handle it?”
A third finger.
“Fuck!” you cried, heaving through desperate gasps. “Wanna—wanna cream on your pretty cock.”
And that was enough for him.
Using his hands to spread open your thighs even wider, he lined up his cock to your entrance, dragging the length of it through your folds. Sometimes, he liked to push inside you slowly.
But other times, like today, he preferred to slam into you with one, cruel thrust. You sucked him in immediately, walls taut, back arched, and toes curled. The sudden stretch hurt like a bitch, but somehow that turned you on even more as your pussy spasmed and strained to fit his girthy length. The groan he let out was animal.
A second to catch his breath. A second for your walls to clench helplessly.
Then, he was fucking you with a rhythm and consistency that could only be described as ruthless.
“Oh my god,” you gasped. He leaned in, hitting you even deeper—so deep you could feel him in your lungs. “Fuck!”
As he watched you moan and cry beneath him, an idea struck. He fished for your phone, momentarily pausing.
“What the fuck are you doing?” you huffed, cheeks flushed and eyes cloudy, like you were asking: Why did you stop?
He faced the phone to you as he dialed Jimin’s number with a teasing grin. Horror painted your face as the phone rang, followed by a moment of relief and confusion when he ended the call two seconds after. Jimin hadn’t even picked up yet.
“What was that for?”
“You’ll see.”
He didn’t give you time to ponder over it further. With your phone in one hand, he continued thrusting again, grunting as he stared at your bouncing tits, the obscene slap of his balls against yours filling the room.
Then the phone started buzzing. Jimin was calling back.
With the most smug look on his face, he pressed the bottom of the phone to your clit.
Your eyes lit up in a mixture of shock, mortification, and ecstasy.
“You can’t just—“ the phone vibrated against your clit, eliciting a high pitched whimper. “You can’t do this! This is—this is weird.”
“Fucking hell,” he groaned, faltering for just a moment with trembling arms and eyes screwed shut. “Then tell me why you got tighter, huh?”
He kept going, wincing in pleasure as you pulsed around him, squeezing him tighter as the phone thrummed relentlessly in steady increments against your sensitive nub. With his dick ramming into you, he angled your hips upward so you could get a better view of the lewd sight.
His pace quickened. Your high pitched whimpers echoed alongside the hum of your phone’s vibration. When you dared to open your eyes, he was above you in all of his sweaty, naked glory, looking every bit as desperate as you were.
To top it all off, his free hand came up to grasp your neck, blocking your airway and turning your loud wails into hysterical wheezes.
“You take me so fucking well,” he hissed, glaring at you from above. “Makes me wanna fucking ruin you.”
It all was too much and not enough at once.
Vibrations pressed firmly onto your clit. His cock throbbing against your walls. Hand squeezing your neck.
And then you orgasmed—violently.
You couldn’t even begin to describe whatever horridly primal sounds you made, but it was apparently the breaking point for Jungkook, too. Heat bloomed inside of you, spilling out in steady, white bursts as he trembled from above, his pace slowing down with every thrust and groan—leaving you both clammy and gushy.
Panting, he collapsed onto you, bare chest meeting yours. You both took a moment to catch your breath.
“You’re sweaty,” you finally said.
His chuckle rumbled against your neck. “You loved that.”
“Hm,” was your sleepy, half-assed reply.
Eventually he rolled over, planted a quick peck on your cheek, and started getting up to clean. You laid there motionless, still recovering. A few moments later, your phone went off again.
Four missed calls from Jimin.
Scrambling to sit up and sound like you were in your right mind, you cleared your throat and answered.
“Hi.”
“Where are you? Why are you out so late on a Saturday night? Why haven’t you been picking up my calls?” he blared.
“Sorry,” you started, glancing at the door to make sure that Jungkook wouldn’t waltz in yapping about something and risk being heard. “I think I’m gonna stay over at Mei’s place tonight. We just got back from the bar and I’m super tired. I must’ve butt-dialed you accidentally. My phone was on silent so I didn’t realize you were calling.”
Jimin huffed. “You’ve been going out a lot recently. You’re still studying hard, right?”
“Of course.” You bit your lip.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Are you gonna come home tomorrow or stay at your dorm again?”
“I’ll come home.” You tried to not sound too relieved that he didn’t question you further.
“Alright. Take care.” He sighed. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The line ended.
Without you realizing, Jungkook had already entered the room, leaning on the doorframe, equipped with towels. “Did he buy it?”
“Yeah,” you muttered, tossing your phone away. “But we can’t do shit like that again.”
He pouted. “Why not?”
Jungkook climbed into bed, handing you a towel. You began to wipe yourself.
“It’s too…” You struggled to find the right words as you cleaned up your lady parts, wincing when the rough towel grazes your sensitive areas a bit too harshly.
“Reckless?” Jungkook finished for you.
“Yes, exactly,” you confirmed. “We can’t act like this all the time.”
Jungkook flung his towel away having cleaned himself, gesturing for you to hand him yours, which he promptly did the same with. All dry now, you quickly found a home in his warm, solid arms. He pulled you closer so that you’d be chest to chest with him.
“Okay, fine,” he finally said, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face. “But what about sometimes? Just here and there, when we know we can pull it off without getting caught?”
You thought about it for a moment, already feeling drowsy. Closing your eyes, you snuggled into his neck and took a deep whiff of his natural post-sex scent. You managed to say one more thing before drifting off to dreamland for good.
“Maybe.”
enjoyed this? a like, comment, or reblog goes a long way hehe! thank you for reading, love you all so muchie! <3
Guys😭 I have SO many fics to update and post. I’m so incredibly sorry for disappearing after promising I’d be back so soon. While I was away, we somehow managed to reach 700 followers, and I’m SO overwhelmed with gratitude. Despite my inactivity you’ve all continued to shower me with so much love and support, I truly can’t thank you enough🥹 You guys are the sweetest ever. I’m going to refrain from making any more promises about when I’ll return because honestly even I don’t know. Life has been unbelievably unpredictable lately. But what I can assure you is that I will be back once I’ve gotten my life back on track. Thank you so much for all the love you’ve shown me and thank you for making privately yours blow up the way it did oh my godjsjs?!😭 it means the world to me. I love you all more than words can express. Please be patient with me a little longer. When I finally return, I’ll do everything I can to give you the very best of myself.
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