Jungkook Fic Recs

Namjoon Fic Rec

[soft4gguk]

to build a home | chapter sixteen

Pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc

Genre: strangers to lovers. angst. fluff. smut.

Word count: 19.7k 

Warnings: don’t wanna spoil too much so i’ll be brief. angst. yes! angst. unprotected sex, oc dom era?, handjobs!!, oral (f), dry humping (bc it’s me lol), loads of riding!, sweet missionary. also… this might not be with, uh, jk. or it might! who knows… keep reading :) 

Author’s note:  i don’t even know what to say to be honest, i’m so nervous for you guys to read this chapter but also so, so excited to hear what you think!! so, like always, do let me know what you thought!! so much to unpack here lol. I LOVE YOU! thank u for waiting for this one, hope you enjoy. xo <3

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Chapter Sixteen

You wait for a feeling of dread to take over you. For your heart to feel heavy, for a breath to get caught in your throat. You expect your eyes to burn with the promise of tears in a matter of seconds but none of that comes. Instead what you feel as your words come to a halt and all you can hear is the crashing of the waves, is relief. You feel light, like something’s left you. Something you’d assumed you’d weighted correctly based on the assumptions of your heart, but now you realize how wrong you were. You know this because as silence fills the air and you can’t muster up the courage to look at Jungkook, a weightless feeling overcomes you. One that lets you know that you can let go. You can breathe now. You did the right thing – you tried. 

It’s something you can barely control when your legs give out and you’re lowering yourself, sitting on the sand as you fixate your gaze towards the sky. It’s beautiful, you think, a sense of peace taking over you. You feel his eyes on you and for a second, he lingers. Hovering over you as if calculating his next move. You don’t seem to be paying him much mind and Jungkook is almost grateful for this. He believes your eyes on his could break him in more ways than one and so the semi-privacy you give him as he collects his thoughts is one he doesn’t take for granted. He stays very still, taking your words in even after you’ve gone quiet. He waits for his head to spin, his fight or flight to kick in, a wave of overthinking to take over him but none of this happens. And when it doesn’t, he simply follows your actions, coming down to sit next to you. He’s awfully close, it’s what you perceive at first. The warmth his body gives out, the one you’ve grown heartachingly familiar to, gives this away. His eyes aren’t on you anymore and before you can think this through, you’re looking at him. You watch him as he watches the sea and the sky perform for the two of you. The sight alone feels like consolation from God, but you can’t help it when your eyes remain glued to him. On the way his gaze grows softer, dark hair swept slightly by the wind, his strong arms wrapped around his knees, making him look small. His nose, his lips. His face. The face you love, despite it all. 

Despite his silence. 

And so, ever so softly, you plead.

“You don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to feel what I feel but please don’t give me silence.”

Something inside of you tells you this is what you should’ve said long ago, but you reach for no harshness in the way things have turned out for the two of you. You can only be grateful that these words are finding you now. 

He looks at you, eyes meeting yours that never left him. His voice is a barely there whisper, but still all you can hear. 

“I’m sorry.”

You smile. “What for?”

Is he sorry for his silence? For the silence he now knows he’s kept for weeks. For the silence he now knows is the cause of very many things that now make sense to him. Is he sorry for not loving you back? Is he sorry for you? For the way your eyes give the sadness away, even when almost tricked by your smile. Is he sorry for not being able to give himself this thing. This one good thing that’s his and only his. For your eyes, that seem to take him in like nothing else matters. Not the sky, not the sea, not the way your heart sinks with every passing second that it takes for him to speak next. 

“You don’t deserve my silence. You don’t deserve any of this.”

“I know,” you say, but your voice remains soft. Kind. “I choose my battles, though.”

He smiles at you, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I heard you that first time.”

“Yeah… I figured that much.”

“I didn’t think-,” he stops himself.

“That I meant it?”

“Yeah,” you nod at this and he continues, “at first I didn’t want to say anything just in case you hadn’t realized what you said but then you… acknowledged it and I- I froze, __. I should’ve said something, anything, I know that now. In that moment, though, I just… pushed it to the back of my mind because my brain told me a million reasons as to why maybe you didn’t mean it.”

You turn your gaze away from his, fixing your eyes back into the ocean so as to hide the way his words make you feel. Something about your words being pushed to the back of his mind makes your heart ache. In this moment you realize that the pain you’ve been feeling has little to do with love unreciprocated and much to do with love dismissed. You know his words hold no ill-intent but you can’t help but picture your feelings as this physical thing – small and fragile at the palm of his hands, being crumpled like paper and tossed to the side. 

Nonetheless, you push the feeling aside for the sole reason that you know him. You know Jungkook isn’t a bad person, you know his actions are but a reaction of something heavier he carries. 

“I understand. I was hurt, I won’t lie to you and I say I wasn’t but… I understand.” Jungkook nods once, facing the ocean, trying to grasp for words but when he fails, you continue. “This silence makes me feel like we’re strangers. Like a person I know- a person I love, is a stranger to me. And I’m at fault for that, too. I should’ve come to you sooner. I should’ve told you how I was feeling.”

“I don’t-,” Jungkook sighs, and the act alone loosens up the tension that he’d been holding onto. “I don’t blame you for not coming to me. I don’t think my actions were welcoming and that probably… that probably really fucking sucked for you, __. I’m sorry.”

“Do you still love her?” Your own question takes you aback, but you can’t take it back now. This is a good thing, you reckon. Now’s a good time as any. “Ira, I mean. Do you still love her?”

It takes him a beat too long to answer. “No. Ira and I had been on a steady decline for a while… longer than you’d probably think.”

“I don’t think of it, Jungkook. I know nothing about it.”

He looks at you now. “You’re right.”

“And I’m not asking you to… tell me all of it. I know it was hard. I know it still is hard so I would never demand to know but… I think I’d like to know that much.”

“I don’t love her. I thought I did, when she first left I thought that on top of everything, I’d have to deal with being in love with her still but… how could I love someone that did that to the person I love the most?”

“Soori,” you state, matter of factly.

“Yeah. And I get that… I’m a person. With human reactions. That I can resent her for what she did to her as a father but still hold on to what she gave me as a man but the moment she walked away… I’m not saying she took all the love I’ve ever felt for her with her, but she made things very clear for me. That wasn’t the person I’d fallen in love with. The person I’d fallen in love with would’ve never done that. And so that was that, I guess.”

You shift your body to face him better and the expression he holds breaks something inside of you. 

“But it still hurts.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it still hurts. I think of the day when I’ll have to tell Soori about it. And when I’m not thinking about it, I’m having nightmares about it.”

“I get that but… I also meant,” now it’s your turn to sigh, deflating slightly before your next words leave you. “It hurts you as a… person. Not a father.”

He smiles, half-heartedly. “It does. I’m just now realizing that it does.”

“Because you can’t love me.”

Jungkook hates the finality your words hold. The way you say it matter-of-factly. The way your voice loses all the hope it usually carries. The way you sound resigned – like you’ve just given up. On this. On him. But he can’t blame you for any of it. All he can do now is give you honesty. You and himself. All he can do now is try. 

“I don’t know what I’m allowed to feel or not feel. I don’t know what I feel. All I know is that most days, I don’t even trust myself. That it takes me about ten minutes every morning to get out of fight or flight mode. I second guess my very own thoughts and when I think of the me that fell in love with Ira, or the me that opened up to anyone in the past for that matter, it feels so incredulous. Like an out of body experience. I don’t feel like me anymore. I haven’t in a while. I don’t know who I am outside of being Soori’s dad. And every piece of myself I’ve regained it’s been by observing the muscle memory my friends have around me.”

“I understand.” It’s all you can say, afraid that anything else would fracture you further. 

“Yeah, you do. Surprisingly you do.”

He looks at you now and you allow yourself to stare into his eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that it’s always felt like you understood, even when you didn’t know. You never asked questions yet you never tiptoed around it. Around me.”

“I think the cure for most things is giving ourselves the permission to feel them. I like to extend that to those who I think might need it.”

He laughs, in disbelief. Not because he doesn’t believe you, but because the wisest part of him does. “Yeah, that’s the thing, __.”

You frown. His tone picks up a bit, making you feel slightly defensive yourself. “What is?”

“When I met you I… I almost resented you. Sometimes I ask myself how it is I ended up giving you the job-”

“I ask myself the same thing. But I never thought you resented me.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t resent you. Maybe I wanted to. But I never got to. I’d be in a shitty mood going down the stairs, feeling ready to be out the door and get to the office so I could shut everything out and not have to deal with anyone. Then I’d go inside the kitchen and you’d smile at me. So bright I mistook it for pity for a while until I realized that it wasn’t that. You just… understood. I still don’t know what that means but all I know is that it changed me.” His gaze falters for a while before facing down. “I wanted to go back to my normal life. I wanted my problems to go away, as much as I knew that was impossible, it’s still all I wanted. And then you came in and gave me the total opposite of that.”

He looks up, eyes on yours and it hurts. It hurts because he’s making total sense, yet you’re confused. You find yourself in the middle of a battle between your heart and your brain, and they seem to be hearing whatever appeases them the most. 

Jungkook smiles, more to himself than at you, as if lost in a memory. “You felt new – not because you were new in my life, but because you’re nothing like I’ve ever known before. I tried to push you away because welcoming you into my life meant more changes, but that never worked out, did it?”

“I don’t know,” you answer sincerely. Wherever this conversation’s going, you don’t know, but all you can do is listen. 

“__, you’re-” his words come to a halt, breath hitching in your throat as you wait. “You’re warm and bright. You’re so beautiful, the way you think and the way you speak don’t stand behind – not a single part of you fails to be beautiful. And I was the complete opposite when I met you. You pulled me out of it, against my will even.”

“Jungkook, why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know how to tell you how I feel, but this much I know it’s true.”

Your eyes hide from his gaze, the burn of the feeling in the form of tears catches up to you and now you’re the one that vows silence. 

“I’m scared,” Jungkook says. “It sounds so fucking stupid when I say it. And all I seem to do is try and push away the feeling but it just comes back stronger the next time. I’m not scared of what I feel for you, I’m not scared of you, __. But I am scared of what that entails.”

“Why,” you ask, the word barely there.

Jungkook’s body turns to face you, his hand coming up to your face gently before he’s bringing your eyes to his. He tries to let his heart speak but it doesn’t quite meet his tongue. 

“I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t deserve… this.”

“I don’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry because you can’t be with me?”

“No. I’m sorry because I’m about to ask you to be with me.”

Your eyes widen, confusion lacing your features yet the glimmer in your eyes is evident and Jungkook doesn’t miss it. The way you look at him right now makes him want to be better, and perhaps that’s what’s been getting him through these months all along. You. 

“I- why would you be sorry for that?”

“Because I’m not gonna be perfect at it, but I want to be good at trying.”

“That’s all I need, Jungkook.”

“We haven’t… given ourselves the opportunity to try. To really try. I guess that’s on me, so I apologize. But I want us to try. I want us to talk and I want to try and explain to you why I feel the way I do. I want to understand it myself I-”

You hold his cheek in your hand, stopping his words. “That’s all I need.”

“No-”

“Yes. For now, it’s enough. We don’t have to live in a hypothetical future. I know it’s hard not to sometimes but, we can go day by day. We can give ourselves the next twenty four hours and then go from there. It’s all we have control over, isn’t it?”

“You’re wise. I was not this wise at twenty three. Still am not.”

You chuckle, shaking your head at his words. “I’m not wise. I’m-,” in love, you want to say, but you know that if a moment ever demanded for time and patience, it was this. “I care for you. I care for this. I care for us. I can’t begin to imagine what it felt like… when she left. And I understand that pain doesn’t go away in a day, but I just want to be by your side, I guess.”

“You are. You have been since the beginning.”

“So, let me.”

“Okay.”

He wants to kiss you and God, there’s nothing you want more right now but there’s no way of guaranteeing privacy and you’d like to keep this moment to yourself. Jungkook calls your name, making you face him once again. The sky’s about to end its show and you think that perhaps it wasn’t all consolation from God but another, bigger thing. Hope. A sign. Pleading in screaming colors. 

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t done this in a while.”

“What exactly?”

He ignores your question. “I mean, years. I was probably your age the last time I did this and I don’t know if much has changed but,” your face still hints at confusion but there’s a little smile that forms in your lips that he doesn’t miss. It makes him feel shy but he breaks through it, needing you to hear him loud and clear and for nothing in his demeanor to translate into anything but what it is he wants. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

You smile. “I’ve never been asked that in my life.”

“Oh, I- maybe it’s weird-”

“Yes.” Jungkook frowns. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend, I mean.”

He smiles. Heartachingly so and God, it hurts so good. 

“I probably should’ve asked when I could kiss you.”

“Meet me in the hallway at midnight, we can kiss then.”

“Deal.”

“Oh, and Jungkook?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I like knowing that you’re the first person to have asked me that.”

“I want many firsts with you, __.”

A soaring feeling takes over you. You feel like running in the direction of the wind, so fast it’d almost feel like flying. 

“We’re off to a good start, then.”

“Yeah. Yeah we are.”

~

The rest of the night breezes you by. A calm taking over you that you hadn’t felt in weeks. A calm that’s only overshadowed by the longing you feel for him. You long to hold him, to kiss him, to brand the new title you now hold. 

Girlfriend. 

You’re his girlfriend. 

Lucy corners you as soon as you two make your way back, sporting casual faces as you both separate into opposite sides of the big garden so as to not draw attention to your absence. He goes back to the grill, an oblivious Mingyu and an all-too-knowing Taehyung waiting for him. You go back to Mai and Kenny, taking Soori into your arms and heading to the kitchen to make her bottle. Lucy follows you then, concern and curiosity lacing her features until she sees the smile on your face. You barely get the words out before Jimin’s making his way inside the kitchen, too, cutting your conversation short. Nonetheless, she smiles. Pleased enough with what she knows, but not entirely surprised. She’d been rooting for you all along. 

By the time Soori begins to fuzz about, you don’t waste a second to put her to bed. Jungkook approaches you and his proximity feels like fire, igniting all sorts of things inside of you. He offers to help and put her to bed but you encourage him to finish up at the grill and spend time with his friends – it’s your last night here after all and the weekend had been full of ups and downs. He deserves this moment of steady ups, to calmly go about his night and enjoy the company that surrounds him. By the time Soori’s tucked into bed, dinner’s ready. You steal glances and knowing smiles from the opposite end of the table, enjoying the relaxed nature he sports and how beautiful it looks on him. Your boyfriend. 

Yeah, of course, a part of you wants to scream it at the top of your lungs. You want to wrap your arms around him and not waste a single second. But you’d be lying if you said the anticipation wasn’t building so sweetly – the thought alone of the night coming to an end as you two come together filling you up with something that feels new. Security. It’s comforting, you think, not having to doubt it for a second. 

With very many helping hands, the dinner table is clear and all that’s left to do is relax by the fire. Soft music playing in the speakers, old tales between old friends being exchanged, accompanied by laughs and smiles. It’s the perfect night, and you think of the irony that it holds. Your morning started with uncertainty, the kind that pangs at your chest and leaves you restless. Now, looking at him, the light coming from the fire dancing across his features, you couldn’t feel more different. Your chest feels airy and for the first time in a while, you’re confident the sleep that will find you tonight will be peaceful. 

After much deliberation, Mai being the voice of reason, it’s decided that it’ll be an early night. There’s packing to do and an early morning that awaits to drive back to the city. You feign a sad face when Lucy reaches for your hand to help you get up from the couch and Jungkook smiles because he knows all too well. You’re a shit liar and in a moment of self-indulgence, he likes holding that knowledge. He likes knowing you. He likes that there’s something in this room that only you and him know, that’s yours to keep. Another part of him wishes to break the distance – cant stand it, even. He wants to sit next to you, to pull you into his lap and feel you against his chest. He wants to whisper things in your ear when the conversation around him grows boring and to feel secluded from the world, even if in a room full of people, because he has you. 

You check on Soori, who’s sound asleep, before you head back to your room. You breeze through the process of packing, too, yet taking your time. It’s thirty minutes to midnight and the anticipation builds inside of you like smoke. When you’re all packed you decide to jump in the shower, letting the warm water wash away the day and make room for a new beginning. You’ve always believed in the healing properties a good shower can hold but this one in particular secures the notion for you. You brush your hair and do your skincare, a smile plastered on your face the whole time, so much so that you barely recognize the reflection in the mirror. You’re about to get into your favorite oversized t-shirt, your tried and true choice of sleepwear but you think again, reaching in the very depths of your suitcase and retrieving a white, cotton slip dress with lace embroidering. It’d been a gift from Lucy, who had gotten tired of your old 90s t-shirt of a golden retriever that was missing an eye from wear and tear. 

You notice the house has grown quiet around you and at exactly 11:59, you stand in front of the door, turning the lights off inside your room and taking a deep breath. You smile, shaking your head as the romantic in you (which could be said is all of you) thinks of the fact that the last time you kissed Jungkook today in the wine cellar, you didn’t imagine your next kiss would be as his girlfriend. 

The universe romances you back, because at exactly midnight you open your door, a gasp leaving your mouth as you’re met directly with Jungkook. You have about enough time to register the smile on his face before he’s grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in, lips on yours before you can even speak. You melt into the kiss, hear the way he sighs against your mouth, making you smile. You wrap your arms around him, fingers carding through his hair as you pull him impossibly closer to you. He pulls away, eager to see your face, but not before your lips meet his again in a single whisper of a kiss, like he can’t fully pull away. 

“Well, hello,” you say.

“You make me a weak man, I’m sorry.”

This makes you laugh, bringing your lips back to his. “Mm, I beg to differ. All the waiting we had to do today required a lot of willpower.”

With his lips still on yours, he mumbles, “yeah, I hated every second of that.”

You push him away, mock shock lacing your features. “Hey, I thought it was quite romantic.”

“I think getting to kiss my girlfriend is even more romantic.” 

He doesn’t give you a second to process the words that leave him, and all you’re left with is his lips on yours and an army of butterflies taking over every inch of your body, leaving you weak at the knees and at his very mercy. Eventually, though, you compose yourself (if only a little).

“Yeah, it kinda sucked not being able to kiss my boyfriend.”

He pulls away, tight grip at your waist still as he cocks an eyebrow at you. “You got a boyfriend, huh?”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was too caught up in the kissing.”

“Who is this little punk anyways?”

You laugh, throwing your head back. “You know, just some guy I found.”

He pulls you in once again. “Lucky bastard.”

“No, I’m the lucky one.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Let’s agree to disagree.”

“Nah, I say we work it out.”

When he pulls you closer, it’s slower this time. Head leaning to the side, a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth before he kisses you. He takes his time, taking the lead as you melt into him, letting him guide your tongue with his. You get lost in him, so much so you lose track of time, too focused on the way he claims your mouth, on the way his hands feel as they skim down your body. You almost don’t hear the way you moan against his mouth, fully reacting to him. 

When you remove your mouth from his, his lips land on your neck as he peppers open mouthed kisses over your skin. 

“We probably shouldn’t be doing this here,” you tell him, closing your eyes at the sensation before drawing your head back involuntarily, granting him more access. “Someone could- come out and see.”

“I don’t care.”

It takes you a minute to register his words and also the certainty of his tone when he says them. “You don’t?”

This makes him stop. “Do you?”

“I- I don’t know. Do you not?”

“I don’t, no.”

“But-”

“You’re my girlfriend. This should’ve not been a secret for a while now.”

“Oh.”

“But we can take as much time as you need,” he says, calmly scanning your eyes to try and read your thoughts. 

“No, no. I- I just want you to feel ready.”

“I’m ready.”

“Are you sure? We have… all the time in the world.”

“Yeah, so why waste it?”

You smile at his words. “How would we go about it?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I could just… bring it up? Namjoon’s gonna freak out.”

You both laugh. “Lucy already knows.”

“Oof. Jiminie’s gonna be mad he didn’t find out before her.”

“Our best friends are dating.” You widen your eyes, making Jungkook chuckle at your sweetness.

“Yeah, and so are we. That’s kinda cool, isn’t it?”

“Does that mean we get to…,” you feel shy all of a sudden, hiding your face slightly so you don’t face him, “go on double dates and stuff?”

“Yes, angel. We get to go on all kinds of dates.”

“I’m excited about that. I’m excited, Jungkook.”

“Me too, baby.” He pecks your lips once before he pulls away, leaving you pouting and needy for more. “I’m gonna have to get a new nanny.”

His words make you pull away slightly, shock evident all over your face. “What? Why? What do you mean?”

“No, baby-,” he laughs. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… well, I want us to go places together, just us two.”

“Lucy can babysit. She’s good with kids, plus Jimin’s used to babysitting her and she’s very comfortable around her and-”

His hands cup your cheeks, bringing your forehead to his. He can’t quite put into words, the way it makes him feel when you talk about Soori like this. With an overprotectiveness he’s only ever seen in, well, himself. 

“Okay, baby.”

“Okay.”

He smiles, thumb caressing your cheek and he can’t help but chuckle. Your own laughter is soft, rolling your eyes a bit at his teasing. The next kiss he presses against your lips is tender, and you melt into him, sinking into the feeling and surrendering to his touch. Your body’s used to him, lips familiar with his own but your heart can’t help but feel like this moment is full of firsts. The hand that holds your waist grips tighter, his chest now flushed to yours. You can feel his breathing, taste his lips, touch his skin as it gets warmer with the heat of your kiss. Words of need are about to escape your mouth but before they can, Soori’s baby monitor is going off on Jungkook’s phone. He sighs, giving a little out of breath chuckle before he’s reaching for his pocket and retrieving his phone. 

“Is she okay,” you ask, peaking into the screen to see her on the baby cam. 

“Yep, just awake. Maybe it’s just taking her a while to adjust to the new sleeping environment.”

“Yeah, that sounds about it.”

“I’m gonna go check on her.”

“I can come with,” you tell him, fingers coming to his face to push a strand of hair behind his ear. 

“No, baby, it’s okay. Go to my room and wait for me there, I’ll only be a minute.”

“Alright.”

You smile as he leans in, lips capturing yours in a quick peck that doesn’t fail to steal your breath away nonetheless. He makes his way to Soori’s nursery and you cross the hallway, heading to his room. His bed looks inviting and it’s only when your head touches the pillow that the weight of the day seems to fall upon you. You feel like you’ve lived a variety of realities today. From hopeful, to hopeless to… this. Now. Waiting for him in his bed, his scent that still lingers on the pillows sending a troop of butterflies to your stomach as you take him in. Your body yearns for him, wants him, and perhaps not all sexually. Just holding him, breathing him in, could be enough you reckon. 

You miss the way your eyes grow heavy, body nuzzling into the sheets, and it’s only when Jungkook walks through the door that you notice you’d fallen asleep. 

“Hi,” you say, the grogginess in your voice making him smile. 

“Sorry for waking you up,” he says, getting into bed with you and pulling you closer in one swift movement until his arm is wrapped around your waist and your foreheads are nearly touching. 

“It’s okay. How long were you gone for?” 

“Like twenty minutes. She was a bit fuzzy.” Your eyes widen in surprise, it’d felt like no time had passed at all. “You tired, baby?”

“I don’t know.”

He laughs. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“My body is but my mind is not. I’m too… happy.”

“I’m happy, too.” He kisses you, pulling away too quickly for your taste but when the back of his hand gently caresses your cheek you rejoice in the pleasure of the simple act. “Thank you.”

Opening your eyes, you look confused. “What for?”

“Everything. Understanding, being with me… not just now but, in general. It makes me feel… like everything’s going to be okay.”

“Everything is going to be okay. The angels just told me.”

He laughs, loud and so very beautiful. “They did?”

“Yeah. What are you laughing for?”

“Nothing, nothing. You’re right. Bet they talk to you, considering that, you know, you’re part of the gang.”

“The gang?”

“Of angels.”

“I know what you mean I just can’t believe you called them a gang.”

“Fine. The troop.”

“That’s almost worse.”

“You’re not unpleased often but when you are… oof.”

You smile, with your eyes first before it meets your lips and for some reason Jungkook finds the act so seductive. Some reason is cutting him slack, actually. He knows the reason. He knows all of the reasons. 

“Please me then.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? You’re not too tired?”

You shake your head. “No, baby.”

He kisses you, words a murmur against your lips when he says, “we can go slow.”

“Mm, yeah. I like that.”

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, a lazy smile on your lips when he pulls away and that’s all the confirmation he needs. The mere notion of having you soon sends his body into overdrive in sheer anticipation. Your skin is soft as he runs his hand down your arm, reaching your leg before it’s making its way back up under your nightgown. You sigh, eyes on his before they’re closing at the feeling of his touch on your bare skin. You’re receptive to him, tonight more than ever and you don’t miss the way he adorns your skin with goosebumps everywhere he touches. His hand closes around your ass cheek before he squeezes. He groans, making you smile. When you open your eyes, his are impossibly dark and fixated on you. You kiss him, nimble fingers making a descend down his torso, stopping under his navel before you touch the soft skin of his abdomen under his shirt. He hisses against your lips when your hand finds his cock over his sweatpants, hard. You close your palm around him, thumb moving against the head and the friction alone has him moaning against your mouth. 

“Fuck,” he says, voice deep in a whisper.

“Feel good?”

“Yeah, so good.”

You hum against his lips, hand coming inside his pants and wrapping around his cock. He feels hot and heavy in your hold already and he sounds even prettier now than he did before. So supple for you, so needy. It makes you want to give him the world and then some. You jerk him for longer than either of you can register, too distracted by the way your lips meet sloppy and lazily in a kiss that seems to have no end. Jungkook gets carried away, a sweet sinking feeling in his lower stomach making him regain consciousness as he brings his hand to yours to halt your movements. 

“Shit, I was so close,” he pants, grip tightening on your hand. 

“Why not? I want it. Please.”

He shakes his head. “Wanna fuck you.”

And you want that too, yet something about the way you two were kissing, his little moans and groans against your mouth as you felt his cock throb in your hand has you making a mental note to come back to this at some point. Easy, simple, like you have all the time in the world. 

And you do. 

“How do you want me, Kook?”

He looks into your eyes for a beat too long, as if contemplating the endless possibilities. 

“Fuck, come here, baby.”

He kisses you deep, towering a bit over you as he presses you against the mattress before he’s holding your waist and swiftly turning you to the side until your back is flushed against his front. You feel his cock against your ass, backing up a little to feel him better and he whines, forehead falling on your shoulder. He takes your panties off in a second, your hazy mind barely noticing until the warmth of his fingers finds the place you want him in the most. 

“You’re so wet, baby.”

“Want you so bad, Jungkook.”

You turn your head to face him better, give him a fucked out smile that has his cock jumping for attention between your bodies.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, lips so close to being on yours. Your cheeks grow a new shade of crimson and he smiles, kissing you finally. 

“Thank you. I think you are.” You can barely finish your sentence, words getting caught in a little gasp as his middle and ring finger circle your entrance. He coats them in your slick before they find your clit, running lazy circles against it and making you jolt slightly in his hold at the sensation. “That feels so nice.”

“Can’t wait to have my cock in here,” he presses his fingers into your opening, ever so slowly, making you whine as you back into them. “Stay still, __. Be patient.”

“Please,” you beg, looking into his eyes before they grow heavy in pleasure as he begins to move his fingers inside of you. 

“You’re so fucking tight it drives me insane, baby.”

“Y-yeah?” your voice is a whimper. 

“Yeah. ‘S all mine, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Jungkook.” You moan his name, can feel the way he smiles against your cheek before he’s pressing a kiss against it, slowly moving towards your ear, his breath on the sensitive spot making you shiver. 

“Say it.”

“It’s your pussy, Jungkook. Only yours. I’m only yours.”

“Yeah, baby. You are. All fucking mine.”

He fucks his fingers into you one last time before he’s abruptly pulling out, making you gasp and close your legs at the loss of friction. He wastes little time, bringing your ass to him before he’s spitting into hand and bringing it down to his cock, coating it over his head and down his shaft. He grips at the base, aligning himself against your opening and slowly pushing inside. You both sigh, turning back to meet his face before your laughter combined fills the room. It’s sweet, the way you share this moment with him, his lips on yours not long after, the kiss deepening with each thrust. 

“That feels so good, Kook,” you say, bringing your forehead to rest on his. 

“Yeah. Love fucking you, baby.”

“Fuck me forever,” you look into his eyes as you say this, playful sure, but words filled with intention. 

“Fuck, I’m trying,” he chuckles, “so far, so good.”

He holds onto your hips, fucks you deeper and hits that spot, making your back arch and your eyes roll. “So good.”

His hand travels up, sneaking under your nightgown as he finds your breasts, palm closing around it before he pinches your nipples, pulling sweet little sounds out of you. He fucks you slow but deep, paying close attention to the way your body reacts to him. To the way your moans turn into whines when he goes deeper, the way your hand closes around his under the soft fabric, the way your pussy clenches around his big cock. You begin to unravel in his arms, feeling the way his hand travels down, missing his touch already. He lays his hand on your lower stomach before he’s pressing into the soft flesh, the whine that leaves your lips high pitched at the feeling. 

“Do it again,” you plead, “and fuck me harder.”

He complies, pace growing a tad bit faster and deeper until he can feel what he’s doing to you on the palm of his hand. You press your face into the pillow, fingers gripping the sheets tightly as your breathing grows erratic, teeth closing around your bottom lip.

“Gonna cum for me, angel?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes, Jungkook.”

“Let go, baby. Wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

His words against your neck are all it takes for you to let go, growing very still for a second before you’re cumming in short little spasms and God, it feels so good. He coaxes you through it, words of praise leaving his lips as he places pillowy kisses all over your skin, making you shiver. The bliss takes over your body as you come down, turning to him and locking his lips on yours. 

“That was so good,” you tell him, voice soft and sweet and it drives him insane. 

“You feel so good.” He sounds a bit delirious, mind fixated on the way your pussy throbs around his cock. 

“Want you to cum, baby. Want your cum, please.”

His dick jumps inside of you, he’s sure you can feel it. “Fuck, don’t talk like that.”

You giggle. “Why?”

“I’ll cum like this.”

You blame your boldness on your post-orgasmic bliss. “Why not?”

He smirks, eyes closing as if taken aback by your words. He shakes his head, “you know we can’t.”

“Yeah, I know,” you give, but something in your voice lets him know you’re only rearing up. “But it feels good to think about it. It feels so good. Do you think about it, Jungkook?”

It takes him a minute to register your words, hips starting to move as he thrusts into you slowly. “Y-yeah, I think about it.”

“Does it feel good when you do?”

“Fuck- it does, baby.”

“Sometimes it’s all I can think about, you filling me up…”

He lets you sit with your words for a second before he’s pulling out of you. Partly to compose himself, and partly to push you back against the mattress and hover over you, his body finding a spot between your legs. When he looks at you his gaze has darkened, eyes no longer playful. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah. Are you?” You tempt him, words pushing his new demeanor further. 

“You’re a little greedy, aren’t you?” His hand closes around your neck, applying just the right amount of pressure, all the pleasure going to your head as the sensation makes you a little dizzy. 

“Yeah, just for you, Jungkook.”

He wants to bite back, to keep the act up but the truth is that your words dismantle him, cock throbbing in painful pleasure and he needs to cum. He crashes his lips into yours, bringing his hips down and gripping at his base until he’s pushing inside you again. It doesn’t take long for him to get back to where he was, so fucking close, mind in a haze as he still takes in your words from earlier. It takes all his willpower not to bust inside of you right now, the way you moan against his lips only edging him further. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He pulls out, pumping himself a couple of times before he’s cumming all over your tummy, painting the tan of your skin. His face contorts in pleasure, wet strands of black hair falling against his forehead as he bites his lip. It takes him a couple of seconds to recover, holding onto your waist as he takes in the sight before him. He thinks the image of you coated in his cum could make him hard again, and if he wasn’t sure enough then, he is now. His eyes follow your every move as you bring a finger down to your stomach, running it over a white stripe of cum before you’re bringing it to your lips, sucking on it for emphasis before you’re swallowing. 

“I guess that’s an upside to no creampies. I get to taste it,” you smile, finger between your lips still. 

His eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape and when he can’t form words, cock jumping at your filthy actions, he says,

“Holy fuck, give me a second.”

You laugh, bringing his face to yours, kissing him deep and slow, tongue playing with his and he just lets you. 

Your next words are a whisper,

“We got all the time in the world, remember?”

~

Your side of the bed is empty.

It takes Jungkook a while to notice, his body struggling to fully wake up and mind begging him to turn off the irritating sound of his alarm. His arm reaches out but it’s only met with the soft fabric of his sheets. He frowns, a bit more awake now, opening his eyes slowly to make sure his touch isn’t betraying him. He looks around the room, the door to his bathroom closed, everything oddly quiet with the exception of his alarm. He quietens it down, sitting up and running a hand through his messy locks. He reaches for his phone, checking up on Soori through the baby cam. The frown that dents his forehead from not waking up next to you softens the minute he takes the sight before him in. You’re in her nursery, sitting on the floor and she sits in front of you. You get her attention when you show her two dresses to pick from. She goes for a cute pink one with frills and bows at the shoulders. He scrunches his nose in endearment, leaning back into the pillows to enjoy the show a little longer. He gives himself the luxury of just looking at the two of you. The way she hands you one of her plushies and you pause on the task of getting her dressed just so you can play with her. You put on a british accent, pulling faces as you make the toy frog speak. Soori giggles, imitating you with babbles and cute faces. It feels like she does something new every day and seeing the two of you interact leaves no doubt in his mind that he’s got you to thank for it. 

He feels peace as he enters the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth – phone propped up on the counter, giggling when Soori’s happy shrieks come alive through the speakers. And yeah, it’s not the first time he’s thought it, but in this moment Jungkook thinks that he could get used to this. He could really get used to this. 

The house is quiet around him when he steps outside of his bedroom and into the hallway. 7:15 – still early for everyone except his daughter, and you apparently. He makes his way to her nursery, sneakily peeking inside but the moment he steps a foot inside the room he’s got two pair of bambi eyes looking up at him. 

“Look who’s up, Soo Soo,” you say, pointing at Jungkook and making Soori shriek in excitement at the sight of her dad. 

Jungkook smiles as he walks to you, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips as he says, “good morning, baby.” You bring Soori up, raising her towards him and she giggles when he places a kiss on her forehead and says, “good morning, princess.”

“Say good morning, daddy,” you look at her, kissing her on the cheek and laughing when all she does is babble a string of dada’s. “That’s good enough.”

Jungkook sits in front of you, Soori in the middle and deep in debate on whose attention to get first. Jungkook wins and she crawls over to him, abruptly landing on his lap. He laughs, picking her up and peppering kisses on her plump cheeks. “Was she up really early?”

“Kinda. I was gonna let her sleep a bit more but she was fuzzy.”

“Could be sleep regression.”

“I love it when you talk dad to me.”

“Ha. Good, plenty more where that came from.”

You smile. “Hey, come here, missy. I still need to do your hair.”

Jungkook passes her over to you, but not before taking her back in his arms right before you’re about to catch her, her sweet laughter filling the room. “Okay, okay. Go with Nana.”

She crawls towards you, looking at her dad one last time before she’s nuzzling herself in the middle of your crossed legs, hands busy with her toys as you work on her pigtails. You have an assortment of bows in front of you, indecisive still on which ones to use. Jungkook just observes you – doesn’t miss how gentle you are with her, how she finds her spot between your legs and just stays there. He can’t remember the last time she stayed still while he did her hair. 

He thinks you’re magic. 

“All done,” you say, opening your hands at her side for her to take them. “Show daddy, Soo.”

She looks up at Jungkook, smiling at him and he melts at her sweet actions. “You look so stinkin’ cute, princess.” You went with the white bows, a little too big for the thin strings of hair that comes out of her pigtails but it only makes her look ten times cuter. You stand her up and she holds onto your thumbs for support, bouncing in place as Jungkook opens his hands towards her. 

“Wanna go to daddy?” You’re about to hold onto her little hands to encourage her but she takes the first step all by herself. You and Jungkook look at eachother, freezing for a second and trying not to move or make any noise so as to not jinx the moment. 

“Oh my God,” he whispers, and just like that, you’re letting go of her hands gently and his daughter is taking her first steps. She’s a bit confused at first but the moment she takes her second, slightly wobbly, step towards him she smiles. She’s in his arms in no time and he brings her closer, hand on her head as he kisses her face. “Good job, baby. I’m so proud of you, Soo Soo. You’re so cool, wow.”

Your hands are still over your mouth, shocked and excited all at once and you can see the way Jungkook’s eyes tear up. It’s only when you blink and it stings that you realize tears had pooled in yours, too. “Wow,” is all you can muster. 

He dries his tears with the back back of his thumb, laughing and shaking his head. “Holy shit. Shit- sorry,” he says to Soori, “don’t repeat that.”

“I can’t believe that just happened.”

He looks at you, that beautiful smile you love plastered all over his face, so big it meets his eyes. “We’re both crying.”

“I know,” you laugh, and he follows, giddy and airy and you can’t seem to stop. “That was so cool.”

“I know right?” He looks at her, placing another kiss on her cheek before he’s placing her back on her feet. “Wanna go to Nana?” 

“Nana!” Soori says, igniting a new set of tears to swell up at your eyes. 

“Come here, baby.” 

And she does, her little legs going faster than she can master yet and falling on the very last step but you catch her, an immediate smile on your face that lets her know she’s safe and she claps when Jungkook does, looking back at him and then back at you, stars in her eyes and surrounded by so much love. 

“Polaroid time!” Jungkook exclaims, sitting up. 

“You brought it?”

“Yeah. I was kinda hoping it would happen this weekend, but I’d kinda lost hope not gonna lie.”

“Daddy’s always prepared, isn’t he, Soo Soo?”

She claps again, crying for him a second after when she sees him leave the room. You keep her distracted for the minute it takes Jungkook to fetch the camera and come back into the room, another clap from her when she sees him again. You get her, that’s pretty much how you feel too. He sits back down in front of you and you reach for the camera, letting Soori go to him with her newly found walk. She’s still getting the hang of it but she’s so good at it already. You might be biased but you truly do believe she is the smartest baby ever, and moments like these simply prove your point. 

You point the camera at them, Jungkook holding onto Soori as she stands up and they both smile. “Say, Soori walks now!”

“Soori walks noooooow!” It’s picture perfect. They both are. Jungkook reaches for the camera and says, “now one of the two of you.” She walks to you when you beckon her over, falling into your lap and making you both laugh as she stares confusedly at you. Jungkook hides behind the camera and says, “say, Soori’s a velcro baby!” and with that, your smile is turned into laughter, Soori following suit as she looks up at you and the flash goes off. Jungkook smiles, confident on the fact that he’s probably just taken the best picture ever. 

“Let’s take one of the three of us,” you say, scooting closer to him and placing Soori between the two of you. Jungkook extends the camera in front of you and in an instant, the memory is etched in a photograph forever.

 This happens a lot as a parent – a milestone becoming your favorite memory – and it only makes him look forward to the future, and that, for reasons only he understands, takes him by surprise. He looks at the pictures that you arrange in a neat line in front of you, smiling and pointing as you show Soori, who has developed a newly found interest of looking at herself in photos. Jungkook thinks about how once upon a time, he imagined having to do this all by himself. It made him dread the milestones, the excitement, because he always felt like the notion of something missing would haunt him. But so far, the milestones have been nothing but sweet. This one the sweetest thus far and it’s that word – thus far – that stirs something inside of him.

Without giving it much thought he says,

“I want to stay.”

You look at him, smiling. “Ugh, I know. I could easily live by the beach.”

“No, I mean it. I want to stay.”

“Oh-”

“You have two weeks off from book club, right?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“Then let’s stay. Just the three of us. I can take time off, too. And we could just… stay.”

“I mean- I,” you don’t know what to say, “could we?”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t bring enough clothes for two weeks.” It’s a shit excuse and the moment it leaves your mouth you both laugh.

“We can go to the nearby town and get whatever we need. I think you’ll really like it, actually. It’s very picturesque.”

“Well, I can’t say no to the beach and picturesque nearby towns…”

“Hm, I know how to get you to stay forever then.” He kisses you, long and deep and you smile against his lips when his words start to sink in. Soori taps Jungkook’s chest and whines, demanding his attention. “What’s up, baby?” She looks back at you, as if claiming you. “Ah, well, you had to learn this at some point. Today we’re gonna learn how to share-”

“Jungkook!” you shove him playfully, taking Soori into your arms and kissing her cheek. “You don’t have to share me, bubby. It’s okay.”

“Hey, I’m teaching her valuable life lessons!”

“How about you share?” you glare at him, pulling Soori closer to you. 

“Tsk. No can do,” he steals another kiss, chuckles meeting your lips and you join him, his happiness contagious. Or maybe it’s your happiness that’s contagious. 

It doesn’t matter, you think. Your happiness and his combined, Soori at the center of your little universe… it’s warmth. It’s pure warmth. 

~

By the time ten a.m. rolls around the house starts filling up with noise – little kids running around, Jimin and Taehyung bickering in the hallways over who the best superhero is, and everyone wheeling their suitcases out and about, wondering whether they’re forgetting anything and estimated time of arrivals. 

Jungkook and Soori lay in the bed of the guest room you’ve been staying at, lazily playing with Soori’s toy fruit basket as Jungkook makes her plushies sit around in a circle circle and Soori feeds them. You do your makeup, get ready for the day, steal a couple of glances their way as you try and still your heart at the sight alone. You do and undo your hair a couple of times, shifting between a ponytail and letting it down. You opt for letting it down, roll your eyes when you realize you subconsciously (or very consciously) do it because it’s how Jungkook likes it best. And hey, you’re all for feminism, but can’t you just enjoy being his silly, little girlfriend for a moment? Surely you get a hall pass for being in the honeymoon stage alone. 

“‘Kay, I’m all done,” you say, stepping back into the room and blushing the moment his eyes are on yours and he smirks. You’re wearing a white sundress, so very you, and he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume from where he stands. He makes a slow circle with his index finger and you roll your eyes, attitude easily dismantled the moment he says, “please” and so you give in, spinning around once as he whistles. 

“Gorgeous,” he says, emphasis on the s.

“Thank you,” you sound collected, which is a partial truth. “Shall we head downstairs?”

“Let’s go, I’m starving,” he leaves the bed, taking Soori in his arms and laughing when she makes grabby hands at the floor. “I see how it is…”

“We must encourage her,” you say, taking her in your arms and placing her on the floor. She looks up at you, then at Jungkook, and just like that she’s sitting on the floor, a pout forming on her lips before she’s letting out a cry. “No, no, baby! We’re here!”

“Yeah, princess, look!” and she does, sniffling some as she makes grabby hands at Jungkook. He looks at you, guilt settling all over his face and fighting the urge to not pick her up. Said urge is about to win, but you’re faster than the temptation. 

“Kook, she won’t want to walk… you can’t pick her up now.”

“But-,” he says, but deep down knows you’re right, “fine.”

“It’s okay, Soo. Look, we’ll hold your hands and we can all walk! Isn’t walking so much fun?”

He doesn’t know how you do it, because in an instant she’s back on her feet, one hand holding onto him and the other onto you, and the three of you are making your way down the hallway. Going down the stairs is fun, her laughter filling the air as she bounces on each step and you both swing her gently. 

She doesn’t fail to get everyone’s attention and the second you three enter the living room she’s got all eyes on her, excitedly waiting for her appearance. Jungkook looks up at his friends, doesn’t miss the way they all hold their breaths as they see their niece hitting a milestone – one of many they have and will be around for. 

“Good morning, everyone. Look what Soori can do,” he says, letting go of her hand and you follow. She stands there for a second, wobbly legs threatening to give out but she stands her ground, smiling at the people she loves the most in the world, all gathered in a room and gawking at her with stars in their eyes. Taehyung kneels down, clapping once and opening his arms for her, making Soori shriek in excitement and waddle towards him before falling into his arms. He’s crying, holding onto her and showering praises against her cheek in-between kisses. They all join him, gathering around her and taking turns loving on her. 

“Well, I think that’s all the encouragement she needs,” you say, laughing and taking in the sweet sight before you. 

Hobi picks her up, taking her into his arms and kissing her temple. “Bad day for you to be cooped up inside a car for two hours huh, baby?”

“We’re gonna stay.”

Kenny looks up at him, taking Soori from Hoseok. “Huh?”

“Yeah. The three of us are, actually.”

Everyone’s eyes are on the two of you, so naturally they don’t miss the way Jungkook’s hand wraps around yours the moment the word “us”  leaves his mouth. A silence falls around the room, so dense that you’re convinced everyone can hear how loud your heart is beating, your hand gripping Jungkook’s in an attempt to ground yourself. Not that you didn’t see this moment coming, because you did, but you can’t help but admit it’s a bit nerve racking, to be perceived by all of them at once. Your eyes look for Lucy, not surprised when you see a cheeky smile plastered across her face, Jimin looking up at her in confusion. 

Yoongi’s the first one to break the ice, always one to bring balance into any situation. “Well, that’s a well deserved vacation, Jungkookie. I’m happy for you.” He looks at you when he says that last sentence, offering a warm smile you don’t fail to return. 

“Yeah!” Namjoon yells out, startling you. “It was about time- for your vacation, I mean.”

“Joon,” Iseul says, shoving his arm discreetly.

 That’s all it takes for all of you to break into laughter, Jungkook looking at you for a second before he’s looking back at his friends. Taehyung looks at him, muttering a silent, “fucking finally,” his way and raising his hands to the sky in prayer. Jungkook rolls his eyes at him but deep down, he’s thankful for his friend and for his words of advice from the beginning. 

“Well then, let’s have one last family breakfast before we have to hit the road,” Hobi says, bouncing Soori on his lap before he looks at you, “how do you take your coffee, __?”

“Um, iced americano.”

“Easy! I’ll get on it- oh, like Kookie! So, two?” Kenny asks, smiling at you, something in her eyes that you understand. A bond, perhaps, or simply more happiness combined. 

“Yep. Thank you, Ken.” Jungkook smiles at her, squeezing your hand one more time before walking the two of you to the garden alongside everyone else. He leans over, whispering so only you can hear, “that went well.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it did.”

“Sorry for being blunt I just- I don’t know. I wanted them to know.”

“It was perfect,” you look at him, a sweet smile on your face and God, he wants to kiss you so bad. But as much as he wants to, he doesn’t know where you stand when it comes to PDA – so much to figure out and it feels sweet to him, the beginning stages of a relationship. Of your relationship.

You sit down next to Jimin, looking up at Jungkook who tells you he’s gonna help in the kitchen. You nod and smile when he leans down and places a tender kiss on the side of your head, blushing and feeling shy all of a sudden but the moment doesn’t linger for long.

“We can go on double dates now!” Jimin says, face nuzzled between his hands as he sighs.

You laugh. “You know, I had the same thought.”

He grows serious all of sudden, making you feel slightly anxious. “I’m happy for you guys, __. Really happy.”

You smile. “Thank you, Jimin. I’m really happy, too.”

He returns the smile for a second before it falls, leaving you confused. “Can’t believe you told Lucy first. I thought we had a real friendship going on, __!”

And while you try to reassure Jimin that you two do indeed have a real friendship going on, Mai intercepts Jungkook on his way to the kitchen, holding onto his shoulders and startling him. 

“Jesus Christ, Mai.”

She stares at him for a second too long before the biggest smile forms on her face. “Eeeeeek!” she shakes him a bit, jumping up and hugging him. Jungkook laughs, wrapping his arms around her middle. “I’m so happy! Oh, you so owe me one,” she says, “but I’ll settle for a thank you. For now.”

“Thank you, Mai.”

“You’re so welcome!” she hugs him again. “I’m a really good cupid.”

“So this was your plan all along?”

“Well, no. My plan was really to find you a nanny. The fact that she was pretty, charming and sweet were all add ons with loads of potential. And I see potential where potential is due,” she winks at him, chuckling when she sees the way he blushes at her words, being taken back to very many years ago and to an eighteen year old Jungkook. She never thought she’d see it again, but boy is she glad she gets to. 

“Yeah, well, thank you. I mean it. She’s… special, isn’t she?” He says, looking out the window, his eyes finding you. You can’t see him but you’re smiling, laughing as you attempt to keep up with Jimin and Jin who seem to be talking your ears off. 

“Oh, no,” she says, making his head turn back towards her. “She’s more than that, Kook. She’s magic.”

And he smiles because he knows. 

He really, truly knows. 

~

In the course of five hours, Soori has not only learned how to walk, no. Soori’s a runner now. Perhaps runner is an exaggeration, yes. A fast walker a more accurate way to describe her, but you can’t help the hyperbole when she quite literally runs away from you as you attempt to get her pink converse on her left foot. The right foot was a success, distracted enough by the sunglasses she’d snatched from your head. The left one is bare and aids her into running away from what she probably deemed a boring activity. Arms up and giggles filling the air, she’s promptly stopped by Jungkook’s arms that catch her in the act. 

“Are you gonna turn me into a kid’s-leash-parent, Soori Blue?” 

Jungkook partly blames Jin for this, and recalls how just a couple of hours ago he took to play-pretend chasing her all over the garden, claiming “this is how my dad taught me how to walk!” and yes, perhaps he’d helped develop her confidence but now he’s made her a runaway and that’s… pretty fucking funny, if he’s honest. 

Soori snatches Jungkook’s own sunglasses from over his head, confidently stating, “Nana!”

“No, baby, these are daddy’s. Let’s get your shoes on.”

“She’s a runner,” you say, passing him the cute pink converse you’d held onto since the betrayal. 

“Do we need a leash? Be honest with me right now.”

You laugh. “No… Yes? I don’t know. I don’t think so. Those look so barbaric!”

“She doesn’t even have that long of legs, how is she so fast?”

“It’s the inertia,” you say, bringing your arms up and imitating her prior movements. 

Jungkook ties her shoe, braving through the way she ruffles his hair, a couple of strands getting caught in his now messy locks and pulling some. He winces – she’s also become ten times more mobile in the past five hours, or so it seems. You argue that she’s simply full of adrenaline now, helping get her chubby hands away from the strands and smoothing Jungkook’s hair out in the process. 

“All done and ready to go,” he says, smiling at you and then looking back at Soori, “you ready to go in the stroller? Yayyyyy, the stroller!” his saccharine voice and smile makes her clap and both of you let out a sigh of relief. 

Her desire to be running out and about does make the process of getting everything – and everyone – packed into the car a bit more difficult, and she fuzzes a little when he straps her to her carseat, but for the most part you consider the task successful, your hands meeting in a celebratory high-five as soon as Jungkook steps inside the driver’s seat. 

“Wanna play music,” he asks, handing you his phone.

You take it, smiling when you see his wallpaper – a cute picture of Soori, probably taken a couple of months back. She smiles into the camera, and it’s all you can see, half of her face covered in one of Jungkook’s beanies, a couple sizes too big for her. “I’m in a Fleetwood Mac kick lately.”

“Of course you are,” he says, backing into the driveway and stealing a glance your way, a smirk plastered on his face. 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re an old soul, baby. Like God made a bit of a mistake making you Gen Z.”

You gasp, and then contemplate it a bit and realize that, fair enough, he’s got a point. “You’re kinda right. I am quite old school.”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, hand coming to rest on your thigh comfortably, “but I’m glad you came into this timeline because I get to have you and your Fleetwood Mac kicks.”

You laugh, the soft chords of Silver Springs’ intro filling the enclosed space around you. “We would’ve met in another timeline, too, I think. We would’ve been so cool. We would’ve been listening to this live!”

“Yeah, and doing shrooms in a field somewhere whilst Dreams played in the background and you would’ve probably had bangs.”

“I would’ve 100% been a hippie, and you would’ve been a yuppie and so very dapper. Enemies to lovers.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “I wonder how that would’ve worked out.”

You feign deep contemplation for a second. “In missionary so we could keep arguing.”

“Oof. Take me back then.”

“Jeon Jungkook?”

He chuckles, squeezing the inside of your thigh. “Ah, baby, don’t worry. I’ll argue with you in missionary in all of our timelines.”

“I’m relieved,” you say, rolling your eyes dramatically but the smile that forms at your lips is one that’s too big to hide, succeeding at being flustered by your boyfriend. 

The rest of the ride looks pretty much like that – Fleetwood Mac, your fingers intwined in his over your leg, and more of the flirty back and forth that seems to pull new shades of red on your cheeks every time. You make a mental prayer for the ride to last just a little bit longer, but can’t say you’re disappointed once you finally make it into the picturesque nearby town Jungkook had told you about. It is, indeed, picturesque, almost like something from another time. Restaurants lining the streets, tables lining the terraces and beautiful people adorning the very scene. Everything seems to be a paler shade of white, green and yellow, brickstone shaping most of the facades and you begin to recognize the name brands rather quickly. Gucci, Prada, Dior and the like, as well as some boutiques you haven’t heard of before that look just as expensive. But hey, you do see a Domino’s Pizza. That’s a win in your book. 

You’re so enthralled by the surroundings that you don’t realize Jungkook has parked the car and is about to make his exit. A bit dumbstruck still you follow in his steps, eyes widening when you realize that this place even smells expensive. It also smells a bit like lemon sorbet and that seems to be even more shocking than the latter. 

“Do they have, like, an H&M around here?”

Jungkook turns to you as he unbuckles Soori’s belt, “a what?”

“An H&M. You don’t know H&M?” Your voice a mix between indignation and shock.

“The store?”

“Yes!”

“Ah,” he nods his head, “no.”

“You don’t?”

“I mean, I do. I don’t know that I’ve seen one around here, though. Why?”

You take Soori from him as he walks to the trunk to pull out her stroller. “These are all really fancy stores… I-”

He unfolds the stroller in one swift moment, looking up at you from under his sunglasses, a black lock coming loose over his forehead. “Don’t worry about that, baby. It’s my treat, okay?”

“I can’t let you do that.” You don’t meet his eyes, sitting Soori inside the cushiony seat of her stroller and buckling her in.

“Why,” he asks, nonchalantly. 

“Because. You don't have to do that. I can just wash the clothes I brought, it’s no big deal.”

“Hm,” he walks over to you, pulling you closer by the waist and placing a kiss against your cheek. “I know I don’t have to. I want to. So let me? Please?”

“Jungkook-”

“Please.”

He hits you with the puppy eyes, and you can’t believe you’re actually having this conversation with him right now. What’s worse, you can't believe you’re about to agree, unable to deal with confrontation, even if it’s this silly. “Okay but… moderation.”

He laughs. “Are you policing my expenses now?”

“No. Well, yes. Don’t I get a say?” You cross your arms, hip jutting slightly and he smirks at the attitude. 

“No.” and with that, he begins to walk, pushing the stroller and turning his head to look at you and say, “you coming?”

You roll your eyes, catching up to him and circling your arm around his. “I’m not used to… gifts.”

“I know, baby. Didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It’s not uncomfortable just… weird. But not necessarily in a bad way.”

“Yeah, I get it. I do wanna treat you, though. For no other reason than just wanting to. So just enjoy it, yeah? For me?” You nod your head once, looking down at the floor but smiling. “Thank you,” he says, finding your temple and leaning his forehead against it.

“So, what first?”

He looks around, considering his options. “Miu Miu? You look like a Miu Miu girl.”

“I do?” you ponder, more to yourself than to him and this makes him chuckle.

“Yeah, let’s check it out, come on.”

And Jungkook is a very wise man because, yes. You are a Miu Miu girl. A Dior girl, too. Hell, you even dabble in some Gucci if you do say so yourself. Jungkook, in your very humble opinion, is a Prada boy, but you can’t deny your favorite is Jungkook the Calvin Klein boy. You swear you’ve never seen anyone fit into a pair of jeans so perfectly, and for this you envy him a little. A little a lot. You spend the afternoon exploring the very many options the world of high fashion has to offer. Dresses, shoes (they make expensive flip flops, to your surprise), shirts and pants and at some point, you take Jungkook’s advice and stop looking at the price tag. Advice isn’t quite the word, it’s more of a demand. You’re not suddenly unaware of the hefty splurging taking place, no, but you must admit that it makes the experience ten times better. The two of you laugh at the extravagant, odd pieces some brands sell, try on unflattering sunglasses and make a runway out of the dressing rooms. Jungkook makes you show him every single thing you try and by the third time he does it, you stop pretending to be annoyed at his boyish reactions. Your boyfriend is the biggest hypeman, making you twirl and spin and showering you in praises, making the choosing part a little harder than it’d usually be. 

You don’t fall too far off, though, and quickly enough watching Jungkook try on clothes becomes your new favorite thing. Can you be blamed? He looks good in everything, can pretty much rock every style and you get to see him take off his shirt an innumerable amount of times. You have to compose yourself and make a mental effort not to gawk at him. If luck was ever in your favor, it’d be today. 

Soori also reaps off the benefits of Jungkook’s little (big) shopping spree, and soon enough you find out that nothing brings him as much pleasure as shopping for her. He picks the coolest pieces, a perfect mix between girly and the tomboyish style you secretly know is his favorite. Comfy and cute in her oversized t-shirts and Carhartt baby clothes. She also gets a new pair of sneakers for her newly found hobby and tests them out by running around the store, making every sales associate swoon over her. So much so they actually whine when you three walk out the door, waving their goodbyes. 

“I get it now,” you blurt out, getting Jungkook’s attention. “The whole shop ‘til you drop thing, I get it now. It’s real.”

He chuckles, throwing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I did. Could watch you take off your shirt, like, eleven thousand more times.”

He tries to hide how flustered he is by smiling, lowering his voice when he says, “we don’t have to go shopping to do that.”

“You’re right, what a lucky girl I am.”

“Lucky? Lucky me. I should buy you eleven thousand more dresses just so I can experience this more often.”

He makes you blush, but what’s new? 

“Let’s not be greedy now.”

“Oh, but you want me shirtless forever?”

“Yeah, exactly. It’s what I deserve!”

And he can’t deny you. Matter of fact, he’s about to let you know that much but something catches his eye. He stops in his tracks and makes you pause, too, confused for a second as you follow his line of vision. 

Agent Provocateur.

It’s pink, fun, sexy, and indeed provocative, and that’s just going by the window display alone. This one you are slightly familiar with, having taken a couple of trips with Lucy in the past just to admire the overpriced lingerie and gasp in shock when you discovered the wonders of the ouvert panty. You sure do learn something new everyday.

“We forgot to get you underwear,” he says, a shit excuse for nonchalance lacing his tone. 

“Ah, but I’m a girl. I packed underwear for, like, a month.”

“That so,” he asks, eyes still on the shop’s window. 

“Yep.”

“I mean, you could never have too much underwear.”

You laugh. “I really don’t need it, Kook. It’s okay.”

“I do,” he states, looking at you with a smirk.

“Hm. Why don’t you go in and pick something out for me then? I’ll take Soori on a little walk, I think she could use it.”

“You’re giving me free will to get you anything I want inside a lingerie store?”

“Yep.”

“This is the best day of my life.”

“Go to town, baby. The world is your oyster!”

Jungkook’s off, not before laying a kiss on your lips and another on Soori’s forehead, excitedly walking towards the store and then gaining back some of his composure the moment he’s about to walk inside. He’s out of sight in a matter of seconds and you laugh in disbelief. What is your life? 

“Soori, you should be so glad you won’t remember this when you’re older,” you say, kneeling down in front of her and smoothing out her hair. 

“Nanananana.”

“Let’s go get ice cream and walk around, yeah?”

Your suggestion is met with excited clapping from her part and just like that, you’re off on an adventure of your own. It doesn’t take you long to locate the most delectable ice cream you’ve ever laid eyes on, in the cutest shop. Everything is pastel and old school and it fits the vibe of the town so well you wonder if every single shop in this town got the memo. Domino’s pizza being the hard exception, of course. You go for the strawberry sorbet and a bit of hazelnut for balance, as recommended by the ice cream expert behind the counter. On a cone, of course. Soori’s a simple girl – chocolate and vanilla on a little cup. You find a bench, sitting the two of you down as you multitask feeding her and feeding yourself, but soon enough it all becomes pretty democratic as she takes licks from your cone and you steal spoonfuls of ice cream from her cup. Ha, and Jungkook thought she couldn’t share! 

With that thought alone you invoke him, jumping a bit when he appears seemingly out of nowhere. Your facial expressions take turns, to say the least. From fright, to surprise, to happiness, to shock, to fright again. He smiles – no. He smirks. He smirks, knowingly, deviously, even as he leans down and takes a bite out of the chocolate ice cream you’d scooped up for Soori. Your eyes fixate on him, eyes narrowing before they land on the multiple pink shopping bags he holds in one hand. 

“Did you buy underwear for a whole village?”

He throws his head back in laughter. “You’d hate that, actually.”

“Correct,” you pause for emphasis, “Jungkook, what the heck?”

“What? They had a good sale going on.”

“Really?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, God.”

“Jeez, can’t I just treat my girl to sexy lingerie?”

You raise a menacing eyebrow at him. “Just me?”

“It’s a win-win, baby. It’s a win-win.”

You smile, unable to deny him as much as he’s unable to deny you. “Can I see?”

He brings the bags closer to his chest and gasps, feigning shock. “These are for my eyes only.”

“Fair enough.”

“You’ll like them, though,” he winks. “I’m starving.”

“I have an idea!”

“Do tell.”

“Let’s go home, I’ll buy us Domino’s Pizza and we can watch a movie, my treat.”

“You’re spoiling me now.”

“Ah, what can I say,” you say, standing up and taking Soori into your arms, her chocolate covered cheeks forming a smile on her face. “I like to share my riches.”

“I’m rich,” he walks closer to you, hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer.

You huff, “trust me, we know.”

“Not like that,” he looks at you, arm tightening around you until your feet are hovering above the floor a bit, pulling smiles out of you like it’s easy and that’s the thing, it is easy because it’s him. “Like this,” he says, emphasizing his point with a kiss to your lips, letting you know that he means it.

No doubt in the world that he does.

~

When you first fell in love with writing, it wasn’t much for the idea of storytelling. Instead, that very first spark that turned an interest into a passion came from the purpose of safe keeping memories. If you could keep a moment safe by the immortality of your words, you thought, the inevitability of time could be avoided. Or well, it would make it all worth it, at least, like you lived for a reason. Everything you experienced – whether it was pain, happiness, worry, surprise – it would all come to an end eventually, but your words would remain, etched into time for the sole purpose of proving that it happened. That you were there, alive and feeling and that it was all worth it because your words could now live forever.

You sit on the couch, the living room lights dim, perfectly complementing the atmosphere as the rain falls in incessant showers outside the tall windows. The sound is comforting, a candle burning and the notion of the ocean at such close proximity easing you all over. You can still smell it, you think, mixed with the rain and him.

Him, him, him. 

You smell him on your skin, your hair. You smell him on the hoodie you’d stolen from his closet, the one he’d worn today and discarded before getting in the shower. The scent triggers the muscle memory in your heart and you think of him, a smile escaping you before you can fully make up his face in your mind. The warmth takes up every inch of you and it reminds you of his touch, his arms around you, the sun and the fire and the love you have for him. 

You stop writing, too distracted to string words together now that the thought of him has turned so physical, affecting your ability to do much more than simply think about him. You place your pen in the middle of your journal’s spine, marking the page as you feather through your previous entries. Five days. You’ve been together for five days, four spent in the peace of your little universe. You, him and Soori. And to your luck, and the luck of immortalized moments, you’ve used your words to make sure this memory never leaves you. 

You skim through the pages, smiling when a sentence catches your eye, struggling a bit to understand your own handwriting. 

“It’s early – way too early, and I’m struggling to stay awake. I wish I could go back to sleep, but then again he’s next to me and I can see him, really truly see him when nothing gets in the way of his beauty, when he’s so still I have no choice but to stare, to take him in, to let his face sink into my memory until all I can feel is love. Until his face is stripped of features, no eyes, no nose, no mouth, just love. My love. He’s the sun rising and I’m the need to stop and stare.” 

The weight of your words are overwhelming, a blush creeping up your cheeks and you can feel the way your heart feels warm. You turn a page, laughing at the universal balance of your feelings when you read,

“Jungkook grilled today and I ate three burgers. We made milkshakes for dinner when Soori was asleep because neither of us has the heart to not share with her but Jungkook’s scared of sugar rushes.”

But, oh, what a privilege it is to live an ordinary life with extraordinary people. What a feeling, to experience it all. 

“I sit by the sun, can feel the sand through the towel under me and my body’s still salty and wet from swimming. I hear the sound of the ocean and Jungkook turning the page of a book. I hear how still he is whilst reading my copy of The Great Gatsby. Soori naps in-between us and I can hear her soft breathing. I write this because I don’t want to forget it.” 

A wave of nostalgia takes over you, like you’re already missing it though it hasn’t fully gone away yet. Your next words ignite a different feeling in you, flushing your chest and sending that original warmth that’d settled on a steady route someplace else. 

“I feel his fingers long after they’ve been on me. My body is exhausted but my mind alert, the stars on my skin he’s left are now mine to safekeep and the way the memory lingers keeps me awake. I’ve never made love before, it feels foreign to me. Are we making love? How would I know? I can’t think of the formalities of much when he fucks me. I can’t put a name to it, only his and whatever his eyes on me makes me feel in that moment. I’m yet to decipher it, though, his eyes on me. More so, what I feel. It makes me want to live inside myself, though I don’t think that makes much sense. It makes me wish I had more control over my body, my thoughts, my feelings, so I could focus on multiple things at once and figure me out. Me when he’s on me, me when he owns me like this, and perhaps his eyes perceive this better. Perhaps I could find it in seeing what he sees when he looks down at me, like that. Like him.”

“Why aren’t you in bed, baby?”

His voice startles you, takes you a while to register it fully, your first instinct to close your journal a bit too abruptly for what it entails. You look up at him, smile when you take him in, your hands itching to touch him, to hold him. His hair’s still wet from the shower, a bit messy, and longer now than when you first met him. You like it like that, you think. In a soft white shirt and gray pants, he looks so soft as he walks inside the living room, hovering by the wall for a second before leaning into it. 

“I was writing, the rain looks nice from the tall windows.” 

He smiles. “We’ll open the blinds upstairs, come on. Wanna watch a movie?”

You nod, uncrossing your legs and holding onto your journal before making your way to him. “What did you have in mind?”

“Lord Of The Rings,” he gives you a toothy grin, pulling you to him as soon as you’re close enough to and you can’t help but bring your lips to his. 

“Never took you for a nerd. I like it.”

“To be honest, I never know what’s going on, I’m just drawn in by the landscapes.”

“Lucy and I watched it once,” you say, pinching your thumb and index finger, pretending to smoke, “under the influence.”

The picture alone makes him chuckle. “Never took you for much of a stoner.”

“Oh, God, I’m not. I ate a subway and a bag of hot cheetos and passed out fifteen minutes into the movie.”

“Damn, baby, that’s weak. Even for you.”

You gasp. “As my boss, you should be delighted by this information.”

“Mm,” he kisses you, “not your boss right now. Actually, not your boss ever. Soori’s your boss.”

“She’s so demanding.”

“I know, right? Will only eat fruit if it’s star shaped now. Wonder whose fault that is…”

“When I get my hands on her…,” you narrow your eyes, shake your head.

“Hey. Easy on my girlfriend right there.”

“That still sounds a bit surreal.”

“What? Me calling you my girlfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, get used to it.”

“Never. It’s funner this way.”

He doesn’t refute your point, secretly agrees with it, still a bit in awe of the word itself. The title. What it entails, what it means, what he gets in exchange of it. Not in an opportunistic way, but simply in letting himself enjoy this new role, surprised at how comfortable he feels in it, how at ease. 

The two of you make your way upstairs, checking on Soori one last time before heading to the bedroom. The bed looks inviting, fluffy duvet begging for you to be inside of it on this rainy night. Lights dim and soft linen smells, the sound of the rain hitting the window as Jungkook opens the blinds and you get in bed, making yourself comfortable and letting your body melt into the mountain of pillows he insists on keeping. He joins you soon after, sighing as he sinks into them, too, remote control in one hand as he extends his other in invitation. You fall into him, letting him wrap his arm around you as you rest your head on his chest, legs finding his under the covers until your body is laced in his. He makes quick work of finding the movie, falling deeper into the comfort of the bed and bringing you closer to him as the beginning credits roll in, landscapes following and he’s right, it’s captivating enough. 

“Wanna go there someday,” you say softly, voicing your thoughts.

“You remember the deal we closed a couple of weeks ago?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“It’s basically land… vast, immense land that looks just like this. I’m building a hotel there.”

You look up at him, “really?”

“Yeah. I’m excited about it. It’s kinda different from the locations we often go for… it feels new, I think it’s gonna work, though.”

“I have no doubts whatsoever,” you tell him, face nuzzling in the soft fabric of his shirt before you say, “I’m proud of you.”

He rests a soft kiss on your head, hand gently running down your arm as he murmurs a quiet, “thank you,” against your hair. Soon enough you’re both completely enraptured by the movie, and to your surprise, by the plot, too. Once in a while you steal small glances of him, endeared by his big, shiny eyes in full focus, pink lips slightly agape. Your hands run lazy circles around his chest, and you do it enough so as to lose conscience of it, affection turning into reflex. 

Your touch soothes him, so much so he stops acknowledging it and it simply runs a wave of relaxation down his body, shoulders dropping a bit, body sinking further into the pillows, head falling to the sid. You’re warm against his body and he likes it, he likes being able to feel every inch of you on him like this. The movie has most of his attention, but said attention begins to shift focus, unbeknownst to him, like his body has a mind of its own. He thinks it’s an innocent little pull at first, inevitable, if you will. He tries to go back to the movie, eyes fixated on the screen, his brain’s full function on the scenes, but it’s to no avail. He’s now (well too) aware of the way your fingers trace patterns on his chest, the way your leg rests on top of his. The way you smell, the way your tits press into his side as you shift a bit. You exist, next to him, and his reaction is but the collateral damage. 

He begins to shift in place, hand running through his hair as he makes more of a mental effort to quiet down his body and the effect you, very innocently, have on him. He does this for long enough so as to make you notice, frowning against his chest when he sighs. 

“Are you okay,” you ask, looking up at him, “are you uncomfortable? I can move-”

“No, no, no,” he says, voice a bit frenzied, taking you aback even more. “It’s not that, baby, come back.”

You rest against him once again. “Is something bothering you, though? You feel tense,” and when you say this, you run your hand down his arm, nails scraping a bit, and Jungkook lets out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“No, none of that, don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he says, feeling shy all of a sudden, color creeping into his cheeks, “it’s just…”

“What?”

He grows quiet for a second, hand holding onto yours before he starts to guide it down his torso, and you’re almost confused for a second until it gets lost inside the warmth of the duvet. Jungkook rests your hand on top of his cock, over his sweatpants, and you can feel how hard he is. He whimpers softly over your head when you reflexively close your hand around him, feeling the whole weight of his arousal. You look up at him, half-lidded eyes and parted lips, his head leaning back against the pillows as you bring your lips to his neck, kissing once before you whisper a little, “oh,” into his skin. 

“Couldn’t help it,” he says coyly, and you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Why would you try to help it?” your lips still pepper open-mouthed kisses all over his warm flesh. 

“Dunno,” he shrugs, a whimper that ends in a moan following and he sounds so sweet. 

So sweet, you think. Something about him, about his demeanor right now, docile in your hands, soft-spoken words and little noises as your lips on his skin begin to have an effect on him. You can feel it in the palm of your hand, in the way his hips buck a little with each suckle, silently begging for more but not in any particular rush. 

“Want me to touch you?” you look up at him, at the way his eyes open, still half-lidded and hazy as he nods. Your hand squeezes his length, “here?”

“Yeah, I’d like that– please.”

That word feels like a silent agreement. A nod in the direction he knows you’re eager to take and you waste no time in rewarding him for letting you, for allowing you to take the reigns, for letting you give him pleasure as you please. 

Your hands travel under his sweatpants, lips forming a smile when you realize he’d forgone underwear, cock warm against your small hand as you wrap around it. Jungkook hisses, a whine getting caught in his throat as your thumb circles around his crown, collecting the precum and easing him into the feeling. Your pace is slow, eyes fixated on his cock – on the way his slit leaks when your finger grazes over it, the way he jumps a bit in your hand, so overstimulated already. The noises he makes, sometimes muffled as his face presses against your hair, failed attempts at keeping composure. He tries his best not to fuck his cock into your hand, you can tell by the way his tummy sinks every now and then, hands gripping at the sheets. And when he can’t take the torturous pace you set, so determined on giving the most sensitive part of his cock what begins to feel like an overwhelming amount of pleasure, his hand gently closes around yours, stalling your movements. 

“Please, __– fuck,” his words are a bit frantic, a moan getting caught between them. 

 “What’s wrong, Kook?” you feign ignorance, but he’s in no position to give you a hard time for it. 

“Stroke it, baby, please.”

He sounds so fucked out already, shaky fingers closing around your hand once again and you know he’s fighting internal battles not to guide your movements, to take you where he wants you – how he wants you. 

“It felt like you were so close, though…” 

“Not like this,” his words find him faster than you’d expect, given his state, “don’t wanna cum like this.”

You kiss his cheek, smiling when his face moves closer to yours until you’re kissing the corner of his mouth and his eyes are closing as you finally move your hand, slowly stroking his cock, touch so gentle it makes him sigh. He’s so perfect the need to tell him so becomes too painful to bear. 

“You’re doing so good, Kook. My perfect boy.”

Under any other circumstance Jungkook would pause at your words – not necessarily to second guess them, no, but to process them. To see what they do to him, to what extent they deliver pleasure, all things considered, things being the fact that, well, he’s not a sub. He’s not usually the one melting into praise and dominance so, yeah, under any other circumstance Jungkook would pause. Right now, though, all he can focus on is the way your hand feels so warm and tight around his cock, how it glides so seamlessly because he’s so turned on he’s basically lubricated himself, and how you’re enjoying his reaction to you so much you think he’s perfect. 

Perhaps under no circumstance would he need to pause to know that he enjoys it. More than he ever thought he would. 

“I feel so good right now,” he tempts, head sinking into the pillows as you up your pace a bit. 

“It feels good… to make you feel good,” your wrist twists around him, giving him all the attention he craves, from base to head and then tighter at the upturn. “To see you be this good,” he whimpers softly at your praise, “you sound so beautiful.”

Jungkook’s chest tightens, your words resounding in places he didn’t know could echo words, sounds – the sound of your breathing, your own moans. Your pace picks up and you rejoice in the way he reacts to your touch. His brows knit together, eyelashes kissing his cheeks and all he can think of is you, almost as if he had you far away and had to rely on memory. Opening his eyes, heavy lids looking down at you as he leans his head to the side, his breathing picking up as he pants. 

Your hand leaves him for only a second but it’s enough to make him hold his breath, eyes following your every move as you bring it up to your face and lick a thick stripe down the palm of your hand. His cock throbs when it wraps around it again and he sighs, so close to the edge he can only hope you’ll play fair. 

Your free hand sneaks under him a bit awkwardly, tapping on his leg to silently let him know what you want. His hips raise as he helps you move his sweatpants down, the waistband now hugging his ass as you free him completely. His cock is red and angry, still leaking for you as your hand begins to move faster, thumb and index finger playing with his head at the end of each push and pull. 

“I’m so close, __–” words soft, a staccato whisper that’s for you only and your name on his lips sounds sugary, like it drips off his tongue. 

You think, a bit selfishly, about playing with him for just a little longer. Putty in your hands and so very yours that you almost don’t want to let him go – to let him let go, but you can’t deny him. Not when he’s been so good. Not when you have all the time in the world to explore, to play. 

“Yeah? Tell me, baby, what else do you want?”

“Play with my balls,” voice still a plead, no demand in it, a bit of a tilt at the end. 

You comply, hand traveling south before you gently roll his balls on your hand, tugging slightly and making him wince, a loud, throaty moan finding him soon after. You look into his face again, a sight to behold, so lost in his own pleasure you think he doesn’t fully hear you when you tell him to kiss you. He proves you wrong, though, lips crashing onto yours as you swallow his pleasure, tongue on his as both your breaths grow heady. 

“God– fuck.” his hand finds yours again, not hesitating before he’s wrapping it back around his cock, stroking once, twice, and setting the pace for you before his own is coming up to your face, fingers gently grabbing your chin and making you look at him. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, Jungkook. Please.”

He nods, brows knitted in a frown as he gets so very close, eyes on yours and fighting to keep them open. You feel the way his cock kicks in your hand as you jerk him fast, bottom lip getting caught between your teeth. He grows quiet, a little tense under you and when his lips part in a silent moan, eyes shutting close, he cums, hard –  thick hot shots landing on his tummy and coating your hand as you bring him down. 

He chuckles a little, feeling a bit delirious as your fingers play with the mess you’d both left on his stomach, cock jumping at the mere sensation of your touch on his taut skin, making him hiss and look down. It turns him on a little more than his body can take right now and he opts for closing his eyes, sighing as he sinks his head back into the pillows. 

“That was so good,” he says, voice soft and full of bliss. 

“Mhm.” 

You kiss his cheek once more before your warmth is leaving him, making him frown as he’s about to ask where you’re going. He opens his eyes, sees you reaching for the night table and when you turn around you’re holding onto a handful of tissues. 

You clean him up, and he lets you, his soft gaze following your movements. It feels intimate, the way you do it in silence, your face expressionless but something in your eyes that’s easy for him to read. You tuck him back in his pants, laughing a little when the feeling of the fabric against his sensitive skin makes him gasp, muttering a little, “sorry” his way. When you kneel on the mattress to leave his side, he pulls you by the arm, whining a little. 

“I’ll just go throw these in the trash,” you say. 

“Okay. Thank you, baby.”

You take a minute – makes Jungkook a little antsy for reasons he can’t understand. He hears the faucet go off, hears you wander about the bathroom, giving him enough time to sit with his thoughts. It’s not anxiety – well, it is. It’s not bad, though. It’s more so unfamiliar, to let someone take care of him like this, so lovingly for no other reason than the desire that pulls you to want to love him. To dote on him. It makes his heart contract inside his chest, missing a couple of beats that recover a bit too quickly when he sees you make your way to him. 

He’d been lost in thought, making you smile. 

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“That we haven’t kissed in a while.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s playful and shy – one of his favorite things about you. Your knee hits the bed, crawling towards him and he smiles, growing giddy in anticipation. You find a home over him, knees straddling both sides of his body as you rest on his tummy, careful not to touch any further down as you know he’s still sensitive. 

“Wanna kiss me?”

It’s back, he thinks. That tone you held before, when you were in control of him and his pleasure. No time to pause now either. He nods. 

“Yeah, wanna kiss you so bad, baby.”

He welcomes your lips on his, slow and tender, giving him time to savor the pillowy softness of them. The way you taste, the way you sound – a little worked up, tiny whimpers leaving you – has him convincing himself that he could never get too much of this. Never get too much of you. The way your tongue moves on his has him sighing against your lips, mind elsewhere and all he can take in right now is you. You and how you kiss him. You and how much he wants you already. How much he needs you. 

He moans against your lips, hands coming up to hold onto your hips as he pushes them further away until your cunt sits perfectly on top of his dick. You both sigh.

“You’re hard,” you point out, not fully breaking the kiss. 

“Yeah. Been hard since you straddled me,” he laughs. 

“Thought you’d be spent, you came so hard just now.”

He shakes his head, looking up at you, “want you, baby.”

You grind your hips against his, moaning when the head of his cock grazes your clothed clit. “I want it like this.”

“Yeah– okay,” he gives, kissing you again as he guides your hips the way he knows feels good, aided by the noises his mouth swallows as you moan into his lips. 

You don’t stop when you come up, fully sitting on his cock and making him wish there was less layers between you two. When he looks down he sees the wet patch over the gray fabric of his sweatpants, unsure whether it’d been you or him but turned on by it none the less. He moans at the sight, at the feeling, at the way you look so pretty with your cheeks flushed and your eyes closed, lips parting to moan his name. 

Your hair falls to one side, pretty neck glistening with sweat and he wants to kiss it so bad. He holds his breath as your fingers toy with the hem of the sweatshirt you’d stolen before, promptly pulling it off your body. His eyes widen, lips slightly parted before they’re forming a smirk when you reveal what’s underneath – the result of his little shopping spree a couple of days back. Tonight you’d opted for a lacy, red babydoll and matching panties. The fabric so sheer it barely covered anything, making Jungkook consider himself a very lucky man right that second. 

His hand travels up, palm cupping your breast and thumb caressing your nipple, making you whimper at the feel of his finger through the fabric, a new sensation. Your hips move quicker, hand coming to rest on top of his to encourage his touch, the added stimulation landing right on your lower tummy, making your pussy clench around nothing, clit throbbing with every push and pull of your hips. 

“I’m so close, Kook,” you pant, back arching as you find the perfect pace. 

“Use me, __. Use me to cum,” he gives, lips getting caught between his teeth so hard he’s afraid he’s gonna draw blood. “Fuck, you look so hot, baby.”

You like the two tones his voice takes at his command and praise, the way he’s still perfect in that pliant way but also gives you what your body secretly loves the most. When you cum, it almost feels painful, in that sweet way that finds you when you’re so overwhelmed by the feeling. Your hands crash on his chest, hair falling at the sides of your face before he’s gently pushing it away so he can watch you. 

The air around you shifts just as fast as the switch inside Jungkook turns. 

You’re still catching your breath, so receptive to his every touch that you moan when you feel his cock throb between your legs. He holds onto your face, making you look at him. 

“You did so good, __. Came so good and pretty for me.”

There’s a voice inside your head that tells you to take back control, to bite back and tell him that he was the one being good for you. But your body’s both too spent and too needy for your mind to get cocky right now and deprive it from what it needs the most. 

You nod your head, a little dumbly, at him. He thinks it’s cute. 

He’s pushing his sweatpants back down, legs fully pulling them off his body before his finger hooks down the side of your panties, slowly moving south until his knuckle is grazing over your clit. 

“So wet. So messy.” the pads of his index and middle finger circle your clit, making you whimper as you rock your hips and follow his movements. He pulls his touch away abruptly, pushing your panties to the side before his hand leaves you completely and comes to rest behind his head. “Ride me, __.”

You’re wet enough to brave it, coming up on shaky knees and lining yourself over him. He grabs the base with his free hand, helping you a little and releasing the moment you start sinking into him. He doesn’t miss the way you whimper, eyes closing at the feeling of him stretching you. It burns a bit but you’ve come to find pleasure in the pain, bottoming out as you both moan when he’s fully sheathed inside of you. 

“So big, Koo,” you cry out, and his heart beats particularly soft at your use of the pet name. It almost makes him lose focus, almost makes him fall back into the prior dynamic, a little too worked up from it still. He reckons it’s probably what’s powering his demeanor right now. 

“Yeah,” he sounds, and you don’t miss the way his voice takes on a cocky tilt. “Move, then. Wanna see you bounce on this big cock.”

“Yeah– okay, fuck,” because it feels so good. It feels so good as you jump on him, as he fills you up to the brim and hits your sweetest spots when you bury him all the way inside of you. It feels so good when it all gets to be too much and you have to slow down your pace, grinding against his hips, making him say your name as he hits every inch of you like this. 

You jump on his cock again, tits moving with each motion against his hips and he can’t take his eyes off of them – off of you. So fucking beautiful as you move over him, giving him what he wants. 

“Good fucking girl,” he praises, voice a bit rough from the way the pleasure consumes him.

“That feels so good. Wanna fuck you– wanna fuck you forever, Jungkook.”

Your words are strangled and he can see how much effort it takes to actually string them together, so very affected by him and the way it feels when he starts moving his hips against yours, fucking you back. 

“You can fuck me forever, baby.”

“Oh my God, I’m so– so close.”

The cry you let out when his hands grab at your hips, pausing your movements, surprises the both of you. You look down at him, glaring when your orgasm goes away, the pleasure taking on a painful nature as your pussy throbs around his cock. 

“Fuck. Why–”

“Want to play with you a bit more, baby. You can take it. You can be patient, can you not?” It’s in your best interest to agree so you nod, frantic eyes looking into his. “Good. Now lose the attitude. I’m gonna make you cum so good, promise, yeah?”

“Y-yeah.”

He holds onto your waist, manhandling you so swiftly you barely register just how he managed to get you on your back in a matter of seconds. He hovers above you, thighs between your legs as he runs a hand through his damp locks and scans his eyes over your figure. 

Jungkook can’t figure out if he wants you fully naked, looking up at him or face down, pressed against the mattress. He doesn’t know if he wants to fuck you hard or take more time with you. He doesn’t know if he wants to tease you or have you coming undone again – and if it’s the latter, does he want it on his tongue or around his cock? 

Decisions, decisions… 

He wraps a hand around his cock, sighing at the much needed attention, smiling when you raise your hips a bit involuntarily in his direction. You make his decision for him, huffing a bit when you see the way he takes one step back away from you. He takes his shirt off before running his hands down your legs, his touch soft but his eyes dark, like he’s plotting. 

“Kookie,” you say, dreamily, ulterior motives lacing your voice, “fuck me, please.”

“Not yet, wanna taste you first.”

He raises your legs, keeping them straight before him as he rolls your panties down your thighs and off your feet, throwing them to the side. You bend them once they’re off, resting them against his shoulder. 

“I’m too sensitive,” you tell him, and something in your voice tells him you’re faking it.

“That so, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

“But I want you to fuck me– now.”

Jungkook holds onto your legs, one hand on each calf before he’s bringing them down, resting them against the mattress a bit abruptly and making them fall open for him. 

“Quit being a brat or I won’t fuck you at all.” 

He doesn’t let you answer – not like you’d try, you’ve got too much to lose – finding his place between your legs as he lays down on his tummy. Your pussy’s swollen and red, hole leaking for him and clenching around nothing. He coos, which you’d tease him for if the reaction wasn’t selding a jolt of pleasure down your body, something filthy about it lacing the act. 

“Love your little pussy, baby,” he observes, more to him than to you, marking emphasis in his words by running a finger from your opening all the way to your clit. 

“Please.”

And he can’t deny you. Not when your cunt looks so enticing, when you react to him and he can see it, feel it around his fingers as he pushes his middle one inside of you. You arch your back at the intrusion, a moan passing your lips when his own close around your clit, sucking hard on it in rhythmic little pulses. It doesn’t take him long enough to send you right back to where he’d taken you from just a couple of moments ago, tummy tensing at the threat of your pleasure reaching its peak. 

“I’m gonna– I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” you warn him, so obedient it nearly makes him swoon.

He removes his mouth from you, replacing it with his thumb as it draws tight circles against your clit, a bit slower so as to save him time. 

“Yeah, baby, you can cum. What do you want me to do? Tell me.”

“Can you– please, lick my clit.”

His index and middle finger form a V, opening your folds up to him before his tongue comes out to lap at your clit – quick kitten licks that has your hands reaching down to him, fingers holding onto his hair so as to ground yourself but it’s to no avail. 

“Fuck– like that. God, I’m gonna cum.”

It’s blinding, almost. The way it feels, the way your body shakes as you come undone on his tongue. The way he sucks on your clit, prolonging your orgasm, moaning against it when you pull on his hair. The sound his mouth makes when he cleans every drop, chin glistening with your orgasm – it all adds to the sensation, effectively fucked out. 

You pull him up, with little force, until he’s falling back on top of you. You kiss him, a bit deliriously, tasting yourself on his tongue and moaning at the remnants of your high. You push your legs further apart, helping him fall into you, feet on his ass as you bring him closer to you. He sinks his cock into your pussy, moaning at how tight and warm you feel, still pulsing from your last orgasm. 

You’re both a bit more quiet this time around, throaty breaths and pants passing your lips as you find endless places to kiss. Down his neck, on your shoulder and the palm of his hand when he cups your cheek. You sigh when you finally find his lips. They only part when he throbs inside of you, pussy so sensitive you can feel just how close he is. You lose him for a second and when you open your eyes, you see his own fixated on the TV, fighting to stay open.

“In missionary so he can keep watching Lord of the Rings,” you tease.

He looks back down at you, strangling out a laugh that shortly gets caught in a little whine of pleasure. 

“Shut up,” he breathes out, kissing you once again. “Fuck– I’m so close, baby.”

“I can feel it.”

“Yeah?”

You hum, bringing his face closer to you, kissing him and egging him on with sweet, little praises. 

He stills on top of you, pink lips parting in a silent moan before he says, “I’m gonna fucking cum,” pulling out just in time to paint your lower tummy in white, cum dripping down your pussy a little too recklessly to what he’d normally agree to but fuck, he feels drunk right now and the sight is heavenly. 

You laugh. 

“Reconsidering?”

“Yeah,” he answers honestly, with half a brain for anything let alone to lie. 

“Oh, wow,” you say, “love being your girlfriend already.”

He laughs, shaking his head before he’s pressing a kiss against your lips. 

“Me too, baby. Me too.”

~

AAAAAAAAAA. sorry for teasing you guys so hard, i didn’t want to give anything away so i had to lie A LITTLE (or well, refrain from the truth lmaooo). also sorry to the team mingyus, u probably thought the thing about the smut not being about jaykay meant it was with HIM, but i just didnt wanna spoil it!!!!!! anyways. i love you. and like always, thank u for reading. it means more to me than you’ll ever know <3 

[gl00s]

In Plain Sight • JJK x Reader

completed series | chapter13

in which

namjoon's younger sister has been beside bts since their trainee days. everyone treats her like family. everyone except jungkook, because somewhere between endless bickering, shared beds after exhausting schedules, hidden midnight conversations... things stopped feeling platonic. unfortunately for them, the internet notices first.

pairing: idol!jungkook x y/n warning/genre: fluff | friends to lovers | slow burn | idol!au | clingy jungkook | reader&jungkook are annoying asf| they are very intimate

teaser | chapter1 | chapter2 | chapter3 chapter4 | chapter5 | chapter6 | chapter7 | chapter8 | chapter9 | chapter10| chapter11 |chapter12 | chapter13| chapter14 .

epilogue

A/N: Hello pretty people! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter because I suck at writing idk makeout scenes lol. Also as this fanfic is coming to an end I was wondering if you guys have any idea or any specific moment/scene to include in the next chapter aka the last chapter of In Plain Sight. Because I want it to be special and I have no idea how to end it:((

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆𓂃🖊

Chapter13

Y/N woke up to the sound of banging.

At first she ignored it.

Her mind still half asleep, tangled somewhere between dreams and reality, thinking maybe the noise was part of whatever she had been dreaming about.

But then it came again. Louder this time.

“Y/N.”

Bang Bang Bang!

“Wake up.”

Her eyes shot open immediately. Reality settled in slowly.

The cold morning air.

The faint sunlight peeking through the curtains. The heavy warmth wrapped around her waist.

Wait.

Warmth?

Y/N blinked downward.

Jungkook slept peacefully beside her, face buried halfway into her pillow, one arm thrown heavily around her stomach like he physically couldn’t sleep without holding onto her somehow.

His hair was a complete mess.

Soft snores left him quietly.

He looked adorable.

Unfortunately, her brother was currently outside the door sounding seconds away from breaking it down.

“Why is your door locked?” Namjoon yelled again.

Y/N groaned loudly into the pillow.

“Yes, I’m awake.”

Silence for two seconds.

Then, “Is Jungkook still in there?”

And immediately she understood. Of course. That’s why Namjoon was here at six in the morning acting like the FBI.

“Yes,” she answered tiredly. “Why?”

“Then why is the door locked?”

“Because I locked it.”

“Open it.”

Y/N closed her eyes in suffering.

Beside her, Jungkook shifted sleepily,

tightening his arm around her waist instead. His face buried deeper against her shoulder.

“Mmm.”

“Jungkook,” she whispered. “Move.”

He only held her tighter.

Y/N sighed. “Jeon.”

A sleepy whine left him immediately.“No.”

“Namjoon is outside.”

That got his attention slightly. One eye opened lazily.

“…oh.”

“Y/N!”

“We’re awake!” she yelled back annoyed.

Y/N carefully pushed Jungkook’s arm away and sat up slowly.

Immediately Jungkook reached for her again instinctively, pulling her back against him while still half asleep. His face pressed against her stomach now.

“Don’t leave,” he mumbled.

“You’re making my life harder.”

“Five more minutes.”

“Tell that to my brother.”

Jungkook groaned dramatically into her shirt.

Finally Y/N escaped his grip and stumbled toward the door.

She opened it tiredly.

Namjoon stood there already looking exhausted despite the day barely starting. “Took you long enough,” he muttered while walking inside immediately like an investigator entering a crime scene.

Soft morning wind drifted through the open window. The blanket hung halfway off the bed.

Some plushies had fallen onto the floor during the night.

And right in the middle of it all, sat Jungkook.Half awake. Hair sticking everywhere. Eyes barely open.

And shirtless.

Namjoon stopped walking instantly.

“…why are you naked.”

Jungkook barely awake looked down at himself.

Then pulled the blanket up slightly to check. “I’m not naked,” he mumbled sleepily.

“That is not enough clothing.”

Then Namjoon’s eyes shifted toward Y/N.

Specifically, toward the oversized black shirt hanging off her shoulder.

Jungkook’s shirt.

Namjoon recognized it immediately unfortunately.

“…and why are YOU wearing his shirt.”

Y/N shrugged casually.

“It’s comfortable.”

“You own many clothes.”

“This is clothes.”

Namjoon looked seconds away from developing a migraine.

“What exactly did you two do last night?”

The room fell silent.

Y/N opened her mouth instantly, “We slept.”

“A LOT,” Jungkook answered at the same time with a tiny smirk.

Y/N whipped around horrified. “Jeon Jungkook.”

“What? We did sleep a lot.”

Namjoon stared blankly at the wall like he was trying to contact a higher power for patience. “We cannot afford a baby right now,” he muttered exhaustedly. “Please learn what distance means.”

“NOTHING HAPPENED,” Y/N cried immediately, ears burning.

Jungkook tried not to laugh. “Oh what’s this?”

Y/N froze.

Jungkook reached beneath the pillow casually and pulled something out.

A bra.

Complete silence.

“…sorry,” Jungkook said with absolutely zero sincerity.

Namjoon made a noise of genuine suffering.

“OH MY GOD,” Y/N screamed.

“I can explain,” Jungkook offered unhelpfully.

Namjoon turned around immediately and walked toward the door.

“I’m done. I actually don’t want details.”

“JOON,” Y/N chased after him immediately. “WE LITERALLY JUST SLEPT.”

Namjoon didn’t even turn around.

Meanwhile back inside the room, Jungkook sat there trying not to laugh himself to death.

Y/N stormed back inside seconds later. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” She threw a plushie directly at his face.

Jungkook caught it easily while laughing.

“You should’ve seen his face.”

“You are EVIL.”

“He walked into that one himself.”

“You planted that there on purpose didn’t you?”

Jungkook grinned. “No comment.”

A few minutes later, after calming down slightly, Y/N flopped back onto the bed dramatically. Jungkook immediately moved closer.

He rested his chin against her shoulder from behind, arms sneaking around her waist automatically.

“You’re clingy in the morning,” she muttered.

“You like it.”

The room stayed quiet for a moment afterward. Soft morning sunlight filled the space warmly now.

Jungkook looked half asleep again already, face resting against the back of her neck.

Y/N smiled slightly despite herself.

“You really annoyed Namjoon on purpose.”

“Mhm.”

“Why.”

Jungkook shrugged lazily.

“He’s funny when he suffers.”

“Terrible person.”

“But ‘your’ terrible person.”

The smile on Y/N’s face betrayed her. Jungkook noticed of course.

He pressed a sleepy kiss against her shoulder.

Tiny.

Warm.

Absentminded.

Like affection came as naturally as breathing around her now.

Maybe it did.

______

It was supposed to be a calm afternoon.

Just lunch.

Just hanging out.

The restaurant was quiet and tucked away from crowded areas, giving them rare privacy for once.

Then Jimin arrived carrying multiple shopping bags.

Everyone blinked.

“…why do you look like you robbed a mall,” Yoongi asked flatly.

Jimin ignored him completely, already smiling excitedly at Y/N. “I went shopping yesterday,” he explained while placing the bags carefully beside her chair. “And I found cute things for you.”

Y/N stared. Then gasped dramatically.

“There’s MORE?”

“Of course there’s more.”

Immediately her eyes lit up.

Bright.

Excited.

Sparkling.

Honestly Jimin would probably continue buying her gifts forever just to see that reaction alone.

Y/N practically launched herself toward him. “Jimin!”

She wrapped both arms around him tightly while laughing happily.

“You’re the best.Thank you so much. I already know I’m going to love everything.”

Jimin laughed softly, hugging her back.

“I saw them and immediately thought of you.”

Unfortunately across the table,

Jungkook looked deeply unimpressed. A tiny frown settled onto his face immediately.

Because logically?

He knew this was normal.

Jimin had always bought gifts for Y/N. Always spoiled her. Always treated her softly.

But right now?

That was HIS girlfriend currently hugging another man while smiling like that.

And suddenly Jeon Jungkook understood jealousy in horrifying detail.

“That’s enough hug for the rest of your life.”

Everyone turned instantly.

Jungkook stood, walked over, then casually pulled Y/N away from Jimin and directly into his chest.

Jimin looked personally offended.

“She came to ME willingly.”

“She’s leaving unwillingly,” Jungkook replied calmly while tightening his arms around Y/N.

Y/N burst into laughter instantly.

“Jungkook,” she giggled, trying to escape his grip.

“No.”

“You’re embarrassing.”

“You hugged him for too long.”

“It was three seconds.”

“Three seconds too many.”

The others completely lost composure.

“Namjoon,” Seokjin laughed helplessly. “Save your little sister from this muscle bunny.”

Namjoon didn’t even bother looking up from his drink. “I don’t even want to look at them anymore.”

“See?” Jungkook defended immediately. “She’s right where she wants to be.”

Y/N physically hid her face into his chest laughing.

⸻

Eventually Y/N managed to escape Jungkook long enough to look through the bags.

Inside were cute sweaters, jewelry, hair clips, dresses, tiny accessories. Y/N looked seconds away from emotional collapse. “Jimin,” she whispered dramatically. “I would die for you.”

Jungkook frowned immediately. “No you wouldn’t.” The table erupted again.

Jimin smirked proudly.

“I buy her cute things because I can’t wear them myself.”

“That actually sounds true,” Hoseok admitted.

Jimin held up a pink cardigan proudly.

“Look how adorable this is.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at the cardigan like it personally offended him.

Then quietly but for everybody to hear, “She’d still look cutest in my clothes.”

Y/N choked.

Taehyung stood up screaming.

“NAMJOON HYUNG YOUR SON IS FLIRTING AGAIN.”

“I KNOW,” Namjoon yelled back exhaustedly.

⸻

That night,

after dinner and chaos and emotional damage, Jungkook stole Y/N away for a date.

A real one this time.

No members.

No interruptions.

Just them.

⸻

At first everything went surprisingly smoothly.

They walked quietly through dim streets hand in hand, talking about anything and everything.

Simple.

Normal.

Until,

“Oh my God wait—is that Jungkook?!”

Y/N froze immediately.

Jungkook looked upward in horror.

And suddenly chaos exploded.

Fans gathered quickly.

Then paparazzi.

Cameras flashing everywhere.

“Jungkook!”

“Y/N!”

“LOOK HERE.”

“Oh we’re screwed,” Y/N whispered.

Jungkook grabbed her hand instantly.

“Run.”

And they did.

Both of them sprinted down the street laughing breathlessly while cameras followed behind.

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT,” Y/N yelled while running.

“HOW.”

“You wanted a NORMAL date.”

“I DIDN’T INVITE THE PAPARAZZI.”

After approximately 4minutes and 37seconds of running, “Here, Come on.” Jungkook pulled her into an empty parking lot and Jungkook’s motorcycle came into view.

“Oh thank God.” She say breathless

He quickly handed her a helmet.

“Hold.” He say putting on his helmet, then help her to put on hers as well.

Y/N climbed on behind him immediately, arms wrapping tightly around his waist as cameras continued flashing nearby.

The motorcycle roared to life. And suddenly they were gone.

The city lights blurred around them beautifully.

Cold wind rushed past.

Y/N laughed breathlessly against Jungkook’s back while he drove farther away from noise and cameras and chaos.

Freedom.

That’s what it felt like.

⸻

Eventually the city disappeared completely. The roads became quieter. Softer.

Until finally Jungkook stopped near a peaceful lake surrounded by open countryside.

Silence greeted them instantly.

No cameras.

No fans.

No expectations.

Just soft water reflecting moonlight.

Y/N slowly removed her helmet.

“…wow.”

Jungkook smiled softly watching her reaction.

The night breeze moved gently through her hair while she stared out at the lake with wide eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“Yeah...” But Jungkook wasn’t looking at the lake anymore.

They sat near the water afterward quietly.

Y/N tucked beneath Jungkook’s jacket because she said the air felt cool, not cold. Jungkook looked devastatingly happy about it, taking off his jacket and putting it on her like he had been waiting for this moment.

For a while they simply sat there together.

Listening to water.

Watching stars.

Peaceful silence wrapped around them softly.

Y/N looked over. “I liked today.” She smiled.

Jungkook leaned back against the grass beside her, looking calmer than he had in weeks.

“Even the paparazzi chase?”

“That part was kind of fun.”

“You’re insane.”

“You were laughing too.”

Fair enough.

Y/N leaned sideways until her head rested against his shoulder.

Immediately Jungkook’s hand found hers instinctively. Warm fingers intertwining carefully.

Like breathing.

Like habit.

Like home.

And beneath moonlight, next to quiet water, far away from cameras and noise everything suddenly felt painfully soft.

The night air felt colder near the lake.

Or maybe Y/N only noticed it more now because Jungkook sat impossibly close beside her.

Their shoulders touched.

His hand still intertwined with hers.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

The world around them stayed quiet only soft water moving against the shore and distant wind brushing through trees.

Peaceful.

Y/N looked up eventually.

Jungkook was already looking at her.

Of course he was.

That familiar softness sat in his eyes again. The same look that always made her feel warm all over.

“What,” she whispered shyly.

Jungkook smiled faintly.

“Nothing. I just like looking at you.”

Butterflies immediately exploded in her stomach.

“Cheesy.”

A breeze passed gently through her hair. Without thinking, Jungkook reached over and tucked loose strands behind her ear carefully.

His fingers lingered slightly against her cheek afterward.

Warm. Y/N’s breath caught softly.

Because somehow every tiny touch from him felt so much more important now.

Jungkook noticed immediately. He always noticed. His eyes dropped briefly toward her lips before lifting again.

Silent question.

Y/N felt her heart beat harder instantly.

“Why are you looking at me like that.” She said her voice coming out quieter than she intended to.

Jungkook laughed softly under his breath. “Because I’ve been wanting to kiss you since we got here.”

Y/N blush at his words and tried looking away. Jungkook gently held her chin before she could.

Careful.

Patient.

Giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn’t. Not even a little.

So slowly, like he wanted to memorize the feeling, Jungkook leaned in.

The kiss started soft.

Warm.

Sweet.

The kind that made Y/N’s chest ache instantly. Then she kissed him back properly, fingers gripping lightly onto the front of his shirt.

And Jungkook completely melted.

One hand moved carefully to her waist, pulling her a little closer while kissing her again.

Still gentle.

Still smiling slightly against her lips like he genuinely couldn’t believe this was real.

Y/N laughed softly into the kiss, which only made Jungkook kiss her harder.

Like he’d waited too long for this.

Jungkook carefully push her down to lay on the grass, his lips never parting hers. His hands start roaming around her upper body, fingertips tracing each and every part.

Jungkook’s lips move to her jaw then to her ears kissing it softly and whispering, “I love you so much.”

Y/N breath hitch, her hand on his shoulder travelling down to his biceps and holding on there.

Jungkook move furthur down to her neck placing soft open mouth kisses. Y/N let out a small moan when he place soft kisses near her collarbone and he start leaving marks there.

Jungkook pulled away, his hand cupping her face as he stare at her with so much love.

“You are so beautiful, so pretty, so perfect.” he murmured. His hand caressing your cheeks as he whisper more praises.

Before you could answer he attach his lips onto yours again.

This time it’s more messy, needy, knocking the air out of your lungs completely.

You feel him through his pants, a whine left your lips when his bulge rub against you.

“Koo…” You called out softly. He hummed in response kissing you harder.

“Jungkook… we can’t— we don’t have—“ You speak in between the kiss.

He pulled away, his lips brushing yours softly.

“Yes baby, fuck.. I know.” he whispered breathing hard, “ And Namjoon hyung would kill me.” He added biting his lips, holding himself back going farther.

You giggle at his statement, and Jungkook genuinely thought that sound might be his favorite thing in the world.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆𓂃🖊

Tags: @daddyyy88 | @rokucity | @mnirey | @bangtannkook | @uzkkoia | @mimi1097 | @emmalabo | @willowpains | @leeknowsbigtoe | @traumaanatomy | @sharim-oa | @i-bitch-you-bitch | @lyx1e | @ilovekinny | @l3xyisfatal | @goawaysha | @heecali | @junqkooknim | @thedelulusafespace | @bratz-lad | @mokkaccinnos | @kg0626 | @serenaorsiren | @alwaays | @eyebagsk | @bjoriis | @lackingdopaminesince2007 | @fluffysheepmaster | @dieforkoo |@charlotte-c1235 | @badaspice | @idolhoeimnida | @ashhhhhh-7 | @sadgirlroo | @tejal802002 | @raez1ee | @audreyny | @zaf3ira | @gomdoleemyson

[smoochkooks]

 an ode to a broken heart (m.)—masterlist

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

summary: you’ve watched jeon jungkook slip out of your reach your entire life. now it’s time for you to finally move on, bury the past and open a new chapter. however, you’re doing it in your own, unconventional way - by publishing anonymously a novel about your miserable relationship.

prologue: october sky

it’s october, the sky today is clear and cloudless, just like your love for certain raven-haired boy. first is abnormality, second - a cruel reality.

chapter one: beginning of an end

loving jeon jungkook is, above all, the beginning of an end.

chapter two: of peonies and broken promises

you are twenty-four, hopelessly in love with your best friend and peonies still make you nauseous, just like they did eleven years ago.

chapter three: from magnolia with love

you’ve watched jeon jungkook slip out of your reach your entire life. onw it’s time for you to finally move on, bury the past and open a new chapter. however, you’re doing it in your own, unconventional way - by publishing anonymously a novel about your miserable relationship.

Keep reading

[gl00s]

༘⋆ to whatever end.☘︎ ݁˖ • chapter1

Summary - For years, they existed in the space between friendship and love, too close to be platonic, yet never enough to be real. He treated her like she was his in private, only to pull away the moment things became too serious.

The night she finally chose to walk away from the man who once consumed her entire world, she carried something else with her too.

Four years later, a little girl, or fate perhaps—bring them back to each other.

Genre : second chance romance, unrequited love (at first), slow burn, accidental pregnancy, Friends → strangers → lovers, angst, fluff

Themes : emotionally unavailable! Jungkook , unlabeled relationship, friends with benefits(kind of), fear of commitment, one-sided devotion, accidental pregnancy, absent father (he doesn’t know), girl dad! Jungkook, second chances, yearning, found family, angst with happy ending

⤷ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

The Gravity Between Them

Nobody in their friendgroup could explain Jungkook and Y/N. Not really. They never dated, they never even admitted they liked each other.

But everyone knew there was something wrong about the way they orbited each other.

Like gravity.

⸻

The first time someone asked about it was at Mingyu’s birthday, a long time ago, it was before graduation. Music playing, people half drunk half high, smoke lingering in the air, pizza boxes lay everywhere, cake frosting on every surface. The house was packed, Mingyu wanted to celebrate with all of his uni friends.

Y/N was sitting on the kitchen counter swinging her legs while Jungkook stood between them, leaning against the sink. Their other friends sitting around the kitchen island, discussing about their future plan.

Jungkook and Y/N seem to be living in their own world. Every few minutes Jungkook would lean in to whisper something into her ear which made Y/N giggle and blush.

Jaehyun watched them for ten minutes before finally saying, “Are you two together or what?”

Jungkook laughed immediately. A sharp, careless laugh.

“God no.”

Y/N didn’t look at him.

Jungkook and Y/N met during last year of middle school and somehow, despite their differences they got along pretty well. They did not know when it started or how it started, nobody in the group ever called it love. They called it Jungkook and Y/N being Jungkook and Y/N. Which was somehow worse.

Because everyone could see something was wrong with it. Except them. Or maybe they saw it. Maybe they just didn’t stop.

Jaehyun raised a brow. “Then why do you always act like that?”

Jungkook shrugged.

“We’re just being ourselves.”

Like that explained everything.

Jaehyun joined their friend group only a few months ago.

Jungkook, Mingyu and Eunwoo run a business selling their own clothing brand, which they started during their last year of high school. They named it “97 Label”. Jaehyun was their regular customer until they invited him to join the business.

Y/N hopped down from the counter.

“Exactly,” she said lightly. “Just us being us.”

She grabbed a slice of pizza and walked out to the balcony.

Jungkook watched her go. Then went after her five minutes later.

Like he always did.

⸻

After graduation, Jungkook dated people. A lot of people. He dated some girls during their college years too but it was just two or three times.

Y/N never said anything about it. But every time he got a new girlfriend, the pattern started again.

Jungkook would disappear for a few weeks and Y/N would pretend he never existed. Sometimes he would call her when things aren’t good with his girlfriends but they never speak of it again the next day. After Jungkook break up with his girlfriend, him and Y/N would go back to how they were. And the cycle never end.

Y/N’s phone would ring late at night.

“Come outside.”

It was always the same words. Always the same tone. Like he knew she would come. And she always did.

One night she found him sitting on the hood of his car.

The air was cold, the streetlight flickering.

He held out a cigarette infront of her,

“I don’t smoke,” she said shaking her head.

“I know but you still make wishes on them right?”

Y/N paused.

Whenever Jungkook opens a fresh pack of cigarettes, he would take one out, flip it upside down then she makes a wish on it. They used to do it when they were in high school.

“Maybe,” she said.

“Make one.”

Y/N didn’t do it.

“You have a girlfriend.”

Henry rolled his eyes

“So?”

That word hurt more than it should have. Like nothing mattered. Like she was supposed to know the ‘rules’.

“You shouldn’t call me when you’re dating someone.” Y/N stated folding her arms over her chest.

Jungkook looked at her like she’d said something ridiculous, finally taking the cigarette between his lips.

“Relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“You’re overthinking again.”

Y/N stared at him.

“You do this every time.” She said frustrated but her voice came out soft, normal, practiced.

Jungkook tilted his head.

“Do what?”

“You disappear when you’re happy and then come back when you’re bored.”

Jungkook laughed.

“You think you’re that important?”

The words landed like a slap.

Y/N went quiet. Her gaze fell toward the floor.

Jungkook saw it and immediately softened his voice. “Hey,” he said, nudging her shoulder. “Don’t start being dramatic.”

That was his way of apologizing.

Not saying sorry. Just pulling her back into orbit and Y/N stayed, like she always did.

Jungkook could be cruel, but he could also be unbelievably gentle. And those two things lived inside the same person.

Y/N never knew which one she was going to get.

That night he made her tea. They sat on the couch watching a random movie neither of them cared about.

At some point Y/N leaned against him, he didn't move away. Instead he rested his chin on her head.

"You're always cold," he murmured. He pulled a blanket over her shoulders. His fingers absentmindedly brushing her arm.

Little things like that. Little things that made it impossible to leave.

Later, when it got late, Y/N ended up in his bed. It wasn't new. It had happened before.

Afterwards Jungkook always did the same strange routine.

He'd pull her close, kiss her forehead. Then disappear into the bathroom and come back with a towel.

"Come here."

Y/N would laugh softly.

"I can do it myself."

"I know."

But he'd still do it.

Like she was something delicate, something precious.

Then he'd pull her into the shower with him, warm water running over both of them. He'd wash her hair, carefully, like someone who loved her. But Jungkook didn't love her, not like that.

At least that's what he told everyone. Jungkook didn’t like to think about it and Y/N never forced him.

After showers he always cooked even if it was midnight.

Eggs, toast, sometimes ramen.

Y/N would sit on the kitchen counter watching him move around the kitchen.

"You'd make a really good boyfriend," she said once. She didn't mean it say it out loud but she had always pictured him.

Jungkook snorted.

"I'm a terrible boyfriend."

"You're not."

"Yeah I am."

He slid the plate toward her. "Eat."

She smiled softly. Moments like that made it easy to forget his careless words, or the fact that she didn't actually matter to him.

_____

Until… Jungkook became a completely different person.

At a hangout two weeks later, Ava showed up.

Pretty, confident. The type of girl people noticed when she walked in. Jungkook noticed too. Everyone saw it. Y/N saw it.

Ava doesn't talk much, only when necessary, her voice is sharp, calm and clear. Her confidence makes her attractive. She was an exchange student back in uni, everyone had heard about her before but she hardly interact with anybody.

Y/N is different, she talk with everyone, she slip into conversation easily and she can adjust herself to whatever situation. She doesn’t stand out as much as Ava did, but she’s known by everyone too, she’s simple, kind, easy. That’s what Jungkook like about her. Easy

Jungkook laughed more around Ava, talked more and leaned closer when he did that.

Y/N sat on the couch beside Jiho pretending she didn't care.

Another thing about Y/N is that she never show her true emotions or confess her feelings because of the fear of sounding pathetic.

Eunwoo watched the whole thing with a tight jaw.

Eunwoo is the opposite of Y/N, he speak his mind, show his emotions freely and he never let anyone change his opinion easily.

He knew Y/N as long as he had known Jungkook, they were the ultimate trio in high school before they adopted Mingyu and Jiho. Eunwoo is observant, very observant. He saw the way Jungkook and Y/N looked at each other, the way they act towards each other, before anyone else did. It pissed him off because he love Jungkook like his own brother and Y/N like his own sister, he knew that Jungkook would never want to make it official with Y/N and he also wouldn't let her go, and that Y/N will never confront Jungkook and even if she did she will always go back to him as long as her heart can take.

Later that night Jungkook walked past Y/N in the kitchen.

"You like her." She spoke

Jungkook shrugged. "She's interesting."

Y/N nodded. "Good."

Jungkook glanced at her.

"Why?" raising an eyebrow.

She forced a smile. "Because you deserve someone you actually like."

Jungkook laughed. "You sound jealous."

"I'm not. Why would I be?."

"Good." He said lightly. Then he added, "Because there's nothing to be jealous about."

________

The worst part wasn't the girlfriends. It was the way Jungkook acted when it was just them.

Because when no one else was around...

He was different.

He would steal food off her plate, lean his head on her shoulder during movies, call her at 2 in the morning just to talk about nothing.

One time, during a storm, the power went out at Mingyu's house. Everyone sat in the living room with candles.

Y/N was sitting on the floor. Jungkook dropped down beside her and rested his chin on her shoulder.

Like it was natural. Like he belonged there.

Eunwoo stared at them. "You two are unbelievable."

Jungkook looked up. "What now?"

"You keep on acting like that." He gesture, pointing where Jungkook was resting his head.

Jungkook snorted.

"Relax it’s nothing. Y/N's just delusional sometimes." he joked.

Completely unnecessary.

Y/N froze.

"What?" Eunwoo frowned.

Jungkook shrugged lazily. "She reads too much into things." Then he ruffled her hair. "Right?"

Y/N forced a laugh.

"Right."

But that night when she went home, she cried.

Not loudly.

Just quietly into her pillow.

Because the worst part was... he would say things like that in front of people. But when they were alone, he'd whisper things like "You know you're my favorite person, right?"

Three days later, Ava and Jungkook were officially dating.

Ava was the first girlfriend who noticed.

She watched the way Jungkook's eyes followed Y/N across rooms. The way Y/N always knew exactly what he meant before he finished sentences.

One night Ava asked him directly.

"Do you love her?"

Jungkook didn't even hesitate.

"No."

"Then why do you look at her like that?"

Jungkook shrugged.

"She's just someone I grew up with."

Ava nodded slowly, but she started noticing something else.

Y/N was always the one leaving. Not him.

Y/N.

________

Y/N disappeared from his life overnight.

Just like that.

No messages, no late night calls, no "come over."

Y/N immediately pull back as soon as she heard they were officially dating.

She mute his socials, never glance toward him, and always choose the farthest seat from his.

And Jungkook acted like she'd never existed.

At hangouts he sat beside Ava. Held her hand, kissed her cheek.

Y/N stayed quiet. She never reacted nor acknowledge them.

Polite and distant.

Like someone who had never spent nights in his bed. Like someone who had never been kissed slowly in the kitchen while pasta boiled on the stove.

Eunwoo couldn't stand it.

One night he pulled Jungkook aside.

"You're unbelievable."

"Bro what?"

"You just erased her."

Jungkook frowned.

"Who?"

Eunwoo stared at him.

“You're actually fucking disgusting. I told you to stop doing this to her.”

Jungkook scoffed. “She knew what it was.”

“What is it then ?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Nothing serious.”

Eunwoo shook his head, pure disappointment in his eyes. "You're going to destroy her."

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“She's fine. She doesn’t need you to stand up and be a hero for her. It’s not like she’s in love with me or something.” He muttered the last few words.

But Y/N wasn't fine.

She just refused to let anyone see it.

The relationship with Ava lasted three months.

And the cycle started again.

_________

Y/N was practicing her latte art when her phone buzzed. She always wanted to be a barista and open her own cafe.

Jungkook:

“You awake?”

Her heart sank. She knew she shouldn't answer.

She knew exactly what was coming. Jiho had warned her. She had promised her she wouldn't answer when he text.

Still,

“Yeah.”

Three dots appeared immediately.

“Come over.”

When Y/N knocked on the door, Jungkook opened it with a crooked smile.

"Missed me?"

Y/N shook her head.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"Not anymore." He stepped aside. "Come in."

Everything went back to normal.

Like the last three months had never happened.

Movie nights, cooking, his arm around her waist while they brushed their teeth side by side.

Sometimes he'd look at her in this quiet way, soft and thoughtful, caressing her cheek softly and telling her how beautiful she is.

Like he meant something and Y/N would almost believe it.

Until someone asked, again. A question that felt too familiar.

It happened during a party.

Someone noticed the way Jungkook kept his hand possessively on her waist and the way Y/N leaned into him.

"You two dating now?"

Jungkook laughed immediately.

"No."

The guy looked confused.

"Damn, you act like a couple. Fucking weird don’t ya think?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

"Nah, she's not even close to my type."

Y/N felt the words hit her chest.

Jungkook kept talking. "And she's like family."

The room laughed.

Y/N laughed too. Because what else was she supposed to do?

Later that night Jungkook found her sitting alone outside on the porch.

"You're quiet."

Y/N gave him a small smile.

"Just tired."

Jungkook sat down beside her and lit a joint.

"You know I didn't mean anything by that."

"By what?"

"You know." He shrugged lazily.

She looked at him.

"That i'm not your type?."

Jungkook nodded, "Yeah…But you're Y/N." He added like that fixed it.

Then he leaned down and kissed her temple.

Casual.

Y/N closed her eyes.

And the cycle continued.

Months passed like that.

Push and pull.

Jungkook dated other girls. Ignored Y/N completely during those times, then came back when things ended and every time he came back, he was sweet again.

Gentle, attentive, cooking for her, pulling her into warm showers, kissing the back of her neck while she laughed.

Like they belonged to each other.

But they didn't.

Everyone knew it, even Y/N.

_________

One evening, they were all sitting in a café discussing about their brand new release.

Everyone was present, and by everyone I mean, Jungkook, Eunwoo, Jaehyun, Mingyu, Y/N, Jiho and Jungkook's new girlfriend.

Jungkook had his arm around his girlfriend. Y/N was laughing with Jiho about something.

Eunwoo suddenly slammed his glass down.

"This is stupid."

Everyone looked at him.

"What?" Mingyu asked.

Eunwoo pointed between Jungkook and Y/N.

"You're sitting next to your girlfriend but you keep on glancing toward Y/N every few seconds."

Silence.

Jungkook rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Eunwoo. Keep your delusional thoughts to yourself."

"No, seriously," Eunwoo speak already fed up. "Did you tell your girlfriend that you already did everything you're doing with her?"

Mingyu nodded like he agreed with Eunwoo.

Jiho glared at Eunwoo because this clearly is not the time to say things like that, but for Eunwoo there’s no such thing as the right or wrong time to talk about his opinion or his view on something, every time and everywhere is always the right place. Jiho hold Y/ N's hand tightly under the table to comfort her.

Jaehyun sat in between glancing around awkwardly as Jungkook's girlfriend shifted in her seat trying to make herself comfortable which isn't working.

Jungkook scoffed.

"That was before, we weren't even together. I would never date her."

The words were casual. Careless.

Like they meant nothing.

But Y/N heard them. Every single word. And something inside her broke.

“Yeah, well, maybe don’t call her every night, then.” Jiho spit back.

Y/N nudge her under the table clearing her throat. Jungkook didn’t talk back, he sat in his place his arms no longer around his girlfriend anymore. He looked angry, annoyed, confused.

“Okay back to work.” Mingyu break the silence pulling everyone away from their thoughts and calming down the tension.

A few minutes later, after the tension disappeared and the subject changed.

Y/N stood up. Excused herself saying she's feeling a bit light headed. Grabbed her bag and walked out before anyone could protest.

Jungkook frowned he knew it wasn't becuase she was feeling unwell, but he doesn't say anything.

At first Jungkook thought it was another one of their cycles.

A few days, maybe a week. Then she'd answer his calls again.

But she didn't.

She stopped coming to hangouts. Stopped replying to messages.

Stopped existing in his life.

Two weeks later,

Jungkook finally asked Jiho,

"Did she say something to you?"

Jiho stared at him.

"You really don't get it."

"Get what?"

Jiho sighed.

"She's clearly not okay and you’re the no.1 reason." she rolled her eyes at him.

Jungkook went quiet.

"That’s not it, she'd tell me if there's anything wrong." He say more to himself than Jiho, and he knew what he had just told himself is a complete lie.

_______

A month and a half later Jungkook saw her infront of a bookstore, standing by herself. Her jacket hang loosely around her figure, her skirt covering half her thigh and a tote bag on her shoulder.

He had heard from Mingyu that she’s working at a bookstore to save up extra money.

Jungkook hate to admit that he had visited four bookstores in the past few weeks because he wanted, no, he needed to see her. Mingyu didn't know the name of the place where she worked, Jaehyun have no idea as well, Jiho and Eunwoo won't definitely tell him.

Jungkook missed her, it was obvious to his friends, to everyone. But they never bring it up or tease him about it because they know that he will always say the same thing.

Jungkook walked over slowly.

"Hey."

She looked up.

For a moment, she couldn't speak.

Then Y/N smiled.

Soft, polite, different.

"How are you?"

Jungkook hated that smile. Because it did not fully reach her eyes, and it felt fake, distant.

"I've been calling you."

"I know."

"Why didn't you answer?"

Y/N said, "I think we needed distance.” her voice steady and calm.

Jungkook stepped closer. Something burned in his chest was it anger? or was it sadness? or maybe fear even.

"You can't just disappear like that."

Y/N looked at him for a long moment.Jungkook wasn't the type to say sorry, he wasn't the type to explain himself or the type to beg. Jungkook liked Y/N and kept her around because she never question him, she never ask for more, she's safe, comforting and easy. She never made Jungkook think too much about his feelings and he liked that.

Jungkook did not want to lose her, and maybe he did like her like that, maybe he did love her, but Jungkook chose not to think about it, because it's easier like this, safer.

"You said you'd never date someone like me." Y/ N speak after a long silence. She didn't know why she said that,was it because she wanted an explanation or to let him know that he's always, constantly hurting her.

Jungkook opened his mouth then closed it. He had said that. A hundred times. Like it meant nothing.

Y/N adjusted her bag strap that was falling of her shoulder. "You don't have to pretend with me anymore."

"I wasn't pretending."

"Then what was it?"

Jungkook didn't answer because he didn't know.

All he knew was that suddenly, without Y/N around everything felt strangely empty and that he didn’t want to lose her.

She nodded like she understood what the silence meant and walked away.

Jungkook grabbed her wrist.

"Y/N, wait please.”

She turned, and for the first time in years there was no hope in her eyes. Just quiet acceptance.

Jungkook swallowed.

"I didn't mean those things."

"I know."

"Then why are you leaving?"

Her voice was soft.

'Because if I stay, I'll keep loving you in a way that you never wanted.'

She wanted to tell him that, let him know that she’s giving him her everything, that she loves him, that she wants him to let her go because she won’t be able to walk away, not when she love him this much.

But instead she said something simpler, “I don’t want to be the second choice anymore.”

After the words left her mouth, her shoulder relaxed and she breathe out.

Has she been holding her breath this entire time? She didn’t know, couldn’t recall.

Jiho never left Y/N’s side. Comforting her when she needed it and giving her reality check when she say things like, “I should text him back.” “Should I pick up his call?” “I miss him.” .

Jiho wanted Y/N to tell Jungkook herself that she’s done with his bullshit, or tell him that she’s in love with him and walk away to protect her peace. Y/N thought the first option sound the safest, less pathetic.

Jungkook looked at her walk away for a long time, not knowing what to say or do.

And for the first time, he felt unsure, unsure of his feelings, unsure of what the pain in his chest meant.

For the first time he realised that maybe, just maybe, he had spent years pushing away the one person who would have stayed.

______

Jaehyun isn’t as close to Y/N as he is to Jungkook or the others.

When he first hung out with them, he saw the way Jungkook stayed beside Y/N, how he held her and whisper sweet nothings to her.

He thought they had something going on, so he never approach Y/N or try to get to know her. And when he heard they were nothing but ‘best friends’, he was beyond disturbed.

Jaehyun didn’t think Y/N lacked self respect because he had once been in her place. A second option. He remembered it painfully clear and that was one of the reasons why Jaehyun never got close to Y/N, because she reminded him of his past self, someone who had been so in love that he failed to see he was losing himself.

_________

Jungkook didn't understand the sudden change in Y/N's behavior.

He liked Y/N, a lot. More than he would ever admit. She was fun, easy to be around, and somehow capable of fitting into any conversation. She could match any mood without trying too hard. Being with her always felt effortless.

Jungkook thought Y/N was special. Not because she stood out, but because she didn't. And somehow, that made her unforgettable.

She never begged for attention, yet people noticed her anyway, she never ignored others either, she greeted people first, offered small smiles when she passed someone she knew, even if they weren't particularly close. She wasn't the loudest person in the room, but she always seemed to know exactly what to say when it mattered.

And Jungkook thought she was beautiful.

Not the kind of beautiful that turned heads the moment she walked into a room. She was the kind of beautiful that made people feel comfortable. Easy to approach. Easy to like.

Easy to love.

The closer someone got to her, the more beautiful she became and every little thing they learned about her only gave them another reason to stay.

Maybe that was the problem.

Jungkook hated feeling tied down.

He hated commitment.

To him, relationships and marriage had always seemed like chains disguised as promises. He had watched his parents fight for years, watched resentment replace affection until their marriage became little more than a battlefield. Love looked exhausting, commitment looked permanent and permanence terrified him.

Why willingly give someone the power to hurt you?

Maybe that was why he had never admitted what Y/N truly meant to him. Because the moment he did, the moment he gave their relationship a name, it would become real.

And real things could break.

When Y/N had looked at him and quietly said,

"I don't want to be the second choice anymore."

He wanted to stop her.

God, he wanted to.

He wanted to tell her that she was the first person he thought about when he woke up and the last person he thought about before he fell asleep. He wanted to tell her that every girl he'd ever dated had simply been a distraction from the one person he actually cared about. He wanted to tell her that he wasn't afraid of loving her. He was afraid of losing her.

But he didn't, because Jungkook was a coward.

Y/N had thought that leaving him would make loving him easier.

She had been wrong. Painfully wrong.

The moment she saw him again, she realized nothing had changed. She loved him exactly the same and she didn't know when that love would disappear, or if it ever would.

__________

That night, Jungkook couldn't sleep.

He felt empty, restless.

Every message he'd sent remained unread. Every call went unanswered.

Still, he kept trying.

Maybe if he heard her voice one more time, he could finally breathe again.

At almost four in the morning, he told himself this would be the last attempt.

Just one more call then he'd stop.

He tapped her name and pressed the call button. To his surprise, she answered.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Jungkook froze, he almost couldn't believe it.

A few seconds later, her voice came through the speaker. "Jungkook?" Soft, sleepy and a little hoarse from being woken up.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, sounding strangely nervous.

"It’s four in the morning," she replied. "Why aren't you asleep?"

Jungkook rubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah... sorry. I didn't think you'd actually pick up." A small pause. "You can go back to sleep."

"I'm awake now," she said. "Do you need something, Jungkook?"

He swallowed. "Yeah." Another pause. "I couldn't sleep." Silence. "And I wanted to hear your voice."

"...Okay."

"I missed you."

The confession slipped out before he could stop it. The line fell silent again.

Then he asked quietly, “Can I come over?”

“Right now?”

“Please.”

Y/N sighed. “Jungkook, don’t do this… this isn’t—“

“I know. I know.” He cut her off. “But I haven't slept properly in weeks.”

His voice cracked slightly. “I just want to see you.”

Another pause. “Please, Y/N.”

Jungkook never begged.

Not hardly ever. Never.

And Y/N had never been strong where he was concerned. Love had a way of blinding people, a way of leading them right back to the road they had sworn never to walk again.

“...Okay.”

__________

Standing outside Y/N's house, Jungkook felt strangely nervous, and strangely happy.

The front door opened.

Y/N stood there in a pair of white cotton pajamas.

Jungkook recognized them immediately. One of his favorites.

Her hair was messy from sleep, but her face looked softer than he remembered.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then she stepped aside, letting him in and she walk straight towards her bedroom while Jungkook followed her inside.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said quietly as they reached her bedroom. Y/N stopped and turned toward him. "Let's not talk about it right now." Her voice was gentle. "I want to finish my dream."

A small smile appeared on Jungkook's face, he nodded.

Y/N slipped beneath her blankets.

A second later, Jungkook climbed in beside her. It felt natural.

Y/N turned her back towards him and was asleep again within minutes. Jungkook watched her for a moment. Then he moved closer.

His arm slid around her waist, pulling her against him.

"Sweet dreams, Y/N."

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, and for the first time in a month, Jungkook slept.

_________

The next morning, Y/N woke to the sound of her phone ringing. Still half asleep, she reached for it. Then she felt it. His warmth, his scent, his arm draped around her waist.

She turned her head slightly. Jungkook was still asleep. He looked peaceful, calm.

A small smile tugged at her lips.

Carefully, she lifted his arm and reached for her phone.

Mingyu.

She answered and before she could even say hello, Mingyu started talking. “Good morning, Y/N. Don't forget about today. Remind Jungkook too. Bye!”

The call ended immediately. Y/N blinked.

Behind her, she felt movement. Jungkook sat up, still sleepy. One hand rested on the mattress beside her while the other settled on her arm, "Who was that?" he mumbled.

His lips brushed against her shoulder.

"Mingyu."

"Yeah? What'd he want?"

"He called about your release celebration." She turned to look at him. "He also told me to remind you." A pause. "Did you tell him you were coming here?"

Jungkook laughed. "No."

"He's weird."

Jungkook hum in agreement his arm wrapped around her waist. Then he pressed another soft kiss against her neck.

And just like that, they were right back where they started.

The same cycle.

The same mistakes.

The same love neither of them seemed capable of letting go.

Note : Hi pretty people!! What do you think of this chapter? I know it’s messy but yea i’m trying my best lmao. Jungkook’s a bitch🙄. And Y/N’s pathetic even though that’s the last thing she wanted to be. Ik it’s a bit confusing but idk how to fix it or make it better, sorry:( . Omg guys im so sorry. When i type too fast, i would accidentally type out Jungkook’s name as Hungkook and that would autocorrect as Henry😭😭 so sorry. I’ve corrected two of em if there’s more mistake pls do tell me

also taglist still open

Taglist : @hamsss @bratz-lad @hiilovetata @lobbera @fluffysheepmaster @chaosbunn1 @annpeachy @muniing @hobimangkenobi @jeikeeei @kyljjk @eegyo @blackswan18 @juju-227592 @bangchans-girl @svnk1ssd @daisydasee @bebesnyia7 @lunaryoongie @severelegendseed @goawaysha @euphorichaewon @jakiki94 @bangchris97 @mar-lo-pap @bts123746 @gi1yawnzz @dahliadaenerys @hghjj135 @svitozz @allmyfictionalfantasies @btskzfav @busanbby-jjk @euphoricdeni @bjoriis @bangtans-momma @luvlyyoonki @almostcrystalized101

[bighitfics]

WITH OR WITHOUT YOU ── 004, JJK.

summary: “your boyfriend has been worried sick,” the nurse explained warmly. “he’s been pacing back and forth through the corridor this entire time. I think he asked me the same question at least twenty times.” she let out a small amused laugh while adjusting the blanket over me slightly. “I had to reassure the poor guy over and over that I was here with you before he finally agreed to grab a sandwich from the café downstairs. It’s almost midnight now, after all.”

genre : slow burn, childhood acquaintances to lovers, angst, smut, mutual pining, age-gap.

pairing : older jungkook x younger female oc.

warning : oc our self deprication final boss but she finally stands on business, yearner jungkook, SO MUCH TENSION, (he’s just going crazy atp), bro graduated from bridgerton yearning school, triple the tension from part two, three and throw it in part four, explicit content (making out, neck kisses, they're both TOUCH starved, vague wet dreams) feral jungkook, seducing.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

The sound reached me before anything else.

For another minute, there was nothing but faint shuffling somewhere nearby, the noise blending into the heavy brume clouding my mind. Gradually, my hazy consciousness began catching up to the unfamiliar chemical like scent lingering in the air.

I exhaled weakly, my entire body feeling unbearably heavy, like two mattresses had been dumped over me, pressing me deeper into exhaustion.

I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids refused to cooperate.

After a few seconds, I forced them open anyway, immediately hissing at the blinding white lights above me.

That was when I felt it.

The faint sensation of something cold and wet against my hand.

Then a pressure around my knuckles.

I tried to move instinctively, but even lifting my arm felt impossibly difficult. A groan escaped my lips as a sharp sting pulsed through my vein.

Fuck, what was happening to me?

It's way too chilly.

Why do my eyes burn so badly?

Why is it so tough to open my eyes?

My thoughts burst out in frenzied panic, I was alarmed yet I couldn't even act on it.

I slowly turned my head to the side, squinting slightly, and as my eyes gradually adjusted to the harsh brightness, a woman came into view.

She wore a nurse uniform, and though a little slow I could finally process the state I was in.

She was carefully tearing open a bandage before placing it over the cannula attached to my hand. The pain wasn't excruciating but it wasn't faint either.

“Please don’t open your palm completely, keep your hand in a loose fist,” her husky voice advised gently, showing me a small visual demonstration with her own hand, a practiced smile resting on her small face.

“I was getting worried because you’d been unconscious for more than five hours now. Your blood pressure dropped to forty, and you had a pretty severe case of dehydration. You might also want to get checked for jaundice later,” she explained slowly, adjusting the IV line slightly. “It’s become really common lately because of the insane humid weather, but thankfully you were brought here just on time, so there’s no need to worry. You’ll be perfectly fine.”

She spoke gently, probably trying to reassure me, while I could only offer her a tight, forced smile in return.

Yesterday’s events flashed through my head in a blur. I remembered feeling heavy headed the entire day, but I brushed it off, thinking it was just another migraine caused by my horrible sleeping schedule. We had seventeen bridal dress orders lined up, and the entire day had been chaos from the very beginning.

Running between tailors, matching fabrics, comparing different shades of white under proper lighting because apparently ivory and soft ivory were two completely different things to brides, reviewing pearl detailing, checking lace samples, making sure the embroidery placements aligned perfectly with the designs I had sketched out earlier, and on top of that, I had to repeatedly explain every tiny detail to the tailors like the fitting, the corset structure, the sleeves, the beadwork, because one small mistake could ruin an entire dress.

Not to mention dealing with customers.

One bride wanted softer lace.

Another changed her neckline design three times. 

Someone else suddenly decided she hated floral embroidery after approving it two weeks ago. 

I was so consumed with work that I barely noticed how unbearable the headache had become. 

I even skipped lunch.

By the time I got home, my entire body felt weak and painfully drained mostly mentally.

I barely managed to change into my night pajamas before the hunger hit me all at once, so painfully intense it felt like my own stomach was about to consume itself.

But the second I stood up, my head spun violently.

I remember stumbling slightly before collapsing right back down on my couch, my body started burning feverishly hot while my head pounded so badly it felt unbearable.

My thoughts paused briefly before another memory flashed through my mind.

I saw a car.

I could faintly remember a tattooed hand cupping my chin gently.

And worry filled eyes.

Jungkook. 

Somehow, he was the last thing my mind held onto before everything went dark.

I inhaled sharply.

But… how was that even possible?

My apartment door had been locked.

Only my family knew the password.

Confusion slowly crept deeper into my chest as I stared blankly ahead.

I had way too many questions.

“Nurse, who br—” My voice cracked midway through the sentence before I could even finish properly.

I immediately looked away, clearing my throat in embarrassment at how painfully dry it sounded.

The kind woman softened instantly.

She bent down toward the small stroller beside her, pulling out a bottle of orange juice before carefully placing the straw inside. Then she held it up toward me.

I drank without hesitation.

My eyes fluttered shut the second the cold, sweet sour liquid hit my tongue, soothing the unbearable dryness in my throat almost instantly.

I ended up finishing the entire thing within seconds.

God bless this angel of a nurse. 

“What were you saying?” she asked politely, tossing the empty juice can into the dustbin nearby.

“Wh-who’s here with me?” I asked quietly, hating how weak my voice still sounded, silently wishing the last memory I had before losing consciousness had just been another one of my longterm delusions.

The nurse’s smile widened softly as she tucked an annoyingly loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Your boyfriend has been worried sick,” she said warmly. “He’s been pacing back and forth through the corridor this entire time. I think he asked me the same question at least twenty times.” She let out a small amused laugh while adjusting the blanket over me slightly. “I had to reassure the poor guy over and over that I was here with you before he finally agreed to grab a sandwich from the café downstairs. It’s almost midnight now, after all.”

Wait… did she just say boyfriend?!

I exhaled heavily, so it really was him.

I blinked at the nurse in confusion, utterly baffled as to what exactly gave off that impression between us.

I could only let out a chuckle mockingly, shaking my head. Even the idea of it was bizzare now because it’s never going to happen.

“He’s not my...” 

Ironically, the door opened right as the word “…boyfriend” left my mouth in the quietest mutter possible. It seemed like she didn’t hear me, too busy scribbling something down on the report card clipped to her clipboard.

I heard his footsteps before I saw him.

With his ebony hair grown a little longer than I remembered, falling slightly into his eyes, Jeon Jungkook stood at the doorstep frozen for a second, those stupidly expressive eyes widening the moment they landed on me, like relief and disbelief hit him at the same time. 

He strode inside in all his glory while I fidgeted with my fingers, swiftly looking away before his eyes could meet mine. Instead, I stared aimlessly outside the large glass window. 

The nurse cleared her throat, excusing herself but not before saying, “You should be relieved, Mister Jeon. She’s awake and doing well, but make sure she doesn’t eat anything fried or spicy within the next twenty four hours.” she instructed firmly. 

Rather than being worried of my critical condition, I was more distressed with the idea of the nurse declaring me as his girlfriend.

Thankfully the angels from heaven were on my side today.

I think I would’ve died on the spot from pure cringe if she had.

“Noted. Thank you for taking care of my friend, Daniela,” he replied appreciatively.

Keeping my head turned away, deliberately ignoring his presence, I looked straight at Daniela instead, feeling his eyes on the side of my face. “How long will this take?” I asked impatiently.

“It should take around 4 to 5 hours maximum. If you need to use the restroom, just ring this bell. If I’m nearby or any other nurse on patrol, we’ll help you.” The nurse gestured towards the small bell placed beside the bed before turning towards Jungkook. “And if none of us are around, Mister Jeon can take you. Just be careful with your injected hand, and the IV fluid attached to the stand.”

“Sure, thanks once again.” She nodded and left, while I leaned back into the pillow with a huff.

So I have to be in this room with him for like… what, five hours?

What in oblivion is this.

Not my mom, nor the aunty who comes to clean my house every week, but I wake up to see Jungkook out of all these people randomly appear like some kind of guardian angel.

Whoever sent him, may their side of the pillow never stay cold.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady the chaos in my head, trying to make sense of everything still buzzing under my skin.

But then there was barely there thud beside my bed. Then a few soft shuffling noises. I opened my eyes slowly. And I already knew before I even looked that he sat beside me on a stool. After a few anxious moments of self-inflicting, the urge and curiosity to know got the better of me.

“How did you even get to me?” I queried, my gaze flickering up to him, almost accusatory. 

He stared at me with a slightly perplexed expression.

The bright hospital light reflected against his tan skin, almost creating a faint golden outline around him. If I wasn’t so uncomfortable and starving, I probably would’ve kept staring longer than necessary, just thinking about how devastatingly good he looked even right now.

“That…” He blinked a few times before rubbing the back of his neck. “Minha Aunty called me while I was on the way to work.” He paused briefly before continuing again, almost rambling now. “She sounded really panicked and said you weren’t answering her calls since morning, and I don’t know, I just…” He exhaled quietly through his nose, shaking his head. “I got so worried.”

“She’s probably panicking now that I’m in the hospital, she does know, right?”

“Of course, I informed her the moment we came in here.”

 I nodded slowly pinching the bridge of my nose, yes you were here and it was the issue, Jungkook.

The molten embarrassment from earlier had barely begun settling when another wave of discomfort crashed over me.

“My phone…” I muttered with a groan, sinking deeper into the pillow. “Ugh, it’s back home.”

“Why? Do you wanna talk to Minha Aunty?” he asked immediately, already reaching into his pocket before I could even answer. “Here, use mine.”

My eyes unwillingly dropped to his tattooed hand as he pulled out his navy blue iPhone and handed it over to me.

God.

Even his hands looked annoyingly attractive. I took the phone carefully, avoiding brushing my fingers against his. The last thing I needed right now was another reason for my brain to malfunction.

The call connected after a few rings.

I expected my panicking mother, dramatically crying when she heard my voice.

Instead I got—

“Do you even understand how irresponsible you are?” my mother’s voice erupted through the speaker so loudly I nearly flinched. “No proper sleep schedule, barely eating vegetables, surviving on coffee and instant noodles like some raccoon living behind a convenience store, what exactly did you think was going to happen?”

I immediately lowered the volume, mortification creeping up my neck.

The last thing I needed was for him to hear this.

I peeked up briefly.

Jungkook pretended not to listen dusting the nonexistent dirt from his pants, but the slight twitch near his mouth told me he definitely heard at least half of it.

How wonderful!

“Oh god…” I sighed tiredly, rubbing my forehead. “Can you not start right now?”

“No, because this is the time! Do you see how your body is literally giving up on you, ____!?”

I let her ramble. Because truthfully, part of me deserved it. No maybe all of me did.

Still, being lectured like a child in front of Jungkook felt like psychological warfare. I stared blankly at the IV bag hanging beside me while she continued listing every bad habit I’d accumulated over the years.

Then suddenly in the midst of her venting an idea hit me.

“Ma, can you call Mari?” I interrupted quickly. “Tell her to come stay here for the night, I’m sure Jungkook is tired and should go back home.”

I didn’t look at him immediately, but I felt it. 

That tiny shift in his movements, because from my peripheral vision I could see his hands clasping together.

“She was actually the first person I called,” my mother replied. “She didn’t pick up.”

“What? Call her again then,” I huffed. “Or text her. Tell her to come.”

“She’ll just go to your house in the morning when you’re discharged,” my mother said. “It’s already one in the morning. Besides…” she paused briefly. “Jungkookie is already there, it’s best he stays with you.”

My body went rigid instantly, I tightened my hold on the phone trying to control the frustration surging out of me.

Something faint flickered across his face for half a second. It wasn’t anger, not exactly, but something close to displeasure.

“…Okay, I’ll call you later.” I muttered under my breath with a huff.

Great!

 There was no way I was surviving five whole hours trapped in a hospital room alone with Jeon Jungkook.

I handed his phone back quietly, avoiding his eyes once again.

As if reading every thought running through my head, he cleared his throat awkwardly. Jungkook slipped his phone back into his pocket before leaning back slightly in the chair beside my bed, exhaustion practically dripping off him now that the panic from earlier had settled. That was when I properly noticed it.

 …The matching gym set from his own company, PrimeForm Studios, clung to him like a second skin, stretching taut across broad shoulders and biceps that looked moments away from bulging through the sleeves. Even exhaustion couldn’t dull how unfairly attractive he looked even in this state. But the slight slump in his posture and the faint shadows beneath his eyes did. These were tiny things no one else would probably notice, yet I did instantly, and my poor, pathetic heart still carrying every leftover feeling for him ached at the sight.

I sat with it for another minute, letting the thought sit heavy in my chest, before I finally leaned forward.

My fingers tightened slightly around the hospital blanket. “Jungkook…” I mumbled.

He immediately looked up at the sound of my voice, almost too quickly. “Yeah?”

“You should leave now.” I proposed. 

He waved his hands dismissively as if I said something foul and just stared at me with a flat expression. 

If I said I wanted him to leave it would be a lie, I wanted him to stay, but I needed a break, a rest, from the thoughts of him, from feeling the hurt when he’s near, him staying here would only make resting harder for me.

Trying to mask the growing restlessness, I tried to reason.

“There are nurses here anyway, and it’s only five hours, I can manage on my own.“

“I’m not leaving you alone in a hospital at one in the morning, ____.”

I exhaled sharply through my nose.

“I’m not a kid, Jungkook.”

His gaze flicked to mine.

“I didn’t say you were. But you literally passed out in your apartment not many hours ago,” he added with conviction.

“And now I’m in a hospital. Clearly, things are under control.” My reply seemed to disturb him because I swear I saw his jaw tightening slightly before easing his expressions into a composed one, but his voice stayed annoyingly calm.

“I mean… it’s Sunday anyway,” he slid in before I could make a comeback. 

“I don’t really have anything urgent tomorrow, so, it’s fine. I want to stay.”

He had that irritating look of quiet satisfaction, like he already knew this was going to end in his favour.

I opened my mouth again, ready to argue—

And before I could, there was a knock at the door.

This time a different nurse stepped in with a tray of food, and I even forgot what I wanted to say, my stomach chose that exact moment to growl loudly, and I acted indifferent to conceal the growing embarrassment, yet I could feel my face heating up like a volcano. Instead of giving me space like a normal human being, he immediately stood up to adjust the tray table closer toward me before I could even move properly.

“I can do it myself,” I grumbled.

Ignoring me entirely, he inserted the straw into the orange juice bottle before placing it carefully beside my plate. “Yeah, I know,” he replied absentmindedly, like my protests barely registered in that thick brain of his anymore.

The nurse placed a pack of tissues on the small table, handed my medicines over to Jungkook, and quietly left the room.

I focused entirely on my food after that.

It was chicken corn soup with warm bread, and honestly, it looked way too appetising for hospital food. Or maybe I was simply too hungry to care either way.

The rich smell alone made my painfully empty stomach twist. Jungkook shifted slightly beside me the moment he noticed my trembling hands wrapping around the spoon.

I had seriously underestimated my condition because even lifting the stupid thing felt like a month’s worth of labor, but obstinately, I tightened my fingers around the cold steel anyway, refusing to let him notice just how weak I actually felt.

“You need help?” he asked cautiously.

“I can eat by myself,” I replied sharply, shooting him a clear don’t even try me look.

His lips pressed together instantly.

Then he nodded once, almost hesitant, and leaned back into the chair again.

But his eyes didn’t stop gazing at me.

I tore a small piece of bread slowly, suddenly hyper-aware of his gaze lingering over every movement I made. 

It wasn’t intense or creepy.

But he was still staring.

And suddenly, my mother’s rage baiting comments echoed inside my head.

Your chewing makes me want to send you to an etiquette class.

Close your mouth when you chew, dear.

Why are you so loud when eating?

I hated how quickly those words crawled back into my brain.

Because after a certain point, once I became too aware of myself, even the food started tasting unpleasant.

Unaware of my inner turmoil, Jungkook kept zoning in on the way I was eating, the way my fingers trembled slightly every now and then, the way I kept readjusting myself because of the stupid cannula attached to my hand.

Could he give me a little break?

Goddamn it.

After a few awkward seconds, I finally glanced up at him with annoyance plastered all over my face.

“…Can you please stop staring?” I said flatly. “I know I look horrible. You don’t have to make it so obvious.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, almost caught off guard. “You don’t look horrible, not at all.”• he replied softly.

He looked away briefly, his body shaking, clearly trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

“You look like a stoat.” A chuckle managed to escape him afterward.

I blinked at him in disbelief.

Did this man just call me a fucking…..stoat? 

Wasn’t that some kind of a rodent?

Or a damn ferret?

Whatever it was, I was pretty sure it wasn’t a compliment by any means.

Who does he think of himself? As if he was Henry Cavill!

I scoffed under my breath and aggressively tore another piece of bread, silently cursing my mother for calling Jungkook out of all the people living nearby me.

After I finished eating, I had to suffer through him hovering close again.

He gathered my medicines carefully before handing them over one by one, then poured water into a glass and held it out toward me because apparently I was incapable of doing anything myself tonight.

And do you know what’s the worst part?

He was so unbelievably patient about it. When I coughed midway through swallowing the pills, he immediately held the glass closer for me, helping me drink properly, he was so naturally gentle that despite my irritation, something warm and fuzzy kept blooming inside my chest.

He even stepped outside afterward to give me privacy while the nurse helped me use the washroom.

She washed my face gently with cold water, helped fix my tangled hair before loosely braiding it back for me.

By the time I finally settled back into bed, it was already past two in the morning.

I laid down carefully, overly paranoid about the cannula in my hand, before slowly closing my eyes. I wasn’t even sleepy, but my eyes felt unnecessarily heavy.

A few moments later, the door opened and shut again with the faintest thud possible. It was so quiet it felt eerie, because at one point I could only hear my own breath.

I could tell it was him the moment the strong smell of cigarettes hit my nostrils.

Most of the bright hospital lights had been dimmed now, shadows stretching softly across the walls.

I held my breath instinctively when I felt him move closer to the bed. Then the blanket shifted slightly as he carefully pulled it higher over my shoulder, probably noticing how much I kept shivering around because of the cold.

The chair screeched softly against the floor before he sat back down beside me with a tired yawn loud enough for me to hear. A few seconds later, he began humming some unfamiliar tune under his breath before he eventually stopped and sighed. And then the room was swallowed by silence one again. I had no idea how much time passed after that.

Probably minutes, hours or maybe both. I didn’t know how long he stayed awake, or I pretended to be deep in sleep. 

I felt on edge, growing increasingly impatient to open my eyes because the curiosity was genuinely going to murder me.

Until…

I heard soft snores.

I slowly peeked one eye open before carefully opening both.

It was a devastating sight.

Jungkook had somehow fallen asleep on that tiny hospital chair, his giant body barely even fitting into it properly. His head tilted awkwardly to the side, neck bent in a way that would definitely leave him sore in the morning. His arms stayed loosely crossed over his chest, I guess the exhaustion finally won against whatever stubborn determination had kept him awake this whole time. And without even realizing it, the reserved, and indifferent mask I had been forcing onto myself ever since waking up in this hospital bed quietly cracked apart right there. 

I couldn’t stop the smile that slowly took over my face, even though my chest tightened simultaneously.

How could something so soft sting this much?

My eyes burned not long after, tears slowly gathering before I could stop them, finally letting all the suppressed feelings leak out of me.

Throughout the night, I only looked at him.

My eyes never strayed away, silently tracing every inch of his face.

The quiet rise and fall of his chest.

The exhaustion still lingering across his sleeping features.

And the cute little pout his lips formed as soft snores escaped him every now and then.

I wanted to etch this version of him into my memory forever before dawn arrived, and we went back to becoming strangers knotted together only by a forgotten friendship once again. I kept staring or you could say ogling, unable to look away, needing just a little more time because what were the chances of ever seeing him like this again, in the same room as me, so quietly asleep?

Eventually, my own eyes began growing heavier.

And right before sleep fully pulled me under, I could feel something rough but warm wrap gently around my cold IV injected hand, holding it firmly in place, but I had crossed the border to dreamland, yet my subconscious was yet to shut down.

My lips curled slightly before I could stop them and then I finally succumbed to sleep.

═════𑁍ࠬܓ═══════𑁍ࠬܓ═══════𑁍ࠬܓ

The same nurse who gave me food yesterday came in quietly, checking the IV one last time before removing it with careful hands and putting a small bandage over the spot. She helped me change back into the clothes I wore yesterday, wished me a fast recovery, and left shortly after.

I sat there with my bare feet hanging off the bed, realizing I seriously needed to get a pedicure again because my feet looked dull and rough as hell.

Ah fuck. 

I should probably call the nurse.

I obviously didn’t come here on my own feet, and I needed another pair of those hospital cloth slippers anyway because I accidentally soaked the ones they gave me in the washroom earlier. There was a knock on the door before it opened, and Jungkook strolled in shortly after, looking annoyingly awake for someone who barely slept the entire night.

No traces of tiredness from yesterday remained in his eyes.

He stood by the bed with a paper cup of black coffee in his hand, blowing on it lightly before taking a slow sip, as though he had already been awake for hours.

“Oh…there’s another thing.”

He reached into a shopping bag before fishing out a cute pair of polka dot sandals.

…Did he buy those for me?

“Here,” he said, stepping closer. “I bought these sandals for you. I didn’t know if your shoe size was still 36 though, so I got them in size 38 instead.…”

He sounded oddly sheepish toward the end.

Could he stop being so…ugh….so him?

I only sat there stunned before immediately jerking away when he suddenly knelt down in front of me. I gasped softly the moment his warm hands touched my freezing feet.

What was his damn deal? 

“God,” he muttered, mostly to himself at this point. “They’re so cold, did you give your feet an ice bath?”

The ability to speak was genuinely taken away from me. He carefully slipped the sandals onto my feet one by one. They were way bigger than my actual size but I couldn’t deny the fact that him buying those for me without even asking ignited an unnamed feeling inside my chest.

Then he slowly stood back up again, giving me a soft smile that immediately sent my mind into complete disarray. “I spoke to Minha Aunty,” he said. “She told me your friend Mari’s already at your home. Just let me go fetch your reports and then drop you off.” And when I tried to stand up properly, he was already there again, his warm hand firm against my back to steady me. I gulped quietly, trying not to make a big deal out of the mindless, innocent touch when my entire body seemed painfully aware of it.

I was more than stable enough to handle my shit by myself, but that clearly didn’t matter to him because I could tell just from his body language that was annoyingly certain about one thing. He is going to drop me home one way or another and he won’t take no for an answer. So instead of wasting my remaining energy I kept my mouth zipped, though I was certain that my expressions gave away the turmoil inside my head.

Before we left, he didn’t forget to tip the two nurses either. By the wide grins they both gave us, I could already tell he had tipped more than necessary.

And I mentally noted to pay him back all the money.

And somehow despite it being the last thing I wanted, I ended up in Jeon Jungkook’s black Mercedes anyway. 

Because the lesser I resisted, the faster it would get over. In the car it felt too quiet forbthe first few minutes, while I just stared at the passing skyscrapers of shopping malls, arcades, restyling, pastry shops, the plant shops, pharmacies. 

Then it didn’t stay quiet for long.

I could feel him glancing at me in every red light stop. He cleared his throat. “How are you feeling now?” he asked again, like the answer might change in the span of thirty seconds.

I sighed under my breath.

“Way better than yesterday.”

“Are you hungry? Wanna eat something?”

“I’ll be home in a few minutes, I’ll make something later.” Another red light stopped the car.

From the corner of my eye, I watched Jungkook reach behind toward the backseat without saying anything. A faint crease appeared between my brows as he pulled out a neatly packed bibimbap container before handing it over to me. The bibimbap packet lay in lap.

I froze slightly. It was oddly specific. The exact convenience store bibimbap I always bought ever since I was a highschooler. Before I could even process that, he reached behind again and handed me the same orange juice bottle from last night. I tried not to notice how his silver watch rested against the veins of his hand as he passed it to me. Then he pulled out another orange juice to drink it himself. That made me finally turn around fully towards the backseat, and my eyes almost popped out at the view. There were massive shopping bags. A huge fruit basket. And various flavours of oats packet everywhere. Did this man decided that he wants too bless a family of 5 in need? With the amount of grocery sitting in the backseat it looked like he was about to go giveaway free groceries.

“Did you empty the entire grocery store?” I stared at him in disbelief. 

“Don’t exaggerate, It’s not even that much,” he exclaimed casually, eyes still focused on the road now that the signal had turned green again. “I brought these for you.”

I blinked, my mouth agape.

“There are fruits, juices, oats—”

“Jungkook, it is thoughtful of you,” I cut him off. “but I can’t take it.”

He ignored that completely.

I took a look at the backseat again before looking at him.

“…I won’t even be able to eat half of it.”

He didn’t even look embarrassed.

I have the appetite of a gold fish, with only eating meal once a day.

All of this food will only go to waste.

“You have iron deficiency and dehydration,” he replied matter-of-factly. “You need to eat healthy foods.”

“How do you know that I don’t eat healthily?”

That finally made him glance at me briefly.

Like he was seconds away from arguing again.

But I spoke first.

“How much was all of this?”

I saw him tensing slightly. 

“Come on, I only bought a few stuff, not a whole mansion.”

“That’s not the point—”

“Then what is the point?” His voice stayed calm, but I could hear the vexation slipping underneath it. 

“I’ll pay you back right now. It isn’t a simple meal you bought me, if it was, I wouldn’t have even mentioned it. Asan is an expensive hospital,” I stated, the agitation evident in my voice. “And it was a private cabin too. How much did it cost? The IV? All those medicines? Everything! Just tell me the amount so I can pay you back.”

He ran a hand across his jaw and I couldn’t help my eyes from straying to his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

He stayed mute for a second, eyes fixed on the road ahead before he exhaled softly through his nose.

“Why are you acting like this?” he husked, and a  hot, suffocating pressure built in my chest, I glared at him. “Acting like what?”

“You know what I’m trying to say, ____.” From his voice alone I could tell he was trying arduously to keep it neutral.

I shook my head and shot out. “No, I don’t. Can’t you be a little more clear?” 

He slapped his hand roughly against the steering wheel once

“You keep talking to me like we haven’t been friends ever since you were a teenager and I a struggling first year uni student juggling two part time jobs.” That one sentence hit so hard it almost knocked the air out of my lungs.

But I refused to let it show through my expressions, because we weren’t friends anymore, we haven’t been for a long time.

I kept staring outside the window with my arms crossed tight, like it would stop the loud pounding of my heart.

What else was I supposed to do?

I couldn’t act like I didn’t completely humiliate myself infront of him, like he didn’t date another woman while I sat there grieving a one sided relationship he never partook in. I would be a hypocrite if I blame him for not feeling the same way, because how could one reciprocate a love that had never been professed before?

Yet I couldn’t stop myself from hurting and feeling two-timed. Was it casual when he sent me letters while he was serving in the military? Was it casual when he transferred his military salary to me for four straight months even when I kept begging him to stop? Was it casual when a cake arrived on my 21st birthday with no explanation? Was it casual when he carved out his limited time to call me, to check on me, like I was still part of his world even when he barely had one of his own in the military? Was it casual when he said he thought of me during his hardest days, when he was scared during missions our funny memories gave him peace? 

Did he do that for just anyone?

And if not…

Then what was I to him?

I think it was my conscience’s fault for still longing for him fully knowing he was committed to another woman.

He didn’t say anything else after seeing my lack of response.

The engine lowered into a quiet hum before fading completely, leaving only the distant sound of morning traffic and birds somewhere near the trees. The car rolled slowly into a side lane beside a small park, my apartment complex stood just a short one minute walk away.

“These days I don’t really understand you,” he said finally.

I stayed silent wanting to know what he has to say.

“What?”

But his eyes didn’t meet mine.

But his eyes didn’t meet mine.

They stayed forward, fixed on nothing in particular through the windshield, like looking at me directly would make whatever he was feeling harder to contain.

“First you send a text, then you delete it before I have the chance to see it,” he said, quieter this time.

My stomach dropped.

It was a small, delayed reaction, like my body understood before my mind could even comprehend.

He finally turned slightly in his seat then, not fully facing me, but enough that I could see the tension in his expression now. The tiredness. The frustration layered under something sharper.

“Then you suddenly block me on every social media, then you unblock me again.”

“And ever since then you’ve been treating me like I’m your enemy.”

I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat.

Huh?

What is he even saying?

My brain… genuinely lagged.

Like the words weren’t processing correctly.

Because I saw the seen sign.

I saw it.

I remembered staring at that tiny word for hours until my vision blurred, remembered the humiliation clawing through me afterward, the panic, the regret, the spiraling shame that followed after convincing myself he had read every single word.

His voice tightened at the end, barely restrained now. “I don’t know what went wrong,” he said quietly, exhaustion laced through his voice. “I only found out later that the persom I don’t even wanna mention, apparently deleted it before I could even see it.”

“For months I wasn’t aware that you texted me.”

Jungkook fastened his seat belt again before turning fully toward me this time, a strange intensity taking over his features, it was something fiercer.

His left hand came up to rest against his chest like he needed me to understand the sincerity behind his words.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” he said firmly. “And even if I did see it, I wouldn’t still believe anything until I heard it from you, ____.” His brows furrowed slightly, eyes locked onto mine with an honesty that almost made me look away. “I’ll only buy what you say, because I trust you. I need you to know that.”

I only stared at him in astonishment. My brain had been rotting in the gutter for so long, tangled in shame and humiliation and assumptions, that it genuinely struggled to process anything anymore. If he didn’t see it…

Then probably his ex girlfriend did.

A sick feeling twisted inside my stomach. It was too much for me to take right now. I needed to process it alone.

I didn’t know if I wanted to cry from relief, guilt, fear, regret, rage or if I wanted to slam the car door shut, run upstairs to my apartment and scream until my throat gave out. I had suffered through this unbearable mental burden for months.

Months of believing he knew.

Months of replaying that humiliation over and over until it hollowed me out from the inside.

And now suddenly I get to know that he didn’t even read it.

I couldn’t do this anymore.

But this was the last step I had to make, the perfect opportunity to slip in a story convincing enough to erase any lingering doubt from his mind once and for all. 

Maybe then I’d finally be released from this endless misery festering inside me, and finally sleep peacefully again instead of seeing him in every nightmare that jolted me awake in the middle of the night.

“It was meant for someone else,” I admitted quietly, forcing the words out before I could stop myself. “When I sent you that text…” My voice shook slightly. “I was drunk out of my wits, I don’t even remember who I sent it to.” I swallowed harshly, fingers tightening around themselves in my lap.

The silence afterward felt catastrophic. 

I felt nauseous instantly.

Like I had physically thrown something irreversible between us.

“When I woke up, I panicked and deleted it,” I said quickly, my breath catching halfway through the sentence. “And then I realized I sent the same text to, like… four other people too.”

A strained laugh slipped out before I quickly smoothed my expression over again, rushing out my next lie before I could overthink it.

“I somehow sent it to everyone except the person it was actually meant for.”

Jungkook didn’t interrupt me once.

The morning light filtered faintly through the windshield, pale shadows stretched across his face while he sat there quietly absorbing every word, and for the first time since this conversation started, he looked lighter, like something that had been weighing on him for months had finally loosened slightly from around his chest. 

Yet there was still something unreadable lingering in his eyes now, something deeper sitting quietly underneath the assurance, and somehow that uncertainty made my stomach twist even more. 

Why do I keep hyper analysing everything about him? I grunted internally.

Taking the silence as my cue to escape, I quickly told him to just stay inside the car, even though his stubborn ass argued a few times about walking me all the way to my apartment before he finally stopped resisting after taking one proper look at my face, the exhaustion written all over it was impossible to miss. His eyes narrowed slightly at me afterward, not exactly angry, but frustrated in that restrained way people always got whenever they clearly wanted to say more but forced themselves not to.

Before he could say something that would make this conversation even harder to survive.

I barely even remembered opening the car door afterward.

The cold morning air hit my face immediately as I stepped out, my legs still weak from the hospital but moving too fast anyway, almost desperate to escape before my composure cracked in front of him again.

Right before entering the apartment complex, I don’t know what possessed me to glance back.

Only his eyes were visible through the half-shut black tinted window, still watching me.

My chest tightened painfully at the sight.

Like my body had been holding them back through pure force this entire time and finally gave up.

The tears kept falling endlessly as I somehow forced myself through the hallway and toward my apartment, my vision so blurred I could barely even see properly anymore. I stood in front of the entrance for a few embarrassing seconds, fingers trembling violently while trying to type in the passcode, messing it up twice because I couldn’t stop crying long enough to focus. The moment the door unlocked, I practically stumbled inside.

Everything after that happened in a blur.

I barely even managed to kick the door shut behind me before my legs gave out completely and I collapsed against the sofa, my body hitting the cushions limply as loud, crushing sobs ripped out of me so violently it physically hurt. My chest ached horribly, breaths breaking unevenly between each cry while tears soaked into the fabric beneath my face.

And now suddenly none of it even made sense anymore.

I sobbed harder.

It wad the kind of heartache that leaves your body shaking uncontrollably, ugly and breathless and impossible to stop once it starts.

I didn’t even notice the panicked figure rushing toward me until I suddenly felt warmth engulf me from behind, familiar arms wrapping around my trembling body tightly.

“____? Oh my god—bub, what happened?”

Mari’s voice sounded distant and muffled.

Like I was hearing it underwater.

And the moment I felt her holding me, and pressing kisses against my temple.

The walls that I had built crumbled completely.

I closed my eyes and sobbed harder into the couch, I kept on sobbing until it hollowed me out from the inside.

═════𑁍ࠬܓ═══════𑁍ࠬܓ═══════𑁍ࠬܓ

It was 5pm in the afternoon.

The warm amora of lavender tea hung in the air.

The two women sat side by side.

But you also felt a sense of liberation because Mari didn’t leave you instead she held you throughout your emotional eruption, listening to every painful cry, every sobbing description until you fell asleep.

She was your anchor. Your red bloodshot eyes stared into the monotone painted wall ahead of her. Her face was swollen, her nose red from cleaning the snot repeatedly, her throat felt sore but more than that it was her heart that was sore. Mari, sat beside you, her head resting on her knuckles as she stared at her absentminded best friend. 

“The tea’s gonna get cold.” Mari pouted, playing with a strand of your hair.

“Chestnut brown really suits you, it makes your face look so much more radiant and your eyes stand out more too,” she complimented.

You felt a little guilty for not being able to reflect her cherry mood today, but could you really blame yourself? It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours yet, and your body had already gone through what felt like twenty panic episodes back to back. So pardon you for feeling as though every last bit of life had been drained out of you.

“My eyes are black, Mari.” You boredly replied to her.

Mari rolled her eyes.

“Okay, I give up bruh, it’s not gonna work on you, but I don’t know if you’re ready to hear what I have to say either.” She implored.

You finally looked at her, prepared to finally enough to share it with her. Mari is the only the person who has known about your deep rooted feelings for Jungkook. Out of every person in your life, even your mom, she was the one person who knew every little detail of your life.

Mari, albeit a little too blunt sometimes, wasn’t someone who would fabricate and filter her opinion just to preserve someone’s comfort or keep the peace. Whether you liked it or not, she always had a clear-cut opinion on things and she never hesitated to voice it.

And she was the perfect person to seek advice from.

“No. That’s the last thing I’d want you to do Mari.” 

“I want you to tell me the truth.”  Now I was the eager one, I put my hands above hers, slightly squeezing it and bopping my head up and down, indicating her to speak.

Mari sighed, her shoulders dropping slightly as if she had been holding all of it in for too long and only now letting it breathe out.

“Almost eight years ago when you first admitted to me about crushing on Jungkook after I basically put you on gun point,” she began, leaning back into the couch before slowly shifting forward again like the memory itself was pulling her in, “I honestly found it adorable how you’d crashout every time you shared a moment with him and then excitedly tell me over sleepovers.”

“It was harmless back then, you were a fifteen year old kid.” She adds on.

Then her expression changed subtly, from something softer to sharper.

“I never told you this… but I did start noticing, a little too late, how much it was slowly beginning to affect your life to the point where it was becoming self destructive. Your mood started depending on your interactions with him.” She looked at you with a pitiful smile. “You’ve always put him in this golden category, like he’s some unreachable dream. And I understand it, he’s all macho and cool, he’s super kind, hardworking, and he’s always been so sweet with you. Though I can’t lie, I do have to say that some of his actions were misleading at times…”

Her voice trailed for a second as she shifted fully upright, turning her body toward you now, her hands coming up as if she needed them to properly hold her thoughts in place.

A fiery look in her eyes.

“But ____ you seem to forget who you actually are. You were the most popular girl of our school, you used to get scouted by agents of big entertainment agencies randomly, when we’d go out to group study at the cafe near Seokchon Lake, or at those arcades we used to go to. It would happen so frequently.  From juniors to seniors you had everyone crushing at you.”

Then she dramatically put her hands on her mouth, making an equally dramatic noise of disapproval.

“I still can’t get over the Nam Joo Hyuk thing.” she exaggerated.

“I was furious when you turned down a date with THE Nam Joo Hyuk,” she groaned dramatically, throwing her hands up. “And Jungkook had literally gone into the military like five months before that. ____ , what do you mean you turned down the ‘Korean Adonis’ for a guy who wasn’t even your man just so you could act like his sad, depressed military wife?”

Mari sighed like she was recounting the most tragic story of her life before continuing, eyes widening for emphasis. “Like actually, what do you mean you turned down Nam Joo Hyuk? Do you even realize how insanely popular he is now? His fan following is insane. He’s literally one of the highest paid actors in South Korea.”

You rolled your eyes internally.

Sure, Nam Joo-hyuk was objectively good-looking, but he was nowhere near your ideal type. And the arrogance in the way he’d asked for your number, as if there was absolutely no possibility you’d say no, was irksome. Maybe if he was a little mo-

You stopped yourself before your brain escalated back to the same decade old description of a specific person.

Mari’s hand dropped back to her lap with a frustrated slap against her thigh.

“I stayed silent because I thought you and Jungkook had some sort of secret situationship going on,” she added, leaning back again, still watching you closely, “but then my assumptions were proven wrong when he spawned with a girlfriend right after his military discharge.”

“Now he never cared enough to reach out until you two were forced to be in the same place. I’m not saying it’s his fault… because bubs, that’s what life is about. People….drift away.”

Her voice dipped slightly, becoming quieter now as she stared down at her own hands for a second.

“You remember when Seokjin and I used to date,? We used to spend almost half of the day together for seven years, and now we don’t even wish each other on New Years or let alone birthdays.” Her fingers curled slightly.

“Do you know why it never affected me?” She questioned, gently before answering herself.

“It’s because my joy never depended on Seokjin. I was happy in my own skin, so fulfilled within myself that even when we broke up, I got back up on my feet faster, because my life went on, be it with or without him.”

“The reason why you’re so disturbed and torn apart by his absence is probably because there was a time when you used to be a part of his everyday life, but the military broke that seesaw. And I think deep down, it was needed…”

“____ , I think you’re more in love with the idea of him than the reality of him.” Her eyes were unflinching.

“Because you two have only seen each other within a box, that couldn’t go beyond a boundary but have you ever experienced him outside of who he showed you he is? Do you know anything about his work? How he is with his friends?”

The room felt awfully quieter with the truth out open.

“He only knows you as the teenage high school junior he tutored and adored like a little sister, he remembers you in your fuzzy socks and oversized pink hoodies but does he know the woman you are now?” Her eyes softened, like she almost regretted how honest she was being. “I know it’ll always leave a void in your heart,” she said finally, voice quieter now, almost careful, as if she was placing the words down gently instead of throwing them. “But I pray that someday you get over the fantasy of it. I know you will.” She looked at you with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

This probably is the most you’ve heard Mari speak in one breath. You realized many occasions stopped her from saying all these things to your face, but you couldn’t be anything but glad that she did. You needed to get slapped in the face.

It was almost horrifying how well she observed your feelings for Jungkook, but it was Mari after all.

Hearing your situation, your life through her lense changed the trajectory of your perspective  as well and it was like a cold bucket of water was thrown at your face.

You pondered for a few minutes, while Mari’s gazed stayed on you. “You cannot expect a man to remain the same after military. It changes them a lot, especially a man you haven’t really personally known-” Before Mari could continue, you leaned forward and pulled her into a tight hug, your movement slightly shaky but firm. She froze for a fraction of a second before instantly wrapping her arms around you too, one hand pressing firmly against your back, the other gently rubbing slow, grounding circles. “You’re right.” You softly admitted.

For the first time in years, today you gave yourself the time to think of an alternative scenario, in a way you haven’t before, in a way that made the pang in your chest hurt a little less. While you breathed out, your chin rested on her shoulder.

“Mari…didn’t you say that you were gonna host a get together soon?”

She pulled back, her forehead creasing.

“Yes, why are you asking me this out of the blue.”

In his twenty-nine years of life, Jeon Jungkook had signed contracts worth millions without blinking twice.

He had built three brands from scratch, negotiated with investors twice his age, replied to life changing business emails while eating cold takeout at three in the morning, approved campaigns, closed deals and transferred amounts of money that would make most people nauseous. He did all of that without hesitation, because he’s always intentional when it came to his business. Yet somehow one single text message had him erasing and rewriting the same sentence in different ways for the ninth fucking time today.

Currently it was 3PM, he was in his office branch in Yeouido District, on the eighth floor of the towering glass building.Jungkook leaned back against his leather office chair with a livid exhale, dragging a hand down his face before staring back down at his phone again.His employees continued discussing projected launch numbers for the new gym supplement line somewhere across the long conference table, their voices kept overlapping with presentation slides flipping quietly in the background, Jungkook had been focused in the beginning but for the past sixteen minutes, his mind had gone completely blank.

This was messing with him because he rarely checked his phone during meetings.

But the second the screen lit up beside his laptop earlier, with the one name he hadn’t expected to see, his entire train of thought derailed so badly he almost stumbled over his own words mid-l presentation and had to glance twice just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

You [3:40 PM]:

Hey, it’s been a while.

You [ 3:41 PM]:

I’ve been wanting to reach out to you… I got caught up with work so I’m late.

It had been three weeks since he last heard from you. 

Three weeks since you adamantly got out of his car that morning looking exhausted enough to collapse right there, refusing to even take the groceries he bought for you despite the argument it caused.

He remembered sitting there afterward in annoyance while staring at the untouched fruit baskets and grocery bags occupying his entire backseat.

Eventually he gave all of it to his security guard when he reached home. The old man nearly cried seeing the amount of imported strawberries alone. Jungkook sighed again before glancing back at the popped up text in his notification bar.

He typed a sentence, then deleted.

It looked too blunt.

He typed again, shaking his head because it was getting too long, 

He deleted it again.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard while the faint sound of his employees laughing as they left the office somewhere outside the conference room echoed through the glass walls of his office.

Jungkook [3:57 PM]:

No worries…. How are you? How’s your health now?

He realised that he was taking too long to reply, when your reply came instantly.

You [3:58 PM] 

I’m doing a lot better than the last time we saw each other :)

You [3:58 PM]

Btw are you free today?

He leaned back slightly against his chair before replying, his index finger rubbing against his jaw, absentmindedly.

Jungkook [4:05 PM]:

Today? Yeah, I get off work within 5pm.

You [4:07 PM]:

Great then, I’m hosting a get together party with my best friend, I was wondering if you could come and join me.

That was a whiplash from the way you had been avoiding him like the plague..not wanting to 

Jungkook [4:07 PM]:

A gathering party? Where is it?

The typing bubble appear almost immediately.

You [4:10 PM]:

It’s located in Itaewon, it’s called Yact Core.

Jungkook pondered for a few seconds, eyes narrowing slightly while trying to remember if he had heard of the place before. His fingers moved over the keyboard slowly, typing out a response before pausing midway, because your next text came in before he could even hit send.

You [4:14 PM]:

So are you coming or not, Oppa?

His phone slipped right out of his hand.

The loud thud against the wooden floor made him curse under his breath immediately as he bent down too fast to grab it, nearly hitting his knee against the desk in the process.

“Ugh...” He grunted at the shot of pain that went through his knee.

“What on earth…” he muttered under his breath, heat rushing unexpectedly to the back of his neck.

Oppa? Never in your life have you called him that, ever, even when you were talking about him to someone else. It was only a honorific that he never cared for even though you were almost eight years younger than him.

Usually, in any other circumstance, Jungkook was strict about addressing elders properly with honorifics. Maybe it was the Korean in him, maybe it was just the way he had been raised. Yet somehow, when it came to you, he never corrected it. If anything, he found it stupidly sweet.

The way you called him “Kook” so naturally, like the nickname belonged to you and you alone and the most embarrassing part was that it kind of did.

Because nobody else called him ‘Kook’ besides you.

This sudden friendliness of yours made him wonder if you somewhere hit your head and had a loss of memory? Lately he had been so used to the distant attitude you maintained with him, after everything that happened recently, after months of avoidance, seeing a snippet of your sweet, old version suddenly appear on his screen again felt absurdly more intimate than it should’ve.

His heartbeat quickened annoyingly fast while he unlocked the phone again, rereading the text twice before forcing himself to type something back normally.

Jungkook [4:15 PM]:

Yeah, I’ll come for sure.

Your reply came less than ten seconds later.

You [4:15 PM]:

I’ll be waiting hehe 😛

Jungkook stared at the conversation for another embarrassing amount of time before abruptly locking his phone and tossing it onto the table like it had burned his hand. He pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes for a second. No, he really needs to stop drinking caffeine in the morning on an empty stomach. This is why he's been feeling so weird.

“Yo Boss! A sublime day, isn't it?" Gwanshik’s chirpy voice echoed through the office suddenly.

“Indeed, Gwanshik.” Jungkook muttered.

His head jerked up almost instantly only to find his assistant standing by the doorway holding a thick black file against his chest, brows raised suspiciously.

“Wait, why are you so red?”

Jungkook scoffed immediately, straightening himself in the chair. “I-I’m not red.”

“You absolutely are.” Gwanshik snorted, walking further inside. “Your ears too.”

“Did you listen to the new album by that boygroup CORTIS? They have a song called ‘RedRed’. So you lying to my face, that’s red’red~” Gwangshik singsang giggling like an imbecile.

Whatever.

Jungkook only coughed, reaching out for the file the second Gwanshik handed it over.

“Samples for the new starter pack campaign,” Gwanshik explained while Jungkook flipped the file open a little too rapidly, very obviously trying to redirect the conversation before the older man could tease him any further. “The new employees suggested going for a more raw gym aesthetic this time instead of those overly edited luxury concepts,” he continued, leaning against the desk casually. “And honestly? I agree. You probably will too once you see their vision.”

Jungkook hummed scatterbrained, with his eyes scanning through the printed sample photographs spread across the pages. There were at least twelve varieties of samples of shaker concepts, gym bag layouts, compression wear samples, and minimalistic black packaging. On other days this was the kind of thing he’d immediately hyperfocus on.

But today?

His mind kept drifting back toward his phone sitting face down beside him.

Gwanshik caught onto Jungkook’s lack of attention instantly, because it wasn’t common at all.

A grin slowly spread across his face.

“…Ahhh,” he dragged out knowingly.

Jungkook already sighed in annoyance before the other guy could even continue.

“Is it a woman?.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed. 

“No.” 

“You got rejected?”

“No.”

“Then it’s worse.” Gwanshik nodded seriously thinking. “You like her.”

Jungkook almost choked on absolutely nothing.

“It’s not even close to that,” he shot back angrily, face heating all over again while Gwanshik burst out laughing right in front of him.

“Ehhhh sure, I’ll take my leave since nothing’s getting into your head right now anyway.” He taunted before turning toward the door. “I’ll just email you the documents. You can always check them later.” And with that, he walked out singing some painfully cringe love song lyric, clearly far too entertained by Jungkook’s misery.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ────

Jungkook arrived at the location you shared a little later than he originally planned.

The car door shut behind him with a quiet click, and for a moment he just stood there outside the venue, taking in the building like he was trying to recalibrate what kind of night this was supposed to be.

He had expected loud music, disco balls and, shouting, something club themed, because that was the definition of a party he and his friends did when they were at this age. Instead, the moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere was completely unanticipated. Soft jazz wrapped around the space like a warm haze, low enough to feel like background breathing rather than music. Somewhere further inside, a faint track of Luis Miguel played. The lighting was warm gold, spilling gently over marble flooring and glass decor. People stood in small clusters instead of crowds, talking, laughing, posing occasionally for pictures. He didn’t wear any suit like every other man here, but rather a black Calvin Klein jacket, with matching black jeans, it didn’t exactly blend into the crowd. In the midst of his eyes scanning the room looking for a certain five foot something woman, someone tapped him on the shoulders, when he turned around his eyebrows lifted in recognition. Mari stood there, a tight smile resting on her lips.

“What are you doing here all on your own?” she asked lightly over the music. “____ didn’t see you yet?”

Jungkook gave a small smile, slipping one hand inside the pocket of his jacket. “I just got here.”

“Oh.” Mari nodded once before glancing toward the crowd behind her. “Well… she’s been excited about tonight after all the storm she went through.”

What is that supposed to mean?

Before he could respond, Mari stepped aside slightly, motioning vaguely toward the deeper part of the lounge. “She’s probably somewhere there with our friends. I need to save my drunk boyfriend before he embarrasses himself infront of strangers.”

Jungkook let out a quiet chuckle. “Another babysitting duty I see.”

“Unfortunately.” She stated.

“Good seeing you though,” she added more genuinely this time.

“You too.”

And then she disappeared somewhere into the crowd.

Jungkook walked further inside, eventually rounding into a quieter area near the open space of the lounge, unlike the entrance area the atmosphere here felt even calmer somehow, he could hear a saxophone playing and faint laughter and chatter somewhere. And then he saw you.

Just the back of your head, at first.

You were standing near one of the lounge tables, surrounded by a loose circle of people, a few men and women gathered comfortably around the dimly lit space with drinks resting lazily in their hands. A tall South Asian guy dressed in a fitted brown shirt and black pants stood in the middle of telling some dramatic story, his hands moving animatedly while everyone leaned in with amused expressions.

You were listening too.

Then the South Asian guy said something that made the entire group erupt into laughter in unison, your head tipped back briefly as you laughed, your hand instinctively coming down to smack the arm of the lean man standing beside you while he groaned dramatically at the hit, making everyone laugh even harder. Your chestnut hair fell down your back in a long straight flow, catching the warm yellow lights every time you moved. You wore an ocean blue bodycon dress that looked like it had been stitched specifically to fit your body. Beside you a shorter redhead woman in a hot pink dress, leaned to whisper something in your ear. And almost immediately —

Your head turned slightly, your gaze absentmindedly drifting across the other tables first, barely paying attention to anything you were looking at.

Then your eyes landed on him.

And kept moving.

For half a second Jungkook genuinely thought you hadn’t recognized him.

Before your head snapped back toward him almost instantly. Jungkook’s lungs forgot what they were doing for exactly one second as a wide smile slowly pulled onto your lips. He stared back. It took him a minute too long to realize his mouth had parted slightly. He closed it. And smoothed his expression. Something strange sat in his chest, it was a feeling he could describe as closest to discomfort. You lifted your hand slightly from around your wine glass before motioning him over with two small curls of your fingers and Jungkook began making his way towards you, with his eyes not leaving you for once. He almost forgot there were other people around until one of your friends suddenly looked between the two of you and asked “Wait… isn’t that your University classmate?”

Then your voice reached him properly for the first time that night. “No.” You exclaimed with a chuckle.

“Kids, I have to introduce you all to someone.” You announced loud enough to capture everyone's attention.

He could feel multiple eyes on him the moment you said that. “This is Jungkook. “You glanced at him, smile still sitting warmly on your face. “A close friend of mine.”

“Ah, you came just at the right time.” the redhead said briefly looking at him then teasingly bumping her shoulder with yours.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ────

It didn’t take long before all of you migrated toward one of the lounge sections of the venue, the large velvet couches quickly filling with half finished drinks, scattered phones, and overlapping conversations.

 To Jungkook’s surprise, your friends were actually really welcoming to him. 

They asked him about his work almost immediately, curiosity lighting up their expressions the moment he briefly mentioned his gym brand.

“No way, that’s actually sick.” The South Asian guy who's name he later got to know was Ishaan Khatter, a well-known A-list actor working in Bollywood, exclaimed in astonishment.

“Wait, so you own multiple branches?” the blonde Korean-Canadian friend of yours, Bently Kim, impatiently asked.

“Isn’t that insanely stressful?” Sonjin who he remembers used to live in his neighbourhood years ago, queried.

They asked questions enthusiastically, leaning forward while he answered, occasionally throwing in their own opinions about fitness trends and gym culture as if they’d known him for longer than thirty minutes. Amidst the overlapping conversations and soft clinking of glasses around the table, Jungkook slowly realized your body had been turned toward him for the last ten minutes, your thighs brushing against his. Not fully though just slightly. Enough that every time someone else spoke, your eyes still drifted back to him in between.

“You seem to blend quite well with my friends,” you said finally, a sly grin pulling at those glossy pink lips.

Jungkook looked at your side from his beer immediately. The warm lighting softened your features, made your skin glow faintly golden, and for some reason he found himself staring at your mouth for half a second too long before forcing his gaze away.

“I’m a gen-z too, it’s not that hard to blend in.” he said softly his dark eyes borong into yours.

You laughed softly at that, leaning your chin against your palm while still maintaining the eye lock, expectedly he was the first to break it off.

Good God.

He only drank a little of the white beer one of your friends had poured for him earlier, barely enough to even qualify as drinking, but somehow his head still felt warm and strangely hazy. 

He needed to finish at least one bottle of Budweiser to get properly drunk.

He definitely wasn’t drunk.

Probably… a little off balance.

And he hated how aware he was of it.

Before he could say anything else, your friends suddenly erupted into loud complaints over taking pictures.

“Girls get up RIGHT NOW before the makeup starts melting off.” One of your girlfriend's beseeched.

You groaned dramatically as one of your friend grabbed your arm and the other one grabbed your wrist.

“Hey! Sajal, at least let me take my purse—” you whined.

“Oh, just leave it here, the boys can watch over our precious purses,” she said, waving it off casually. “Come on!” Jungkook watched you get dragged away.

He couldn't remember the last time he’s seen you as radiant as you were in this very moment. Tonight, you were beyond his limited knowledge of you. It feels like he’s getting to see you in a different light than he had all those years ago.

It was like he was meeting the same person, but again for the first time, like déjà vu.

Swaying softly with every step, camera flashes briefly illuminated your face again and again, catching the confidence in your expression as it flickered under the light.

Your friends and you got occupied making TikToks. Until a slower track slid in, almost sensual in the way it filled the space. You swayed your hips and danced to the rhythm, your movements syncing with the beat in an effortless, teasing flow. Your hands traced over your own arms, sliding down, then drifting to your hips as you kept moving, completely lost in the music, your friends circled you, laughing, filming, but his attention stayed fixed where it shouldn’t have.

Then you turned around.

Your eyes locked with his in a matter of seconds, like you already knew he would be looking.

A devilish smirk pulled up on your pouty lips.

Your hands danced over your body again, palms dragging across your chest, then down to your hips, slow and deliberate, like you were fully aware of being watched.

He should’ve looked away, he knew he should’ve.

Yet, he didn’t because he couldn’t.

You kept moving with the music in a torturously slow pace., your focus never fully leaving him even as you rejoined your friends’ rhythm.

Jungkook felt his throat go dry.

He turned away like someone threw acid in his eyes and hastily chugged down his entire drink in one go.

His heart was pulsing hard inside his chest, loud enough that it felt impossible to ignore.

It’s disorienting, the way you feel both known and unfamiliar at the same time, like everyone else already knew something about you he was only discovering now.

The realization unsettled him more than it should have.

Because when had that happened?

There was no denying that you had become this alluring woman people naturally gravitated towards.

Yet whatever he was feeling was not appropriate.

What would you even think of him if you knew the things his mind kept drifting towards.

A strange restlessness settled under his skin soon after.

The music suddenly felt louder indoors.

This space feeling congested now.

He exhaled quietly and leaned back against the couch for a moment before eventually deciding to step outside for air.

It wasn’t because he disliked your friends company or anything, they were a bunch of good hearted kids, well except one of them a little too self ware, one acting like all the negative things only happen to them, another one with the self confidence of the Burj Khalifa, when he sat with them he remembered how he had already passed this phase in life.

Nowadays, rather than being out till 3 AM, clubbing, and drinking with friends just to escape the mental torture that university midterms brought, those years are over, now he cares more about being in bed by 11 PM. He still goes to clubs every now and then, but only if the food is good.

There was only so much conversation he could maintain with guys nearly eight years younger than him before every discussion somehow turned into them asking him for life advice.

And his battery was already beginning to drain, his brain needed a little rest.

He eventually stepped toward the open space of the rooftop balcony, the cool night air immediately brushing against his overheated skin. From up there, the city stretched endlessly beneath him, streams of headlights moving through the roads below while distant traffic echoed faintly into the quiet. For a few seconds, Jungkook just stood there silently taking it in the skyline, the cold air, the temporary silence away from the music and laughter inside. 

He slipped a hand into the pocket of his jacket out of pure habit before groaning quietly under his breath when his fingers came up empty. Right. He left the packet of cigarette at home. “Fuck,” he muttered tiredly to himself. Usually he’d smoke whenever his head got too crowded like this, whenever his thoughts started overlapping too loudly to sort through properly. And seems like tonight he has no other choice but to let his mind keep making noises.

Jungkook leaned both forearms against the railing instead, head tilting back slightly as he shut his eyes for a moment. The metal felt cold beneath his skin, grounding him enough to stop the strange restlessness sitting inside his chest from plummeting any further. At least that was the plan.

But every time he closed his eyes, he kept seeing…

 A certain smile from across the lounge.

Pink glossy lips.

The way their dress embraced the curve of their body when they walked away with their friends. The way their hands traced their torso as they danced while looking at him.

Jungkook ran a hand across his bottom lip.

This was ridiculous!

Jungkook wasn’t even sure when exactly he’d started feeling like this around you.

Maybe it was the alcohol slowly settling into his system.

This fuckass bone chilling cold was supposed to help clear his head to some extent, make every thought inside his head blank. That had been the entire point of stepping out onto the balcony for a minute to pull himself together, to remember how he was supposed to act around you.

He’d known you for what, eight to nine years now? Ten? Between these years it came easy and natural for him to be around you as a….friend, a tutor, a well wisher, an acquaintance.

Jungkook felt even more aware of you now that it was him with his pondering alone, the quiet had stripped away the one buffer keeping him from paying too much attention.

He’d known you….eversice you were fourteen, still sleeping with your seven-year-old plushies, he’d seen you cry after your cousins teased you about the demon from hellfire coming for you when you refused to eat your vegetables.

He'd known you when you were seventeen and crying over a mysterious boy who’s identity stayed hidden to this day. He'd been the only person besides your parents to be present at your high school graduation. He was there during your bob haircut era. He knew the sound of your laughter before it even left your lungs, knew exactly which of his jokes would work and which ones would earn him a shove on the shoulder. To him you had always been a sister like friend, that’s what he’s been saying to everyone, to himself.

That was the box you and him had always existed in.

And for the first time that box seemed to shook like a falling stack of cards.

Somewhere in the middle of his thoughts, the sound of the balcony door sliding open behind him snapped him back to reality. “There you are…” Your voice wrapped around him softly as he heard your heels clicking lightly against the balcony floor while the dim light spilling from inside traced softly along your figure. He didn’t turn around instead he looked down at the buzzing street as if it had acquired his complete interest.

From his peripheral vision, he could see your silhouette stepping beside him now, the wind pushing your hair gently over one shoulder as you leaned the back of your body against the railing instead of looking down at the street below. Jungkook kept his eyes lowered for a moment before finally forcing himself to look at your face. You were staring at the wooden door with a distant look. “You disappeared,” you murmured, stopping beside him against the railing. “I thought my friends scared you away.”

“Nothing like that, I just needed a little air,” he breathed, his thumb rubbing slowly against the cold metal railing.

You hummed, standing near enough for him to smell the faint sweetness of your perfume.

“You clean up well today,” you compliment him, your tone carrying a teasing hint.

Jungkook swerved toward your form now, leaning the weight of his body sideways with one arm resting against the railing, and you turned sideways too with the side of your body leaned against the railing wall, because of your much shorter height.

This way he could see you properly now.

A lopsided smile rested on your lips, your eyes were red around the rims while the cold painted your cheeks and nose pink.

“Really?”

“I like this jacket on you,” you clarified casually, eyes slowly tracing over his jacket again.

His throat tightened slightly.

“It makes you look buffer.”

He looked away, appearing a little flustered.

“Why did you want to meet up?” he asked with a restrained voice.

“Just…wanted to see how you’re doing and properly thank you.” Your voice sounded softer now.

And before he could say something, your palm landed lightly against the center of his chest.

The second your hand settled against his chest, Jungkook felt his pulse shift noticeably beneath it.

Your fingers moved against his jacket once… then again… gliding lazily over his chest.

“You don’t really have to thank me for that,” you whispered even though it was just you and him in this open space.

Jungkook forced himself to think about literally anything else. The unopened file Gwanshik had handed him earlier. The thirty pages waiting on his desk.

Tomorrow’s schedule.

Anything.

But with your hand slowly moving against the center of his chest, it was becoming impossible to focus on a single coherent thought.

That possibility made heat rush violently into his bloodstream.

His body locked up almost instantly. His senses kept hyper focusing. On the warmth of your palm, thr soft drag of your nails against the fabric, the way your body leaned just slightly closer every time you spoke.

Jungkook tried to look at the closed entrace door, and the thin glass window where he could see movements of people. It didn’t help one bit, because deep down a dangerous part of him didn’t want you to stop.

“It’s been long since we’ve hung out, the last time we saw each other was before the end of my first semester.”

“Yeah….”

“You’re awfully silent. Are you okay?”

Your fingers slowly smoothed over the front of his jacket again before lightly pinching the collar between them. “I’m fine.” he reasoned, while you pursed your lips not convinced at all.

The violent wind pushed your hair across your face again and it was like Jungkook’s body had a mind of its own, reacting before he could properly think it through. His fingertips grazed softly against your cheek while he tucked the strands behind your ear, A few strands had stuck lightly against the gloss on your lips, and you blinked slightly when his fingers brushed them away.

The second his skin came in contact with yours the coquettish expression on your face faltered slightly.

That heavy silence where both people suddenly become too aware of each other.

His hand lingered for a fraction too long near your face before slowly dropping again. This was getting precarious. Jungkook knew that much.

The space that was big enough to fit in hundreds of people suddenly felt too small, your body was too close to the point he could feel the warts radiating off you, your eyes too focused on him in a way that made his rationality keep slipping out of his grasp.

He should’ve stepped back already.

Should’ve moved your hand off his chest.

Should’ve stopped touching you the second his fingers brushed your cheek.

Instead he was still standing here staring at you like he’d forgotten about time itself.

And the unexplainable part was that you didn’t seem unaffected either, but rather inviting.

Your eyes kept dropping to his mouth.

So did his.

Jungkook swallowed hard, taking in a deep breath and exhaling through his his nostrils.

Don’t do this. He begged his subconscious.

She doesn't know what she's doing. She's a little drunk and you're standing too close and this is nothing. You've known her for over a decade. You used to tutor her. Get it together, you bastard.

The thought came too late, became irrelevant just as rapidly, because the second your eyes shifted from his mouth to his eyes, you and him both stepped closer again, he had exactly one second to think about consequences before you whispered his name in the quietest tone. “Jungkook.”

After that, everything in his head seemed to blur together.

Your noses brushed softly once, then again, neither of you properly pulling away.

His lips hovered inches from yours while the cold night air wrapped around you both uselessly, your breathing turning uneven in the small space between you.

You were even more close now. So close that he couldn’t properly see your eyes anymore, only feel the hot puffy breaths against his mouth while the cold night air moved around you both uselessly.

The three of you were now sprawled around the living room while Jinu and Samuel watched some aggressive football match like their lives depended on it. You tried sitting through the first fifteen minutes, genuinely tried, but you didn’t understand a single thing happening on the screen besides grown men aggressively chasing a ball while commentators screamed like war had broken out.

His thoughts stopped eventually.

He leaned down.

The moment he felt the sensation of yours lips on his, he shuddered. He paused for a brief moment, before he couldn’t wait anymore and embraced your warm mouth around his.

At first it was only the slow press of lips, warm and unhurried, his mouth catching yours carefully like he was still holding himself back.

Your lips barely moved against his at first, warm and tentative, both of you kissing each other like neither of you fully understood what was happening yet, but the affect of it was more intense than it would’ve been with a stranger.

Then your hands slid upward from his chest, one settling around the side of his neck while the other disappeared into the hair at the back of his head, nails scratching lightly against his scalp.

Jungkook felt that final wall inside him give way almost instantly.

He groaned against your mouth before his motionless arms moved to wrap around your waist, pushing you into him. The movement made your body stumble lightly against his and the airy sound you made nearly destroyed whatever self control he still had left.

You shivered when the firm muscles of his abdomen pressed against the exposed skin of your waist. The kiss deepened without warning after that. His mouth moved against yours with a kind of restrained desperation now, like he’d spent the entire night holding himself back only to lose the ability to do it anymore. One gruff hand stayed firm against your waist while the other slid upward to cup your jaw, thumb pressing lightly beneath your cheekbone as he angled your face toward him more. And when his palm slipped lower for a second, brushing against the exposed skin of your back beneath the fabric, both of you visibly shuddered at the same time. Your fingers tightened against him immediately causing Jungkook to press his lips on you harder, with more fervour.

When the realization that this was actually happening, and he had let his frenzied thoughts loose, finally hit him all at once.

And then in a flash—

Jungkook pulled back with a quiet pop breaking between your lips, breathing unevenly as he stared at you with wide eyes. He looked at you in horror. “I’m so sorry,” he gasped immediately, voice rough from kissing you. “____, fuck! What did I just do? You-you I-We’re not in our senses right now, I shouldn’t have done that, not when yo- you’re tipsy.” His grip loosened from your waist as he forced himself to take a few steps back, brows tightening like it physically hurt him to put distance between you. You only stared at him with a hazy expression, your own breaths coming out in uneven, heavy puffs. “No,” you panted, before shaking your head. Your slightly trembling hands found him again before he could retreat any further, fingers curling tightly into the front of his jacket as you pulled him back toward you. “Don’t say that.” You exhaled, one hand moving comfortingly over his shoulders. Jungkook’s chest rose and fell sharply, as he bended down to match your height, his brows furrowed with conflict glimmering in his clear orbs. His large hand moved to rest on top of yours.

You got on your tiptoes, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his as you stepped closer, the warmth of your breath mixing with his.

“I’ve never been more conscious of my senses,” you whispered softly against his lips. “I know what I’m doing, Jungkook.”

His eyes shut briefly.

He knew it was fruitless to resist, he should’ve known the moment you looked at him that he was bound to accept defeat in this battle.

“Are you sure?”

His voice wavered when he asked you that, a final, trembling thread of restraint snapping as he searched your face for any sign of hesitation.

The moment he felt your head nodding against his forehead, his mouth crashed into yours again. There was no gentleness in the collision. It was a crash, a collision of teeth and tongue, a desperate claim. He groaned into the kiss, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief. Jungkook’s morality, and values could come and fuck him up later, he was more greedy. One strong arm snaked around your back, fingers tracing every soft ridge of your spine until he reached the nape of your neck to cup it firmly.

Somewhere between uneven breaths and tangled hands, Jungkook backed you against the railing without thinking. You gasped into his mouth, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue deep inside. He pushed you harder against the cold metal, his hands shifting from your neck to tangle in your soft, silky locks, pulling your head back to expose the line of your throat. Your tongues intertwined in a hungry, wet dance; he could taste the lingering sweetness of red wine on your. The hand that had been on your hip slid down, palms molding to the curve of your bottom, gripping you tightly as he pulled your lower body flush against him.

You leaned even closer, your chest pressed tightly against his, feeling the frantic thrum of his heart mirroring your own.

You let out a low, broken whimper as he nipped sharply at your bottom lip, the sting sending a jolt of electricity through you.

His soft lips finally detached from yours, but only to trail a path of soft, chaste pecks down the sensitive column of your throat.

You tilted your head to the side, giving him full access, one hand wrapping around the hard swell of his bicep while the other clung to his shoulder.

In the middle of the hot, consuming exchange, the balcony door slid open. A stranger stepped out, phone in one hand, lighter in the other.

They paused immediately and turned around in a haste.

“…Oh.” The man let out an exclamation, his eyes moving between you both with immediate understanding.

The sound cut straight through the moment.

You shrank back instantly, the sudden distance feeling like a physical blow.

It was as if he’d been snapped out of a trance, ripped violently from a headspace he shouldn't have been in. His breath came in ragged, uneven heaves that mirrored the turmoil in his eyes.

The haze vanished, replaced by a sudden, jarring awareness of their surroundings, the sheer recklessness of what he had just been doing to you.

The stranger muttered something awkward, something about needing a smoke, and immediately turned away, suddenly very interested in leaving.

The sound of retreating footsteps echoed in the silence that followed, leaving a thick, charged tension in the air. Jungkook remained frozen, his fingers twitching as if fighting the urge to drag you back against him. The conflict was written all over his face: the lingering, carnal greed battling with the sudden return of his conscience. He looked at you, his eyes dark and dilated, the ghost of that desperation still flickering in his gaze. He was breathless, flushed, and utterly undone, caught in the suffocating space between the man who wanted to do more and the man who knew he should stop.

"I think I should leave now," you suddenly declared, your voice steady, almost airy.

You smoothed your dress down with a slow, deliberate motion, the fabric gliding over skin before bending slightly to pick up your purse he hadn’t even noticed lying near the railing, pulling your phone out to check the time with the nonchalant energy of someone who had not just turned his entire understanding of your relationship upside down. "It's almost eleven, I have a morning class." Jungkook didn't move, his body locked in a state of high alert, the air around him still thick with the scent of your perfume and the ghost of your lips.

“I’ll see you around, Kook,” you added, casting one last look over your shoulder. You gave him a dark, mischievous smile, your lips now red, swollen, and puffier from the violence of his kisses.

He only looked at you with a puzzled expression, his brain struggling to process the sudden shift. Jungkook hated how different the old nickname suddenly felt after tonight. He watched you turn and glide back through the door, watched the yellow light and the noise of the party swallow you back up without a second glance.

Jungkook remained alone in the cold, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides, his fingers still tingling from the feel of your hair. The silence of the night rushed in to fill the space you had left behind, leaving him with the crushing realization that while he was drowning in the aftermath, you had already stepped back into the light, leaving him shattered and wanting more.

His pulse hammered in his throat, a frantic rhythm that refused to slow down even as the wind chilled the sweat on his skin. He said nothing. There was nothing to say, honestly.

He stood there in that spot you left him for another 10 minutes before he went straight to the parking lot.

He speed through the roads, don’t ask him how he just did somehow. Because all he could feel were your soft petal lips on his.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ────

It was exactly 12:03 AM.

The first thing he did when he got home was finally kick his shoes off.

He staggered into his restroom, his finger barely clicking the lights on as he walked toward the sink.

There was a rush of adrenaline, but also a strange weakness beneath it that stole away his ability to feel fully stable.

He felt some sort of high from it.

It was some unnamed awakening of emotions he wasn’t even aware could exist in this equation until now.

The mirror was an immediate reminder of the incident that had occurred. His lips were swollen, his chin and the sides of his mouth still glistening faintly with the remnants of your lip gloss. Jungkook stared at himself for a second before running his thumb slowly across his lips, wiping it off, then he bent down abruptly, splashing water all over his face in the most aggressive manner possible. Water dripped from his jaw onto the sink while he stayed there gripping the marble edge for a second longer than necessary, breathing unevenly.

After that, he only vaguely remembered stumbling toward bed and collapsing into the sheets, twisting and rotating restlessly beneath them for what felt like hours.

Then sleep or something close to it finally took him.

The next time he awakens in a dream.

You were there in that, still adorning that same blue dress.

You crawled slowly across the mattress toward his sprawled form, the fabric hugging your body every time you moved while your luscious hair fell over one shoulder. Jungkook tried to move toward you instinctively, but the second he did, his body locked up completely, he tried to call for you, but couldn’t, it felt like some cruel invisible force had pinned him down, like he’d been forbidden from touching you entirely. Forced to sit there and watch you approach him without being able to do anything about it.

You climbed onto his lap now, straddling him with slow, deliberate grace, that same cheeky smirk resting on your lips.

A strained groan escaped him as his arms shook reaching upward, desperate to feel the silk of your skin beneath his palms, desperate to grip your waist and pull you down until there was no space left between you both. His fingertips hovered mere millimeters from your hip—

And right before he could feel the silken skin beneath his hands, the world vanished.

The sensation hit like freefall.

A violent plunge straight into nothingness.

Jungkook’s eyes shot open violently, a sharp ragged gasp tearing from his chest as he jolted upright in bed. His heart hammered frantically against his ribs while the room around him slowly came back into focus.

His arm reached beside him instinctively and touched nothing except cold empty sheets.

He paused there for a moment, chest heaving while the phantom feeling of you still lingered against his skin like heat that refused to leave.

Slowly, Jungkook blinked toward the digital clock resting beside the bed, it read 4:20 AM.

A long shaky breath escaped him before he sank back against the pillows, staring blankly at the ceiling above him.

He reached for his phone.

4:24 AM.

Of course there were no texts. It was four in the morning and you were asleep somewhere across the city and you had walked away from him smiling like the night had cost you absolutely nothing, like you had simply experimented something and found it interesting and moved on, and here he was lying fully clothed in the dark of his bedroom with a racing pulse and the ghost of a dream he was going to spend the rest of the night trying to forget and the rest of his life failing to.

He mindlessly scrolled through YouTube shorts for a minute and then he opened instagram, his fingers typed your name as if it was automatic to do so, he clicked your Instagram account.

A new post sat at the top of your profile.

You were posing in that blue dress at some earlier point in the night before he had arrived, before any of it, you were laughing at something off-camera, one hand raised, the yellow light of the venue catching the curve of your face.

He stared at that picture for an alarming amount of time, until the screen dimmed. And when he realised, he locked the phone and dropped it onto the mattress and turned onto his side, staring at the far wall of his bedroom and understood, with the particular clarity that only comes in the morning in the aftermath of something you can’t take back, that he was in serious trouble.

His chest ached in a way that had nothing to do with wanting and everything to do with recognition.

Sleep never properly returned after that.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ────

⤷ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ'ꜱ ᴘᴏᴠ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

I was back in the gym by 6AM the next morning like the night before hadn’t been a tug of war in my mind, like I hadn’t lain awake until sunrise with my phone face down beside me and my own ceiling for company. I ran four kilometres more than my usual, weirdly I didn’t notice until I checked the treadmill display and even then didn’t stop untill I almost blacked out from the ferocious running. I reminded myself that a company wouldn’t run with wobbly legs, not when I had a brand new launch to finalise.

I cursed out loud as I remembered that two brand deals sat in my inbox, waiting for my confirmation.

If it wasn’t for Gwanshik’s voice mail I would’ve missed today’s meeting. The table had samples spread across it, matte boards, fabric swatches, digital mockups cycling on the screen at the front of the room. My creative director was talking through the options with the specific enthusiasm of someone who had prepared extensively and expected me to share it. I had already decided on a brown palette long before this launch was finalized. It was grounded, masculine, and fit the brand perfectly, everything I’d argued for in those preliminary meetings two weeks ago. And then I glanced over the blue samples in the corner of the spread.

“I want to revisit the colour direction.”

“The palette?”

“The blue samples.” He tapped a finger against the corner of the spread. “Have the team build a few concepts around those instead. I’d like to see what we can do with them.”

My creative director paused mid-sentence.

“Sorry?”

“Blue is more eye-soothing.” I tapped the sample board once without looking up. “Let’s go with the blue colour palette.”

A brief silence settled over the table.

“Sir,” Mister Gong began carefully, “we already started the process after you approved the brown palette last week.”

“I changed my mind, Mister Gong,” I stated simply.

He stared at me for a minute.

“You spent two weeks convincing everyone brown was the right direction.”

“And now I think blue is.”

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. For a second, he looked like he wanted to launch the sample board at my head. Instead, he forced a tight smile and gave a short nod.

“Understood.”

I stared at the sample for another second before looking back at my laptop. I wasn’t even particularly fond of blue, but lately, it was starting to look like a pretty colour.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ────

The first week passed by.

I religiously contributed to my work.

I ate at reasonable hours and slept at unreasonable ones.

I checked my phone a deeply unnecessary number of times per day.

From KakaoTalk to Instagram then back to KakaoTalk.

The conversation thread between us sitting there exactly as I had left it, my last message, a week old now, still unanswered, the small indicator beside it telling me absolutely nothing useful.

My notifications filled with everyone on this damn earth except the one person I needed answers from.

By the second week, I had expected something, anything. Instead, I found myself staring at the same message I’d sent days ago.

You reached home? On delivered.

It was a weak excuse for a conversation starter, embarrassingly so, but it had been the only reason I could think of to text her. Now it just sat there, unanswered, mocking me every time I opened the chat.

My KakaoTalk had forty three unread messages by Friday.I had read exactly one of them.

Everyone texted me, my business partner, my gym trainer, my brother, my mother, and even separate brand reps.

Everytime the phone would buzz my stomach would do something humiliating twist before my eyes even reached the screen and then it would be anyone.

Anyone at all.

By the time the third week rolled around I had lost my ability to sleep.

First it was just later at night, one, then two, then three in the morning staring at the plain ceiling of my apartment and my brain refusing to downshift into anything useful.

I started going to the gym at 4:00 AM instead of 6:00 AM. The punching bag took the brunt of my frustration all week. By the end of it, even my trainer had started calling me out.

At some point during the fourth week.

The shower had become a problem.

I had always been disciplined about that kind of thing. For years, desire had been nothing more than pressure and distance, a vague humming in the background of my life that I could easily tune out. But lately, the discipline had fractured.

Now, I would stand there in the rising steam, closing my eyes to find peace, only for the specificity to arrive without invitation. It wasn’t vague neither was it abstract. It was her, particularly and precisely. In vivid details that my waking mind had not consciously constructed, but that my sleeping mind had apparently been building for weeks, she would appear. I could almost feel the ghost of her touch on my skin, the imagined scent of her hair mixing with the humidity of the bathroom. I would snap my eyes open and stare hard at the white tile, breathing through the rush of heat in my gut, trying to think about literally anything else. Brand campaigns or something as irrelevant as supplement formulations.

I would cling to those mundane thoughts like a lifeline.

It worked for approximately five seconds.

Then, the image of me and her in those dreams would flood back in, leaving me breathless and aching in the silence of the room.

I had started taking colder showers, hoping the shock of the ice water would kill the fire in my blood.

But that didn’t work either. They were just colder, and as I stood there shivering, the mental image of her warmth only became more intoxicating.

I had spent the entire month fighting a war against my own mind, trying to freeze out a hunger that was only growing stronger.

On the fifth week I had drafted texts that I was never gonna send.

Hey. Delete.

I’ve been thinking— Delete.

Are you— Delete.

Never mind. Delete.

The delete button and I had become intimately acquainted over the past month. I would type something, stare at it for a moment, and promptly decide it revealed too much or the wrong thing or something I hadn’t yet decided whether I was ready to even admit myself, and then I’d delete it and put the phone down and last approximately less than a hour before the cycle restarted.

I made up my mind on the sixth week.

I was going to call her, because she obviously wouldn’t.

That was it.

I had arrived at it the way you arrive at something after fighting it for six weeks, not gracefully, not with any of the composure I would’ve preferred, but with the particular surrender of a man who had simply run out of other options.I was going to call her and sound normal and it was going to be fine because I was a normal person having a normal phone call.

I sat in my office chair for eleven minutes after making this decision without calling.

The sky outside my window had gone the heavy grey-green colour it went before rain.

The city below moved in its usual indifferent way. My phone sat on the desk in front of me.

My hands sat beside the phone.

I picked it up.

Put it down then picked it up again.

My thumb hovered over her contact.

You are a grown man.

Call her.

A voice in my head yelled.

I pressed dial before I could talk myself out of it a fourth time.

The line connected.

Rang. One.

I straightened slightly in the chair.

Two. Three.

My thumb pressed unnecessarily hard against the phone like applying more pressure would somehow make her answer faster.

Four. Five.

My knee started moving under the desk.

I stopped it.

It started again.

Six. Seven. Eight.

Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

Nine. Ten.

The line went to voicemail.

Her honeyed voice, asking me to leave a message.

I hung up with a frown.

I couldn’t have articulated a single thing I would’ve said if she had answered anyway.

I sat there with the dead call still glowing on my screen while the city outside turned darker beneath the storm clouds gathering over Seoul. The first sounds of rain finally started hitting against the windows behind me in soft scattered taps .And somehow that sound pissed me off more.

I slammed the phone against the desk harder than I intended before leaning back into my chair and dragging a hand over my face tiredly.

Goddamnit!

I was a grown functioning adult!

Not some teenager crashing out because the popular girl didn’t answer his call.

Yet somehow that wasn’t far from the truth.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ────

He left the office around 8:30 PM.

The building lobby was quiet at that hour, the security officer nodded at him as he passed while the automatic doors slid open, letting in the delightful smell of rain. He headed toward the underground parking and swung a leg over his motorcycle, the metal still faintly warm beneath his hands from sitting indoors all day. The engine rumbled alive underneath him a second later as he pulled out onto the main road.

His office sat obnoxiously far from his house because the land he had originally wanted, the perfect location barely fifteen minutes from his place had already been bought out by some old investor before he could secure it. He remembered being irrationally pissed about it for weeks when eventually he had no choice but to settle for the current building instead, it wasn’t that bad except by the time work ended, he was usually exhausted out of his fucking mind.

That’s the only downside.

The city blurred around him as he rode through it, headlights smearing against wet asphalt, neon signs reflecting across puddles, traffic slowed near the overpass and he eased the bike to a stop alongside the line of cars, gloved fingers tapping once against the handle absentmindedly.

Cold wind pushed against his helmet while rows of red brake lights stretched endlessly ahead of him, reflecting across the wet asphalt in long distorted streaks. With the current situation he already knew his apartment was still another thirty six minutes away at best. His shoulders ached, while his mind crowded with restless thoughts, and in that moment, all he wanted was the serenity of his home, to collapse onto his bed, watch anime or some Netflix show and sit alone in silence for the rest of the night drinking whiskey to let loose, even though that silence had started feeling a little too lonely, lately. Traffic had slowed to an unbearable crawl near the overpass by the time his phone buzzed inside his jacket pocket. And his chest reacted before his brain did. That same sharp pathetic leap happened instantly, violent enough that he was genuinely beginning to get irritated at himself for it. He pulled the phone out quickly, already looking at the screen before the name fully registered.

Only to sigh once he heard the voice.

What was he expecting in the first place?

It was his younger brother, Jinu.

“What.” Jungkook answered listlessly.

“YO BROO!!” his brother’s voice blasted through enthusiastically, loud enough that Jungkook had to pull the phone slightly away to protect his eardrum. “Mom and Dad aren’t coming home tonight, come over right now, let’s order some food and play Xbox later.” Jungkook snorted quietly, eyes still fixed on the endless line of cars ahead. “You call me like I’m one of your little friends .”

“You are too old for that, unc.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes then playfully stating. “Alright then, I’m hanging up.”

“Okay wait, wait—” He could practically hear Jinu panicking through the phone. “Where are you right now?”He glanced briefly at the overhead signs before answering flatly, “Already passed Goyang like twenty minutes ago.”

“The traffic’s fucking endless,” he grunted, pissed beyond.

“See this is what happens when you decide to build offices on the other side of the country.”

“The land near my house was already bought,” he muttered tiredly. “I didn’t exactly have options.”

“I called since you’re usually done with work around this time.” Jinu explained.

Jungkook sighed quietly, slowing the motorcycle slightly as the line of cars ahead stopped once again. “Why? What happened to your friends? Tell them to sleep over.”

“Nah, Yoojun’s out with his girlfriend,” Jinu said dismissively. “And Kinseom’s busy crying over his midterms or something.” Jungkook hummed absentmindedly at that. “Knowing you, you’re not cooking anything, order some good stuff, not that cheap ramen you always eat and then cry about your diarrhoea, I’m sending you money.”

“See? This is why you’re my favorite sibling.”

“You only have one.”

“Shut up.” A faint laugh almost left Jungkook before Jinu spoke again.

“Also…can you send a bit more than $200? I only have $160 right now, and I need to order for three people.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed slightly beneath the helmet. “You got company at home?”

“Mm.”

“Who?” Jungkook queried.

There was rustling on Jinu’s side, voices moving faintly somewhere behind him before he spoke again, completely unaware of the effect his next words were about to have on his poor brother.

“____ and Samuel are here.”

Jungkook’s grip tightened unconsciously around the handle.

Jinu kept talking absentmindedly. “Minha aunty sent over kimchi and those pickled radishes you like, so they came by to drop it off and I may or may not have hold them hostage.”

Jungkook’s expression stayed completely blank.

“Oh,” he answered in an even tone, a little too even.

“Yeah,” Jinu continued. “Me and Samuel are watching football, and I didn’t want ____ to feel left out, so I figured I’d call you to keep her company.”

“How long are they staying?”

The question left his mouth before he could stop it.

Jinu paused briefly this time, as if he noticed the shift in his brother’s voice. “I dunno…” he wondered slowly. “They literally just got here.”

Jungkook’s pulse stumbled for a second. “Hello? The signal’s bad, can you hear me? Hyung?” Jinu yelled before the line went off.

Before his brain fully caught up, the traffic ahead loosened slightly and he abruptly twisted the handle hard enough for the motorcycle to surge forward between lanes, then cut across and made a sharp U-turn.

A car honked instantly.

Some irritated old man shouted a curse at him from somewhere behind.

He barely heard it.

It happened on a random Saturday.

Every year, your mother made a huge batch of kimchi, spending nearly a full week preparing enough to last the year. As always, she carefully set aside portions for your aunts, your grandmother, and her closest friends. This year was no different.

She had practically begged you to accompany Samuel because his only condition to your mother was that he wasn’t going alone. So eventually you were bound to tag along, because apparently, that little shit had told her he felt “awkward” showing up by himself and would only go if you came too as if he hasn’t known them since he was diaper years old.

The Jeon residence looked even more beautiful at night, especially beneath the rain. It didn’t feel like one of those aggressively modern mansions built only to show off wealth. Instead, stepping through the gates felt strangely nostalgic, like walking straight into a warm 90s Japanese home from an old film.

The interior was breathtaking.

Rich oak floors creaked softly beneath your shoes while warm ambient lighting cast honey-colored shadows across the walls. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, large indoor plants occupied nearly every corner, and low furniture sat scattered around the living room beside stacked books, ceramic vases, framed paintings, and old vinyl records displayed elegantly.

Even the rain tapping softly against the windows somehow made it feel warmer.

Objectively, you loved it.

It reminded you of being little again, standing awkwardly beside your mother while Minha Aunty hosted dinners here years ago, back when the adults laughed loudly over tea and dinner spread while you and the boys ran around the house without care. That specific memory hit you unexpectedly as you stood there now years later, dripping rainwater onto the entrance floor while the familiar warmth of the house wrapped around you all over again. And for a fleeting second, you caught yourself thinking that one day, when you finally built a life of your own, you wanted a home that looked exactly like this, but the thing about homes were that they went beyond the exterior and decor.

By the time you and Samuel entered at the Jeon residence it had only been a little past 9:40, only to find out Hanmi Aunty had gone over to her nephew’s house and wouldn’t be back till late. Jinu, despite being two years older than you, had always been one of your easier friends to be around, you wouldn't exactly say you and Jinu were close in a way 'we're each others ride or die' type of way but more in a 'I'm always cheering for you, from far away.’ type of way. He is intellectual, quick-witted, surprisingly mature when it came to business despite his unserious personality. You honestly would’ve dropped the kimchi off and left Samuel with him before heading home yourself, but Jinu kept dragging you back into conversations about startups, investments, branding strategies, wanting advice because he apparently had been wanting to start his own business too.

When he casually mentioned Jungkook a few times throughout the evening, it took genuine effort to keep your face neutral.

You, Jinu, and Samuel were currently sprawled across the couch in the living room.

The rain had finally eased to a drizzle, pattering softly against the windowpane.

You were still reeling from that night at the gathering party.

The memory of his eyes, heavy lidded and intense, his strong gaze… the way he had held you, kissed you, the way he looked like a sad little kicked puppy once you retreated.

You couldn’t deny the strange sense of rush you felt after that night.. But you also could not act like he hadn’t consumed your mind ever since.

It was even worse than the dreams.

Then it was only imaginary. Now, the reality of what you had initiated gripped you.

Now you knew.

Now you knew the way his breathing had changed against your mouth, the way his body reacted to your touch, the way he looked at you when he stopped thinking and simply felt.

It had wrapped around your mind ever since.

And maybe that was why you took a step back afterwards. Because you had already done the hardest part. You had shown him through a charged glance, a deliberate proximity that he wasn’t just some “older brother” figure in your life. You had broken the socially expected dynamic. You had freed him from that cage, or so you told yourself. That balcony had changed something permanently between you both, and Jungkook had no other option but to admit it. Now, you just wanted to sit back and let him take the remaining few steps. You wanted to take a little time and see if he would risk it, if he would call or make the efforts. Because you knew if you were the one constantly making all the calls, there would be an imbalance, with one falling harder, hurting harder, wanting more while one remained safely undecided.

So you built the wall back up. You took advantage of your busy schedule, your midterms just so you can easily ignore his texts and stare unnecessarily long at his missed call today before locking your phone again.

Truthfully, your heart had leaped the second you recognized his number.

But you ignored it anyway.

A cruel little part of you enjoyed it.

Enjoyed pushing his buttons.

You wanted to push him to his limits.

The apartment was filled with nothing except the noise of the television, Samuel and Jinu yelling every few seconds, and the occasional aroma of kimchi and ramen seasoning lingering from the kitchen while you all still argued over what to order for dinner.

Out of boredom, you picked up your phone and lazily scrolled through your socials instead. Then suddenly in the thick silence—

The doorbell rang.

All three of you looked toward the entrance in unison.

Jinu squinted at the door. Two rings, close together, impatient. He unfolded himself from the floor with a groan and padded toward the entrance, his socked feet quiet on the floor, his broad shoulders blocking the doorway entirely as he pulled it open.

You weren’t looking at first.

“Now, now, now, look who’s where?” Jinu chanted.

Putting your phone aside, you looked in front of you to see Samuel grinning ear to ear, because from where he was sitting he could see who it was. Now you were interested to see who the person was. Then something shifted in Jinu’s posture, a small surprised sound left him, a laugh caught in his throat. And your eyes moved before you told them to. Jinu’s back was still blocking most of the doorway. And then he stepped aside. You felt the surprise move across your face before you could catch it. Jungkook stood at the threshold, rain damp and breathing slightly harder than usual, like he had ran a marathon before getting here, his hair was wet, dark strands pushed back from his forehead, the white t-shirt clung to him, rain-soaked at the shoulders, the fabric pulling taut across his chest and abdomen. A black motorcycle helmet was cradled between his arm and his body, tucked against his bicep. His eyes moved across the room. Swept once, nodding ar Sameul happily. And then when they found you, he held your gaze for one long, unhurried moment. Then he stepped inside and set the helmet down by the door.

He reached up and pushed his damp hair back from his forehead with one hand, the movement made the sleeves of his shirt ride up, revealing the lower edges of the intricate tattoos that you knew snaked up his arms before disappearing under the fabric. You tilted your head as you looked at him. While Jinu leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, “I’m wondering why you’re here all of a sudden when you already reached your home.” His eyes were bright with it. “What happened to ‘I’m already near home, call your little friends.’ huh?”

He did a deeply unflattering impression of Jungkook’s lower register that made Samuel snort from the living room floor.

Was Jungkook’s only reply. “Get me a towel.” as he was taking off his shoes.

Jinu finally pushed off the doorframe with a playful scoff and turned back toward the living room with his hands in his hoodie pocket. “How’s it going, hyung?”

Samuel paused the TV and asked. “Good, good.” Jungkook smiled as he moved toward the living room. He rounded the couch, looking for somewhere to sit. His eyes passed over the available space and landed, briefly and inevitably, on the floor beside you before moving away again. Instead, he dropped onto the couch opposite you and leaned back.

Running a hand through his still-damp hair, he barely had time to settle before he jerked in surprise as Jinu threw a towel at him out of nowhere. Jungkook tsked in annoyance while Jinu laughed.

“Dry yourself before you catch a cold.” Jungkook muttered something under his breath and began drying his arms, neck, face, and hair. “The rain got worse, and I realized my house was farther away. The safest option was to just make a U-turn and come here,” he explained simply. Jinu stared at him for a long moment. “Uh-huh.”

“It did get worse. I’m just wondering how we’re gonna leave, noona,” Samuel said worriedly, gesturing toward the rain-streaked window.

You shrugged. “I don’t think it’s stopping anytime soon.”

“Man, I’m gonna get bored out of my mind,” Samuel complained. Jinu stood infront of Sameul with a knowing expression.

“Not a chance. We can play on my PlayStation. It’s been forever since I’ve played.” Jinu boasted.

Samuel immediately sat up like he won the lottery. “Jinu hyung, that’s a great idea.”

The two boys high-fived each other, watching them, it was hard to believe Jinu was almost five years older than her little brother.

“Okay, wait. Let me go set it up then. My bedroom’s right next to the corridor.”

As Jinu got to his feet, Samuel’s attention shifted to the man sitting motionless.

“Jungkook hyung, join us too.”

While he only shook his head, a small apologetic smile appearing on his face. “Next time. I’m too tired today. You two go play.” The younger brothers of the duo disappeared up the corner into the bedroom. For approximately 40 seconds the silence was complete. Then from behind the door, there was an immediate sound of a game starting up.

The living room stayed quiet.

The rain against the windows filled the space between, you kept your eyes on the dark screen of the television that no one had bothered to turn off properly, a screensaver moving slowly across it, and you were aware, acutely, precisely aware of him on the couch to your opposite.

You could feel him looking.

You didn’t turn to confirm it.

You didn’t need to. It was the same way you had always been able to feel it, that specific quality of his attention, the weight of it, except now it had a different texture than it used to.

A few seconds passed.

Then you turned your head and looked directly back at him. He didn’t look away.

This was new. The old Jungkook, the oh so composed, careful, and categorising one would have shifted his gaze by now, redirected smoothly, given them both the exit of plausible deniability. This one just looked back at you with his dark eyes and his still damp hair and that unreadable expression he’d been wearing since he walked through the door, unhurried and completely unashamed about it.

You didn’t shy away either, reeling in the elongated eye contact. Something catastrophic had apparently occurred in the game as Samuel’s voice rose above it in protest. You broke the eye contact first, not from nerves, but deliberately, on your own terms and leaned forward toward the low table. Jinu had left snacks out, a small bowl of strawberries and a generous jar of Nutella sitting beside you like an offering. Your hands moved towards the bowl to pick out the largest strawberry you could find and dipping it leisurely into the Nutella. His eyes had followed your hands without him meaning to, you could see it, the way his gaze had tracked movement and was now zeroed in on your mouth as you brought the strawberry to your lips. You took a slow and easy bite.

Keeping his gaze the entire time like you weren’t clocking every micro-expression moving across his face. You lowered the strawberry from your mouth and then, with a careful, unhurried motion, brought it back up and licked the Nutella clean from the side of it, your eyes sliding back to his as you did it. Ignoring the knot in your stomach you stood up slowly and sauntered towards him. Jungkook’s hands settled tightly on his knees. You stopped in front of his spread legs, too close for the living room of his parents’ house, with his brother twelve feet away behind a door that was very much unlocked. As you leaned down slightly, his eyes dropped without permission, sliding past your neckline to the soft swell of your cleavage. And for some reason, a shiver ran through you.

His gaze lingered for half a second more before dragging itself upward again, back to your face, your eyes and your mouth.

“It’s so good,” you hummed delightfully, holding up the strawberry between your fingers. “Would you like some?” The question was innocent but the smile that accompanied it wasn’t.

There was a small smear of Nutella at the corner of your mouth.You weren’t doing anything. You were just standing there looking down at him with that mischievous expression of yours.

His throat bobbed while he licked his lips.

You held the bitten end of the strawberry out toward him, your slender fingers streaked with Nutella. It dangled above him like a forbidden fruit, your wrist level with his mouth, and for one second he just looked at it.He brought his hand up and losed it over yours. He felt it immediately, the faint tremor running through your fingers beneath his palm, his thumb rested over your knuckles. He took the strawberry into his mouth gradually.

And then, without fully deciding to, let his tongue drag across your index finger where the Nutella had gathered, he watched your face while he did it. You held your breath. The sweet taste lingered on his tongue. He kept his hand over yours for longer than necessary, and in that suspended second, something in him strained against doing something unfathomable right then and there. From your expression, he could tell you weren’t thinking any differently. “I-” he got cut off as the door to Jinu’s bedroom swung open.

“Guys, we’re ordering pizza.” Jinu stood in the doorway, phone in hand, blissfully unaware.

Both pairs of eyes darted toward the doorway while you snatched your hand back, while Jungkook sat up straighter against the couch cushions. Jinu looked between the two of you once with eyes that were perhaps not quite as oblivious as they appeared, then glanced back down at his phone. “Samuel suggested the one with extra, olives, and tandoori chicken from PizzaHi is their bestselling. Anyone have objections?”

“No.” both of you said at the same time.

“Cool, we’re joining you in a minute.” Jinu turned and disappeared back into the hallway, already talking to Samuel, the door swinging halfway shut behind him. The living room exhaled. You moved to the other side of the table without comment, casually eating another strawberry, biting your lips to hold back a smile and putting a socially reasonable amount of distance from him. While Jungkook’s attention snagged on you at the same time…..his pulse did whatever it wanted without his permission.

At the table, it was only Jinu and Samuel talking now, fully absorbed in their games, the two of them going back and forth about PlayStation games, some heated debate about GTA versus God of War that had been ongoing since approximately 2019, Jinu slammed his hand on the table at some point passionately declaring his high scores and kills, something you didn’t fully follow. It felt like there was something looped around your throat all through dinner, some invisible, tightening thing, and underneath all of it was a want so embarrassingly simple it made your jaw clench. It was easier to avoid him then pretend like there’s nothing going between you two.

That is a dangerous thing, the two of you sitting in all that noise and somehow being the stillest points in the room. Your confidence felt slightly misplaced after that, like it had slipped out of your hands without asking.Because you couldn’t stop thinking about earlier.The way his tongue had brushed your finger. You’d built yourself a little rule over the course of the meal: look at Jinu, look at your plate, laugh when Samuel said something, sip your drink slowly. Do not look left. Do not look across. Do not. Let him make the next move. Jungkook murmured something about changing his clothes and left the table before the rest of you, he disappeared down the hallway toward his old bedroom, the one that still had his things in it. You took another bite of your delicious pizza, your eyes fixed on the corridor he disappeared into. You stood up too, offering to help clean, to wash the dishes, anything to move your hands, but Jinu refused “Don’t even think about it,” he declared as if offended, already stacking plates. “You’re my guest.” By the time the table cleared, the rain had stopped. Everything outside looked washed clean and still. “Samie.” You tapped your brother’s chin. “It’s past eleven.”

“Noona.” Samuel caught your hand before you could pull it back, and when you looked at him he had the eyes out. The full ones. The ones he’d been deploying on you since he was seven years old and they still worked, infuriatingly, every single time. “I’m gonna stay over actually. We’ll play games, I’ll go home tomorrow morning.” You shook your head. “AND,” he said, louder, cutting off whatever you were about to say, straightening up like he’d just played his final card, “I already told mom. So

you don’t even have to worry about it.”

“You already—” You stared at him. “When did you—”

And then Jinu’s hand landed on top of you

“Let the poor guy stay, it’s gonna be a fun match.” he said, and his voice had gone a little softer, a little less loud than his usual. “Besides, I know for a fact Jungkook hyung’s gonna disappear sooner or later. Mom and Dad are on vacation, so I’ve got the whole house to myself.” You looked at Jinu then at Samuel, who was still holding your hand and looking at you with a hopeful expression. The argument dissolved somewhere in your chest before it could make it to your mouth, it was unlike him to want to stay over, and you didn’t wanna kill his fun.

“Fine, I’ll uber alone.” you said.

Samuel made a noise like he’d won a championship.

You reached for your purse, the skirt of your black polka-dot midi dress brushing lightly against your legs. Your hair hung loose down your back, the styled front pieces framing your face, with Jinu and Samuel trailing after you toward the entrance.

Jinu held the door open while you crouched down to slip your ballet flats on.

You flashed him a small smile in thanks. As you opened the Uber app, your expression immediately soured. It said ‘No cars available.’

You refreshed once, but it didn’t change anything. It was understandable, considering the weather. The rain had stopped, but the storm had kept most drivers off the road. You leaned back against the doorframe with an annoyed sigh. “What?” Samuel asked, reading your face instantly. “There aren’t any Ubers available.”“Seriously?” Jinu shook his head. “That sucks.”“It’s fine,” you said, already pulling up Maps.

“There’s a bus stop nearby, I’ll just take that.” You hummed. “Are you sure, noona?” Samuel’s voice shifted into that tone, the worried one tgat he pretended he didn’t have. “Yes, of course. I can manage by my—” A deeper voice cut through.

“I’m about to leave too.” You looked up. Jungkook was standing in the doorway now, changed, black tee, fitted, grey trousers, hair dried and falling naturally. His eyes found yours and stayed there. “Can I drop you off?” Jungkook was standing in the doorway now, changed, black tee, fitted, grey trousers, hair dried.

You felt your hands move on their own, sliding behind your back, fingers clasping together. “If it doesn’t bother you too much,” you said, “then yes.” Something softened at the corner of his mouth. “Never a bother.” he said simply. You turned to wave at Jinu and ruffled Samuel’s hair messily and stepped out onto the porch. The wood was damp under your flats.

Jungkook followed, falling into step just behind you, and the door clicked shut at your backs.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ────

His motorcycle sat at the curb, black and low beneath the glow of the streetlights, the chrome catching flashes of yellow every time a car passed. Without a word, Jungkook silently held the helmet out to you, the visor clicked shut. Jungkook swung a leg over first, settling into place while you stood beside it a second longer, suddenly aware that getting on meant surrendering every last bit of distance the two of you still had between you. You climbed on behind him.

The seat was smaller than you’d expected. Your knees brushed his sides. Your chest nearly against his back. Nowhere for your hands to go except around his waist, so that’s where they went, and the moment your arms wrapped around him you felt his whole body tensing.

His black tee was warm beneath your palms, stretched across the width of his shoulders, and then the engine turned over and the motorcycle hummed alive beneath you both and Jungkook pulled away from the curb and there was nothing to do but hold on.

The city was unusually quiet tonight. Most of the roads were nearly empty, slick from the earlier rain, streetlights reflecting across the asphalt in long ribbons of gold. At first you sat stiffly behind him, then gradually, minute by minute, the tension left your shoulders. The cool wind brushed against your cheeks.

And somewhere between one traffic light and the next, you began to stop cataloguing every point of contact between your body and his. The motorcycle slowed to a stop at a red light. Jungkook’s hands dropped from the throttle briefly, flexing once before settling back onto the handlebars. His forearm brushed against yours, yet neither of you moved away. The light stayed red, the city humming quietly around you.

And without over thinking about it, you rested your chin against his shoulder. For a second you wondered if he would tense. If he would say something. If he would shift away. But he didn’t. When the lights turned green. The engine surged forward. And you stayed exactly where you were, eyes closed, the wind cool against your face, the city coming apart into streaks of light and shadow around you. The familiar streets of your neighborhood appeared slowly, then all at once. The motorcycle slowed, turned, stopped in front of your complex.

The engine went quiet, the sudden stillness felt enormous. His shoulders rose and fell with one slow breath. Your hands were still loosely around his waist, and you were still aware of every point where your body met his.

⤷ THIRD PERSON POV ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

She stepped off the bike with a stiffness that felt unnatural, her body betraying her with every shift of weight. She paused, biting down hard on her lower lip, a frantic, unspoken question forming in the silence of her mind.

Say something.

Stop me.

She looked at him, waiting.

But he barely looked at her.

“I’m gonna go then, thanks for the ride.” She muttered. Jungkook’s gaze was fixed forward, his hands gripped the handlebars tightly, the knuckles bleached white, tendons straining against the skin. She could see the veins protruding in his neck, thick and pulsing, and his jaw was clenched so tight a muscle jumped rhythmically beneath the skin. He looked like a man holding back a tsunami, or perhaps a man who had simply decided the dam wasn’t worth breaking. The silence hit her harder than she expected. Because he looked so tense, like there were a hundred things trapped behind his teeth.

And yet he forced himself to stay quiet, and only nodded once.

Fine. If he wants to be adamant then let him be. Her frustration flared up, shielding the bruise forming on her heart. If he didn’t think she was worthy enough to risk it all, if he couldn’t summon the courage to take what was already there, then he wasn’t the guy for her anyway.

Why was she doing this again? Putting all her validation onto him? Dumping it all on him?

From that day in the balcony till today, she had been the one making the first move. As a woman, she had initiated way too much for a man who couldn’t even bid her goodbye properly. She wouldn’t do it again.

Not ever. That was the determination that gripped her until the door to her house closed.

The lock clicked with finality. She put her forehead on the door.

Leaned against it.

And breathed heavily.

Her knees were wobbly, as if the entire weight of what had happened today was rushing in on her at full force. She was exhausted, from wanting him, from wondering, from waiting for someone else to decide whether she was worth the risk.

The adrenaline crash left her hollow, shaking.

She could feel the wetness pooling between her legs, a heavy, throbbing evidence of her body’s traitorous response. Instinctively her legs clenched together.

Fuck. Just because of a damn bike ride? What was wrong with her? Was she that sexually deprived? Her vibrator worked more than enough. It worked enough to keep her pleased and content for weeks, it was efficient and detached. It didn’t ask questions. It didn’t make her feel vulnerable. It didn’t leave her wondering if she was too much or not enough. But this…This raw, chaotic need for him, for his acknowledgment, was a hunger no machine could satisfy especially after knowing the way his lips felt on her. Her throat felt dry, parched from holding her breath. She pushed off the door, her legs trembling as she started to walk towards her refrigerator.

She’d barely made it to the kitchen and as she grabbed the bottle, twisted the cap—

The doorbell rang. She set the bottle down slowly, brows pulling together.

It had to be Miss Pinky. No one else made sense at this hour. Her neighbor had a sixth sense for her arrivals, always seemed to catch her coming through the front door, she had a habit of surprising her with something wrapped in foil or stacked on a plate, a dessert she’d made too much of, or sometimes a request for one of hers. Miss Pinky was an angelic woman but with a terrible sense of timing.

She smoothed her expression into something presentable as she crossed to the door.

Wearing a smile she swung it open.

The smile dropped instantly because instead of a small, pale, grey haired woman there stood a man with fiery eyes.

Jeon Jungkook was right infront of her door. His chest heaving rapidly, his face damp with sweat, his eyes burning with something she had never quite seen in them before.

“What are you—” “I thought you—” she couldn’t even finish the sentence because he stepped forward. “Sorry,” he said, and his voice was low and unsteady in a way that made her go completely still. “But today — you’ll listen to me, ____.”

She stood frozen in the doorway, caught completely off guard by the sight in front of her.

“I can’t keep doing this.” He said it like it had been sitting at the back of his throat for weeks, like it came out because he simply couldn’t hold it anymore. His eyes were almost feverish

“I’ve spent the past month trying not to think too much about our kiss, thinking it was only a tipsy mistake.” He snickered.

“It didn’t work instead it was all I could think about.” His hand came up and pushed through his hair, gripping it briefly at the root before dropping back to his side. He looked like standing still was taking considerable effort.

“And I’ve realised—” he stopped. Pressed his lips together then he begin again. “I don’t know how to stop.” She said nothing. She was afraid if she made a single sound he’d remember where he was and pull it all back. His eyes didn’t waver from hers. Not once. “I can’t be near you without losing my head a little.” A short exhale left him, almost humorless, like he found himself faintly ridiculous. “And I can’t be away from you without it being worse.”

Silence pressed in before he spoke again.

“I’d be lying if I said I still think of you the way I used to.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do with that. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with that for five weeks.” And here she drowned in doubts, thinking he was just continuing with his life, wondering that he probably despised her, or was absolutely terrified by their kiss, and she forcefully convinced her conscience that it was for ‘the better’ but hearing his side of the story, changed the whole story. “I’m not asking you for anything you don’t want, neither am I gonna push you to reciprocate to me or do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” His voice dipped, the feverish edge giving way to something quieter and almost fragile underneath. “But also I keep fearing if something happens between us the next time, I won’t be able to hold back, and might end up pushing you far away.”

She opened her mouth but nothing came out except for air. He kept going. Like he couldn’t stop now, like the dam had broken and there was no use in holding back. “I know you’re probably regretting it.” He took an unsteady breath. “I’m way older, I probably look insane right now, showing up here like this, I probably come across as some creepy guy who doesn’t know when to take a hint.” he explained, his eyes moved over her face briefly, almost pained. “And you’re so beautiful, ____.” The words escaped him before he could stop them. “You probably have a lot of options. Guys your age lining up to take you out on dates and—” He shook his head.

“You probably think I’m some cheap, lustful guy who got the wrong idea and is now becoming desperate. He laughed once, humorlessly, dragging a hand across his face.

“Can you please just tell me what to do?” His voice cracked slightly on the last word. “Because I can’t keep doing this.” His eyes don’t fully meet hers; they land near her shoulder, then slip away “Please.”

A faint tremor in his fingers when he tries to keep them still “Tell me to leave and I will.” His voice flattens slightly, as if he’s trying to detach from what he’s saying

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll disappear.” His gaze drops again, longer this time, avoiding her entirely “You won’t have to see my fa—.” Before he could finish that sentence, She grabbed him by the collar, both hands twisting into his shirt, pulling him down to her, pressing her mouth to his and cutting off every last word still trying to crawl out of him. Jungkook went completely still, definitely not because he didn’t want it, but because he couldn’t quite believe it.

His forehead creased.

He stayed still for another minute, his lips pliant against her moving ones. Then not being able to take it anymore, he kissed her back. His hand found her jaw carefully, like he still wasn’t entirely convinced she was real, and she felt him exhale against her mouth, a shaky, disbelieving sound that made something inside her chest ache. And then something in him just collapsed. His hands came up to wrap around her waist, urgent and unsteady, and he kissed her back with everything he’d spent five weeks swallowing down.

Every fucking bit of it. Every looked away glance, every room he’d quietly left, every time he held back, every night he’d stared at the ceiling trying to think about literally anything else. The tension that had been simmering between them for days finally snapped, exploding into a kiss that felt less like a greeting and more like a collision. It was desperate and hungry, their mouths colliding with a force that left them both breathless.

With a low, guttural groan, he guided her backward, his movements urgent yet focused, until her back hit the wall with a dull thud. The impact sent a nearby vase sliding off a side table, shattering on the floor in a spray of porcelain and water, but neither of them gave a fuck. The sound was nothing compared to the roar of blood in their ears.

It wasn't a gentle kiss at all, that kiss on the balcony was a child’s play. He devoured her, his lips bruising hers with a desperate, starving force. His tongue forced its way inside, sweeping through her mouth with a greedy hunger, tangling with hers in a wet, frantic dance. He tasted her. the sweet, heady flavor of her mouth and the sound he made was a deep, needy moan that vibrated against her lips. He sucked on her tongue, pulling it into his mouth as if he were trying to drink her dry, their saliva slicking their lips as they breathed each other's air in ragged, desperate gasps.

Jungkook paused for a second, breaking the kiss just enough to press his forehead against hers. His dark eyes were blown wide, searching hers with a look of absolute, shimmering hunger. He watched her pupils dilate and her lips part, wet, swollen, and glistening, his eyes moved over her face, studying her reaction as if he were memorizing every inch of her pleasure.

Then, his hands moved.

He slid them down her body, his palms searing through the thin fabric of her clothes, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He didn't stop until he reached her bare thighs, he captured the tender skin in a firm grip. He hooked his hands under her, lifting her legs and hauling her hips flush against him.

wiwi's note can wait! it was getting a little hot in there aye ;) i had to take a moment for myself cause i was suddenly missing my nonexistent boyfriend.

besties its finally here! THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE ITS FINALLY HERE and i was able to make it through, i know it’s a little imperfect and there will be a little typos but I’ll edit it later again. PLEASE none of you dare leave without a reblog, a comment and a reaction photo! so much more is on the way! i can't wait to post part five.

[solemnreads]

RAHHHH LETS GOOOO

[binniebb]

bad habit ⋆ jeon jungkook ───────

[ ▸ ] — you tell yourself jungkook is not yours because he has never promised to be, but every part of him feels close enough to make that truth unbearable. he gives you softness without certainty, desire without definition, and just enough tenderness to make walking away feel impossible

[ ✐ ] — 15k

[ ⌗ ] — non idol!jungkook x f!reader fwb slow burn angst hurt / comfort jealousy miscommunication big dick!jk graphic & detailed smut oral ( f & m receiving )

[ ✉︎ ] — first jungkook fic baby! y'all...this has been a wip for so long. first of all, love sza so much. that's my girl. go listen to 2 am by her if you never have bc this is where the inspo came from! and if you have, listen to it again to get in the feels. was debating whether to leave this with a sad ending but y'all know i can't f*cking do it. maybe in the future lol anyway big thank you to @solecize for the amazing banner and for high key inspiring me to write for jk. pls enjoy reading, hunnies <3

With Jungkook, things had a way of becoming complicated long after you’d already fallen into them.

That was the worst part, maybe, because if he had been colder in the beginning, if he had been arrogant or careless or obvious in that cheap, glossy way men sometimes were when they knew exactly how much damage they could get away with, you might have known what to do with him. You might have known where to put him in your life. You might have known to keep your heart tucked away somewhere private, somewhere he could not reach with his bright smile and gentle hands and that easy little laugh that made it sound like the world was never as heavy as you made it out to be.

But he was not like that. He was kind. He was warm.

And he remembered things.

He remembered that you hated lemon in your drinks but liked the flavor of it in your food, which made no sense to him, and he had teased you about it for ten full minutes the first time he watched you pick one out of a glass of water at dinner. He remembered that you got cold too easily in movie theaters and always, always brought a hoodie after the first time you had tried to pretend you were fine through an entire film while your knees knocked together beneath the seat. He remembered the name of the stray cat you fed that lived behind your apartment building, even though you had only mentioned it once while distracted, and sometimes when he walked you home he would look toward the alley and ask, “Has Chairman Meow eaten today?” with such sincere concern.

That was the problem.

He didn’t treat you like you were temporary.

He didn’t leave after, not right away, not with the easy cruelty of someone who wanted only your body and none of the person inside it. He stayed. He curled around you while the room cooled and the night softened at the edges, his mouth resting against your shoulder, his breath slow against your skin, his thumb moving in little absent circles at your hip.

He made breakfast sometimes, badly, but with confidence so undeserved it almost became charming on its own.

He texted during the day, not constantly, never enough to call it something, never enough to put a name around it without feeling foolish, but enough that your phone became a little trap. A random selfie. A song he thought you would like. A complaint about a coworker that you didn’t technically know, but felt like you did from the stories Jungkook would tell you about him. A picture of his lunch with the silly little captions.

Normal things. Friendly things.

But it was the nights that got you.

Two in the morning had become a dangerous hour because Jungkook never made it easy to say no. He never sent a you up? text or anything flat and ugly enough for you to roll your eyes at. He never gave you the mercy of being obvious. He sent things that sank under your skin.

come and see me, baby.

i miss you, beautiful.

can’t sleep. wish you were here.

Sometimes you stared at those messages until the screen dimmed in your hand. Sometimes you typed out no and deleted it. Sometimes you typed out you only miss me at night and deleted that too, because it was not true enough to be useful and too true to say without bleeding.

Most times, you went. And every time, on the ride over, you told yourself you understood the arrangement.

You had never asked him for anything. He had never promised you anything. Nobody had lied. Nobody had drawn lines and then crossed them. You were both consenting adults, both aware, both stepping into the same warm, dim room with open eyes.

Maybe it was your fault for falling for someone like him.

Maybe there were girls who liked men like Jungkook exactly as he was because they were free and tethered by and to no one, because there was something exciting about not knowing where you stood, because wanting less made them feel powerful. Maybe they knew how to take the pleasure and leave the rest. Maybe they could kiss him and still keep themselves separate, could sleep beside him and wake up whole, could let him call them baby at two in the morning without hearing it echo for days.

But not you.

You had thought you could be casual. You had thought you could do no strings. You had thought that wanting him would be manageable as long as you kept your expectations small and your voice steady and your foolish little heart on a leash.

Then he started kissing your forehead in the kitchen when you stood half-asleep in his shirt, waiting for the coffee machine to stop making sounds like it was fighting for its life.

Then he started touching you in a way that made the word casual feel impossible to believe, because nothing about the way he held you ever felt careless.

It was one of those nights again, the kind that started with a message you should have ignored and ended with you in his bed, surrounded by the warmth of his room, his sheets twisted beneath you, and his hands making it impossible to remember why you had ever tried to stay away.

Your back arched off the mattress, spine curving as another orgasm crashed through you like a fucking tidal wave. Three in the morning and Jungkook showed no signs of stopping. His face was slick with you, chin glistening, lips swollen and pink as he worked you through your fifth climax of the night. His fingers rolled your nipples, tugging and twisting just enough to make you gasp, your hands fisting the sheets above your head.

"Oh god—fuck, Jungkook, please—" You didn't even know what you were begging for anymore. For him to stop? To never stop? Your thighs shook around his head, muscles trembling from exertion, but he held you open with those strong hands, his tongue still working your oversensitive clit in slow, devastating circles.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your soaked pussy. "One more, baby. Give me one more." His voice was wrecked, rough and desperate in a way that made your stomach flip. He dove back in before you could respond, sucking your clit between his lips while two fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made you see stars.

You screamed his name. Actually screamed it, loud enough that his neighbors probably hated you both, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Not when he was looking up at you like that, dark eyes watching your face as he fucked you with his mouth, groaning against your flesh like eating you out was the best thing he'd ever tasted. Like he needed it more than air.

Your fifth orgasm hit you so hard you forgot your own name for a second. White-hot pleasure seared through your veins, every nerve ending alight as you convulsed around his fingers, your release gushing into his waiting mouth. He moaned like he was the one coming, lapping up everything you gave him, tongue gentle now as he coaxed you through the aftershocks.

"Jungkook, please—" You tugged at his hair, trying to pull him up because you were so sensitive it almost hurt, your pussy clenching around nothing as he withdrew his fingers.

He kissed his way up your body, lips trailing over your hip bone, your stomach, the valley between your breasts. By the time he reached your mouth, you could taste yourself on his tongue, salty and sweet and undeniably arousing. He kissed you deeply, slowly, one large hand cradling your face while the other braced his weight above you.

"You're so fucking pretty when you come," he murmured against your lips. "Could watch you fall apart all night."

"You have been," you managed, your voice wrecked. "For thirty minutes."

He smiled against your mouth, that boyish grin that made your chest tight in ways you refused to examine too closely. "And I'd stay down there for another hour if you let me." His hips settled between your thighs, and you felt him—hard, thick, pressing against your hip. He'd been grinding against the mattress this whole time, getting himself off on getting you off, and something about that made your pussy clench all over again.

"Let me—" You reached down, wrapping your fingers around his cock through his boxers. He was big, thick and long in a way that had made you nervous the first time you'd seen it. Now you knew exactly how good that size could feel, how perfectly he filled you. "Let me suck you. You deserve it."

Jungkook groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. His hips jerked into your touch. "Fuck, baby, you can't just say shit like that."

"I want to." You tugged at his waistband, freeing his cock and stroking him properly now, feeling him pulse in your grip. The head was already leaking, slick with precum that you spread down his shaft. "Let me make you feel good."

"No." The word came out strangled, desperate. He grabbed your wrist, stilling your hand. When you looked up at him, his jaw was clenched, his nostrils flared. "I need—I need to be inside you. Need to fuck you. Please."

The urgency in his voice made your whole body flush. He was shaking, actually shaking with the effort of holding back. You realized then that he'd been denying himself this whole time, focusing entirely on your pleasure while his own need built to a breaking point. That thought sent a fresh wave of want through you, your exhausted body suddenly desperate for him again.

"Then fuck me." You spread your legs wider, hooking one calf around his hip. "I want you inside me."

Jungkook let out a sound that was half-growl, half-moan. He reached toward his nightstand, fumbling in the drawer for a condom. His hands were unsteady as he tore the packet open, and you watched him roll it down his length with quick, practiced movements. Then he was positioning himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock nudging against your opening.

"Look at me," he said, voice low. You met his gaze, and something in his expression made your breath catch. He looked wrecked, desperate, but underneath that was something softer. "You feel so good, baby. So tight. Every time—I swear every time feels like the first time."

He pushed in slowly, inch by agonizing inch. You both moaned at the intrusion, your pussy stretching around him in that familiar burn that bordered on too much and not enough. He was thick, thicker than anyone you'd been with, and he took his time sheathing himself fully even though you could feel how much he wanted to move. His arms shook where they braced above you, his jaw tight with restraint.

"Fuck," you gasped once he was fully seated, your walls fluttering around him. "You're so big. So fucking big, Jungkook, I can feel you everywhere."

He dropped his head, pressing his forehead to yours. "You're so tight. Squeezing me so fucking hard." He rolled his hips experimentally, and you both groaned at the sensation. "I'm not gonna last, baby. Need you too much."

"Then don't." You cupped his face, pulling him into a messy kiss. "Just fuck me. Make yourself feel good."

He pulled back until only the head remained inside you, then snapped his hips forward hard enough to make you cry out. "Oh, I intend to." He set a brutal pace, each thrust driving you further up the mattress. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, obscene and wet, mixing with your combined moans and the creak of his bed frame.

"This tight little pussy was made for me," he growled against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point. "Made to take my cock. Fuck, you feel so good—so fucking good—"

You couldn't form words. Could only hold on, nails raking down his back as he fucked you with a desperation you'd never felt from him before. This wasn't the slow, sensual Jungkook you'd grown addicted to. This was something rawer, more urgent. Like he couldn't get deep enough, couldn't get close enough, no matter how hard he tried.

"More," you heard yourself beg, the word slipping out before you could stop it. "Please, Jungkook, more—"

He shifted, hooking your knees over his elbows and folding you nearly in half. The new angle let him sink impossibly deeper, hitting that spot inside you that made fireworks explode behind your eyes. You screamed, back bowing off the bed as he pounded into you.

"Right there?" His voice was rough, breathless. "That's the spot, isn't it? Right fucking there."

"Yes, yes, fuck, yes—"

He bent down to kiss you, swallowing your moans as his hips snapped forward relentlessly. You could feel another orgasm building, which should have been impossible after five already, but the way he filled you, the way his pelvic bone ground against your clit with every thrust—it was inevitable.

"I'm close," you gasped against his mouth. "Jungkook, I'm gonna—"

"Come for me." His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. "Come on my cock. Want to feel this tight pussy squeeze me."

That was all it took. Your orgasm crashed through you harder than any of the ones before, your vision going white as your walls clamped down around him. You heard yourself sobbing his name, fingernails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.

"Fuck, fuck—" Jungkook's rhythm faltered, his thrusts growing erratic. "You're squeezing me so fucking tight—I'm gonna come, baby, I'm gonna—"

He buried himself deep one final time, a groan tearing from his throat as he spilled into the condom. You could feel him pulsing inside you, his cock throbbing with each wave of his release. He collapsed onto his elbows, careful not to crush you, his face buried in your neck as he gasped for breath.

For long moments, neither of you moved. The only sounds were your combined breathing and the faint hum of the city outside his window. His heart hammered against your chest, or maybe that was yours—you couldn't tell anymore. Everything felt blurred together, your bodies tangled in a way that made it hard to tell where you ended and he began.

"That was—" you started, but your voice gave out.

Jungkook laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. "Yeah." He pressed a kiss to your jaw, then another to the corner of your mouth. "That was fucking incredible."

He pulled out slowly, both of you wincing at the oversensitivity, and disposed of the condom before settling back beside you. He pulled you into his side, strong arm wrapping around your shoulders as your head found its familiar spot on his chest.

You traced patterns on his skin, fingers drifting over the tattoos that decorated his arm. This was the part that confused you most. The casual intimacy that felt anything but casual. The way he held you like you were something precious, pressing lazy kisses to your hair, your temple, any part of you he could reach.

"You okay?" he murmured, voice heavy with approaching sleep. "I wasn't too rough?"

You shook your head against his chest. "You were perfect." The words came out softer than you intended, weighted with more meaning than they should have carried.

He hummed, his hand stroking up and down your back in a way that made your eyes heavy. "Stay. I'll make breakfast in the morning."

This was the problem. This right here. He could have asked you to leave. Could have made some excuse about an early morning or needing space. That's what situationships were supposed to be—casual, no strings, easy to walk away from. But Jungkook never made it easy.

He made you breakfast. He held you while you slept. He kissed you goodbye like it physically hurt him to let you go. And every time, you fell a little deeper into something you knew was going to end with you shattered.

"Okay," you whispered, because you were too weak to say no to him. "I'll stay."

His arm tightened around you, and you felt him press another kiss to the top of your head. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, his body going lax with sleep. But you lay awake, staring at the ceiling through the darkness, wondering how you'd let yourself get here.

By the time you padded out of his bedroom the next morning, Jungkook was already in the kitchen with nothing on but gray sweatpants, his back to you as steam climbed around his shoulders. The rice cooker sat open on the counter. A small pot simmered on the stove. His hair was damp at the ends, skin still warm from the shower, muscles shifting as he reached up for bowls like he had no idea what kind of damage he was doing before nine in the morning.

You stopped in the doorway, swallowed by his black hoodie, sleeves hanging past your fingertips.

“Are you trying to kill me?” you asked.

He glanced back. “With breakfast?”

“With all of that.”

His eyes dropped to the hoodie, then dragged back up to your face, slow enough to make your pulse trip. “You look so good in my clothes.”

You look away, smiling despite yourself.

His smile tugged at one corner before he turned back to the stove, ladling soup into two bowls. Rice followed. Gim. Kimchi. Rolled egg cut clean and pretty because, of course, he had to be good at everything.

You sat while he brought the food over, watching him place your bowl down first.

“You look too pleased with yourself,” you said.

“I made breakfast.” Jungkook leaned over your shoulder to set down the chopsticks, voice dipping close to your ear. “Eat before I make you say thank you.”

Your stomach flipped.

You reached for the spoon, pretending the heat in your face came from the soup. “This is unfair.”

“This is love.”

The word landed too heavily.

You saw the moment he realized what he had said because his fingers stilled around the plate, and for half a second something flickered through his eyes, quick and startled and impossible to hold. Then he smiled, smaller than before. “Chef’s kiss,” he said, quieter.

You could have teased him. You could have rescued the moment. You could have said something careless enough to make the air breathable again.

Instead, because you were sleep-warm and stupid with him, because his hoodie smelled like him, because you had woken up with his arm around your waist and his face tucked against the back of your neck, you said, “Is that what this is?”

Jungkook looked at you. “What do you mean?” he asked, but his voice had changed.

You looked down at the food. It was easier than looking at him. “I don’t know.”

He didn’t answer right away. That was the first warning.

Jungkook always answered quickly when things were light. He had a comeback for everything when the room was safe, when the joke was waiting, when the door stayed open behind him. But when something real stepped in, something with hands and teeth and a heartbeat, he went quiet.

You hated that you knew that about him.

You hated that you had learned his silences well enough to understand them.

He moved around the counter slowly and leaned back against it, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. He was not defensive, not exactly, but he was holding himself still in the way people did when they were trying not to run.

“I care about you,” he said finally.

But it wasn’t enough.

The words should have comforted you, maybe, because they were not nothing. They were gentle. They were true, or at least you believed they were true in the way Jungkook knew how to make things true, moment by moment, room by room. But they were not enough, and you felt the shape of that lack like a bruise—a deep ache beneath the surface.

“I know,” you said.

His brows pinched. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do you look like that?”

You laughed once, but there was no humor in it. “Like what?”

“Like I hurt you.”

He sounded upset, almost offended, and that made something sharp move through you because he had hurt you, and he had not, and both things were true enough to make you feel ridiculous.

“You didn’t,” you said.

He looked unconvinced.

You pushed the bowl away gently. “I should go.”

The words startled him. You saw it before he covered it. “You don’t have to.”

“I do, actually. I have laundry.”

“Laundry?”

“Yes, Jungkook, people do laundry.”

“All of a sudden?”

“I am suddenly responsible, yes."

He smiled because you gave him the shape of a joke, but it did not reach his eyes. Still, he let you stand. He let you take off his hoodie and fold it over the back of the chair. He let you gather your bag from beside the couch while the room pressed against your back with everything neither of you were saying.

At the door, he touched your wrist, fingers against your pulse.

“Text me when you get home?” he asked.

You wanted to say no.

You wanted to say, Stop asking for pieces of me if you don’t want the whole thing.

You wanted to say, Stop looking at me like that.

You wanted to say, I’m not built for this, and you should have noticed by now.

Instead, you nodded.

He opened the door for you, and when you stepped into the hallway, he said your name softly enough that you almost pretended not to hear it.

You turned.

Jungkook looked at you from inside his apartment, one hand still on the door, his hair soft and fluffy, his face bare and tired and more beautiful than was fair. For a moment, you thought he would say something. For a moment, you thought the right words were there, climbing up his throat, ready to save both of you from the long fall.

Then he swallowed. “Get home safe,” he said.

You smiled because it was easier than crying.

His door shut behind you with a quiet click.

You texted him when you got home before actually doing your laundry. He sent back a heart. You stared at it longer than you liked to admit.

After that, you tried to be smarter.

For three weeks, you became very busy.

You just stopped being available every time he called you close. You answered his daytime texts, but slower. You liked the selfies and laughed at the work complaints. You stayed friendly because friendship was the last scrap of dignity you had, and you were determined not to make him responsible for feelings he had never asked to hold.

But you stopped going to him at night.

He texted you one night while you were in bed with your phone face down on your bed, trying to read the same paragraph of a book for the fourth time.

jungkook: can i come over?

Your throat tightened. You turned the phone over for six minutes before turning it back over and replying.

y/n: i’m tired tonight

Three dots appeared almost instantly, vanished, appeared again.

jungkook: okay. get some sleep

Then, a second later—

jungkook: goodnight, beautiful

You cried, which made you angry, which made you cry harder because there was nothing more humiliating than being undone by someone respecting your boundary.

Then another day, he sent: miss you :(

You replied in the morning with: sorry, fell asleep :(

jungkook: it’s okay, baby jungkook: did you sleep well?

The next time he reached out, he didn’t text at two but called at ten in the evening. You let it ring until it stopped, and the guilt sat in your stomach all night like a stone.

The next day, your mutual friend Hana invited you to a last minute birthday dinner, and you almost said no the second she mentioned Jungkook would be there. Not because you didn’t want to see him, which was the lie your brain offered up immediately, neat and pathetic, but because you wanted to see him too much, and you didn’t trust yourself to survive him in public.

In private, you at least knew what the danger looked like. It looked like his couch, his bed, his kitchen, his hand at your lower back while he moved around you to reach for a mug. It looked like low light and warm sheets and his voice turned soft at the edges.

In public, there would be other people. Other women. Other reminders.

You spent too long getting ready for someone you were pretending not to want. You changed three times. You did your makeup with unnecessary precision. You told yourself you were dressing for yourself, which was partly true, and then you chose the earrings Jungkook had once complimented, which was not.

The restaurant was already loud when you arrived, full of laughter and the steady hum of Friday night conversations. Hana waved you over from the long table near the back, her smile bright, her crown-shaped birthday headband crooked in a way that suggested she had already started drinking.

“You made it!” she shouted, standing to hug you.

“Barely. Traffic was evil.”

“Traffic is always evil. Sit, sit, sit.”

You let yourself be pulled into the noise, into the warmth, into the easy chaos of introductions and menu passing and Hana insisting everyone order appetizers because “birthday law says calories don’t count.” You were halfway through laughing at something one of her coworkers said when you heard Jungkook’s voice behind you.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m late.”

Your body reacted before your mind could tell it not to.

He had come in with Taehyung, his hair tucked beneath a black beanie, his jacket open over a plain white shirt, and cheeks flushed faintly from the cold outside. He looked relaxed, apologetic, beautiful in that unfair way of people who did not appear to have tried very hard. His eyes moved over the table while he smiled, greeting everyone, silver lip ring glinting under the restaurant lights…and then they found you.

For one second, all the noise thinned.

His smile shifted, softening into something private.

Your fingers tightened around your water glass.

He said your name.

Just your name, nothing else, and it still sounded like a hand reaching across the room.

“Hi,” you said.

He stood there for half a beat too long before Hana smacked his arm with a menu.

“Stop blocking traffic, Kook. Sit down.”

He laughed and slid into the empty chair across from you, because the universe had apparently hated you and had him seated in your direct line of vision.

Dinner should have been fine. And at first, it almost was fine.

Jungkook didn’t act strange. He joined conversations, laughed at Hana’s stories, ordered too much food, and then proceeded to eat almost all of it himself. He didn’t bring up the unanswered calls or the late-night messages you had stopped accepting. He was careful in a way that made you more restless than if he had been reckless.

Sometimes you caught him looking.

Never long enough to accuse him of anything.

Just little glances, his eyes flicking to your face when someone made you laugh, to your hands when you reached for your drink, to your mouth when you leaned forward to answer a question. Each time, he looked away first, and each time, it left something unfinished hanging between you.

Then Hana’s work friend Siwoo arrived late.

You had met him once before, briefly, at a housewarming. He was handsome in a clean, harmless way, with nice hair and an easy smile, and when Hana introduced him again, he remembered your name immediately.

“That’s right,” he said, sitting beside you after one of the others scooted down to make room. “You’re the one who recommended that restaurant in Myeongdong.”

You blinked. “You remember that?”

“Of course. It was good.”

“See?” Hana said from two seats down, pointing with her fork. “My friends have taste.”

Siwoo leaned closer, lowering his voice as if the conversation belonged just to the two of you. “I actually went twice.”

“Twice?”

“Yeah, but the second time was with my sister, so it was less romantic than that sounded.”

You laughed, surprised by it.

Across the table, Jungkook looked down at his plate. You saw it.

Siwoo was easy to talk to. That was the trouble. He asked normal questions and gave normal answers and seemed interested in what you had to say without making your heart feel like it was standing on a ledge. He didn’t look at you like he already knew what you sounded like in the dark. He didn’t carry the weight of every unsent sentence you had ever swallowed.

He was simple. Safe.

You let yourself enjoy it because you were tired of being careful. You let yourself lean into the conversation. You let yourself smile when he made a dry comment about Hana’s “birthday laws” apparently expanding with every drink she ordered. When his arm brushed yours, you didn’t move away immediately.

Jungkook noticed that too.

By the time the plates were cleared and Hana announced that everyone was going to a bar nearby because she had not yet been “celebrated at the correct intensity,” the mood between you and Jungkook had shifted once more.

He was quieter on the walk over.

He still answered when people spoke to him. He still laughed while grabbing Hana when she nearly tripped over nothing and blamed the sidewalk for being jealous. But there was a tension around him now, subtle and controlled, visible only because you knew the relaxed version too well.

The bar was crowded, low-lit, and warm enough that everyone started peeling off jackets within minutes. Music thumped through the floor. Hana claimed a booth with the determination of a military commander, and someone ordered the first round before half the group had even sat down.

Siwoo ended up beside you again.

Jungkook ended up at the bar. You told yourself not to watch him, but your eyes, the little betrayers that they are, locked onto his figure.

He stood with Taehyung, one elbow against the counter, nodding at something the bartender said. A woman beside him turned slightly, her long hair falling over one shoulder as she smiled up at him. You couldn’t hear what she said, but you saw Jungkook smile back out of politeness or habit or charm. You saw him lean closer because the bar was loud. You saw her touch his arm.

It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did. It mattered so much that the room seemed to sharpen around it.

You turned back to Siwoo too quickly.

“So,” he said, eyes moving over your face with mild curiosity, “how do you know Hana again?”

“College,” you said, grateful for the question and incapable of remembering any details about your own life. “We had a class together.”

“What class?”

“Psychology.”

“Useful?”

“Mostly taught me that everyone is lying to themselves.”

He laughed. “That sounds useful.”

“It’s been haunting me ever since.”

His smile softened. “You’re funny.”

It was a nice compliment. You smiled back because you knew Jungkook could see you from the bar out of the corner of your eye.

That was ugly of you. You knew it as you did it, knew the small cruelty of using Siwoo’s attention like a shield, knew jealousy was not a language anyone should be proud of speaking. But the woman at the bar was still talking to Jungkook, and he was still standing there, and something in you had been hurting quietly for weeks.

Siwoo leaned in to hear you better when you answered his next question. His knee pressed against yours under the table. You didn’t make a move to get distance.

A minute later, Jungkook appeared beside the booth with drinks. He set Hana’s in front of her first, then yours.

“Thanks,” you said, keeping your eyes on the glass.

He looked at Siwoo, then at you. “No problem.”

His voice was even. Too even.

Hana, already glowing with birthday power, reached across the table and tugged him down into the booth on her other side. “Kook, sit. You keep hovering and it’s making me anxious.”

“I don’t hover.”

“You literally do. It’s one of your main hobbies.”

He sat, but his eyes went back to you.

Siwoo was saying something about a trip he wanted to take to Busan, and you were trying very hard to listen, but Jungkook was across from you with his jaw set and his drink untouched, and every nerve in your body seemed to be turned toward him.

You hated this.

You hated how much you wanted him to be jealous.

You hated how much you hated seeing him jealous because it meant he cared, but not enough, maybe never enough, and there was no comfort in being wanted by someone who still would not choose you.

When Siwoo excused himself to take a call, you stood almost immediately.

“I’m going to get some air,” you told Hana.

She looked between you and Jungkook, and despite being several drinks into her birthday, her eyes narrowed with sudden clarity. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I’m okay. Stop worrying, enjoy your night, birthday girl,” you said, smiling, trying to convince your friend that you really were.

You grabbed your jacket and slipped through the crowd before anyone else could say anything.

Outside, the cold hit your face hard enough to make your eyes sting. The sidewalk was busy with people moving between bars and restaurants, their laughter trailing through the air in bright pieces. You walked a few steps away from the entrance and stopped near the side of the building, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself.

You just needed a minute. That was all. A minute without music. Without Siwoo’s harmless attention. Without Jungkook’s eyes on you. Without the terrible, crawling ache of wanting someone who seemed perfectly capable of wanting you back only when the room was dark and the consequences were quiet.

The door opened behind you. You knew it was him before he said anything.

“You didn’t even try your drink,” Jungkook said.

You closed your eyes for a second.

You turned around. “I came outside for air, I’ll go back inside soon.”

He stood a few feet away, hands in his jacket pockets, shoulders slightly hunched against the cold. The streetlight caught on the silver hoops in his ears, on the curve of his mouth, on the uncertainty he was trying and failing to hide.

“You okay?” he asked.

You laughed softly, looking away. “Do you actually want the answer to that?”

His expression changed. “Yes, you know I do.”

The honesty in his voice made you angry. It was easier than letting it make you sad. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you get to know.”

His brows drew together. “What does that mean?”

“It means you don’t get to follow me outside and look at me like that and ask if I’m okay when you only want the parts of the answer that don’t require anything from you.”

Jungkook stared at you.

The noise from inside the bar pulsed faintly through the wall behind him.

He took a breath. “Is this because of Siwoo?”

You looked at him then, really looked, and the jealousy in his face was not subtle anymore. It sat there, plain and wounded and irritatingly beautiful, tightening the line of his mouth.

“No,” you said. “It’s not because of Siwoo.”

His jaw flexed. “You seemed pretty interested in him.”

“And?”

His eyes sharpened. There it was—the tiny break in his composure.

“And?” he repeated.

“Yes, Jungkook. And?”

He looked away, tongue pressing briefly against the inside of his cheek, and when he laughed under his breath it sounded nothing like amusement. “Nothing.”

“No, say it.”

He shook his head.

“Say it,” you pushed, because the night had already cracked open and you were tired of stepping carefully around the pieces. “You followed me out here. You brought him up. Say whatever it is you’re trying not to say.”

He looked at you again, and his voice dropped. “I didn’t like watching him touch you.”

The words moved through you with a force you were not prepared for. Your heart kicked once, hard. But the hurt was bigger. “No,” you said, almost to yourself.

Jungkook’s face tightened. “No?”

“No, you don’t get to do that.”

“I’m just telling you the truth.”

“Now?” You stepped closer, anger warming your face despite the cold. “You want to tell the truth now because someone else sat next to me? Because someone else laughed at my jokes and looked at me like maybe he wanted to know me in daylight too?”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s not?” Your voice shook, and you hated it, but you kept going. “What part isn’t fair? The part where you get to call me baby at two in the morning, and I’m supposed to understand it doesn’t mean anything? The part where you stay over me, and hold me, and remember every stupid little thing I tell you, and then when I ask what this is, all you can say is that you care about me?”

His face went pale beneath the streetlights.

You had never said it out loud before, but now that you had started, you couldn’t stop.

“I know you never promised me anything. I know that. I have told myself that so many times it’s basically carved into my skull, so don’t worry, I’m not accusing you of lying to me. You didn’t. You never said we were together. You never said you wanted me like that. You never asked me to wait for you or choose you or turn down anyone else for you.”

Jungkook swallowed.

You pressed a hand briefly to your chest, as if you could hold yourself together from the outside.

“But you don’t get to be jealous like you have some claim on me when you won’t even admit you want one.”

His eyes flashed. “I do want one.”

The words came out fast. Too fast, maybe. They seemed to startle him as much as they startled you.

Jungkook dragged a hand over his face and turned away for a second, breathing hard. When he faced you again, the carefulness was gone. So was the jealousy, or at least it had been swallowed by something larger and more frightened.

“I do,” he said again, quieter but steadier. “I want one.”

Your mouth went dry. “No, you don’t.”

Pain crossed his face. “Don’t tell me what I want.”

“Then stop acting like you don’t know.”

“I’m not acting.”

“That’s worse, Jungkook.”

He flinched and God did you wish that satisfied you.

He took a step closer, then stopped, keeping space between you both. “I know I messed this up.”

You laughed faintly, and it broke at the end. “That’s not a confession.”

“I’m trying.”

“You’re jealous. There’s a difference.”

His eyes shone under the streetlight, dark and wide and scared in a way you had never seen from him. “I was jealous in there because I love you.”

Inside you, everything went silent.

Jungkook stood in front of you with his hands flexing at his sides, the words between you now, visible and impossible to take back.

You stared at him.

He looked like he wanted to reach for you and knew he had no right.

“What?” you whispered.

“I love you,” he said, and this time the words did not rush. They landed carefully, with all the weight he had denied them before. “I think I’ve loved you for a while, and I was too much of a coward to say it because I didn’t know what to do with it, and because saying it meant I could lose you if I didn’t become the kind of person who deserved to keep you.”

Your throat burned.

He kept going, voice rough now.

“I told myself I wasn’t hurting you because I never lied. I told myself we were both choosing it. I told myself you knew I cared, and that should have been enough until I figured myself out, which was selfish and stupid because I was still asking you to come over. I was still asking you to stay. I was still taking everything you gave me and acting like it wasn’t a choice every time you showed up.”

You blinked hard, but a tear slipped anyway, hot against your cold cheek.

Jungkook’s face crumpled slightly at the sight, but he didn’t touch you.

Good. You needed him not to make it easy.

“I didn’t know how to be casual with you,” he said. “I just knew I was scared to be serious.”

“That’s not fair to me.”

“I know.”

“No, I need you to hear me.” Your voice shook again, but you held his gaze. “You made me feel loved and then left me alone with it.”

His eyes reddened. “I know,” he said again, and this time it sounded like it cost him something.

You wiped your cheek quickly, frustrated by the tears, by the cold, by the fact that even now, even angry and hurt and exhausted, some part of you wanted to step into him because he looked devastated.

“You don’t get to say it now just because you saw me with someone else.”

“I’m not.” He shook his head. “I’m saying it now because seeing you with someone else made me realize how much I was expecting you to stand still while I figured out how to stop being afraid. I hated it, and then I hated myself because you weren’t doing anything wrong. You were just sitting there with someone who was actually acting like he wanted you in front of people.”

His voice cracked on the last word.

You looked down.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. Your anger was still there, but it had changed shape. It was no longer fire. It was exhaustion, grief, want, all tangled together into something heavy and hard to carry.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you said.

Jungkook nodded quickly, too quickly, panic flashing across his face. “I know.”

“I mean it. I can’t keep being the person you miss when you’re lonely and hold when you’re soft and avoid when things get real.”

“You’re not.”

“I was.”

He swallowed. “You were.”

The admission hurt, but it also steadied you. He wasn’t defending himself. And despite the hurt you felt, that still mattered to you. Not enough to fix everything, not immediately, not with one speech on a sidewalk, but enough to keep you from walking away before the conversation could finish.

“What do you want?” you asked.

Jungkook looked at you like the answer was obvious and terrifying. “You.”

The word hit you low in the chest.

He took a breath and forced himself to continue. “Not just at night. I want to take you out properly and hold your hand where people can see and wake up with you without pretending breakfast is just breakfast. I want to be able to call you because something stupid happened and you’re the first person I want to tell. I want to know if your day was bad. I want to fight with you and fix it. I want Hana to make fun of us because she saw this coming before we did. I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours, and I know I should have said it before someone else gave me the courage by making me feel like I might lose you.”

Your breath trembled. “And what happens when you get scared again?” you asked.

“I tell you.”

“That simple?”

“Not simple,” he said. “But I’ll do it.”

You searched his face for the exit. The loophole. The little shadow of uncertainty that had always been there before, ready to widen whenever you stepped too close. You found fear, but you could not find retreat.

“You really hurt me,” you said.

His eyes closed briefly, as if the words had struck him exactly where they were meant to. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want an apology that just makes tonight feel better.”

“I know.”

“I want changed behavior.”

“I know.”

“I want you to work for it.”

His eyes opened. There was something raw in his expression now, something almost relieved.

“I will.”

You looked at him for a long moment, letting the cold air move between you, letting the ache inside your chest settle into something you could understand. “You don’t get to come home with me tonight.”

His face flickered, but he nodded. “Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.” He nodded again, slower this time. “I’ll get you a cab if you want. Or I’ll walk you home and leave at the door. Or I’ll go back inside and leave you alone. Whatever you need.”

You debated for a moment before sighing softly. “You should go back inside,” you said.

He absorbed it. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he didn’t—couldn’t—argue. “Okay.”

You almost thanked him, then stopped, because you didn’t want to thank a man for respecting the boundary he had helped make necessary.

Jungkook looked down at the sidewalk, then back at you. “Can I text you tomorrow?”

You considered saying no just to see if he would take it. Maybe he knew that, because he waited without pushing.

“Yes,” you said finally. “But not at two in the morning.”

A tiny, pained smile touched his mouth. “Not at two in the morning.”

“And not something that sounds pretty because you’re lonely.”

His smile vanished. He nodded. “Okay.”

You held his gaze. “I mean it, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he said, voice soft. “I’ll text you during the day.”

You turned toward the street before you could do something foolish, like forgive him too quickly or touch his face. You lifted a hand to signal for a cab, but one did not come immediately, so you stood there in silence while Jungkook remained a few feet away, close enough to make you feel him, far enough to prove he was listening.

When a cab finally pulled up, he opened the door for you.

You got in, but before you shut it, he leaned down slightly, keeping one hand on the top of the door.

“I love you,” he said, just placing it there, where you could take it or leave it.

Your fingers tightened around your bag. “I heard you,” you said.

His throat moved. “Okay.”

You closed the door and the cab pulled away. You didn’t look back until the car turned the corner—he was still standing there.

For once, you let him watch you leave.

For once, you did not text him when you got home.

He texted you the next morning at 10:17.

jungkook: good morning jungkook: i hope you got home safe jungkook: i meant what i said. all of it.

You stared at the messages for a long time, wrapped in a blanket on your couch while sunlight moved slowly across your living room floor. Your chest hurt, but not in the same way. There was still sadness there, still caution, still the bruised tenderness of a heart that had been handled too carelessly by someone who had not understood the weight of it until it almost slipped out of his hands.

You replied after twenty minutes.

y/n: good morning.

That was all.

jungkook: thank you for replying

You set the phone down and cried again, quieter this time.

Jungkook didn’t try to rush you. It would have been easier in some ways if he had. If he had pushed, you could have been angry. If he had panicked and tried to charm his way through the damage, you could have used the disappointment to pull yourself away. But he did what you had asked, and the steadiness of it was more dangerous than any two-in-the-morning text had ever been.

At first, the messages were careful and random like him.

jungkook: did you eat lunch?  jungkook: are zebras horses? jungkook: i cut my bangs again…i look like i’m twelve

He didn’t call you baby or any other pet name. He didn’t send anything designed to tug you back into his bed. And he didn’t pretend things were normal.

Three weeks after the bar, he asked if he could take you to dinner.

You stared at the message until Hana, who was sitting on your floor eating chips from the bag and pretending not to monitor your entire emotional state, groaned.

“Just answer him before you have a mental breakdown.”

You looked at her. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes if you want to go. Say no if you don’t. Say ‘I need more time’ if you need more time. Revolutionary technology, communication.”

“You’re very annoying.”

“I’m wise. People confuse the two, I think.”

You looked back at the message.

jungkook: can i take you to dinner this weekend? no pressure if you’re not ready.

Hana watched you over the chip bag. “For what it’s worth, he looked like someone kicked his soul after you left.”

“Hana.”

“I’m not saying forgive him because he has sad eyes. Men weaponize sad eyes every day, it’s a national crisis. I’m saying I’ve known him a long time, and I’ve never seen him scared like that.”

You swallowed. “He said he loves me.”

“I know.”

Your head snapped up. “He told you?”

“No, you just did.”

You threw a pillow at her. She caught it badly, chips nearly flying everywhere. “Rude.”

You looked back at the phone, your thumb hovering before typing.

y/n: i’m not ready for dinner.

Three dots appeared almost immediately, then disappeared. You braced yourself.

His reply came a moment later.

jungkook: okay. thank you for telling me. jungkook: would coffee feel better? public place. daytime. you can leave whenever you want.

Hana leaned over shamelessly. “Daytime. Public. Leave whenever you want. Growth. Bare minimum, but we clap politely when they locate the floor.”

You huffed a laugh despite yourself.

y/n: coffee is okay jungkook: i’ll take okay.

The coffee date was awkward.

You met at a café halfway between your apartments on a Saturday afternoon when the sky was gray and the city smelled faintly like wet cement. You arrived early because you were nervous and hated being seen arriving nervous. Jungkook arrived five minutes later with damp hair and a black jacket, and when he spotted you at the table near the window, his face softened so visibly that you had to look down at your cup.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

He didn't hug you even though he looked like he wanted to. He went to order before sitting across from you, so handsome even in a small, little coffee shop, legs bouncing with anxious energy.

For the first ten minutes, you talked about safe things. Work. Hana’s birthday hangover. A movie neither of you had seen but both pretended to have opinions about based solely on the trailer. Jungkook told you about trying a new workout and the bulking season he had planned out.

He made you laugh with his random thoughts and stories, a startled expression forming on his face before it shifted to quiet pride.

The awkwardness loosened little by little. Then, because he was trying, and because you had asked him to work for it, Jungkook set his cup down and said, “Can I talk about us?”

Your fingers tightened around your lid. “You can.”

“I don’t want to make this a speech every time we see each other,” he said carefully. “But I also don’t want to avoid it just because things feel okay for five minutes.”

You stared at him. That was so painfully the right thing to say that it made you suspicious.

He seemed to read that on your face because he smiled faintly, without humor. “I practiced that.”

“You practiced?”

“With Taehyung.”

“Oh my god.”

“He said my first version sounded like I was apologizing to a landlord.”

Despite everything, you laughed.

Jungkook’s smile flickered, real and brief.

Then he grew serious again. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to be easy to keep me.”

Your laughter disappeared.

He held your gaze, his own nervous but steady. “I keep thinking about what you said. That I made you feel loved and left you alone with it. I don’t think I understood how cruel that was until you said it.”

You looked down, blinking hard. “I don’t want you to hate yourself,” you said quietly.

“I don’t.” He paused. “I mean, I did for a few days. But I know that doesn’t help you.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I’m working on it.”

You believed him.

Over the next few weeks, coffee became dinner. Dinner became walks. Walks became him picking you up from work with your favorite tea because he had been nearby, except he admitted he had not really been nearby, he had just wanted to see you and thought honesty was better than a fake errand.

He asked before touching you.

The first time he reached for your hand on the sidewalk, he looked at you and said, “Can I?” and your heart hurt so badly you almost hated him for having learned tenderness after using it carelessly for so long.

But you said yes.

His fingers slid between yours, warm and familiar, and his grip tightened just slightly.

He took you to an arcade one night because he said dates should involve opportunities for him to impress you, then lost three basketball games in a row before looking around and climbing on the game and cheating. You beat him at air hockey so badly that he almost turned the date into a real competition because, yes, he was that competitive.

He walked you home after.

At your building entrance, he stopped.

The old version of him would have looked at you through his lashes and said something soft enough to make your knees weak. The old version of you would have invited him upstairs and called the ache in your chest desire because that was easier than admitting it was love with nowhere to go.

This time, he only brushed his thumb over your knuckles.

“I had fun,” he said.

“Me too.”

“I’m going to kiss you now if that’s okay.”

It obviously wasn’t the first time he had kissed you, but It felt like it in that moment.

“Okay,” you said.

He kissed you slowly, one hand lifting to your cheek, the other still holding yours. There was no hurry in it. Just his mouth on yours in the light outside your building, soft and careful and full of everything he was trying to prove without making you responsible for believing him too quickly.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for one second.

Then he stepped away. “Goodnight,” he said.

Your lips tingled. “Goodnight.”

He walked backward for three steps, which was stupid and dramatic, then nearly collided with a trash can, which ruined the effect.

You laughed.

He pointed at you, cheeks flushed. “You saw nothing.”

“I saw everything.”

Watching him leave didn’t feel like losing this time.

The first time you let him back into your apartment, it was raining.

Not the pretty kind, either. Not the gentle drizzle people wrote songs about. This was ugly rain, hard and cold, slapping against windows and turning the sidewalks slick beneath the streetlights. Jungkook arrived soaked from the shoulders down because he had insisted he did not need an umbrella, and you opened the door to find him standing in the hallway with a paper bag tucked under his jacket.

“You look ridiculous,” you said.

“I saved the pastries.”

“You sacrificed yourself for croissants?”

“For you,” he said, then paused. “And also for croissants.”

You took the bag from him and let him in.

He changed into the dry sweatpants and shirt you still had from before, the ones you had never returned because doing so would have felt too final. Seeing him in them again made something old twist through you, but this time he didn’t act entitled to the space. He gave his wet clothes to throw in the dryer. He kept looking at you like he was aware of every memory in the room and was trying not to step on any of them.

You made tea and he cut the croissants in half on a plate because one had almond filling and the other chocolate, and he said that if he was going to bad, so were you. You sat on the couch with rain tapping the windows and a movie playing low in the background, though neither of you paid much attention to it.

Halfway through, Jungkook looked at you.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing.”

“That’s never true.”

He smiled faintly. “I’m happy.”

The simplicity of it disarmed you.

Later, when the movie ended and the apartment had settled into that soft late-night hush you used to fear, Jungkook stood and reached for his jacket.

“You’re leaving?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

He froze, then turned slowly. “I was going to,” he said. “I didn’t want to assume.”

The ache that moved through you then was not the same one you knew from before. It wasn’t confusion. It was want, yes, but it was also choice.

You stood. “I don’t want you to leave.”

His eyes searched yours. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He crossed the room slowly, giving you every chance to change your mind. When he reached you, he touched your face with both hands, careful and loving in a way that made your throat close.

“I love you,” he said.

You had heard it before now. More than once. In texts, in person, at the end of dates, in the middle of conversations when it seemed to surprise him by coming out. He had been saying it without demanding that you say it back, and each time it had loosened something in you.

Tonight, with rain against the windows and his thumbs brushing your cheeks, you finally let yourself answer.

“I love you too.”

For a second, Jungkook did nothing but stare at you, his face opening around the words as if they had reached somewhere deeper than he had prepared for. Then he kissed you, and there was nothing casual in it. There was relief. Hunger. Grief for the time wasted. Gratitude so intense it made his hands tremble against you.

He kissed you like he understood now that love was not proven by staying after only when it was easy. It was proven by staying when the truth asked for more.

Jungkook’s hands tremble when he’s trying to be gentle.

They’re not trembling now, not yet. Right now they’re steady as he kneels on the bed in front of you, knees sinking into the mattress, his dark hair falling across his forehead in that way that makes him look younger than he is. Softer. The bedroom lamp casts amber light across his bare shoulders, his chest, the ridges of his stomach that flex when he breathes.

“Come here,” he says, and the way he says it—low, rough at the edges, like the words scraped against something on the way out—makes your thighs press together.

You shift forward on your knees, the sheets bunching beneath you. Your fingertips find the waistband of his sweatpants first, tracing the elastic, the warm skin just beneath. His stomach tightens under your touch. You watch his throat as he swallows.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs.

“You look so good.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Not the big one he gives when he’s being playful, the one that scrunches his nose. This one is smaller. Hungrier. It lives in his eyes more than his lips.

His hands find the hem of your shirt—his shirt, actually, an old black t-shirt you’d stolen three weeks ago and never given back. He doesn’t rush pulling it over your head. He lets his knuckles drag up your sides as the fabric lifts, lets them skim the outer curve of your breasts before the shirt clears your arms and drops somewhere off the bed.

“Beautiful,” he says, not to you exactly, more like he’s saying it to himself. Like he’s reminding himself of something he already knows.

Your hands slide up his chest. The muscle there is firm, defined, but the skin is soft. You spread your fingers wide, feeling the heat of him, the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your left palm. He closes his eyes for a second, his lashes dark little crescents against his cheeks.

You reach behind your back. The clasp of your bra releases with a quiet snick, the straps slipping down your shoulders. Jungkook opens his eyes and watches the whole thing—watches the fabric loosen, watches you pull one arm free and then the other, watches you toss the bra aside with more confidence than you would’ve before meeting him.

Jungkook had spent hours showing you exactly how much he liked looking. Hours with his mouth and his tongue and his long, clever fingers proving that every inch of you was worth his full attention. And eventually, you’d believed him.

Now you sit back on your heels, bare to the waist, and let his eyes roam.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hands are on you before the word finishes leaving his mouth, cupping your breasts, thumbs sweeping across your nipples until they tighten into hard little peaks. “You know what you do to me.”

It’s not a question.

You lean into his touch, letting your head fall back slightly. “Tell me.”

His thumbs slow. Press a little harder. “You make me lose my mind,” he says, voice dropping. “Every single time. I look at you and I forget how to think.”

“Good.”

He laughs, low and dark, and pulls you against him.

The kiss starts soft. A press of lips, a brush of tongues—testing, teasing. His mouth tastes like the green tea he’d been drinking earlier, cool and faintly sweet. Your hands slide into his hair, gripping the thick strands at the nape of his neck, and the kiss deepens.

His tongue pushes past your lips. Slow. Filthy. He licks into your mouth like he’s got all the time in the world, like he’s memorizing the taste of you. One of his hands slides down your spine, tracing every vertebra, until it settles at the small of your back and pulls you closer.

Your bare breasts press against his chest, the friction making you gasp.

He swallows the sound.

The kiss grows messier. Wet, open-mouthed, desperate. Teeth scrape. Tongues tangle. His breathing turns ragged, and so does yours, and somewhere in the middle of it your hand finds its way to the front of his sweatpants.

He’s hard. Thick and straining against the fabric, and when you press your palm against him, he groans into your mouth.

“Shit,” he hisses, breaking the kiss. His forehead drops to yours. “We need—I need—”

“Sweats off,” you manage.

There’s a scrambling moment. Elbows and knees and his sweatpants getting caught on his ankles until he kicks them free. Your leggings are harder to peel off, but Jungkook helps, hooking his fingers into the waistband and dragging them and your soaked panties down your legs with a kind of focused intensity that makes heat bloom low in your belly.

And then you’re both naked, kneeling on the rumpled sheets, breathing hard.

His cock stands thick and flushed, the head gleaming in the lamplight. You’ve seen it before—countless times by now—but your mouth still waters.

“Come here,” he says again, but this time his voice is different. Thicker. Needier.

He lies back on the bed, pulling you with him. The movement is smooth, practiced—he knows exactly how to maneuver your body, knows where to put his hands, knows how to guide you until you’re straddling his chest and facing his cock.

The position clicks into place. Your knees bracket his head. Your mouth hovers inches above his length.

He looks up at you from between your thighs, eyes dark and glittering. “Sit.”

One word. One fucking word, and your whole body shudders.

You lower yourself onto his mouth.

His tongue finds you immediately—flat and warm and so goddamn skilled—laving through your folds, tracing the shape of you, mapping out every slick, swollen inch. You cry out, the sound punching from your chest, and your hands brace against his stomach. The muscles there contract under your palms.

“Jungkook—”

He doesn’t answer with words. He answers with his mouth, sealing his lips around your clit and sucking gently.

Your vision blurs. Your hips roll without permission, grinding down against his face, and he groans into your cunt like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. The vibration runs through you, hot and electric, settling somewhere deep between your thighs.

But you’re supposed to be doing something. Supposed to be—fuck, it’s hard to think when he’s doing that thing with his tongue, the thing where he flicks it back and forth in short, sharp strokes that make your thighs shake.

Right. His cock. His gorgeous fucking cock, still wet at the tip, still untouched.

You wrap your hand around the base.

Jungkook’s hips jerk. A garbled sound vibrates against your clit.

“That’s it,” you whisper, and you don’t know if you’re talking to him or to yourself. “Fuck, you’re so hard. So thick. I can barely get my fingers around you.”

You can. Just barely. He’s thick enough that your grip doesn’t close entirely, thick enough that your hand looks small wrapped around his shaft, and the sight of it—the contrast between your skin and his—makes you forget to breathe for a second.

You lean down and take him into your mouth.

The first inch, stretching your lips. The weight of him on your tongue.

Jungkook’s whole body tightens. His hands, which had been resting on your thighs, clamp down hard enough to bruise, and his hips buck up reflexively, pushing himself deeper. You relax your throat the way you’ve learned to, the way he taught you, and take another inch. And another.

Saliva pools under your tongue. Spills down his shaft. You hollow your cheeks and suck, pulling back until just the head remains between your lips, then slide down again.

Below you, his mouth has gone slack against your cunt.

You pull off just long enough to gasp, “Don’t stop.”

His tongue starts moving again. Slower now, distracted—you can feel his concentration splintering, feel him losing focus as your mouth works him—but he’s still Jungkook. Still the man who’s spent months learning exactly where and how to touch you. His tongue finds that spot just above your entrance, the sensitive ridge, and presses, pulling a cry from you.

He murmurs something against your flesh. The sound is muffled, but you catch the shape of it: your name. He’s groaning your name.

You moan around his cock. The heat building between your legs is spreading now, creeping outward, swirling low in your stomach. You hollow your cheeks again, setting a rhythm—down, up, tongue swirling around the head, down again—and Jungkook matches it with his mouth. Every stroke of your lips answered by a stroke of his tongue. Every suck met with another. It’s sloppy and wet and completely, devastatingly filthy, both of you fucking into each other’s mouths like you’re trying to crawl inside each other.

His thighs are trembling. You can feel them against your shoulders. So are yours.

“Close,” he pants, pulling away just enough to speak. His lips are slick. Shiny. “I’m gonna—fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

You don’t stop. You take him deeper, swallowing around him, feeling the way his cock pulses against your tongue. His hips jerk. His breath hitches. He latches onto your clit again and sucks hard, desperate, less rhythm now and more just frantic hunger, and that’s what does it for you.

The orgasm crashes through you without warning. No slow build, no gentle crest—just a sudden, devastating wave that rips a scream from your throat, muffled by his cock still buried inside your mouth. Your thighs clamp around his head. Your hips grind down helplessly, riding his face, riding his tongue, and Jungkook groans, the sound vibrating through your cunt and prolonging every second of it.

And then his hips snap up. Once. Twice.

“Coming,” he grunts. “Coming, fucking—ah—”

Hot salt floods your tongue. You swallow, throat working around him, milking every pulse, and he makes a sound that’s half-choked and half-sob.

His hands are still gripping your thighs. When you finally pull off, gasping, the air tastes like sex and green tea and Jungkook.

You collapse sideways. He catches you, tugs you up, pulls you against his chest. His heart is hammering against his ribs, as fast as yours pressed against him. For a long moment neither of you speak. You just breathe, tangled together, sweaty and shaking and utterly spent.

But he’s still hard. You feel it against your hip—still thick, still flushed, not even slightly softened. Jungkook’s refractory period has always been a little obscene.

“You good?” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple.

“Mm.” You tilt your face up, catching his mouth in a kiss that’s softer than before. Gentler. He tastes like you now, and the combination—your taste on his lips, his taste on yours—makes something warm unspool behind your sternum. “More than good.”

His hand slides down your side. Cups your ass. Squeezes. “Think you can take more?”

You answer by biting his lower lip, just hard enough to make him hiss.

“Condom,” he says, half-laughing, already reaching for your nightstand drawer, knowing exactly where you keep them.

Your voice comes out steadier than you feel. “I want you behind me.”

He groans at the words, tearing the foil packet with his teeth and rolling the condom down his length with quick, practiced motions.

Then his hands are on your hips, turning you, guiding you onto your hands and knees.

The position makes you feel exposed. Vulnerable. The air is cool against your slick cunt, and you can feel his gaze on you, tracing the curve of your spine, the swell of your ass, the wet mess between your thighs.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, his palm smoothing down your back. Gentle. Soothing. A contrast to what you both know is coming.

The head of his cock nudges against your entrance.

“Slow,” you whisper.

“Slow,” he agrees.

And then he pushes in.

The stretch is incredible. Even after everything, even after his mouth and the orgasm that’s still echoing through your body, he’s so thick that it takes a moment just to accommodate the first few inches. Your body resists, clenching around him, and Jungkook pauses.

“Breathe,” he reminds you, voice strained. “Relax for me.”

You force your muscles to unlock. Breathe out. And he slides deeper.

“Fuuuck,” you groan, dropping your head between your shoulders. “Jungkook, your cock is—” Words fail. Nothing captures it. Nothing captures the feeling of being opened up inch by inch, stretched so full you can’t think, can’t speak, can only feel.

“I know,” he breathes, pulling back just a little before sinking deeper. “You take me so good. Always so fucking tight, so perfect. Feels like you’re squeezing the life out of me.”

The dirty talk makes your cunt clench harder.

He feels it. Laughs, low and dark. “You like that? When I tell you how good your pussy feels wrapped around me?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “God, yes, don’t stop talking—”

“Not gonna stop.” He thrusts a little deeper, a fraction more, and now he’s fully seated inside you, buried to the hilt. His hips press against your ass. His hands grip your waist. “I’m going to tell you exactly how it feels to fuck you. How tight and wet and fucking hot you are. How I can feel every inch of you, every little flutter, every time you squeeze around me like you’re trying to keep me inside.”

He pulls out, then slides back in. He sets a rhythm that’s devastating in its slowness.

It’s filthy. Each thrust drags against every sensitive spot inside you, and when he bottoms out, grinding his hips in a little circle before withdrawing, your arms nearly give out.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, leaning over you, his chest brushing your back. His mouth finds your ear. “Feel it. Feel how deep I am. Nobody else gets to have you like this. Just me.”

“Just you,” you echo, and the words come out wrecked.

His pace picks up. Not fast—not yet—but harder. Deeper. Each stroke punches a sound out of you, a little uh-uh-uh that matches his rhythm. Your breasts sway with the motion. The headboard taps against the wall, a steady thump-thump-thump that’s going to have your neighbors glaring at you tomorrow.

You don’t care.

“Harder,” you beg. “Please, Jungkook, fuck me harder—”

He does. The slow, grindy rhythm shatters into something rougher. Faster. He drives into you with long, snapping thrusts, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours, his breath coming in harsh pants. One hand slides up your spine, tangles in your hair, tugs your head back just enough to arch your neck.

“Louder,” he demands. “Let me hear you. Let the whole fucking building hear how good I’m fucking you.”

You scream. You can’t help it. He’s hitting that spot, the one that makes your vision go white, the one that makes your toes curl and your fingers twist in the sheets. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, and his voice—low and rough and utterly obscene—is pushing you the rest of the way.

“Gonna come again?” He’s panting now, losing the smooth cadence from before. “Gonna come on my cock like the good girl you are?”

“Yes,” you sob. “Yes, yes, yes—”

“Do it. Come for me. Come all over this dick, let me feel it—”

Your second orgasm hits harder than the first. Your whole body convulses. Your cunt clamps down around him with a vicious, pulsing grip, and you wail—no other word for it—as wave after wave crashes through you. He fucks you through it, steady and deep, drawing it out until you’re boneless and trembling.

And then he pulls out.

The emptiness is jarring. You whimper, reaching back for him, but he’s already moving—lying down on his back, pulling you with him, positioning you.

“Ride me,” he says. His eyes are wild. His chest is heaving. “Want to watch you.”

You swing a leg over his hips. His cock juts up between you, still covered in the condom, still glistening. You reach down and guide him back to your entrance, sinking down in one smooth motion. Both of you groan.

This angle is different, deeper somehow. You swear you feel him in your throat.

“Fuck, look at you.” His hands skate up your thighs, your hips, your waist. “So beautiful riding my cock. Taking what you need. Use me.”

You brace your hands on his chest and start to move.

It’s slower like this—more of a grind than a thrust. You roll your hips in circles, feeling every ridge and vein of him, feeling the way he fills you completely. Jungkook’s head falls back against the pillow. His jaw clenches. “That’s it,” he rasps. “Fuck, that’s perfect. Keep going. Just like that.”

His hands guide your rhythm. You watch his face—the furrow between his brows, the way he bites his lip, the flush spreading down his neck and onto his chest. He’s beautiful when he’s wrecked. Utterly, devastatingly beautiful.

And you want more.

Your hand drifts down. Finds the base of his cock. Slips lower—

“What are you—” His eyes fly open.

You lift yourself up. Hook your fingers under the rim of the condom. And pull it off.

It lands somewhere on the sheets with an obscene little wet slap.

Jungkook stares at you. His chest stops moving. “What—are you sure—”

“I want you to come inside me.”

The words hang in the air between you.

“I want to feel it,” you continue, and now your voice is lower, needier, stripped of every pretense. “Want you to fill me up. Want to feel you dripping out of me for the rest of the night. Please, Kookie. Come inside me. Come inside my pussy.”

He makes a sound that’s barely human.

His hands clamp down on your hips. “You’re sure?”

You lean down, letting your lips brush his ear. “Come inside me. Fill me up. Please. I need it. Need to feel your come dripping down my thighs. Need you to fuck it deep inside me until I can’t hold it anymore.”

Jungkook’s control snaps. He doesn't ask again. His hands clamp down on your hips hard enough to leave fingerprints, and in one brutal motion he flips you onto your back.

Your head hits the pillow. The air leaves your lungs in a startled gasp. And then he's there—looming above you, dark hair falling forward, eyes blown black with something that looks almost like desperation. His cock hangs heavy between his thighs, slick and bare now, the swollen head flushed deep pink and already leaking.

"You want it raw?" His voice is wrecked. Torn at the edges. "You want me to fuck you with nothing between us and pump my come straight into this tight little cunt?"

"Yes." The word tears out of you, half-sob, half-demand. "Please, Jungkook. Please fuck me. I need to feel it—need to feel every inch of you—"

He lines himself up. The broad head of his cock nudges against your entrance, and the sensation is different already—hotter, slicker, more intimate without the latex barrier. Your body recognizes the difference, cunt clenching in anticipation.

"Look at me," he commands.

You do. His eyes are locked on yours, dark and fierce and so full of want it makes your chest ache.

He pushes in.

The first inch steals your breath. Without the condom, the heat of him is staggering—like being opened by something alive, something velvet-soft and iron-hard all at once. You feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of his heartbeat transmitted through his flesh into yours. Your fingers twist in the sheets. Your heels dig into the mattress.

"Fuuuuck," he groans, sinking deeper. His forearms bracket your head. His forehead drops to yours. "You feel—this is—nothing between us."

He bottoms out. Stays there, buried to the hilt. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, and the sound he makes is animal—low and guttural, ripped from somewhere deep in his chest.

"Move," you beg. "Please move. I can take it. I want all of it."

He withdraws. The drag is exquisite—you feel every inch of him pulling back, feel the emptiness he leaves behind. And then he thrusts forward, harder this time, and your whole body rocks with the force of it.

"Yes—fuck—just like that—"

He finds a rhythm. Not the slow, grindy thing from before—this is different. This is frantic. Desperate. His hips snap against yours with wet, obscene slaps that fill the room. Skin on skin. Body to body.

"You're so fucking wet," he pants, lips brushing your ear. "I can feel everything. Every drop. Every pulse. Your pussy is gripping me so tight I can barely move."

"Don't stop—please don't stop—"

"Not fucking stopping." He drives in harder. Deeper. The angle shifts and suddenly he's hitting your g-spot, the one that makes fireworks detonate behind your eyes. "Gonna fuck you until you scream my name. Gonna fill this cunt up so full you'll be dripping for days."

A broken wail escapes your throat. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red trails, and he hisses, but he doesn't slow. If anything, he fucks you harder—punishing strokes that slam you into the mattress, that make your breasts bounce and your thighs shake and your voice crack on every syllable.

"Louder," he demands. His hand slides between your bodies, thumb finding your clit. He circles it, rough and unrelenting, and the dual sensation—his cock pounding into you, his thumb rubbing tight spirals around that swollen nub—makes you sob. "I want the whole world to hear who's fucking you this good."

"JUNGKOOK—"

His name rips from your lungs, raw and ragged. You can't control the volume. Can't control anything. He's fucking you stupid, fucking you senseless, and all you can do is hold on and take it.

"That's it. That's my girl." His voice is strained, cracking around the edges. Sweat drips from his hair onto your cheek. His rhythm falters—just for a second—and then he's pounding into you with renewed intensity, chasing something, chasing you. "Say it again. Tell me who makes you feel this good."

"You do—only you—Jungkook, Jungkook, JUNGKOOK—"

His mouth crashes onto yours. The kiss is messy—teeth and tongues and no finesse at all—but it's perfect. He swallows your cries, drinks them down like he's starving for them, and his hips never stop moving. Never stop driving into you with that devastating rhythm that's turning your brain to static.

One of his hands finds your thigh. Hikes it higher. The new angle makes him sink impossibly deeper, and you feel him in your stomach, feel the pressure building there like a storm about to break.

"Gonna come," you gasp against his lips. "Jungkook, I'm gonna come—"

"Do it." His thumb presses harder against your clit. His cock hits that spot again—once, twice, three times—and the storm inside you detonates. "Come on my cock, baby.  Make me fill you up."

Your vision whites out. Every muscle in your body locks tight—thighs clamping around his waist, cunt clenching around his cock with a grip that borders on violent. You scream, the sound tearing from somewhere deep in your chest, his name mangled and broken, echoing off the walls.

Jungkook keeps fucking you through it. His rhythm turns brutal—short, hard strokes that prolong every pulse, every squeeze, every wave of pleasure crashing through your body. He's talking but you can't make out the words. Just the tone. Low and filthy.

And then his hips stutter. "Fuck—I'm gonna—"

"Inside." Your legs lock around him, trapping him in place. Your heels dig into the small of his back. "Come inside me, baby. Fill me up. I want to feel it. Please. Please."

The word breaks him. He buries himself and lets go.

The first pulse of his release hits deep inside you—hot and thick, so impossibly warm it makes you gasp. You've never felt this from him before. Never felt the visceral, primal rush of him emptying himself into your body with nothing between you. His cock jerks. Pulses again. His whole body shudders above you, muscles locking, jaw clenching, a wrecked groan tearing from his throat.

"Fuuuuuck—" The word stretches out, broken and breathless. "Oh my God. Fuck, your pussy is—baby—oh fuck—"

His hips keep twitching. Keep pumping into you with shallow, helpless thrusts that push his come deeper. You feel it pooling inside you, hot and thick, feel the way your body accepts it, holds it, clenches around it like it never wants to let go.

He stays buried inside you, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Sweat gleams on his brow, his chest, his shoulders. His dark hair is plastered to his temples. His heart pounds so hard you feel it against your own ribs.

"Holy fuck," he whispers. His voice is wrecked. Absolutely demolished. "That was—I've never—"

He can't finish the sentence. You don't need him to.

Your legs are still wrapped around him, still holding him inside. You can feel his come beginning to trickle out around his shaft. The sensation sends a little aftershock through your system.

Jungkook lifts his head. His eyes find yours. They're glazed, still half-lost in the aftermath, but there's something else there too—something soft, something tender, something that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the way he looks at you like you're the only person in the world.

"You okay?" he asks, and even now—even with his softening cock still inside you, even with his release dripping down your thighs—he's checking on you. Making sure you're good. Being Jungkook.

"More than okay." Your voice comes out hoarse and raw. Well-used. "That was incredible."

A smile breaks across his face—the real one, the one that scrunches his nose and crinkles his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He kisses you. His lips brush yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache, and when he pulls back, there's something in his expression that looks almost like wonder.

He eases out of you slowly, carefully, and the absence leaves you hollow. A rush of fluid follows, spilling onto the sheets beneath you. Jungkook glances down. His breath catches.

He presses two fingers against your entrance, gently, and pushes the escaping fluid back inside. The sensation makes you whimper—oversensitive, still trembling—but he doesn't stop. Just holds it there, holds you together, holds the moment suspended between you.

"Mine," he says before collapsing beside you, pulling you against his chest.

You're sticky. Sweaty. The sheets are ruined. His release is dripping down your thighs and the whole room smells like sex and you've never been happier.

"I love you," he says into your hair. "You know that, right?"

Your eyes sting. You press your face into his chest, breathing him in—sweat and sex and the faint remnants of his cologne. "I know."

"Good." His lips brush your forehead. "Because I'm not done with you tonight."

Your head snaps up, finding his eyes are dark again.

You wake slowly to the sound of rain still dragging itself down the windows, gentler now, tired from its own tantrum yesterday. For a few seconds, you lay still beneath the blankets, blinking at the pale gray light, aware of the warmth beside you only because it had recently left.

Then you hear him in the kitchen.

A drawer opening then closing, a whispered curse, something clinking.

“Are you fighting my appliances?” you call, voice rough with sleep.

Silence.

Then Jungkook appears in the bedroom doorway wearing his borrowed sweatpants and no shirt, hair messy, eyes wide with innocence so fake it deserves paperwork.

“No.”

“You are.”

“Well why does your stove hate me?”

You laugh and push yourself up against the pillows.

He leans against the doorway, watching you with a softness that used to scare you because you hadn’t known where to put it. 

“What?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“Jungkook.”

“I like waking up here.”

Your heart squeezes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looks down, smiling to himself. “I like that your kitchen mugs don’t match. I like that you keep cereal you barely eat because you have a craving for it every other week. I like that you talk in your sleep.”

“I do not.”

“You read out your grocery list last night.”

You stare at him and he stares back. Then you grab a pillow and throw it at him. “Stop exposing me!”

He catches it against his chest, laughing, then walks over and drops onto the edge of the bed.

The laughter fades slowly.

He looks at you, still holding the pillow. “I know this doesn’t fix everything,” he says. He sets the pillow aside. “Last night. This morning. You saying it back. I know I don’t get to treat that like I won something and stop trying.”

You study him. He looks nervous, but not avoidant.

“I’m happy,” you say carefully. “But I’m still scared.”

“I know.”

“And sometimes I might need reassurance.”

“I’ll give it.”

“Sometimes I might get upset about things that remind me of before, even if you’re not doing anything wrong.”

He nods. “Okay.”

“You say that now.”

“I mean it now.” He reaches for your hand, then pauses. You give it to him, and he holds it between both of his. “And if I don’t handle it right later, you tell me, and I’ll listen. I’m not going to be perfect. I know I’m not. But I’m not going to make you feel stupid for needing me to love you out loud.”

Your eyes burn again, because apparently loving Jungkook meant your tear ducts had signed a long-term lease. “You really have been practicing with Taehyung.”

He smiles shyly. “A little.”

“It shows.”

“Good?”

“Good.”

His shoulders ease.

You tug on his hand. “Come here.”

He comes easily, crawling over you with a grin that turns soft when you touch his face. He kisses you once, then again, then lowers himself beside you and pulls you against his chest.

For a while, neither of you say anything.

His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear. His fingers move through your hair.

You glance up at him, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

He catches your wrist and kisses your palm. “I love you,” he says again, because he can now, because he needs to, because the words no longer arrive only after silence had hurt you first.

You smile. “I heard you.”

He grins, leaning down, mouth hovering over yours. “Brat. I’ll keep saying it anyway.”

“Good.”

Later, after breakfast, Jungkook stands in your kitchen washing dishes while you dry them beside him.

It’s ordinary. Painfully ordinary.

He bumps your hip with his. You bump him back, making him smile down at the sink.

Jungkook rinses the last mug and passes it to you.

He looks at you. You look back.

There was still work ahead, you both knew that. But he’s here, hands wet from your sink, eyes steady on yours in the middle of the afternoon. Not asking you to come to him in the dark. Not making you guess. Not leaving you alone with love.

Staying. And this time—staying right.

[buzzyjoonie]

WINE FOREVER .݁༉‧ 정국 .

pairing : rich! jungkook x rich fem! reader.

no matter how much you deny the connection between you and jungkook, time and place binds you both together with a red string. after an argument, you believed it was all over – yet what if, within the hush of an old wine cellar, you found yourselves closer than ever?

genre : smut, frenemies to lovers, light angst.

warnings | tags : mdni! unprotected s£x (wrap it up), handjob, creamp!e, playing with pu&sy, lowk childhood sweethearts, avoidant oc, s£x inside a wine cellar, oc pretends to hate jk, mutual pining, jk is a loser in love, making out, mild argument, confessions, past flashbacks, t!tty sucking, nicknames, dirty talking etc.

word count : 4.7k+

you had absolutely no intention whatsoever to mend things with jeon jungkook. you hated his guts and seeing his face right now didn’t seem like a good idea either.

mentally, you made a list of cuss words that you could use on yourself because you had agreed to visit the jeon family’s estate earlier this week.

“i already talked to jungkook’s father. it would be very disappointing if you bail out right now”

your parents sat with folded hands on either side of the couch while you stood still near the staircase, that rounded up three storeys high in the house.

“your parents are asking for you downstairs miss”, earlier in the morning you weren’t particularly elated when your househelp knocked on the bedroom door while whispering cautiously.

“—now would you stop rolling your eyes y/n?”

you stopped yourself from clicking your tongue as a response to your annoyed mother’s words.

“i can guarantee that you won’t see jungkook! just go down to their winery and you’ll find mr. jeon waiting in there as promised!”

“—yes absolutely. so just take the wine from him with a polite smile and come back home. that’s it! and moreover i don’t understand your problem with jungkook?” your father added.

the moment jungkook’s name left your father mouth, a sour taste engulfed on the back of your tongue.

you painfully recalled,

last week at a charity dinner organised by one of your father’s business associate, you had way too much wine to drink (because of jungkook) and quote unquote apparently had ranted a few tons about the aftertaste of the bitter liquor that was served in there to mr. jeon out of all people!

everybody knew that the jeon’s family owned the country’s largest wine domaine and out of good relations with your parents, he instinctively had invited you over to present some of their finest creations, after a round of wholesome laughter.

“you should stop by sometime next week y/n dear, it’ll be my pleasure to give you a tour of my wine collection!”

and that is how you had landed in this messy situation where you were supposed to go for wine tasting and pick up some authentic bottles from the jeon’s.

your father being a wine connoisseur himself chimed in with joined hands and murmured something about respecting the elders but however, this whole scenario wouldn’t be a pain in the ass if it weren’t for the fight that happened between you and the youngest son of the jeon family.

from whatever you could recapture, you always remembered that jeon jungkook was annoying as hell. you knew him from your childhood days since your parents were bosom friends, and belonging to the same clique you had to be around jungkook regardless, without a choice.

“—i think you’re overreacting”

you weren’t even supposed to attend this party in the first place but nonetheless, now, you were stuck inside a random supply room with jungkook infront of you, suited in a tailored tuxedo.

he was the one who had pulled you inside to ‘talk things out’ and when you followed him in, he had the audacity to call it overreacting??

“what the hell is wrong with you? you think you’re all that?” you refused to tone down as you glared right back into his shiny doe eyes.

“you will never get what you want from me!” you said strictly as you tried to suppress the clenching feeling inside your heart.

“yeah? and it takes barely two minutes for you to melt right back into me” he paused momentarily to lazily smirk at you “which brings me to my point that, i’m starting to think you’re in love with me”

you flushed red at the choice of his words and wanted to slap the sly smirk off his pouty pink lips.

it was literally your fault to involve yourself with a person like him.

you couldn’t stand jungkook’s nerve from the very beginning but somehow his teasing remarks and fluttering touches left you craving for more.

that is also how you ended up in a strictly ‘sex only’ relationship with him earlier this year.

“i cannot give what you’re expecting from me and the sex isn’t even that good either to be honest” you lied through your teeth knowing no one else had you undone better than him,

and your heart twisted as you looked at his neat hair which was pulled back from his forehead with some hair gel.

for some reason, jungkook knew exactly how to make your eyes roll back and legs shake in pleasure.

his expression shifted slightly, with pain visible in his eyes, “that’s not what you said last night” he replied softly.

yeah no, you were actually screaming the exact opposite, begging him, god, karma, everything else in presence as he bent you over on his desk while brutally slamming his cock inside your squelching cunt.

you did not want to give jungkook the satisfaction of winning but your heart clenched as you knew that his accusations were true.

“i’m so over this, i don’t even want to see your annoying face ever again” you whispered the last bit hoping he didn’t hear it but it was far too late,

“well if that’s what you want!” he leaned close just enough to make sure his breath was touching your face, “then that’ll be it” he straightened back up again and with that he left the room, the door closing behind him and leaving you oh so overwhelmed with everything.

you felt your eyes getting glassy because you knew deep within you were far too gone. way too invested in this arrangement, and it wasn’t just sex for you anymore. you were afraid of losing him.

growing up in a different world you were always surrounded by selfish men who only liked you for what you brought to the table. they knew that your parents ran a well known family business which had years of goodwill and recurring profits in the market.

you were used and discarded by many but none of them left a hollow feeling like jungkook. he made you see stars, noticed every small shift in your mood, every little detail that you yourself weren’t aware of.

you hated how he knew exactly what to say and how he was always there for you when your life was going downhill.

he never failed to put a bandaid over your wounds with his stupid uncool jokes and random surprises.

you did not like how much control he had over your emotions and maybe slowly along the way, it also made you sort of dependent on him for stability.

but, jeon jungkook was the most spontaneous and unserious person you’ve ever met.

you knew deep within that he would never settle down for something serious.

hence you decided to put some distance between you both, so as to ‘fix’ your feelings and get over him as soon as possible.

but without even realising you let him into your closeted heart and maybe that turned out to be your biggest mistake.

you didn’t do relationships well because you struggled alot with expressing your emotions and neither did jungkook.

whatever you both had was complicated but that didn’t stop neither one of you from slipping into eachother’s arms at every given opportunity.

the mixed signals, unresolved feelings were sending jungkook off the roof, and therefore he decided to communicate for once,

but he realised you had shut him off already.

you stepped out of your sleek black mercedes which dropped you infront of the jeon’s property.

the driver shut the door while you prayed for not confronting jungkook anywhere. it almost felt as if you were sneaking in like a thief, looking cautiously here and there before adjusting the humongous sunglasses on your face.

while walking through the garden, you tried to hide behind every bush which lead you to the front door.

you couldn’t afford to see his face at any cost.

“i’m so glad you made it dear” a soft voice echoed in the space as mrs jeon (jungkook’s mother) smiled warmly at you.

you entered their living room with a slow cautious motion and returned her smile back politely, just like you were taught since childhood.

‘pretty’ would an understatement to describe the cream wallpapers, soft gold chandeliers, the vintage fireplace, spotless tiles and the million dollar artefacts which were scattered throughout their living room.

they also had a generously cushioned sofaset sitting in the middle, similar to the one you had back at home which added perfect homely notes to the rest of the elements.

next, your wandering eyes reached up to the couple of picture frames kept neatly on top of the fireplace, and if you were to look more closely you’d be able to see two cute kids sitting under a cherry blossom tree with shy smiles adorned in their faces.

you remembered the common children’s park where your mother used take you when you were little.

you were an introvert growing up, and being such a quiet kid didn’t help at all because all the other children disliked your presence,

but however, jeon jungkook was the only one among them who made sure to include you in every silly game of his.

he would pull you along, call you his best friend and scold other kids when they tried to bully you.

“she’s always this quiet because she’s an angel and angels don’t talk” — that’s what he used to say.

you wondered how much you both had changed after growing up.

“you both looked so cute with eachother” jungkook’s mother probably had noticed you staring at the picture.

“it’s a shame you aren’t together now…”

your expression shifted visibly and cheeks turned pink at her words, only out of embarrassment because you knew you were the one who pushed jungkook away. you couldn’t accept how perfect he was in everything without even trying.

you spent days and nights isolating yourself from him.

it’s not like your parents were hard on you either. it’s just that, it bothered you so much because he had everything done so effortlessly like — be it balancing his emotions, or scoring perfect grades, or winning school tournaments, or making you smile at the worst times,

you tried looking for him in other men but you were left with nothing but disappointment.

you knew that it was wrong and unfair, but you still drew a unrecoverable boundary between you both.

the irony was that you were scared of losing him, but you still kept pushing him away.

“sorry i shouldn’t have brought that up” the older woman sympathised with a small smile.

“why don’t you sit here for a moment while i go look for someone who can take you downstairs?” she gestured at the couch and sweetly grinned again.

you brushed your hair out of your face and took a deep breath to convince yourself that whatever you both had, was in the past and now the damage was already done.

“thank you” letting out a fake smile and sat yourself down on the soft surface, all while hoping this predicament to end soon so that you can finally go home and grab an unfinished fantasy book to escape from this world.

“—miss y/n? i’ll assist you to the basement. mr. jeon has been waiting for you”

a middle aged househelp politely bowed at you and motioned you towards the grand hallway, which lead to the staircase.

you mentally thanked all of divinity for letting you not run into jungkook.

as far as your knowledge went, you knew that his father stored some of their finest wine bottles down in the basement.

you also knew that there was a different property all together consisting of their infamous vineyard and a common cellar, located a little far from where their house was situated at.

it was the place where you and jungkook would mess around after school.

the kind woman opened the door for you and you were immediately hit with a strong sweetish-woody aroma.

“i’ll leave now miss, please feel free to call me if you need anything else” she bowed before leaving.

the dimly lighted room consisted of several racks, each filled with dark liquor bottles along with some large casks. it also had a few wooden tables scattered here and there on top of a reddish brown colored carpet which reflected a shade similar to that of the liquor stored above.

however, the room was very private and secluded altogether with no windows or doors other than the main entrance.

it felt cool, quiet, dark, but yet soothing enough.

“hello?” you called out as you treaded carefully down an aisle, “mr jeon? its me y/n”—

you stilled halfway through, pausing to look at the tall shadowy figure infront of you.

you recognised it immediately.

“j-jungkook!?” you screeched.

it was freaking jeon jungkook, standing with an unreadable expression while inspecting a bottle of red wine.

he glanced at you as though he was already expecting your presence,

“took you long enough” he said and went back at scrutinising the label of the bottle on his hand.

you were already feeling sick after looking your childhood pictures with him, and the overwhelming amount of sweet grape fragrance was adding more to that misery.

“what–what are you doing here?” you felt so dizzy that you didn’t realise what exactly was coming out of your mouth.

“good question” jungkook smirked iconically and kept the bottle down on the table infront of him.

the lighting was very dim but you could still make out his shirt sleeves being rolled up to reveal the dark ink lines of tattoos on his hand, each one of which you’ve memorised by now.

obviously! it was HIS house, HIS winery, HIS cellar, HIS basement.

you were the freaking outsider…

“dad had to go out for something urgent” he scanned you up and down and paused at your glossy lips to take your form in properly before adding, “—told me to show you around and give this to you” he pointed at the bottle which he just kept down on the wooden surface.

you sighed and accepted your defeated fate, “i’m going home” you turned back on your heels to walk out but were stopped abruptly by a warm hand grabbing your wrist,

“wait! you need to try out this noir atleast”

honestly the last thing you needed was wine on top of your growing misery. the room already felt so much smaller than it actually was.

“let me go jeon…” you pushed your tongue against your cheek.

“don’t wanna”

if you were to turn back right now, you’d find jungkook with a cheesy half smile on his pierced lips.

you tried to yank back your wrist but jungkook overpowered your strength and pulled you backwards to hit his muscular chest.

you let out a gasp and stumbled on his buffy pecs while he encircled his hands around your waist, to hold you super tightly against him.

“you’re always so stubborn hm?” you felt his mouth lean down near your ear which was warming you up every passing second.

“leave me alone you asshole” you tried a failed attempt to free his hands from your waist.

“still mad at me?” jungkook glanced down at your flushed face and a satisfied grin broke into his lips.

“shut up” you were pressed against him, down in the basement, where no one could hear you!

it was just you both, and an overwhelming amount of liquor.

you tried your best to keep up with the nonchalant persona but jungkook’s big arms which cuddled your frame, didn’t help much.

you hated to admit how much you liked it.

“…’m-sorry” you whispered almost inaudibly after a moment, “i didn’t mean whatever i said last weekend at the dinner”

something shifted in the air as jungkook loosened his arms around you.

you thought that this was it, now he would probably just kick you out with a bottle of their wine and never see you again anymore.

just like you had wanted (not really).

“princess” he sighed,

“you have no idea what you do to me”

you gasped loudly when he turned to lift you on the wooden table beside, by grabbing the softness of your thighs.

“huh?” you cluelessly looked at his face.

while parting your thighs he stood between them.

your small skirt rose up rapidly as he held you in place, and it was as though you couldn’t get a word out of your mouth.

“don’t you know?” the relentless tension between you both was sucking the air out of the room,

“know what?” you looked at him through your lashes with a small voice.

“that i’ve loved you since forever” jungkook moved his fingers to grab your jaw, “i cannot imagine a second without you baby. please don’t ever shut me off like that” he leaned forward to press a few kisses in the corner of your mouth.

your heart was beating so rapidly upon hearing his honey like voice. you recalled all the nights you cried relentlessly for hearing this from him.

you spent so much time denying your heart and in the process, it hurt him more than it did you.

“i’m such a horrible person kook. i’m sorry” your eyes filled up with moisture.

“i won’t do it again” you reached out to brush his soft hair covering half of his eyes. your heart was beating crazily against your ribcage. “i was so scared…”

“i know” he replied softly, “i should’ve made things easier”

“i also couldn’t stand you being near other girls”

“mhm right” he quickly smooched you directly on the lips as you glared at him with narrowed eyes,

“you better focus on me” the doe eyed boy nodded at you listening to whatever you had to say. “only me”

“and i need you to cook for me every night from now onwards as a punishment” jungkook nodded again as though he was discovering your traits for the first time.

he knew all that very well— what you disliked, what you liked, what pushed your buttons, what made you happy or sad.

he adored you too much and spent all his time learning how to be the perfect man for you.

“i’m sorry i kept pushing you away” you toyed with his lip piercing. “i thought you didn’t want me…”

“you didn’t say it back though” he pouted against your fingers as you cracked a wide teasing smile. “say what?”

he whined loudly.

“i love you so much” you whispered,

“—you have no idea you idiot”

you let your lips softly mould on his while pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt.

you should’ve said this long back. you should’ve given jungkook the chance he was always deserving of.

you had no idea why it took you both so much time.

jungkook let his lips immediately mould with yours before pulling you closer, if that was even possible and let his soft lips travel down the column of your neck where an adorable red flush danced across your skin.

“jungkook” you gasped again his mouth, “we— we can’t. not here” jungkook’s mom or the house help could walk in any moment and see you both indecently engaging in such activities.

“it’s my house. no one will come inside without my permission” jungkook’s face was equally flushed as he breathed heavily.

“now let me taste my girl” he rubbed your inner thighs soothingly before parting your black lacy panties aside to brush his fingers along your wet slit,

collecting the moisture from near the hole and the circling the ball of nerves on top with his thumb.

“you wore these for me baby?”

“yes k-kook” you nodded and threw your head back in pleasure.

“a-ahh” you moaned loudly as his long fingers teased your womanhood. “tell me what you want princess” he pressed feverish kisses and nipped against the open area of your throat, leaving scarlet marks all over the place.

“you. only you” you were beyond any sense of shame or decency. “hm where do you want me?” he teased your entrance with two of his veiny digits.

“inside me, please” you gasped out loud when he pushed his fingers into your warm walls, slowly scissoring his way inside.

“only sex huh?” he teased. “—your needy cunt is sucking in my fingers so good baby”

“i hate you” you turned your face away from his demanding lips as your body burnt hot with embarrassment and pleasure at the same time.

he suddenly removed his fingers, leaving you all empty. your gaping hole aching for more.

“…nooo don’t do that”

jungkook let out a breathy laugh in turn and pressed a kiss on your swollen lips sweetly. “sorry”

you allowed a teasing hand travel downward to rub on his clothed length.

you could feel him already getting big against your palm so you massaged the hardening length up and down with whatever experience you had gathered.

you still remembered the first time you had given him a blowjob — how gently he had guided you through the entire thing and praised you so well after.

your pussy throbbed with anticipation and you decided to torture him more by latching your lips to the ends of his ear.

jungkook hissed in return when you simultaneously rubbed his length and suckled near his sensitive spot.

“always want you so bad jungkookie” you attempted to pull down his black trousers and free his growing boner.

“yeah?”

“mhm. hate being away from you”

he attached his lips back on yours and sucked on them as though he couldn’t get enough,

you stroked his now exposed cock lazily, fingers stopping at the mushroom head to gather the sticky precum and stroke it again.

his veiny lenght twitched and throbbed with every pull of your hand.

“gonna fuck you so good princess”

you whimpered on his lips when he reached out to pull your top down to reveal your full and juicy tits.

“fuck these are gonna kill me someday” he let his eyes wander on the skin he just freed. your aching nipples hardened under his unwavering gaze and the chill air in the room.

you looked at him with fake innocence, “i think you’re in love with me” you sneakily threw the same words back at him with a small teasing smile as his eyes darkened in realisation,

“we’ve already established that, didn’t we?” he pushed you down to get more comfortable on the table and bent your knees against your chest in a mating press so that his hard on was directly pressing against your weeping pussy.

you moaned uncontrollably and rolled your eyes back at the feeling while he teasingly rubbed himself you.

your panties were still pulled aside, which gave him direct access to your wet entrance.

“you’re such a tease”

jungkook leaned a little closer just to latch his warm mouth on your nipple, sucking and licking the sensitive skin to leave you in a moaning mess.

he enclosed the entire areola inside his wet mouth with his lips tugging on them turn by turn.

“like that?” he glanced up from between your flushed mounds with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips,

“you’re so good kook…” you whimpered out and ran your fingers through his short hair.

one of his hands reached down to his aching length as he jerked himself while kissing the soft skin of your breasts.

his fingers kept on brushing on your drenched entrance as he stroked up and down.

“a-a-ah”

jungkook lifted himself up only to tear your thin underwear apart with trained experience and removed all the pieces from you to let his bulging dick deliciously massage your clit.

“mine, all mine”

you gasped loudly at the raw feeling and tried to muffle your moans against your free hand.

“let me hear you” jungkook slapped your hand away and bent you harder, smushing your thighs in the process before teasing your entrance with his mushroom head.

“baby i c-can’t…”

jungkook was enjoying this a little too much, while he was also equally throbbing with stimulation, he liked seeing you in a moaning-crying mess.

“so tight as always” he pretended to push his angry red cock head inside but pulled out again before your wetness could engulf him.

“please k-kook. fuck me. please” you knew that the only way of stopping the bratty man hovering on top of you was to give in and beg sweetly with teary eyes. and luckily this time he finally gave you what you wanted.

your throbbing cunt was messily leaking and it made it easier for jungkook to bully his thick length inside.

your hair was sprawled on the wooden surface and your body jerked with every inch he let inside you.

“a-ahh aagh shit” you moaned defencelessly as he bottomed out completely.

“you good my babygirl?” jungkook brushed a few unruly strands of hair from your face,

the nickname and soft touch of affection made your heart race and pussy clench uncontrollably.

“mhm so good” you nodded, clearly being cock drunk and jungkook rapidly took off his black tshirt before focusing his attention on your sweaty reddened tits,

“taking my cock so nicely” his fisted the plump mounds, with the nipple twisted between his digits, he started to pump in and out of you in an agonising pace.

the table under you creaked with every movement as the entire room filled with roaring slaps of skin.

you gasped loudly with each thrust as if you almost forgot how to breathe.

his dick was oh so thick, veiny and curved towards the end, rubbing your gummy insides with a practiced expertise.

“feel that? only you can get me hard like this” he said before grabbing your waist as an anchor to drill faster into you.

“o-oh my god, kook” you mumbled gibberish and clenched wildly against him.

“i am going to c-come” you held his face, with your fingers haphazardly tracing his features as he furrowed his eyebrows in pleasure.

“come for me princess”

“a-ah a-ah” you let out a whiny pornographic moan before releasing your juices all over his length.

you would’ve slipped off from the table due to the violent impact if jungkook wasn’t holding you so tightly.

however, that did not keep him from slamming into you in an animalistic speed.

he could feel his balls tightening up with a familiar feeling when your creamy cunt swallowed the entirety of his cock.

your warm walls leaked on his hard length and he wished he could have a taste of it.

“always coating my cock like a dirty lil girl and you were trying to avoid me? huh?”

jungkook glanced at your crimson face, with flushed tits and bruised lips, looking so prettily at him. his heart was beating rapidly against his chest as he considered himself to be the luckiest guy in the planet to be able to experience this and planned on reserving this sight for himself, forever.

“i love you so much” jungkook leaned down to capture your sweet lips in a kiss again,

“i love you too baby”

he heard you whimpering ferociously when a guttural moan left his lips.

he buried deep inside your welcoming wetness and finally halted to release his warm seeds inside.

slowly he pulled out his softening dick from your sore cunt after a little while, as you both hissed at the empty feeling.

when you finally calmed down from the intense high, he showered your face, forehead, neck, boobs and lips with kisses all over while you giggled shyly.

“never gonna let you go now” he whispered on your lips

“—you are mine forever” and hugged you close.

★ notes by buzzyjoonie : for all my emotionally constipated/overthinker girlies, this one is for you ‹𝟹 never stop yearning because the right person will always find you!

⤷ taglist : @mikrokookiex

⤷ follow for more | masterlist ୨୧

[cherrygkoo]

정국 - RAW | oneshot

the one where you convince your boyfriend to try that stupid tiktok trend - eating sushi off his bicep - only for the sushi not to be the rawest thing caught on camera that night.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: established relationship au, porn with plot, smut, fluff (mdni!)

word count: 8,089

warnings/tags: 18+, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampie!, multiple orgasms (like... three), dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, recording/filming (the phone is basically a third character), food play (sushi on nipples, sushi on biceps, sushi everywhere), oral sex (f. and m. receiving), breast play (he fucks her tits and it's messy), clit stimulation (so much blowing on it, rubbing, tonguing), fingering, grinding and dry humping, squirting (she literally gushes everywhere), cum play (eating sushi mixed with cum, sucking her own fluids off him), hair pulling/fisting, lip biting, hickies/marking, second person pov, rich miami aesthetic, tiktok trends gone wrong (or right), that lip ring doing damage, "i fucking love you" ending, soft aftercare

a/n: I was in the process of writing chapter 3 for my jungkook series "purple tears I cry," and a certain sushi scene made me think of this that I just had to write a whole separate oneshot smut for it. this is genuinely nasty, please read at your own risk! hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think of it... don't forget to reblog <3

The Miami humidity clings to your skin the moment you step out of the Uber, but the restaurant's AC hits like a wall of relief, crisp and expensive-smelling, all yuzu and polished wood and money. Nobu. Of course he chose Nobu. You catch your reflection in the dark glass doors, your teal dress catching the neon glow from the street, the silk clinging to the curve of your hips in a way that makes Jungkook's hand tighten at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you who you belong to tonight.

Your hair is up, mostly, a messy twist that took you forty minutes to make look effortless, two strands curling against your collarbones like they have a mind of their own. Your skin glows, sun-kissed and dewy, and you feel his eyes on you, always on you, as the hostess leads you to the corner booth. You make sure to sway your hips a little more than necessary because you know he's watching, know his gaze is fixed on the way the silk shifts over your ass.

He's wearing a white button-up - one that should look innocent, corporate, boring, except he's left the first five buttons undone, and the fabric gapes open to reveal the hard plane of his chest, the ink that spills over his shoulder and disappears beneath the cotton. His lip ring catches the low light when he smiles at you, silver glinting against his mouth, and something low in your stomach tightens because you know exactly how that metal feels against your throat, your breastbone, the inside of your thigh. You know how it feels when he drags it down your stomach, when he looks up at you with those dark eyes while he tongues you open.

You slide into the booth and immediately pull out your phone, propping it against your water glass, angling it just so. The red recording light blinks to life. Jungkook raises an eyebrow but says nothing, just settles across from you, his knee brushing yours under the table, his foot hooking around your ankle to pull you closer.

"Documenting the experience?" he asks, his voice low, rough, the kind of voice that makes you think of hotel sheets and sweat and the way he sounds when he's inside you.

"Memories," you say, but your eyes drop to his mouth, to the silver ring there, and you know he sees it, knows exactly what you're thinking. You adjust the phone slightly, making sure the frame catches both of you, the candlelight, the way his shirt falls open when he leans back.

The server arrives with menus you don't need because you already know what you want, what you always want here. But Jungkook takes his time, asks questions about the omakase, the wine pairings, his voice smooth and deliberate while his shoe slides up your calf beneath the table, pushing the silk of your dress higher, higher, until it brushes the back of your knee and you have to bite your lip to keep from making a sound.

"Spicy tuna," you manage, your voice breathier than you intended, and Jungkook's eyes darken because he knows, he always knows what he's doing to you.

"Two orders," he says to the server, not looking away from you. "And sake. The good stuff."

The sake arrives in a ceramic flask, and he pours for you, his fingers brushing yours as you take the cup, and you make sure to let your tongue linger on the rim when you drink, watching his jaw tighten, watching his gaze drop to your mouth. You set the cup down and lean forward, the neckline of your dress gaping just enough, and you see his eyes flick down, see his throat work as he swallows.

"You're playing with me," he murmurs, and his shoe presses harder against your leg, insistent.

"Maybe you're playing with me," you counter, and you kick off your heel under the table, let your bare foot find his thigh, slide up, up, until you're pressing against the hard outline of him through his trousers, and he hisses, his hand gripping the edge of the table, knuckles white.

"Careful," he warns, but his hips shift, pressing into your touch, and you smile, sweet and dangerous.

"Or what?"

The spicy tuna arrives like art, ruby-red and glistening, arranged on black slate with edible flowers you won't eat. You take the first piece with your fingers because fuck the chopsticks, and Jungkook's gaze tracks the movement, watches your lips close around the fish, the rice, the wasabi that burns just enough. You moan, deliberately, because you know what it does to him, and his jaw tightens, that muscle jumping beneath the skin, his hand disappearing beneath the table where you know he's adjusting himself.

"Good?" he asks, voice wrecked already, ruined, and you haven't even started.

"So good," you say, and you take another, and another, each time making sure to lick your fingers after, slow, obscene, your eyes locked on his. You can see the flush spreading up his neck, can see the way his chest rises and falls faster than it should, the open shirt showing too much skin, the tattoo peeking out, and you want to trace it with your tongue, want to mess up his hair and ruin his composure right here in this restaurant full of people who think they're being subtle about watching you.

You lean back, your foot still working him beneath the table, and you reach for your phone, checking the angle, making sure it's still recording. You tilt it slightly to catch more of him, the candlelight catching the silver in his lip, the way his eyes look black with want.

"Say hi to the camera," you tease, and he does, his voice rough, his smile sharp and predatory.

"Hi, camera," he says, and then, lower, just for you, "Can't wait to see what you do with this footage later."

You take another piece of tuna and hold it out across the table, an offering, a test. He leans forward, never breaking eye contact, and takes it from your fingers with his teeth, his tongue brushing your fingertips, hot and wet, and you feel it everywhere, feel it between your legs where you're already aching, already soaked through your underwear.

"Jungkook," you breathe, and he catches your wrist, holds it, sucks your fingers into his mouth one by one, cleaning them, his tongue swirling around each digit while the restaurant noise fades to nothing and there's only him, only this, only the wet heat of his mouth and the promise of what comes after.

"You're killing me," he murmurs against your palm, his lips brushing the sensitive skin at your wrist, and you shiver, your foot still pressed against his hard length, feeling him throb even through the fabric.

"Good," you whisper. "Suffer."

You eat slowly, deliberately, drawing out every bite, every sip of sake, every moment of his foot tracing patterns on your calf, his knee pressing between your thighs under the table. You talk about nothing, everything, your voice light while your body screams for him, while you watch the sweat bead at his hairline, watch him shift in his seat, uncomfortable and hard and yours.

By the time you're full, stuffed, the silk of your dress feels tighter across your ribs, and you lean back with a groan, hand on your stomach, your foot finally retreating from his lap. He exhales, shaky, and adjusts himself again, not subtle, not caring who sees, and you love him like this, undone, desperate, ready to drag you out of here and fuck you in the Uber if he has to.

"I can't," you say, patting your stomach. "I'm gonna burst."

Jungkook smirks, that dangerous smirk that means trouble, that means you're in for it the second you get back to the hotel. "Shame. I like watching you eat."

"Pervert."

"Your pervert."

You flag down the server, ask for a takeout box, and Jungkook pays without looking at the check, just slides his card across the table like the amount doesn't matter, because it doesn't, not to him, not to either of you tonight. You pocket your phone, the recording still running, capturing everything, capturing the way he stands and offers you his hand, the way he pulls you against him in the elevator, his mouth at your ear.

"You're going to pay for that," he whispers, and you shiver, feel his hand slide down to grip your ass, squeezing hard.

"Promise?"

The hotel suite is all white and marble and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, dark now, just a black expanse beyond the glass. You kick off your heels, your feet sinking into carpet that probably costs more than your first car, and you collapse onto the sectional, pulling out your phone, scrolling through the footage while he pours himself a drink at the mini bar, his back to you, the white shirt pulling across his shoulders, the tattoo peeking out from beneath the sleeve.

TikTok. Endless, brainless TikTok to wind down.

A couple on a beach. A dance trend you don't care about. A recipe for something with feta cheese.

Then: a girl, pretty, blonde, sitting cross-legged on a bed in what looks like a generic hotel room. Her boyfriend beside her, shirtless, flexing his bicep. The girl grins at the camera, then at him, and unwraps a sushi roll, places it on the hard curve of his muscle, and leans down to take it with her teeth. The comments are screaming. The views are in the millions.

You stare at the screen.

You stare at the takeout box on the coffee table.

You stare at Jungkook, who's pouring himself a drink, his back to you, the white shirt still open, showing too much skin, the lip ring catching the light when he turns his head.

Enlightenment.

You set your phone down. Stand. Cross the room on bare feet, silent, predatory. He hears you, turns, glass halfway to his lips, and you pluck it from his hand, set it on the marble counter with a clink that sounds like a promise.

"Take your shirt off," you say.

His eyebrow arches, that lip ring catching the light again. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." You reach for the takeout box, open it, the spicy tuna still perfect, still glistening, and you can feel him watching you, confused and curious and already getting hard because he always gets hard when you use that tone, that minx tone, the one that means you're about to ruin him.

He sets the glass down. Undoes the remaining buttons slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving yours. The shirt falls open, then off, and he's bare in front of you, all golden skin and ink and muscle that makes your mouth water. You step closer, close enough to feel the heat coming off him, and you press your palm to his chest, right over his heart, feeling it thud against your hand.

You set your phone down on the marble counter, angling it just so, the red recording light blinking like a heartbeat in the dim room. You want this captured, want the lens to swallow every moment of what comes next, want to watch it later and feel the heat crawl up your neck all over again. Jungkook's eyes flick to the device, understanding dawning dark and dangerous in his gaze, and when he looks back at you, something has shifted. The playful tension from the restaurant has evaporated, replaced by something heavier, hungrier, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You lean in, your hair falling forward, those two dark strands brushing his shoulder like silk curtains framing the moment. You don't go for the sushi yet. You press your mouth to his throat first, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, hard enough to make him groan deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your lips. His hand comes up to tangle in your updo, disheveling it further, fingers tightening in your hair until your scalp sings with the sting of it. You lick the salt from his skin, taste the cologne at his pulse point, the musk of him underneath, and you feel him shudder beneath your mouth, feel the sushi roll shift against your cheek as he breathes ragged and wrecked.

"You're insane," he murmurs, but his voice is already ruined, gravel and velvet, and you smile against his neck, teeth grazing his tendon, feeling his cock twitch against your hip through his trousers.

"Wait until you see what comes after the appetizer," you whisper, and finally, finally, you turn your head and take the sushi between your teeth, your eyes locked on his, watching him watch you, watching the way your lips close around the rice and fish, the way your throat works as you swallow, and the sound he makes is animal, guttural, something torn from deep in his chest that makes your thighs clench together with nothing but air between them.

He moves before you can even taste the wasabi. His hands find your waist and he's lifting you, setting you down on the cool marble counter like you weigh nothing, like you're something to be arranged, positioned, consumed. The stone bites against your bare thighs where your dress rides up, and you gasp, but the sound is swallowed by his mouth crashing against yours, the metal of his lip ring pressing hard into your flesh, cold and burning all at once. He tastes like sake and want and the promise of destruction, and you open for him, let him take, let him plunder your mouth with a desperation that makes your head spin.

"Look at you," he breathes against your jaw, his teeth dragging down your throat, sharp and claiming. "Look at you, playing with fire, recording this, thinking you're in control."

His hands find the thin straps of your teal dress, silk whispering against your skin like a secret. He doesn't rush. He takes his time, sliding the straps down your shoulders with agonizing slowness, his eyes tracking every inch of exposed flesh, his pupils blown wide and black with desire. The silk catches on your nipples for a heartbeat, clinging, teasing, and then it falls, smooth as water, pooling at your waist, and you're bare for him, your breasts heavy and full, nipples tight and aching in the cool hotel air, no barrier between his gaze and your skin.

He stares. The silence stretches, thick and electric, and you feel beautiful, powerful, laid out like a feast on this marble altar. His throat works, his hand coming up to cup you, weigh you, his thumb dragging across your nipple so slowly you whimper, arching into his touch.

"No bra," he observes, his voice rough, almost reverent. "You were planning this. Walking around that restaurant with nothing under this dress, teasing me, letting me wonder."

"I wanted you to wonder," you admit, your voice breathless, broken. "I wanted you to think about it all night."

"Evil," he murmurs, and then he's bending his head, his mouth closing over your nipple, hot and wet and devastating, and you cry out, your hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as he sucks, as his tongue circles and flicks and drives you mindless. He moves to the other breast, giving it the same worship, the same relentless attention, and you're squirming on the counter, your hips rolling, seeking friction, seeking him.

He pulls back with a wet sound that makes you blush even as you moan for more. His eyes are dark, predatory, the playful boyfriend from the restaurant gone, replaced by something that looks at you like you're prey, like you're his to ruin.

"Bed," he commands, his voice leaving no room for negotiation, no room for anything but obedience. "Now. On your back."

You slide off the counter, your legs shaky, the silk of your dress catching on your hips as you move. You cross to the bed, each step feeling like you're walking through honey, through heat, your body thrumming with anticipation. You climb onto the white sheets, the fabric cool against your heated skin, and you lie back, your breasts falling to the sides, heavy and aching, your hair spilling across the pillows in waves.

He follows you, stalking across the room with a predator's grace, all bare chest and ink and the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. He stops at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking over you, devouring you, and then he reaches for your phone still sitting on the counter, brings it with him, sets it on the nightstand angled perfectly to capture everything, the red light blinking like a third heartbeat in the room.

"Keep it recording," he says, not a request but a decree. "I want you to watch this later. I want you to see what you look like when you're being fucked properly."

He undoes his belt with slow, deliberate movements, the leather hissing as he pulls it free, the metal clinking as he drops it to the floor. His trousers follow, and his underwear, and then he's naked, glorious, his cock thick and heavy and curving up toward his stomach, the tip already wet with arousal, the veins along the shaft prominent and pulsing. You can't help but stare, can't help but lick your lips at the sight of him, at the thought of taking him inside you, anywhere, everywhere.

He climbs onto the bed, crawling up your body like a storm rolling in, all dark intent and coiled power. He doesn't touch you where you want him most, not yet. Instead, he straddles your chest, his knees settling on either side of your ribs, his hands bracing on the headboard above you, caging you in, trapping you beneath him. You can smell him, musk and sweat and something uniquely Jungkook, can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the weight of him hovering above you.

"Look at you," he breathes, his hand coming down to grip himself, to stroke once, twice, the sight obscene and mesmerizing. "Look at these perfect tits. Do you know how many times I've thought about this? About fucking them? About painting you with my cum?"

You whimper, arching up, and he takes that as invitation, as permission. He leans forward, guiding himself down, the hot, heavy weight of his cock settling into the valley between your breasts, skin against skin, velvet over steel. He groans, long and low, his head falling back, the column of his throat working as he begins to move.

He starts slow, rocking his hips, sliding himself through your cleavage, the friction making him hiss, making his abs tighten and flex with each thrust. You press your breasts together, creating a tighter channel for him, and he groans your name like a prayer, like a curse, his pace quickening, his hips snapping faster, harder. The head of his cock peeks out from between your breasts with each forward thrust, glistening and flushed, and you crane your neck, wanting to taste, wanting to lick the salt from his skin, but he pulls back just enough to deny you, a wicked smile playing at his lips.

"Greedy," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm, his control fraying at the edges. "So fucking greedy for it. You want this? Want me to cum all over you? Mark you?"

"Yes," you gasp, your own arousal spiraling tight and hot between your legs, the sight of him using you, losing himself in your body, driving you wild. "Yes, please, Jungkook, please-"

He breaks. His hips stutter, his hand gripping the headboard so tight his knuckles go white, and he comes with a shout that sounds torn from his soul, thick ropes of cum spilling across your chest, your throat, marking you, claiming you in the most primal way. He keeps thrusting through it, milking himself, his cock twitching against your skin, until he's spent, until he's trembling above you, his chest heaving, sweat gleaming on his inked shoulders.

The silence that follows is broken only by your ragged breathing, by the wet sounds of him still sliding against your cum-slicked skin. He looks down at you, at the mess he's made of you, and his eyes flash with something dark and satisfied, something possessive.

"Beautiful," he whispers, his hand coming down to smear the evidence of his pleasure across your breasts, your nipples, making you glisten with him. "So fucking beautiful."

He reaches over to the takeout box still sitting on the counter, forgotten until now, and retrieves another piece of spicy tuna, the fish still cool, still perfect. He brings it to your chest, and you watch, breathless, as he places it carefully on top of your nipple, the sushi resting there like an offering, like sacrilege.

He bends his head, his eyes locked on yours, and takes the sushi between his teeth, his tongue dragging across your nipple as he does, hot and wet and filthy, sucking the fish and your flesh together, the combination of sensations making you cry out, making your back arch off the bed. He chews slowly, savoring, his hand coming up to palm your other breast, his thumb circling your nipple, spreading his own release across your skin in obscene patterns.

When he swallows, he surges up, his mouth crashing against yours with a ferocity that steals your breath, his tongue thrusting deep, sharing the taste of tuna and salt and him, his teeth catching your lower lip, the metal of his piercing dragging against your sensitive flesh. He kisses you like he's starving, like he wants to consume you whole, like the camera isn't even there, like the world has narrowed down to just this, just you, just the wet heat of his mouth and the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

"Mine," he growls against your lips, the word vibrating through your chest, through your bones. "Say it."

"Yours," you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging crescents into his inked skin. "I'm yours, Jungkook, I'm-"

He cuts you off with another kiss, deeper, harder, his hand sliding down your body, beneath the silk of your dress still pooled at your waist, finding where you're wet and aching and ready, and you know this is only the beginning, know that the night is long and the camera is still rolling and he's nowhere near finished with you.

He pulls back from the kiss with a wet, filthy sound that echoes in the quiet room, his eyes dark and glittering with intent. His hand is still between your legs, his fingers spreading your wetness in slow, teasing circles, and you arch into his touch, desperate, needy, your hips rolling to chase more friction.

"Give me the phone," he commands, his voice rough as gravel, as velvet, as something dangerous wrapped in silk.

You reach for it with trembling fingers, the device still warm from where it sat recording, and you hand it to him, your breath catching as he takes it, as he adjusts the angle, as he points the lens down at you like he's directing a film where you're the only star.

"Look at you," he murmurs, the camera capturing everything, capturing the flush spreading down your chest, the way your breasts rise and fall with each ragged breath, the sheen of sweat and his release still glistening on your skin. "Look at this fucking body. Do you see what I see? Do you see how perfect you are?"

He shifts back on his knees, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, and he hooks his fingers in the silk of your dress still pooled at your waist. He pulls slowly, agonizingly slowly, the fabric sliding down your hips, your thighs, leaving you completely bare, completely exposed to the lens, to his gaze, to the hungry darkness in his eyes.

"Spread your legs," he orders, and you do, your knees falling open, your thighs trembling as the cool hotel air hits your heated core. You feel exposed, vulnerable, the camera recording every inch of you, the way your pussy glistens with arousal, swollen and pink and aching for him. He zooms in, the lens close enough to capture the details, the way you pulse with need, the way your thighs are already shaking with anticipation.

"Beautiful," he breathes, the word almost reverent, almost profane. "Look at this pretty pussy. So wet for me. So fucking ready."

He sets the phone down on the mattress, angled up at you both, the red light blinking steady and watchful. But then he's reaching for your hand, pulling you up, placing the device in your trembling grip.

"Hold it," he instructs, his voice dropping lower, filthier, his eyes locked on yours with a command that brooks no argument. "Record me. Don't you dare stop filming, understand? I want you to capture every second of this. I want you to watch later and see exactly what you do to me."

You nod, your throat too tight to speak, and you angle the camera down, your fingers shaking as you focus the lens on him, on where he's settling between your thighs like he belongs there, like he's coming home.

He looks up at you through his lashes, that silver lip ring catching the light, and he knows, he always knows what that piece of metal does to you. He runs his tongue over it slowly, deliberately, letting you watch the way it moves, the way it glints, and your breath hitches because you can feel it already, can imagine the cool metal against your overheated flesh.

"You like this?" he asks, his voice a purr, a promise, a threat. "You like watching me? Like knowing I'm about to wreck you with this mouth?"

"Yes," you whimper, the camera trembling in your grip as you hold it steady, as you capture every moment.

He starts at your knee, his mouth hovering, his breath hot against your skin. He blows, a gentle stream of air that makes you gasp, makes your leg jerk in his grip. He holds you steady, his fingers digging into your thigh, and he drags his lips up, up, not touching, just breathing, just letting you feel the ghost of him, the promise of him.

He reaches the crease where your thigh meets your hip and he pauses, his eyes flicking up to the camera, to you, holding your gaze as he blows again, right there, right where you're throbbing, where you're aching, where you're dripping for him.

"Please," you beg, your voice breaking, the camera shaking in your hand. "Please, Jungkook, please touch me-"

"Shh," he soothes, his breath washing over your clit, hot and cool and devastating. "I've got you. Be patient, pretty girl. Be good."

He blows again, directly on your clit this time, the sensation shocking, electric, making you cry out, your hips bucking off the mattress. He holds you down with one hand on your stomach, pinning you, controlling you, and he leans closer, closer, until you can feel his breath fluttering against your most sensitive flesh, until you're trembling, until you're sobbing with need.

"Look at the camera," he commands, his voice vibrating against your thigh. "Don't look at me. Look at the lens. Show them how pretty you are when you're desperate."

You force your eyes up, staring into the small black circle of the phone's camera, your vision blurred with tears, your mouth open, your chest heaving. You look wrecked, you know you do, you can see your reflection in the dark screen, can see the way your hair is tangled and wild, the way your lips are swollen and red, the way your body is flushed pink with arousal.

"Good girl," he praises, and then he finally, finally, touches you.

His tongue drags through your folds in one long, slow stroke, hot and wet and perfect, and you scream, the sound tearing from your throat, your hips bucking against his mouth. He groans against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine, and he does it again, and again, lapping at you like he's starving, like he wants to taste every drop of your arousal, like he could spend hours here, drowning in you.

He focuses on your clit, circling it with the flat of his tongue, then the tip, then flicking it, relentless, merciless, driving you higher and higher until you're panting, until you're chanting his name like a prayer, like a curse, until your thighs are trembling on either side of his head.

"So fucking loud," he murmurs against you, the words muffled, filthy. "Let them hear you. Let the whole fucking hotel hear what I'm doing to you."

He pulls back just enough to speak, his chin glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark and wild. "Keep recording. Don't you dare stop."

You nod frantically, your hand cramping around the phone, but you hold it steady, you keep the lens focused on him, on where he's watching you with predatory intensity.

He slides one finger inside you, slow and deliberate, curling it to find that spot that makes your vision white out, and you moan, long and loud, unable to help yourself. He adds a second finger, stretching you, filling you, and he starts to pump them in and out, his wrist twisting, his knuckles dragging against your walls in a way that makes you see stars.

"More," you gasp, your head falling back, but he clicks his tongue, sharp and reprimanding.

"Eyes on the camera," he reminds you, his voice stern, commanding. "Look at me through the lens. Show me that pretty face."

You force your head up, your neck trembling with the effort, and you stare into the camera, your eyes wide and glassy, your mouth open as you pant. He adds a third finger, the stretch burning so perfectly you sob, your hips rolling to meet his thrusts, and he starts rubbing your clit with his other hand, circling it in tight, relentless patterns while his fingers work inside you, while he crooks them to hit that spot, that perfect spot, over and over and over.

"You're taking three fingers so well," he praises, his voice dripping with filth, with pride. "Look at you, stuffed full, dripping down my hand. You love this, don't you? Love being watched, love being used, love being my little porn star."

"Yes," you cry out, the camera shaking as your orgasm builds, coiling tight and hot in your belly. "Yes, yes, Jungkook, please, I'm gonna-"

"Not yet," he cuts you off, his fingers stilling, his hand pulling away from your clit, leaving you hovering on the edge, desperate and whining. "Not until I say. Keep holding that camera. Keep recording. I want to see your face when you cum all over my tongue."

He dives back in, his mouth replacing his fingers, his tongue thrusting inside you, fucking you with wet heat while his thumb presses hard against your clit, rubbing in furious circles. The dual sensation is too much, overwhelming, devastating, and you're screaming now, loud and unrestrained, your voice raw as you chant his name, as you beg, as you plead for release.

"Jungkook, please, please, I can't, I need to-"

"Cum," he commands, the word vibrating against your core. "Cum for me now. Let me taste it. Let me drink you down."

He sucks your clit into his mouth, the metal of his lip ring pressing hard against the sensitive bud, and you break. Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, like a storm, like something violent and beautiful and earth-shattering. Your back arches off the bed, your thighs clamping around his head, your hand spasming around the phone as you cry out, loud and broken and his, completely his.

He doesn't stop. He keeps licking, keeps sucking, drawing out your pleasure until you're shaking, until you're sobbing, until you're pushing at his shoulders because it's too much, too sensitive, too everything.

He finally pulls back with a wet, obscene sound, his chin dripping with your release, his eyes dark and satisfied and wild. He looks at the camera, looks directly into the lens where you're still recording, still capturing every filthy moment, and he licks his lips, slow and deliberate, savoring your taste.

"Delicious," he murmurs, the word dripping with innuendo, with promise. "My favorite meal."

He crawls up your body, his skin hot against yours, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that tastes like you, like him, like everything dirty and perfect and yours. The camera is still recording, still capturing, still blinking its red light in the dark room, and you know, you know this is a night you'll be watching back for years, a night that will never stop making you blush, making you ache, making you want.

"Good girl," he whispers against your lips, his hand tangling in your hair, his body heavy and warm above you. "You did so well. You held it the whole time."

He takes the phone from your trembling grip, checks the recording, a smug, satisfied smile playing at his lips. "Perfect angle. Look at you, pretty thing. Look how beautiful you are when you cum."

He shows you the screen, and you watch yourself, watch your face contort with pleasure, watch your body arch and shake, and you feel the heat crawl up your neck even as you feel yourself getting wet again, already wanting more, already wanting everything he has to give.

He pulls you up, his hands rough at your waist, flipping you until you're straddling him, your knees bracketing his hips, your hands braced on his inked chest. The sweat-slick slide of your skin against his is electric, devastating, and you can feel him hard and thick beneath you, pressing against your thigh, leaving wet trails of pre-cum against your skin.

"Come here," he growls, his hand fisting in your hair, pulling you down until your mouths crash together, teeth clicking, tongues tangling in a messy, desperate dance. He tastes like you, like sake, like the lingering spice of tuna and salt and sex, and you moan into his mouth, your hips rolling instinctively, grinding your soaked core against his rigid length.

"Fuck," he breathes against your lips, his hips bucking up to meet you, the friction making you both gasp. "Fuck, baby, you feel so good."

You reach for the takeout box still within arm's reach, your fingers trembling as you unwrap another piece of spicy tuna, the fish cool and glistening in the dim light. You break the kiss, sitting back on your heels, and his eyes track your movements, dark and questioning, until you lean forward and place the sushi directly on his nipple, the pink flesh peeking through the dark ink of his chest tattoo.

"Christ," he hisses, his head falling back against the pillows, his throat working as you bend down, your hair creating a curtain around you both.

You take the sushi between your teeth first, biting down, the flavor bursting across your tongue, but then you keep going, your mouth closing over his nipple, sucking hard, laving it with your tongue, the combination of cool fish and hot skin making him arch off the bed, his hand flying to your head, gripping tight.

"Oh fuck," he groans, long and low, the sound vibrating through his chest into your mouth. "Oh fuck, baby, fuck-"

You suck harder, your teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, and he cries out, his hips jerking up, his cock sliding through your folds, bumping against your clit with each thrust of his hips. You release his nipple with a wet pop, looking up at him through your lashes, your lips swollen and glistening.

"You like that?" you purr, your voice dripping with filth, with power. "Like me eating off you? Like being my plate, my meal?"

"Yes," he pants, his eyes blown wide, his chest heaving. "Fuck yes, anything, everything-"

You start grinding in earnest, rolling your hips, sliding your soaked pussy along the length of his cock without letting him inside, teasing, torturing, your clit dragging against his rigid shaft with every movement. The friction is delicious, maddening, and you're both moaning, the sounds filling the room, raw and unfiltered.

"Oh fuck, baby," he chants, his hands gripping your waist, your hips, guiding your movements, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "Oh fuck, just like that, just like that-"

You lean down, your breasts pressing against his chest, your mouth at his ear. "Feel how wet I am?" you whisper, your voice a dirty secret. "Feel how much I need you? I've been dripping for you all night, Jungkook. All fucking night."

"Shit," he groans, his hips stuttering, losing their rhythm. "Shit, you're gonna make me cum like this, make me-"

He reaches for the phone, his hand trembling as he angles it up at you, capturing the way you move above him, the way your body undulates like a wave, like something primal and ancient and devastatingly beautiful.

"Look at this," he murmurs, his voice wrecked, his eyes flicking between the screen and your face. "Look at you, grinding on me like a little slut, so desperate for it. You want this cock, baby? Want me to fill you up?"

"Yes," you whine, your movements becoming erratic, desperate. "Please, please, I need it, need you inside-"

He drops the phone to the mattress, the camera still recording, still capturing everything, and he grips your hips hard, lifting you, positioning you above him. You reach between your bodies, your hand wrapping around his thick length, guiding him to your entrance, and you sink down slowly, inch by inch, your head falling back, your mouth open in a silent scream as he stretches you, fills you, completes you.

"Fuck," you gasp, your hands braced on his chest, your nails digging crescents into his skin. "Oh fuck, Jungkook, you're so big, so-"

"Move," he commands, his voice guttural, his hands guiding your hips. "Ride me, baby. Show me how good you are."

You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles, feeling every inch of him drag against your walls, hitting places that make your vision blur. He keeps one hand on your hip, guiding you, controlling the pace, while the other reaches for your breast, palming the heavy weight, his thumb dragging across your nipple.

"The sushi wasn't the rawest thing tonight," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours, dark and possessive. "This is. You and me, like this, nothing between us. Just raw, filthy fucking."

You moan, your movements speeding up, your hips snapping down harder, taking him deeper, until he's hitting your cervix with each thrust, the stretch bordering on pain but feeling so perfect you can't stop. He grabs the phone again, angling it up at you, capturing your face contorted with pleasure, your breasts bouncing with each movement, the place where your bodies join, wet and obscene.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his voice reverent and filthy all at once. "Look at you, taking me so well. My perfect girl."

He flips you suddenly, his strength shocking, his movements fluid and predatory. You're on your back before you can process the shift, him settling between your thighs, his cock still buried deep inside you, his hands bracing on either side of your head.

"Recording," he commands, pressing the phone into your trembling hand. "Don't stop. I want you to see this. Want you to watch later and see exactly how I fuck you."

You hold it up, the lens focused on where your bodies meet, and he pulls out slowly, agonizingly slowly, until just the tip remains inside you, glistening with your combined arousal. He hovers there, teasing, and you whimper, your hips bucking up, seeking more.

"Quiet," he orders, his voice sharp. "Be quiet and listen. Listen to how wet you are for me."

He thrusts back in, hard and deep, and the sound is obscene, wet and filthy, your arousal squelching around him, the slap of skin against skin filling the room. You bite your lip to keep from screaming, your hand shaking as you hold the camera steady, capturing the way he pulls out and thrusts back in, over and over, the rhythm building, the sounds growing louder, wetter, more desperate.

He pulls out completely, his cock slapping against your stomach, wet and heavy, and he drags the head through your folds, bumping against your clit, circling it, teasing it with short, sharp jabs that make you cry out despite your best efforts to stay quiet.

"Please," you beg, your voice breaking. "Please, Jungkook, please fuck me, please-"

He lines himself up and thrusts back in, but this time he doesn't stop, doesn't slow, doesn't tease. He starts pounding into you, hard and fast and merciless, his hips snapping forward with a force that moves you up the bed, your head hitting the headboard with each thrust. He's fucking you like he hates you, like he loves you, like he wants to crawl inside your skin and never leave.

"Scream," he commands, his voice ragged, his hand wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, just reminding you who you belong to. "Let me hear you. Let the fucking city hear what I'm doing to you."

You scream. You can't help it, the pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming, building and coiling tight in your belly, your orgasm approaching like a freight train. He's recording your face, the camera capturing your mouth open in a silent scream, your eyes rolled back, tears streaming down your temples into your hair.

"That's it," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm as he chases his own release. "That's it, baby, cum for me, cum on my cock, let me feel you-"

You break. Your orgasm crashes through you, violent and beautiful, your pussy clamping down on him, milking him, and he groans, long and loud, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and thick and endless. But as you come, as your body convulses around him, something else happens, something wet and shocking, and you're squirting, actually squirting, your release gushing out around his cock, mixing with his cum, creating a mess of fluids that soaks the sheets, his thighs, drips down your ass.

"Holy shit," he breathes, his eyes wide and wild, the camera still recording, capturing the obscene flood of liquid, the way it glistens on his skin, the way your body continues to shake and convulse. "Holy fucking shit, baby, look at you, look at this-"

He pulls out slowly, his cock still half-hard, dripping with your combined release, and he holds it up, angling the camera to capture the mess, the way his cum mixed with your arousal drips from his shaft, thick and white and obscene.

"Suck it," he commands, his voice rough, his hand tangling in your hair. "Suck your cum off my cock. Clean me up, kitten."

You scramble down, your body still trembling from aftershocks, and you take him into your mouth, tasting yourself, tasting him, the mixture salty and musky and filthy. You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head, and he groans, his hand tightening in your hair.

"Fuck, yes," he pants. "My balls, kitten, suck my balls."

You pull back, your hand wrapping around his shaft, and you duck down, taking one testicle into your mouth, then the other, rolling them on your tongue, sucking gently while your hand works his length. He pulls your hair, guiding you, his hips bucking slightly, and then you pull back, kitten licking him, small, teasing laps at the head of his cock, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes, innocent and filthy all at once.

"Perfect kitten," he breathes, his voice wrecked, his eyes dark with renewed desire. "My perfect little kitten. Look at you, so eager, so good for me."

He starts fucking into your mouth, his hand guiding your head, his hips snapping forward, pushing his cock deep into your throat, and you relax, let him use you, let him take what he needs. He's relentless, his stamina shocking, and you can feel him swelling, feel him getting close again.

"I'm gonna cum," he warns, his voice strained. "Gonna cum again, baby, gonna-"

He thrusts deep and holds there, his cock pulsing, and he spills down your throat, hot and thick, more than you thought possible, more than should be human. You swallow, your throat working, your eyes watering, and when he finally pulls out, spent and trembling, you collapse back onto the pillows, laughing, the sound breathless and beautiful and disbelieving.

"I can't believe you had all that cum inside you," you marvel, your voice hoarse, your lips swollen and glistening. "That was... that was the third time?"

He collapses beside you, his chest heaving, his skin flushed and sweaty and marked by your nails, your teeth, your possession. He pulls you into his arms, his hand cradling your head against his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering, feel the rumble of his laughter.

"For you," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your hair. "Only for you, pretty girl. You drain me completely. You ruin me."

The phone is still recording somewhere on the bed, still capturing the aftermath, the sweat-slick mess of your bodies, the way you curl into each other like survivors of some beautiful storm. But for now, you just breathe, just exist in this moment of shattered, perfect aftermath, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest, his hand stroking lazy circles on your back.

He doesn't ask. He just moves, shifting off the bed with a grace that seems impossible for someone who just spent himself three times over. You hear water running in the bathroom, the sound of a cloth being wrung out, and then he's back, kneeling between your thighs with a warm, wet towel in his hand.

He cleans you slowly, carefully, his touch reverent where it had been ruthless before. He wipes away the mess of your combined release, the sweat, the evidence of everything you did together, and his eyes follow the path of the cloth with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. He presses kisses to your inner thigh, your hip, your stomach, each one soft and lingering, worshipping you in a different language than the one he used when he was inside you.

When he's finished, he tosses the cloth aside and crawls up your body, his weight settling over you again, but different now, protective, cocooning. He finds your mouth, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that tastes like salt and love and exhaustion. He bites your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth, pulling slightly until you whimper, and then he releases you with a laugh, low and warm and vibrating against your skin.

"Beautiful," he whispers, his forehead resting against yours, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw like he's memorizing you, like he's trying to commit every inch to memory. "You're so fucking beautiful. Do you know that? Do you know what you do to me?"

You smile, your hand coming up to tangle in his hair, still damp with sweat. "Show me," you whisper back.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, really look at you, his eyes dark and endless and full of something that makes your breath catch. He cups your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing over your swollen lips, and when he speaks, his voice is rough, stripped bare, nothing but truth.

"I fucking love you," he says. "I love you so much it scares me."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and real and perfect, and you pull him down, kiss him deep and slow, pouring everything you can't say into the movement of your lips against his.

The camera is still recording somewhere, still blinking its red light in the dark, but neither of you reach for it. Some moments are just for you. Just for this. Just for the two of you, tangled in white sheets in a Miami hotel room, sweating and spent and in love, the rawest thing either of you have ever known.

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ NINETEEN

𓄲 "I like it," she says as she her hand drop back to rest against her leg. When you don't immediately respond enthusiastically she turns to you with a frown. "What?" she murmurs, "Why are you looking at me like that?" 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children)

⧽ word count ⋮ 9.7k average reading time ⋮ 55 minutes

── [ ✉️ ] Oh so like, this one actually hit me right in the heart to write. When I told you ladies that the upcoming chapter were going to be very Rayne focused I was more so hinting at this specific one. Each moment is precious to me and one of the scenes here have been rooted in my brain since late February. May this cure your longing for girlhood and daddy issues. I'll be thoroughly disappointed if no one gets at least a little emotional... Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3

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chapter 19 — "Dancing Queen"

Rays of orange and pink caress the naked tree branches just outside — the setting sun spilling through the curtains that had been left pulled back to let the last light in. A glowing halo wraps around her head as Rayne shifts on the edge of the bed, her back turned to the window and the beautiful sky. 

It was no later than four-thirty pm but as winter break would commence the following Monday there was little for the children to do in terms of school work. Thus you had managed to pull the elder aside for some much needed alone time — for today was the big day — the one you had spent the last few preparing for. 

After her birthday party last weekend, Rayne had reluctantly agreed to attend the dance with her father. Though you had only caught a glimpse of their conversation upstairs last Saturday, you knew that it was all Jungkook's doing. The pair had actually spent some time practicing together, with you and Cassian watching subtly from the kitchen as they did. 

Friday afternoon was now coming to a close and the seven pm mark crept closer for each passing minute. Rayne's shadow engulfs you where you sit perched on the floor, making it easier to peer up at her through the blinding rays. She wears a solemn expression, her eyes set on the purple dress hanging on the handle of her closet. 

"Is this really necessary?" 

Her voice is a begrudging drawl of lazy tongue that fills the silence along with the faint shuffle as you stifle through your duffel bag. Choosing to respond with only a brief, "Mhm", you go on to pull out all of the necessities you had brought along: hot rollers, an assortment of brushes and a palette of bold eyeshadows. 

And perhaps you were being a little selfish. But growing up an only child you had always begged your parents for a younger sister. Someone to share clothes and bracelets with, to gossip about boys and to laugh late into the night with — to care for her in all the ways you thought a big sister should. 

Suppose a small part of you was taking advantage of the brief opportunity that had presented itself within Rayne. 

You go about placing all the items in order on the floor, nudging a brush to line up straight with the others before glancing up at the skeptical girl. "This is merely standard procedure, you know." Gesturing toward the lineup of beauty products, you send her a lopsided smile. 

There's a moment of quietness where Rayne simply frowns. Her fingers pick idly at the seams of her jeans as her eyes flicker between the eyeshadow and the hot rollers. "I don't know…" she murmurs, her tone uncharacteristically soft, "I don't—", shrugging dismissively, she avoids your gaze, "I don't do all that stuff." She nods pointedly toward the shimmer you had just fished out of your bag, her nose scrunching. 

You pause, the round plastic box clutched tightly in your hand as you pull the flesh of your cheek between your teeth. Chewing on the raw and tender skin, you let your attention fall to the items you had just hauled out onto the floor. There was nothing extravagant about them, no high-end brands — in fact most of it had been purchased at the drug store and the hot rollers were second hand. 

Brows pinching together, you study the array of brushes. They all got the job done and the longer the silence stretched between you the more obvious it became that the question of quality wasn't the issue here. 

"You mean to tell me you don't dress up or anything?" Tilting your head to the side, you regard her closely. 

Rayne clears her throat as she shifts her weight on the bed, shoving her hands under her thighs. "No," she mutters under her breath, sending you a small glance through the corner of her eye before scoffing, "What? Am I supposed to?" The inquiry comes out defensive as her gaze narrows into something guarded. 

Gnawing softly at your cheek, hesitating at the tone she'd used. It wasn't a requirement per se. Rayne was only eight after all but you still vividly remember sneaking into your mom's vanity at that age — rummaging through her makeup, smearing bold lipstick onto your lips and slapping all kinds of powder onto your face. 

"Well…" you start, forehead creasing slightly as you stare out at nothing in particular, "No." Shaking your head softly, you then tilt it back to peer up at her, squinting slightly against the afternoon sun, "I thought it would be a fun thing for us to do together, you know, girl to girl." 

Her eyes widen at that, only for a moment before sharpening with suspicion again as her fingers curl around the fabric of her jeans. 

"I know that your dad does your hair from time to time," you add after a short pause, "Though your brother tells me that he doesn't do a very good job for the most part." 

Rayne actually makes a small sound that could have almost been mistaken for a laugh — the corner of her lip twitching into something just shy of an actual smile. "No," she agrees quietly. "He makes the braids uneven," a small roll of her eye follows, "And it always falls apart by lunch." 

The giggle that bubbles from your chest is carefree, as warm as the setting sun outside and you wished she would find it in herself to share it with you. "See?" you muse, tapping the hot rollers in front of you with a grin, "Boys have no idea what they're doing." Cocking her a brow, you add, "Us girls need to stick together you see." 

She nods thoughtfully, hands still curled tight around her pants but her gaze has drifted to the eyeshadow palette next to your knee. Beneath the reluctance there was something akin to longing, barely there but still visible if you looked hard enough. 

The longer you thought about it the more you came to realize that you and Rayne were not so different after all. Growing up in the absence of her mother with only a father and brother who knew as much about being a woman as a fish did walking on land. 

Perhaps you weren't the only one wishing for a sister. 

"What do you say we give this a go?" Gesturing toward the array of items scattered across the floor, you glance up at her with a hopeful smile. 

A long moment of silence passes until Rayne finally nods, a slow tilt of her head that hints at no enthusiasm but fills you with excitement nonetheless. 

Rayne's usually quiet bedroom had never been so lively before. The tidy space had become a mess by this point, brushes and empty plastic packaging leaving a trail to where the two of you sat on the floor. A record player — one you had found within the depths of her closet moments ago — was playing a CD of ABBA, the melody singing through the air. 

"Feel the beat from the tambourine," you hum softly, fingers carding through a dark strand of her hair as you reach for another roller. 

Having taken out the ponytail that she always wore, you realized just how long Rayne's hair actually was. The dark black was a stark contrast to her warm, honey tinted skin and it reached all the way to her elbows when allowed to flow freely. She had insisted that this wasn't needed and that she should be just fine leaving her hair untouched but you forced her down in front of the mirror. 

Placing a bobby pin between your lips, you continue to hum along quietly to the song. "You can dance, you can jive," Twisting the lock of hair up around the warm plastic roller, you pluck the pin to fasten it in place. The rollers were thankfully not hot to the touch but you were still carefully to not hurt her. 

Rayne, for her part, sat perfectly still. Her legs were crossed and she rests one hand on each knee as she gazes at her reflection in the mirror. Whenever you looked up your eyes met — you would send her a smile which she did not reciprocate, but she did not look uncomfortable either so you counted the win anyway. 

"How much longer?" She asks when you fasten another roller. Her shoulders flexed as she adjusted herself — her straightened back serving as a ridicule to your hunched over one. 

Pausing, you lean back to asses your work thus far. "Not long," you note, counting the rollers you had left under your breath, "Five more." 

She heaved a sigh at that, but nodded slowly as she allowed you to continue. This was likely the most tedious part of it all but you trusted that the results would be worth it in the end. 

As you stuck the bobby pin into the final roll you took a second to scan the product of your hard work. "Alright, you'll need to keep them in for a while," you tell her when stuffing the remaining pins back into their small box. 

"They're uncomfortable," Rayne complains, her voice bordering on a whine that was most unlikely of her. Though she doesn't actually look displeased when you catch her face in the mirror. She reaches a small hand up to touch carefully at the roller holding her fringe, lips pursed in contemplation. "Are you sure this will work?" she asks. 

You nod, perhaps a little too quickly, "Positive."

The record player jammed slightly between song shifts but a moment later a new tune filled the bedroom, one you did not recognize but still tried to hum along to. "Okay, let's move to the next step while we wait," you declare when reaching for the makeup palette beside you. 

Rayne cocks a brow as she follows the movement with her eyes, their earlier reluctance now replaced with curiosity. "What's it for?" She points to the variety of colors, all divided into square sections. 

"It's for your eyelids," you explain when scooting over to sit in front of her, crossing your legs as you get comfortable. Opening the clear lid, you show her the different options, ranging from bright blues to deep greens, bold yellows, oranges and much more. "Take your pick!" 

She hesitates when the decision is so suddenly pushed into her lap, swallowing audibly when leaning forward for a closer look. Teeth closing around her bottom lip, Rayne studies the different colors closely, some had clearly been used more than others, you were a woman of habit after all. 

After a minute's of intense thinking she lifts one finger and points it toward the soft lilac one. "That one," she says with a dismissive shrug, feigning nonchalance as she turns her attention to the floor. 

The corner of your mouth threatens you with a smile and you quickly hide it by turning to grab a fluffy brush from your bag. "That one is perfect," you say when dipping the bristles into the color, swirling them around to gather the powder onto them. 

Rayne follows the action closely through hooded eyes, pretending not to pay as close attention as she was, though the fact that she had stopped picking at her jeans were a tell tale sign. "Not too much," she murmurs, a last attempt at remarking the entire situation. 

"Not too much," you echo, dusting the brush by tapping it against the edge of the palette. Once that was done you straightened up as you held the brush between pinched fingers, "Okay, close your eyes." 

After throwing you another skeptical look she does as she's told, her lashes fluttering slightly when she lets her eyes fall shut. In the distance, the music playing fades out as the track jumps to play another song — leaving the two of you in silence as you brush the brush to one of her eyes. 

Your touch is careful so to not accidentally poke the corner of her eye with the bristles when you drag them over her closed lid. The warmth of her steady exhales fans across your chin when you lean forward to see better as you dab the lilac powder onto her.

The CD comes to life again but the new melody becomes background noise for all that exists in this moment is you and Rayne. She sits perfectly still and had it not been for the twitch of her brow when you move from one eye to the other one could have easily mistaken her for a statue. The muted purple goes on easily, covering the faint outlines of veins that lay across her lids. 

"Keep them closed," you hum when pulling back to dip the brush back into the palette to retrieve more color. Swiveling the fine strands in the lilac once, you bring a steady hand back to apply the second layer — going over it twice made it stick better — something you had picked up during your late teens. 

Rayne doesn't flinch when the soft bristles return to her lids and though the corner of her lip twitches, she says nothing as she allows you to continue. 

Your heart clenches in your chest the setting sun no longer keeping you warm but rather the girl in front of you. "It's turning out beautiful" the acknowledgement is no louder than the song playing from her desk but given your proximity she definitely heard it. 

"It better be," Rayne huffs, even then there was amusement in her voice, the kind that makes you smile without meaning to. And perhaps it was a little selfish for you to linger even the brush no longer held any color and the layer had been spread evenly by your skilled hands — but you wished to linger in the moment. 

You wondered if she'd ever had this done to her before. The simple gesture of applying soft purple to her eyelids and having someone run their fingers through her long hair. Judging by her initial reluctance you decide that she hasn't. It makes you sad, a lot sadder than you thought it would. 

"Okay," finally sitting back, you tap the brush against the edge of the palette before closing it completely, "You can open them now." 

Rayne does just that, lashes fluttering against her cheeks when she blinks, letting her eyes adjust to the sudden invasion of light. Scooting to the side, you allow her room to behold herself in the full body mirror in front of her which she does after some hesitation. 

Her palms are braced on her knees when she tilts forward, just enough to catch sight of the purple that now coats her lids. She studies the result intently, tracking her own reflection the same way you remember doing by your mother's vanity all those years ago. Then she slowly lifts one hand, the tip of her index finger lightly touching the corner of her eye. 

For a second you're worried that she's going to react negatively. Perhaps she would reject the entire idea again, demand you wash it off and refuse to attend the dance all together. But Rayne simply nods once, a careful tilt of her head that betrays nothing but her quiet approval. 

"I like it," she says as she her hand drop back to rest against her leg. When you don't immediately respond enthusiastically she turns to you with a frown. "What?" she murmurs, "Why are you looking at me like that?" 

You shrug, "Like what?" Despite your attempt at indifference you could not fight off the grin that curved into your cheeks. It was impossible not to be enamored with her in this moment for she looked so unlike the Rayne you thought you knew. 

The crease between her brow deepens and her gaze narrows on you, "Like… I don't know—" she scoffs, "All weird." 

Your lips stretched wider at that as you hum, "I just think you look pretty." 

She turns her head away when the words register but you still caught the flush that crept its way to her face as she clears her throat. "You're ridiculous," she says, nudging one of the rollers in her hair absently to distract herself from the conversation taking place. 

Part of you wants to argue that you were being perfectly serious, the other however, is simply content watching her with the same cheesy grin as she tried to play the compliment off. 

The rest of the late afternoon is spent in similar fashion. The disc you had stuffed into the CD player came to an end and the tracks looped back to the beginning as it started over. Neither of you commented on it, and Rayne actually started humming along to a few of the familiar songs — though you pretended not to notice as you smiled to yourself. 

You were now in the midst of painting her nails in shimmering purple, one tiny hand resting in your own bigger one as you swipe the brush over her nail bed. The sharp smell of acetone prickled at your nose as it clung to the air between you, but it did nothing to deter your precision as you worked. 

Outside the sun had completely set and your only source of light was the lamp, usually placed on her desk, that now stood beside you both on the floor. Its warm yellow hues makes the purple appear almost brownish though you knew you had read the bottle correctly. 

Rayne sits quietly, her posture never once faltering as she keeps herself ramrod straight. You had given up the pretense of that since long, favoring comfort as you hunched over her hand. She didn't speak, you didn't either — it wasn't awkward nor tense as it so often would be whenever the two of you were alone, and you even dared hope that things might actually take a turn for the better from this point forward.

You had just finished applying an even layer of purple to her ring finger when a sudden voice cut through Dancing Queen's second run on the CD player. "Are you almost finished? We need to leave soon—" The door is cracked open enough for Jungkook's frame to squeeze through, his gaze falling on the scene in front of him as his brows raise on his forehead. 

Though he barely gets to finish his sentence before you're on your feet. "Out!" you shrill, already rushing over, nail polish forgotten about as your hands shove at his chest. 

The force you use is enough to make him stumble backward a step and Jungkook frowns as he redirects his attention to you rather than his daughter — who had turned her head to glance at you both over her shoulder. 

"You're not allowed in here right now," you say as you usher him back over the threshold he'd dare to cross. His confusion visibly mounts with each passing moment but you ignore it as you shield Rayne from his line of sight dramatically. 

Jungkook exhales a sharp breath, "I— What?" His dark eyes find yours, immediately trapping you in place and you feel your heart stutter in your chest when you take in his attire. His hair was neatly combed and styled, as it usually was, but the black tuxedo he wears catches you off guard. Sure you were quite accustomed to Jungkook dressing adequately, the button ups and the dress pants… But this was different. 

Your palms are still braced on his chest, the slightly erratic thumping of what could only be his own heart, beating against your right one. He's yet to utter a single word since you so blatantly pushed him out of his daughter's room and you realize that he was waiting patiently for an explanation. 

"You can't be here," pulling back a fraction, you peer at him with determination, "This is a girl thing — besides, it'll ruin the effect if you see her before I'm done." 

Jungkook cocks a sharp brow, hands twitching by his sides like he was fighting the urge to reach out. "A girl thing?" he repeats in a low drawl, gaze flickering over your shoulder to which you quickly follow up by stepping to the side and blocking him again. 

"Yes," you tilt your chin, fingers flattening out the crease your previous roughing up had caused to his tux, "Boys won't understand." 

The disbelief on his face grows at that but you allow him no room to speak as you usher him out into the hallway. "Go!" Your command seems to break through the haze and Jungkook blinks once as his attention snaps back to you. His lips part, perhaps to inquire further on the matter though he ultimately seems to decide against it. 

He nods, throwing a glance toward the watch around his wrist before exhaling through his nose. "Thirty minutes," he grunts, then he turns on his heel as he heads down the hall, presumably to wait downstairs now that he'd been banished from his daughter's bedroom. 

Once he's out of sight you turn back to Rayne with a sigh, letting the door fall shut behind you. "What did I tell you?" Walking over and plopping back on the floor in front of her, you pick up the nail polish as you silently ask for her hand. "Boys don't know the first thing about stuff like this," you muse when dipping the brush into the polish. 

Rayne, who'd been watching the interaction silently, said nothing. But you thought you could see the edges of her mouth twitching slightly. 

An hour and a half had passed since the two of you first sat down to get started — but you could now finally say that you were finished. Rayne stands in front of the full body mirror, the purple dress falling around her small frame rather elegantly. The sparkly midsection glimmers under the warm glow of the lamp — which had been moved back to its home on her desk. 

Her hair, free from the hot rollers at last, now flows in gorgeous waves down her back as you run your fingers through the dark locks carefully. "What do you think?" you ask when parting her hair and moving it over both of her shoulders, letting it spill down her chest where it curled in place neatly. 

Rayne remains quiet for a moment. The purple shadow you had placed on her lids did its job in highlighting her dark brown eyes and she blinks slowly as she regards her reflection in the glass. Her cheeks are dusted in warm pink — an addition you had added which made it hard to tell if she was actually blushing or not. 

Her fingers find a wavy strand which she curls around the digit slowly. "Pretty," she murmurs in a voice so quiet it barely sounded like her at all. Though the CD player had been cut off when she went to change and you heard the soft admission clearly in the silence of her bedroom. 

If you had been able to pry your gaze away from her, you're sure you would've caught the beaming smile on your lips in the mirror. Pretty wasn't enough to even begin to cover it. Rayne was always beautiful — there had never been any doubt about that — but tonight she looks out of this world. You can't help but feel a small swell of pride in your chest at the accomplishment. 

"You are." Hands coming to rest on her shoulders, you both continue to regard the finish product of your lengthy session together a moment longer. Both her brother and father were probably waiting rather impatiently at this point, Cassian had been particularly downcast when he'd learned that he wasn't allowed to enter his sister's room. But you were in no rush. 

"Oh," you suddenly perk up, "I almost forgot." Letting go of her, you quickly head over to crouch by your discarded bag on the floor. It takes some rummaging, you weren't exactly organized, but your fingers eventually closed around a familiar tube. 

Holding it up for her to see, you grin triumphantly. "The finishing touch," you hum when walking back to Rayne who was watching you with a frown. The cheap brand name had since long been smudged, intelligible by this point but the lipstick itself still did its job. 

You twist it open, spinning the bottom a few times to get the product out before showing her the soft pink. "Alright." Leaning down slightly, you reach out with your unoccupied hand to gently cup her jaw. "This will only take a second," you assure her, even though the young girl made no attempts at protesting. 

Her lips part slightly as you carefully apply the cosmetic on top of them, spreading the color in an even layer — smudging away any excess with the help of your thumb. "Go like this," you say, smacking your own lips together when returning the cap onto the tube and sealing it once more. 

Rayne follows your lead, blending the pink slightly in the process. Her gaze flickers between herself in the mirror before returning to you. She doesn't comment on the shade but she also doesn't wipe it off again, which was a success you think. 

"Lipstick fades pretty quickly," you say, "So I think it's best that you bring this one with you." Nodding toward the small purse you had allowed her to borrow for tonight, you then place the tube in her hand, closing her fist around with softly. 

She tenses at that, brows pinching together as she sends you a conflicted look. "Really?" Rayne asks, the tender disbelief in her voice makes your chest clench and you quickly nod. 

"Sure!" you smile, giving her shoulder a tiny squeeze, "If you like it you can keep it, I have plenty more at home." That was a lie. You only had this and a bold red which you reserved for special occasions that rarely came. But the flicker of hope within her dark eyes as they turned to the lipstick in her hand was more than enough for you to willingly make the sacrifice. 

Rayne hums, thumb tracing the bottom of the tube reverently. "Thank you," she says, and your breath nearly caught in your throat. It was the first time you'd heard her utter those words in a way that actually sounded sincere. The expression of gratitude takes you by surprise, though she doesn't seem to notice as she continues to study her freshly painted lips in the mirror. 

"Of course," you exhale when managing to get a half-hearted grip on yourself again. One glance at the clock on her desk though, makes you realize that time was quickly running out and you spring into action once more. "I'll go downstairs and get your dad and brother, don't come down until I tell you to, okay?" 

She gives you a questioning look but obeys with a soft nod, slowly heading over to grab the purse waiting for her on the bed. 

You find both Jungkook and Cassian waiting in the living room. The younger was restlessly skipping around while his father leaned against the fireplace with his hands buried in his pockets. They both glanced up at your arrival, heads snapping in your direction like they had been counting down the seconds themselves. 

"Nanny!" Cassian exclaims as he scurries over, fingers wrapping around the sleeve of your shirt tightly, "Is she done? Is she done?" When you nod he makes a squealing noise, waving his father over as he tries to contain his excitement. 

Jungkook pushes himself off the mantle, joining you a moment later. If he was nervous about the evening then he did not show it — his face resembling a detached mask of indifference, even as you guide them back into the hallway. "Let's wait for her by the stairs," you say, fighting to keep the smirk from your lips. 

It takes a while to get Cassian to settle down, the boy looked ready to leap upstairs and you held onto both of his shoulders firmly so to not ruin the surprise. When he finally calms enough to at least stay rooted to the spot you turn your attention to the upper floor. 

"Okay, you can come down!" Your voice bounces off the pale walls and is shortly followed by faint shuffling above before silence returns. Jungkook stands beside you, his posture just as rigid as that of his daughter, his nonchalance betrayed only by the way he moved to absently fiddle the black silk around his neck. 

Another moment passes — the seconds stretching for what felt like an eternity — until Rayne finally appears at the top of the stairs. 

The air inside the Jeon estate shifted in an instant, the anticipation that had been building finally reaching its climax as both her brother and father turn their heads in her direction.

But you're not looking at her. No, your gaze is fixed on Jungkook — who's fingers had gone slack around the tie he'd been adjusting, the action seemingly forgotten as he takes in the sight of his daughter on top of the staircase. 

Mesmerized. That was the best way to describe the look in his eyes as they tracked Rayne's careful descent down the steps. The ever present crease between his brows let up, giving way to something much softer — younger. His Adam's apple bobs with his next swallow, lips parted in a silent exhale that looks like its been punched from his lungs. 

Rayne avoids making eye contact with all of you, keeping her head bowed as her fingers clutch the banister — the purple shimmer on her nails sparkling under the light of the chandelier. 

"Wow," Cassian sounds awestruck, "She looks like a real princess, daddy!" He tugs on the sleeve of his father's tux but Jungkook pays the small boy no mind — he has yet to look away from his daughter. 

Finally he gives a barely noticeable tilt of his chin. "Yes," he whispers hoarsely, "She does." He regards her almost longingly, as though he was seeing something for the first time. And when Rayne reaches the bottom step, he's there, one large hand outstretched, his palm open for her taking. 

She hesitates, glancing at Jungkook's hand like it was a foreign object before she finally lets go of the banister as her much tinier one is placed in his hold. His fingers close around her own and he guides her off the last step, much like a gentleman. 

Her younger brother can no longer hold himself back as he frees himself from your grasp. His arms wrap around Rayne with surprising force, catching both his sister and father of guard, though he is none the wiser as he lets his cheek press against hers. 

"My sister is a princess!" He says proudly, the words muffled against her hair. 

Rayne finally unfreezes from the sudden embrace and she lifts the hand currently clutching your purse to give her brother an awkward pat on the back. 

Jungkook has yet to let go of her, or tear his gaze from her for that matter. You didn't think he would anytime soon and your heart warmed at the thought. "Okay, okay," gently prying Cassian away from his sister, you haul him back against you, "They're going to be late of you don't let her go soon." 

He pouts slightly but gives a solemn tilt of his head. "I wish we could go too," he then whines, craning his neck to peer up at you with hopeful eyes. 

You simply shake your head, stroking his hair back, "We'll just have our own dance at home, how about that?" The proposal does seem to put his mind at ease and Cassian gives up on harassing his sister for the moment. 

"Alright," Jungkook has cleared his throat, still looking slightly dazed as he jerks his chin in the direction of the front door. "Shoes and coat on," he instructs as he lets go of Rayne's hand. She complies without question, the frills of her dress swaying slightly as she heads over to the shoe rack. 

Lingering by the stairs, you wrap your arms around Cassian as you watch them both pull on their shoes, freezing when you suddenly remember yourself. "Wait!" The blurted exclamation slices through the air, making three heads turn your way as the entire family sends you a confused look. But before any of them can ask you've released Cassian, already halfway up the steps to the second floor. 

You move on autopilot, barreling through the door to Rayne's bedroom as you fall to your knees beside the duffel bag you had brought. God, you really had to start organizing your things, it took way longer than it should for you to find the cool surface of your camera. An older model that you had gotten for your eighteenth birthday after much pleading with your father — a treasured possession of yours. 

With the heavy weight of it placed on your hands, you rush back downstairs, finding everyone exactly where you'd left them, all with puzzled expressions. Jungkook is the first to notice the camera you're clutching, brows furrowing as he opens his mouth to speak — only to be dismissed by the wave of your hand. 

"Stand a little closer," you say when stepping forward, closing one eye as you bring the camera to the other. 

The pair hesitates, the young girl sending her father a quick glance before turning her gaze toward the floor. It's not until Jungkook places a hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her to his side that a smile finds its way to your lips, "Perfect." 

"Big smiles," you chirp, peering at them through the camera as you angle it to capture them clearly. They both frown at the same time, their expressions perfectly mirroring the other and you resist the giggle that bubbles in your chest. "Come on!" Your encouragement seems to have some effect as they both force two awkward smiles onto their lips. 

You snap the photo quickly, not wanting to let the precious moment slip between your fingers. The camera flashes brightly and when it's over you tilt it to peer at the results. They look nothing short of perfect — textbook gorgeous yet there was something truly ethereal about them. 

Next to you, Cassian as already jumping on his feet as he tries to catch a glimpse himself. "Let me see, let me see," he says impatiently. 

Meanwhile Jungkook and Rayne have separated, the former clearing his throat as he reaches for their respective coats. They slip them on silently, avoiding each other's gazes as the sound of clothes rustling fills the hallway. 

Once they're both fully dressed Cassian runs up to hug them both goodbye. "Have fun," you tell them when placing the camera down on the dresser. They nod in unison, in sync with seemingly every action. "Make sure he sleeps by eight," Jungkook says as he sends his son a pointed glance. 

"I've got it," you hum, arms wrapping around the tiny boy a second time when he returns to stand with you. 

His father appears satisfied with that as he unlocks the front door, letting Rayne step out first before joining her. It shuts behind them with a soft click, leaving the behind a silent house and excitement that slowly fades into something more serene. 

"Nanny," Cassian says, twisting in your embrace as he peers at you through dark lashes, "Can we take a photo too?" 

Jungkook came to the swift conclusion that he disliked the children's school just as much during the evening as he did in the day time — in fact as he and Rayne steps out of the car, he thinks this might be worse. 

The ride here, though short, had been spent in silence for the most part. Jungkook had mulled over the dimming headlights that he would need to get fixed sooner rather than later. He'd been pushing the matter back on his agenda as he dreaded the awful and inevitable meeting with Mr. Williams, a man in his late fifties who had a thing for both Jungkook and his car it seemed. 

If he had his way, Jungkook would probably ignore the problem for another couple of weeks as he drowned himself in work and holiday preparations. But with the cold and dark winter season the malfunctioning lights were becoming an apparent issue that he could no longer bring himself to dismiss. 

Tomorrow, he tells himself as he shoves the keys into the pocket of his tux — the garment far too restricting for his liking, though he did not let it show. There were other matters on his mind right now, like the sound of conversation that floats around him, impossible to block out. 

This dance was something he would avoid if he could help it. Only you had been insistent, Jungkook almost groans at the recollection of that night. He should've shot it down again, argued that Rayne would not want to go and spare himself the awkward two hours of interacting with parents whom he knew nothing about. But he found it impossible to deny you, for whatever infuriating reason. 

Up ahead the entrance had been lit up. The doors were held open on hatches, a red carpet that felt more like a dare than an invitation rolled out on the ground. He scanned the area briefly, noting the array of fathers, all leading their daughters' by the hand as they headed inside. His throat goes dry at the thought of having to plower through mundane small talk with them. 

A chilly breeze draws past, reminding him of the harsh December month and the coats they had left behind in the car. His attention is instinctively drawn to Rayne. She stands beside him, arms folded tightly across her chest as she, too, eyes the entrance with reluctance. 

Her hair is picked up by the wind, a few strands gluing to her face, though she makes no attempt at pushing them away. Jungkook studies her silently, he could not remember the last time he saw her dressed in anything other than the plain sweaters and pants she had him purchase for her — if ever. 

He did not care much for how his children chose to dress themselves, long as it was appropriate. Yet there was no denying that his daughter looked absolutely breathtaking tonight. He doesn't know what it is you've done, doesn't linger on the matter either. All he knows is that she was the prettiest girl he had ever laid his eyes on. 

Rayne startles slightly when Jungkook loops his arm around hers, gaze flickering up to meet his in a way that makes his heart ache terribly in his chest. She glances toward the entrance and back at him, "We can still turn back…", she murmurs. 

He finds himself frowning at that. Her hesitation dims the flicker of warmth just as quickly as it had come. It would be easy to nod, to take her home and leave it at that — but his tongue disagrees before his mind can catch up. "No," he says, tightening his grip on her arm, "I want to dance with my beautiful daughter." 

She blinks up at him slowly, lips parting before pressing shut again. Though she doesn't respond, she still clings to him in a way she usually wouldn't as she lets him lead her inside. Jungkook decides then that this night would be worth the painful social interaction that waits beyond those doors and that he would endure it as long as it meant making her happy. 

It's hot inside the school, suffocatingly so. Bodies crowd the hallway, purple lights leading them all the way until to a much more open area. Judging by the tables and chairs pushed against its four walls this had to be the cafeteria. Balloons in all shades lilac are stuck to the ceiling and the pillars that held it up. Lanterns in the same color occupy the tables, next to a few of them large bowls filled with what he presumes to be punch sits. 

In the center of the room is a makeshift dance floor, already filled with fathers and their daughters. It was barely past seven yet music was already playing and a good dozen pairs had already taken to dancing. Above, a large chandelier hangs, its soft yellow glow contrasting the purple theme of the entire ordeal. 

Next to him Rayne shifts awkwardly, her eyes swiping across the room quietly as she chews on her bottom lip. Jungkook tries to think of something to say that would soothe her nerves, perhaps his own as well, but before he gets the chance to, the bruising noise of microphone sparking echoes through the room — a slightly hoarse yet cheerful voice follows a second later. 

"Hello everyone! We welcome you to Oakridge Preparatory's thirty-fifth annual Daddy Daughter dance!" 

Jungkook glances over to the improvised stage across the room. A wooden structure that makes him question how they had even gotten it inside in the first place — perhaps it had been built on the spot. His gaze drifts to the old woman standing on top of it, immediately recognizing her as the principal — Mrs. Fig. 

He'd met her briefly when enrolling Cassian, the encounter had been stale and unpleasant — she talked too much for his liking but right now he wishes she would go on a while longer so to prolong the inevitable. 

Mrs. Fig adjusts the round glasses that sit on the bridge of her nose before continuing: "We've prepared music seeing as the band couldn't make it this year…" she trails off before clearing her throat, "There's punch as well, please help yourselves and remember to have fun!" 

With that she disconnects the mic sending another jarring jolt of electricity through the room, cutting the speech far too short for Jungkook's liking. The music is turned up a moment later, a song he recognizes, Every Breath You Take he thinks it might be called. 

Pairs of fathers and their daughters start filling out the dance floor, easily falling into step so naturally in the way Jungkook knows he will never be able to replicate. His hesitation lasts only a second, then he's moving forward, legs carrying him with determination he didn't even realize he had. 

Rayne stumbles beside him before catching up, brows furrowed deeply as she glances up at him. "What are you doing?" she asks as she lets him lead her through the crowd of people. 

Jungkook shrugs, "Dancing." He comes to a halt when he finds a spot he deems suitable, forcing his shoulders to relax as he guides her hands to his forearms. She allows it, albeit reluctantly, skeptical eyes swiveling around the room once more before finding their way back to him. "Just like we practiced," he says as he begins to move. 

They had spent long nights in the living room, awkwardly stumbling over each other's feet and Jungkook mentally cursing himself for actually preparing for this evening. Their latest attempt yesterday had been pathetic, he hadn't said that of course, but he'd thought it. Right now? Everything seemed to click into place. 

He didn't consider himself a good dancer — never had. Ten years ago he wouldn't even have entertained the idea of doing something like this. And yet, as he watches his daughter under the warm lights, yellows and purples mixing onto her face, the small furrow of concentration etched to her features, he cannot imagine himself to be anywhere else. 

The tip of her shoe accidentally nudges his and Rayne glances up at him sheepishly. Jungkook simply shrugs, pulling her along as he twirls her in his arms. The purple dress you had gotten her sways around her legs, Cassian had been right in saying that she looks like a princess, he thinks. 

The room around them fades until all he can see is her. His daughter. Dark brown hair falls unevenly down her shoulders, the soft pink that dusts her round cheeks and the way she bites her lip as she focuses on getting her steps right. 

Rayne had always reminded him of her mother — the woman he'd spent years loving. And though Jungkook doesn't blame himself for what happened, he hates himself for the mistakes he's made with his daughter, he probably will for the rest of his life. 

She had her mother's face but she was undoubtedly him in every other sense. Sometimes he found himself frightened by the stark similarities they shared. He did not know how to handle them, how to handle her. But he vows there and then to try his best, for Rayne. 

The evening passes relatively calmly. Dancing was not as bad as he'd initially thought and after a few songs they found themselves by one of the tables serving fruit punch. Rayne stayed close to his side, and though she did not know it, her presence comforted him just as much as his probably did her. 

There were a few others before them, two fathers chatting happily with one another, though Jungkook would rather sink through the ground than have to engage in their conversation. He's content to stand quietly beside his daughter, keeping their arms looped together despite the risk of them getting separated was slim. 

Just as the others clear out and Jungkook reaches for the ladle in the punch, a voice he recognizes with dread pierces the comfortable silence he and Rayne shared. 

"Mr Jeon!" 

He doesn't have to turn to know who it is, he does anyway, just to be polite. Ms Song approaches their table with a smile too wide, too friendly, it doesn't feel genuine. You would never smile like that. Jungkook shakes the thought as quickly as it had come, fingers curling a little tighter around the cold metal handle. 

"It's so nice to see you here," She says when tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The dress she wears feels far from appropriate for a setting like this, low cut and figure framing in a way none of the other teachers' were. 

Jungkook gives a small tilt of his head and has half a mind to ask what she was doing here. Last he recalled she did not have Rayne in any subject. But Ms Song is already turning to his daughter, leaning down to come eye level with her, in turn making her chest spill out of her tight dress and Jungkook averts his gaze with a quiet scoff. 

"You must be Cassian's big sister," she says as she extends a hand, "I'm his homeroom teacher." 

Rayne eyes her outstretched hand warily but ends up taking it. Ms Song shakes it gently before letting go and straightening back up, seemingly unfazed by their lack of response. She turns back to Jungkook, and he feels awfully distracted by the vibrant color on her lips. 

"I honestly didn't expect to see you tonight, but it's such a nice surprise." Her tone is light, a pitch too high, betraying her obvious interest in conversing with him. 

Jungkook tries to think of an excuse to have them both leave before she gets the chance to bombard him with prying questions about his life, though the cup he holds in one hand and the ladle filled with punch keeps him rooted to the spot. 

Ms Song is not oblivious to this, unfortunately, and she nods in the bowl's direction. "I heard the punch is supposed to be good," she says as she flashes him an expectant smile. 

Pressing his lips into a firm line and biting down on his tongue, Jungkook fills the cup before handing it to Rayne who takes it with a small 'thanks'. Then he reaches for another, repeating the process, all the while Ms Song's invasive eyes continue to linger. He extends it toward her without a word, ignoring the way she leaves her fingers on top of his a moment longer than necessary when she takes it. 

"Thank you," she hums as she brings the cup to her lips, letting them wrap around its rim and taking a sip. Her lashes flutter when she bats them at him and Jungkook wonders if it's given her a headache yet — one could hope. 

She lowers the cup and it looks as though she's about to say something else when the sound of another man's voice suddenly interrupts her. "Ms Song!" He's weaving through the crowd, the hair on his head a mess. Jungkook doesn't recognize him but judging by his lack of a child, he thinks he must be another teacher. 

"The music is doing that thing again, it keeps breaking up and Mr. Brown doesn't know how to fix it…" He trails off when he notices both Jungkook and Rayne, giving a polite nod before turning his attention back to the woman between them. 

Ms Song heaves a sigh, the subtle roll of her eyes not going him unnoticed as she sends Jungkook an apologetic glance. "I'll be right there," she calls out, painted nails digging into the cup. "I hope to see you around tonight," her voice has an uncomfortable lilt to it and Jungkook responds only with a small hum. 

The second she takes her leave he feels his shoulders slump, exhaustion washing over him as a result of the brief yet painful encounter. He silently decides to thank whatever mighty power above had caused the interruption and steered her away from him. 

"She likes you."

Rayne's blunt remark pulls him from his thought and he turns to her with a frown. "She does?" He questions back, caught off guard by how observant she was being. 

His daughter simply nods, still sipping on her fruit punch as her gaze travels across the room. "Girls do that when they like someone," she explains after another gulp, "They make excuses to talk about stuff with you, even when they don't actually have anything important to say." 

He feels his forehead crease even further as he considers her response. Making excuses to talk to him? His mind immediately wanders to you and he tries to think of any instance in which you had done the same. 

He remembers the awkward conversations you had steered him onto whenever you were alone, usually in the kitchen after the children had gone to bed. Jungkook never found them to be insignificant, he quite liked hearing you talk. 

"You don't like her do you?" Rayne asks, she's watching him over the rim of her cup, distracting herself with small sips. It was unusual of her to ask questions like that — especially regarding a topic such as this. 

Jungkook shakes his head, "No," he muses. He did not like Ms Song, perhaps ten years ago he would've, she seemed like the type he went for back then. But he is not the same man he was a decade ago, and for that he was thankful. 

"Is it because you like nanny?" 

His heart might as well have sank to the bottom of the ocean when her words registered. For the first time since the two of them left home, the silence that lingered felt anything but comfortable. He briefly consider just outright ignoring her, to pretend like he hadn't heard the uttered words in the first place — but he knows he cannot. 

He turns to her, avoiding looking her in the eye as he takes the half finished cup of fruit punch from her hands. Rayne doesn't protest, wiping her lips with the back of her hand as she watches him. 

Bringing the cup to his face, he peers down at the liquid that swirls inside — taunting him into delivering the answer waiting on his tongue. Jungkook inhales through his nose, the sweet scent of fruit filling his senses, it's almost too sweet. 

"Yes." 

It's all he says before bringing the cup to his lips as he takes a long sip. He prays that his daughter won't catch the tremble to his fingers, the white knuckled grip he holds on the innocent plastic cup — hard enough for it to crack. 

But Rayne says nothing, letting her gaze return to the crowded room as she watches her peers dance with their fathers. Despite the music — now playing smoothly again thanks to Ms Song — it's quiet where the two of them stand. 

Jungkook busies himself with the fruit punch for as long as he can, which isn't long at all seeing as he was downing the sickeningly sweet drink in big gulps. Once the cup is empty he's left staring at it like it held all the answers to the mysteries of the universe. 

Beside him, Rayne shifts her weight from one foot to the other and when he dares to drag his attention over to her, he finds his daughter opening the purse that rests by her side, held together by a thin strap. She reaches a hand inside, pulling it back a moment later, this time cradling a small, black tube. 

He studies her as Rayne twists the cap off, spinning its bottom a few times. It's only when the soft pink appears that Jungkook realizes it was a lipstick she held. Her lips part and she applies it carefully onto them — once she's done she smacks them together before repeating her earlier ministrations and sealing the tube again. 

"Where did you get that?" He asks, his voice coming out hoarser than he had intended for it to. Jungkook bought everything she asked for — which wasn't a lot. He would've known of a lipstick in her possession. 

Rayne hums, placing the cosmetic back into the purse before sealing it tight. "Nanny gave it to me," she pauses before adding, "She said I could keep it." 

Jungkook nods slowly, his eyes lingering on the purse a second longer as he recalls the way you had shoved him out of his daughter's bedroom earlier that afternoon — the frantic look on your face as you kept him from stealing as much as a glance at his own child. 

He turns back to the fruit punch, filling the cup once more despite the drink tasting horrendous. Though he had spent a good half an hour trying to figure out why he wasn't allowed in her bedroom during the process of her getting ready, he'd later come to the conclusion that he would forever remain clueless. 

Must be some of that girl stuff you were talking about, he thinks to himself as he takes a small sip. 

By nine pm the dance came to a close as tired children clung to their dads who carried them out of the building. Despite the event being a brief two hours — Jungkook already knows he would rather take a twelve hour day at the office. He does not think he's ever felt as drained as he did when he got into the drivers seat to pull out of the parking lot. 

After their conversation by the fruit punch, Rayne had not mentioned you again, nor had she brought up the confession he had made without thinking his answer through even once. In fact she had asked to dance again — taking him by surprise but Jungkook had not denied her as he offered his hand. 

Their second try out on the floor had gone even smoother. No more stiff shoulders or stepping on toes. Rayne had even smiled as he twirled her around, a shy, barely-there curl of her lips but Jungkook had caught it under the dim lights and he treasured it close to his heart. 

The late Friday night left the streets nearly vacant and as he drove the car to a stop by a red light, he glanced at Rayne in the rear view mirror. 

Her lipstick was smudged from an additional two cups of fruit punch, the waves in her hair diffused as a result of her hands running through the strands. She hadn't spoken a word since he'd turned on the engine and Jungkook understood why when he caught sight of her shut eyes. Head propped up against the window at an awkward angle, Rayne slept soundly in the backseat. 

She would rarely — if ever — doze off during car rides. He thinks the night must've left her twice as exhausted as him. 

The light ahead turns green pulling Jungkook's attention to the road. His fingers drum softly against the wheel and the hand he keeps on the clutch reaches up to shut the radio off. 

Rayne had yet to wake by the time he pulled up in their driveway and he sits silently with her for a minute or two before forcing himself out into the cold. The December air is harsh and unforgiving as he quickly rounds the car to carefully pull her door open. Thankfully secured by her seat belt, Rayne's head simply lolls to her shoulder when she's robbed of her makeshift pillow. 

Jungkook moves efficiently, leaning over her to unbuckle the leather that held her in place before draping both his and her coat over her bare shoulders. Then he lifts her from the seat slowly, trying his best not to jostle his sleeping daughter as he knocked the car door shut with his foot. 

He can't remember the last time he'd carried Rayne in his arms. It had to have been years for she was not nearly as affectionate as her younger brother. The weight of her in his arms and the warmth of her body still makes his heart beat a little faster — the same way it had when he'd first gotten to hold her that day at the hospital eight years ago. He leans down to bury his nose in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her — his daughter. 

When he rounds the front of the car he pauses, the headlights give a weak flicker before going dark again and Jungkook sighs. Tomorrow, he tells himself before heading for the front door. 

── [ ✉️ ] So like, surprise Jungkook POV ahah... I feel like a lot of people were expecting OC and Cassian to tag along for the dance but I felt like that moment specifically needed to remain between Jungkook and Rayne alone, especially given what she asked later, cough... Anyway, please let me know what you thought, I would love love to hear it <3

© All rights reserved @merakoo 2026.

[jeonlic]

four months of missed moments and half-kept promises teach you that affection without effort is just noise. when you give jungkook one final chance to show up. really show up. a family wedding becomes the quiet turning point between letting go and choosing each other.

genre/pairing. jeon jungkook x reader (fem oc). fwbs? ANGSTTTTYYY, smut, slow burn, bit of fluff at the end

warnings. fingering, said fingers then being put into oc's mouth! missionary, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) cowgirl yeehaw, foul language, mentions of another women.

wc. 10.4k

notes. banner made by the lovely @words-in-purple

you don’t read his messages anymore. you instead wait to see if he knocks.

your phone lights up again on the kitchen counter—another ‘i miss you text’ probably. you don’t flip it over. don't mute it either. just let it buzz. let him beg.

jungkook : baby i miss you

jungkook : can we talk, please?

jungkook : you mad at me?

jungkook : fuck, i’m sorry. i know i said i’d show up. but something work related came up and i had to tend to it.

the apartment smells faintly of dying flowers. he’d sent them yesterday. roses. expensive ones. they’re already wilting at the edges, petals curling inward like they know better than to stay.

he always did this—words first, effort never. big realizations that arrived wayyyyy too late and left early. “i miss you” typed from the comfort of wherever he happened to be, while you sat here counting how many times you’d forgiven him already.

seven times, maybe?

you pour yourself a glass of water and lean against the counter, eyes fixed on the door. it’s quiet. too quiet for someone who claims they can’t live without her.

if he wants me, he knows where i am.

The knock comes fifteen minutes later.

not confident, nor was it desperate. just enough to say i’m here now—does that count?

you don’t answer right away. let him sit between you, the door and all the things he didn’t do sooner.

when you opens it, he’s holding nothing. no flowers. no phone. just his hands in his pockets and an apology already forming on his lips.

“don’t,” you say, “you’re here. that’s good. but tell me why it took you this long to just show up?” 

your jaw tightens “i’m not even asking for a lot, i’m just asking for you to show up for fucks sake!” you spat bitterly

“if you want to stay, jungkook, you don’t get to explain why you weren’t there.”

you hold his gaze.

“you show up. you put the effort in. and if you can’t do that—”

you step back, hands moving wildly, gesturing towards the door.

“get the fuck out.”

the ultimatum settles between you, heavy and unmoving.

he doesn’t answer, he doesn’t move. when he finally does, it’s only a single nod—hesitant, unsure. the silence afterward says more than he ever could. 

he reaches into the pocket of his dark denim jeans pulling out his phone for a second there, you think hes going to ruin this again, you think he’s either going to check his messages or answer a call. but, instead he leaves it on your dusty coffee table. face down on the table. 

you don’t comment. silence fills the space between you, dense with tension, leaving you to wonder if he really deserves an eighth chance. 

“sit.” you say, not maintaining eye contact. no arguing. no sigh. just lowers himself onto the edge of the couch like he’s afraid even that might be too much. You stay where you are, back turned, counting the seconds it takes before he speaks.

he doesn’t.

one minute passes. then two. the silence stretches thin, then tight, like a wire pulled too far. you rinse your glass even though it’s already clean. adjust the flowers even though they’re wilting anyway.

he stays still. that’s new. you hate that your chest reacts before your brain does. “this doesn’t fix everything,” you say finally, quieter now. not kinder. just tired. he nods once. slow. like he understands this isn’t a victory.

“i know.” that’s the first thing he’s said that doesn’t sound like a plea. you glance at the phone on the table. Still face down. Still untouched. You don’t tell him to pick it up. you sit across from him instead.

“so,” you start, voice steadier than you feel, “next month. on the eleventh. my brother’s getting married.” You finally look at him then. “i need a date.” the word hangs heavier than i love you ever did. He straightens slightly, like the gravity of it just hit him. family. witnesses. no hiding behind apologies afterward. “i’m giving you one more chance, jungkook,” you continue, slower now, deliberate. “one.”

you swallow. “if you fail to show up, we’re done. Whatever the fuck this is—” you gesture vaguely between you, 4 months of almosts and excuses compressed into the motion, “—it’s over.” you pause for a dramatic effect. no tears tho. just you setting your terms.

he doesn’t answer right away. and for once, you don’t rush to fill the silence for him. or to come up with excuses for him for why he didn't show up. he nods. once. twice “i’ll be there.” You don’t soften. “that’s not a promise,” you say. “that’s an expectation.” his jaw tightens. “then expect me.”

you lean back, arms crossing over your chest. “good,” you say. “because if i have to look at that empty chair—” You don’t finish the sentence. You don’t need to. He glances at the door. then at the phone he left behind. still face down. He stays seated.

you stay there, watching him, noticing the slight slump in his shoulders, the way his hands rest, still, on his knees. for once, he’s not reaching for excuses. not for you, not for himself. you pick up your glass of water again, swirling it idly, careful not to let him see how pulse races. you’re not softening. not yet, you’ve made that mistake one-too-many times. “don’t think this fixes everything,” you say finally, quieter this time, just above a murmur. “i don’t forget. and nor do i forgive because it’s the easy way out.” he doesn’t answer, just nods again, slower this time. the nod carries weight. accountability. maybe even respect.

you glance at the wilted roses, curling inward on your chic marble counter. “you see those?” you ask, voice sharper. “they didn’t last. neither did your last seven chances. don’t make eight a repeat.” he swallows. tight jaw, eyes fixed on the floor for a fraction of a second before finally meeting yours. “i get it,” he says. not a promise. not a plea. just understanding. you settle back into the plushness of your armchair, keeping your gaze deliberate, heavy. “then stay. prove it. or don’t bother coming next month at all.” 

the next few weeks are a grind. small things, careful gestures, and constant observation. he cooks for you, does the dishes without being asked, folds the laundry, wipes the counters. all of it quiet, deliberate, no fanfare. you notice everything. every movement, every glance, every little act of effort. it should make your chest ease, but it doesn’t. it twists tighter instead. because it’s not enough. it’s never enough—not yet.

then comes the call. you hear it before you see it, the soft laugh, the casual tone, the easy familiarity in his voice. another girl. it’s a friend, he says later. work stuff, he insists. but your stomach twists anyway. the apartment, which had felt like a small island of controlled tension, suddenly feels too small, too heavy. you don’t move. you just lean against the counter, arms crossed, jaw tight, waiting to see how he’ll handle it. he notices. he watches you. his expression is calm, almost unreadable, but you can see it in the way he flexes his hands, the way his jaw tightens, the slight pause before he speaks.

“it’s nothing,” he says. voice low, measured. steady. no pleading. no excuses. “just a friend.”

you don’t say anything. you turn away, pretending not to notice the ache in your chest, pretending that your thoughts aren’t spiraling. he doesn’t push. doesn’t argue. he just leaves it there. and it stings more than any fight ever could. because he’s quiet, and calm, and present—and you hate that you notice it, hate that it matters at all.

that night, the apartment smells of rain and wet asphalt, the streetlights casting streaks across the floor. he makes tea for both of you, sets it down silently on the table. you stare at it, at him, at the way he doesn’t try to charm or fix you. the thought that he could be doing the same for someone else, the memory of that laugh, sits on your chest like a weight. you sip the tea, hands trembling, and keep your eyes forward. you don’t speak. he doesn’t. the silence is a battlefield.

the next day, you leave clothes on the floor, dishes in the sink, a stack of unread mail. you’re testing him, again. he notices. silently, efficiently, he handles everything. no comment. no judgment. no question. the way he moves through the apartment, respecting your space, following your rules—it should soothe you. instead, it twists the knife. your chest tightens. jealousy, frustration, and longing swirl together in a bitter mix you can’t untangle. you want to scold him. you want to run. you want to collapse into him. and you hate all of it.

he doesn’t talk about the other girl again. not really. he doesn’t apologize either. he just exists. quietly, carefully, showing up in ways that matter without words. every small act is a reminder: he’s trying. proving. staying. but you’re not forgiving. not yet. the wall you’ve built isn’t gone. it’s cracking in places, yes, but the cracks are sharp, jagged. stepping too close could cut. and maybe that’s the point. maybe that’s the test you’ve imposed, and he’s still here, navigating it without faltering.

and so the weeks pass. little victories, little failures. he notices the small things. he listens when you vent. he doesn’t interrupt or try to fix. he leaves notes that you don’t respond to. he’s quiet when he should be, present when he should be, patient when every fiber of your body is screaming at him to prove himself in grand gestures. and all the while, you’re fighting yourself, fighting the pull you feel toward him even as you remind yourself he’s the one who left you dangling before.

every time you catch him staring when he thinks you’re not looking, you look away. you hate that it affects you. you hate that the apartment, the quiet, the gestures, even the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air, all of it matters. you don’t let yourself smile. you don’t let yourself soften. not fully. you just wait, watch, and test, counting days, counting mistakes, counting every small thing that might prove—if only to yourself—that he’s worth the risk again.

2 more days passed with him quietly proving himself, small gestures stacking up like bricks you’re not ready to lean on. the apartment smells faintly of rain one evening, and you’re pacing, restless, flipping through papers you don’t need to read. he’s on the couch, silent as always, watching you. he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t comment, just observes. your chest tightens because you hate that it matters that he’s there, calm, patient, unmoved by the storm inside you.

then he speaks, slow, measured, and it makes your blood freeze.

“jealous, baby?” he says, voice low, just enough to reach you, carrying that infuriating calm. “do you want to be my only?”

you freeze. part of you wants to scowl, part of you wants to collapse, and part of you wants to ask exactly what the hell he means. he doesn’t answer your look. instead, he tilts his head slightly, eyes dark, unreadable, like he’s playing some quiet game only he knows the rules to. he lets the silence hang between you, letting your pulse race, letting the question settle in your chest like it’s both a dare and a promise.

you don’t respond. you can’t. and he doesn’t push. he leans back, fingers lightly tapping against the armrest, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth—but it doesn’t reach his eyes. there’s something in the way he watches you, careful and deliberate, that makes it impossible to look away. it’s almost maddening.

“think about it,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “the rest of the world doesn’t get this version of me. you do. you’re the only one who knows what it feels like, who gets it. the rest…” he lets the thought hang, unfinished, mysterious, like he’s daring you to chase it, to ask for more, to fall into something you can’t control.

your chest hammers, and all the walls you’ve built quiver. anger. desire. frustration. longing. all of it crashing in one pulse. you hate it. you hate him. you hate that it works. and yet, you’re here, crashing your lips onto his before your brain can catch up. it’s not soft. it’s not gentle. it’s all teeth and desperation, all the words you never said pressed into one reckless motion.

he stills for half a second, surprised, like he hadn’t actually expected you to do it. like he’d been testing the ground and didn’t think it would crack this fast. then his hand comes up—not grabbing, not pulling you closer—just resting against your wrist, grounding, careful. that alone almost makes you pull back. almost.

you break the kiss first, breath uneven, forehead pressed briefly to his chest before you step back like you’ve burned yourself. your hands are shaking. you curl them into fists at your sides.

“don’t,” you say, voice low, warning. not to him. to yourself.

his eyes are dark now, unreadable, all the teasing gone, replaced with something quieter. heavier. “i wasn’t trying to win,” he says, just as softly. “i was asking.”

that makes it worse.

you laugh once, sharp and humorless, shaking your head. “you don’t get to ask things like that,” you tell him. “not after everything.”

he nods, slow. accepting. no argument. no defense. “then tell me what i do get,” he says. “because i’m still here.”

the silence that follows is thick, charged, uncomfortable. the kind that forces you to feel everything at once. your pulse hasn’t slowed. your lips still tingle. you hate that part of you wants to lean back in. you hate that part of you already did.

you step back another inch, reclaiming space. control. “this doesn’t change anything,” you say.

he meets your eyes. steady. “i know.”

and somehow, that’s the most dangerous part of all.

you step back, still breathing unevenly, and for a moment the apartment feels impossibly large. the space between you stretches and contracts in your mind, every inch heavy with words neither of you will say. you want to hate him. you want to tell him to leave, to go back to whatever life he thinks he has outside these walls. instead, you’re frozen, noticing the faint rise and fall of his chest, the way his dark hair falls slightly across his forehead, the quiet intensity of his gaze.

he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to fill the silence. he just stays there, letting you exist, letting you process, letting you own the moment you created. it makes your pulse spike again, the anger twisting into frustration, the frustration twisting into something else entirely—something you’re not ready to name.

you grab the mug you left on the counter, fingers tight around the ceramic, needing something tangible. you take a sip of the cold coffee, taste bitter and acrid, and it mirrors the ache twisting through your chest. you glance at him, and he’s still watching, patient, unreadable. there’s no mockery, no teasing, just the quiet reminder that he’s still here. that he hasn’t moved. that he doesn’t need to. and it drives you insane.

“you’re ridiculous,” you mutter, more to yourself than him. the words taste hollow. he smiles faintly—small, knowing, teasing, but restrained—and it makes the ache in your chest tighten. “am i?” he asks softly, not accusing, not challenging. just asking, and the simplicity of it makes the tension coil tighter, like a spring ready to snap.

you look away, pretending to sort through papers on the counter, pretending the storm of thoughts in your head doesn’t revolve entirely around him. your stomach twists at the thought of the other girl, at the memory of that laugh, at the way he’s capable of being so calm and patient, so infuriatingly present while you’re unraveling. every glance he steals, every subtle movement, every quiet gesture—he’s threading himself into the edges of your day without permission.

he doesn’t break the silence for a long minute, then he leans back slightly on the couch, elbows resting on knees, hands loosely clasped. “you’re thinking about it,” he says, not as an accusation. not as a tease. as a statement. and you want to snap at him, to deny it, to shove him away with your words, with your fists, with everything. but you can’t. because he’s right. and that makes it worse. it makes your chest ache with something you’re not ready to name.

you finally look at him, voice low, tight: “maybe i am. maybe i hate it. maybe i hate you.”

his smirk doesn’t fade. it’s slow, almost imperceptible, and mysterious, like he knows something you don’t. “maybe you love it too,” he says, soft, dangerous, unrelenting. “maybe that’s why you’re still standing here, instead of running.”

and just like that, the walls you’ve been building for weeks tremble again. you hate him. you hate yourself. you hate how much you can’t stop noticing him, can’t stop wanting him, even as every piece of you is screaming that he’s the reason you hurt in the first place.

you don’t turn around. you don’t trust yourself too.

“if this is a mistake,” he says quietly, “stop me now.”

your fingers curl against the counter. your chest aches with want. you shake your head once.

when you do finally turn to face him, something dark flickers in his eyes need. his restraint snaps, and suddenly he’s there, hands firm on your hips– most definitely leaving bruises as he pulls you into a kiss that steals the air from your lungs. 

you could feel his fingers stimulating the erogenous spot behind your ears causing your arms to erupt in goosebumps, and a rush of heat to pool between your legs. "don't wanna fuck anyone that isn't you," he murmers into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent  "i know you're still mad at me, but i don't wanna fuck anyone else." he continues, "only wanna fuck you. y’know that right? no one else feels like you do."

jungkook messily yanked at your shirt taking it off leaving you in your black lace bra, the cool of the air hitting your nipples causing them to harden and him to attack them with harsh sucks, licks and bites muttering whatever he could, “fuck, you’re so perfect.” or “can’t wait to ruin you with my cock.” he would groan out 

his kisses trail all over your body, boobs, stomach, neck, fuck! there's not an inch of skin he leaves untouched, causing strangled, desperate moans to leave your plump lips 

“fuck– stop teasing.” you exhale with a sigh, he begrudgingly obliges, carrying your body to your plush, soft bed full of decorative pillows and multiple decorative throw blankets, dropping you down harshly, stripping your pants off of your legs harshly– eyes glancing over your covered core visibly groaning at the sight of the glistening wet spot on your panties.

he inches his face closer to your clothed core, ripping your panties off. a string of wetness following making him growl at the sight. “holy fuck, your so fucking soaked love. hmm? all f’me?” he grunts out. fingers dipping to slide up and down between your folds, eyes on your face watching your every reaction, he stops and then smirks. 

he uses the fingers that weren’t toying with your slippery cunt to squeeze at your chest. twisting and massaging your nipples making your breath shudder. the fingers toying at your folds slide down, dipping his fingers into your entrance seeping with arousal. your head falls back into the pillows as you moan out begging for him to go harder. “you’re so silent now huh? cat got your tongue?” he murmurs dipping his head into your neck continuing to fuck his fingers into you at a inhumane pace, desperately chasing your high “fuck!” you scream out, eyes brimming with tears, a familiar coil building in your stomach. just as you're about to topple over the edge, he pulls his fingers out bringing them to your lips causing you to whine out protesting, “gonna make you cum on my cock, love.” 

“open.” he growls, as you part your swollen lips for him, you whimper, all pathetic and needy as your tongue rests out flat for him to do as he pleases, which is pushing his slick covered fingers in your mouth watching how your tongue swirls over his digits coating them with saliva. he pulls them out with a pop before scrambling to rid himself of his pants, his dick standing red and angry leaking with pre-cum at the tip, and undoubtedly hard. the sight of him was intoxicating, even worse? he was drinking you in like fine fuckin’ wine. 

“are you just gonna stand there and look at me? or are you gonna fuck me.” you croak out, voice dry from moaning his name just mere moments before, feeling a sudden surge of confidence you say, “your all talk, no game–” unable to finish your sentence you yelp as he spreads your legs pulling you forward, harshly pinning your hands above your head slipping in. giving you no time to adjust to his girthy length. 

“think you're forgetting who's in charge here, princess.” he growls low and deep, moaning at the way your gummy walls clenched around his length, “look at me when im fucking you.” he says, bringing his fingers to stimulate your clit, rubbing harsh fast circles on your sensetive bundle of nerves. “fuck off.” you snarl up at him.

suddenly he flips the position, causing a moan to escape from your lips. now you're on top of him, riding his cock, screaming his name, desperately chasing your high. “fucking hell your so fuckin’ perfect, made for riding cock huh?” he says coaxing your orgasm out of you, it hits you like a truck, blinding white, seeing stars. 

you whimper, feeling overstimulated, tears streaming down your face, “i’m s’close baby, where’d you want it?” he slurs out, pace quickening, his high quickly approaching. “fuck, wan’ it inside” you sob out, moans getting louder– you were probably gonna get a noise complaint tomorrow, but you could care less. 

just as his orgasm approaches, painting your walls white, his body collapses on top of yours, and you pull him in for a hug, his skin was glistening with sweat, his cock was covered in your slick. his shoulders look like they’ve been attacked, skin flushed and marked in angry red half-moons. probably going to scar, you think to yourself. 

“that was… so good,” he murmurs, more to the ceiling than to you, voice rough, almost disbelieving.

you don’t answer right away. you just nod once, slow and measured, because anything more would feel like giving something away. your chest is still tight, pulse uneven, and you focus on the rise and fall of his back instead, on the evidence, on the silence, on how intimacy doesn’t fix anything, but it does leave marks. 

“still doesn’t fix anything tho, remember that.” you murmur, before drifting to sleep.

morning comes thin and grey, light slipping through the curtains like it doesn’t want to be here either. you wake up before him, already tense, already aware of the wrongness of daylight. everything feels louder now — the stillness, the air, the fact that he’s there beside you, breathing like nothing fractured last night. you stare at the ceiling for a moment, jaw tight, replaying nothing on purpose. when you finally sit up, you don’t look at him. you just swing your legs off the bed and leave, because staying still feels like a mistake.

the kitchen is quiet when you get there. too quiet. you lean against the counter with your arms crossed, waiting for the kettle to boil, watching your reflection in the dark window. you look unimpressed. guarded. good. footsteps sound behind you and you don’t turn around. “you’re up early,” he says softly, like volume alone might keep this from being uncomfortable. “couldn’t sleep,” you reply, flat, then add after a beat, “weird.” you hear the pause behind you. the wince you don’t see still feels satisfying.

he moves around the kitchen carefully, like he’s afraid of breaking something that’s already cracked. cupboards open slowly. a pan is set down too gently. the smell of eggs fills the space, domestic in a way that almost irritates you. “i thought i’d make breakfast,” he says, tentative. you glance at the stove and hum. “brave.” it earns a small, nervous huff of a laugh that doesn’t quite land. he plates the food and slides it toward you like an offering. you sit, not out of gratitude, but curiosity. it tastes fine. of course it does. he’s always been good at what comes after.

“wow,” you say mildly. “if only this energy existed earlier.” he stills, eyes dropping to the counter. “i’m trying,” he murmurs. you sip your coffee. it’s lukewarm. fitting. “you always are,” you say. “eventually.” the silence that follows is thick, uncomfortable, earned. then his phone rings, sharp and intrusive. you don’t look at it. you don’t need to. he hesitates before answering, again, and that pause says more than the call ever could.

“i need to take this,” he says. “shocking,” you reply without looking up. he steps away, voice lowering, posture shifting into someone you recognize too well - focused, needed elsewhere. you focus on the table instead, on a faint scratch in the wood, on keeping your jaw from tightening. when he comes back, he doesn’t sit. “i have to go in,” he says. “just for a bit. i’ll be back by the evening.” you finally look at him. “define evening.” he exhales. “you’re already mad.” you tilt your head. “no. i’m just preparing.” that lands. you see it in the way his shoulders tense.

he leaves shortly after, promising to text. “don’t strain yourself,” you say. the door closes and the apartment exhales with you. the hours crawl. you don’t spiral— you think. 

by the time night settles in, you’re calm in that dangerous way, the kind that comes from deciding instead of hoping. when the door opens at nine, he starts apologizing immediately. you let him finish.

“you said evening,” you say evenly. “work got complicated,” he replies. “it always does.” he rubs his face, frustrated. “this isn’t fair.” you straighten. “neither is pretending i don’t notice patterns.” his jaw tightens. “this is about her, isn’t it?” you meet his eyes, steady and unflinching. “everything is about honesty,” you say. “she just happens to be where yours keeps thinning.”

the silence snaps before it can settle. he exhales hard and drags a hand through his hair, pacing once like the room is closing in on him. “i’m fucking trying,” he says, voice rough now, stripped of whatever restraint he’d been holding onto. “do you think this is easy for me? i’m juggling work, expectations, everything coming at me at once, and somehow it’s never enough.”

you let out a short laugh, sharp and humorless, the kind that surprises even you. “don’t,” you say, cutting in before he can build momentum. “don’t start talking like you’re the only one carrying something. you don’t get points for being overwhelmed if i’m the one who keeps getting pushed to the side.” your arms cross over your chest, nails pressing into your skin. “you don’t juggle me. you slot me in when you have time left over.”

his head snaps up. “that’s not what i’m doing.”

“then explain why i’m always waiting,” you fire back, voice rising despite yourself. “waiting for you to show up, waiting for you to text, waiting for you to decide i matter enough today. you swear you’ll be here, and then you’re not. you say things are nothing, and then you go vague. and somehow i’m supposed to just accept it because you eventually walk through the door?”

he swears under his breath, frustration spilling over. “i didn’t cheat on you.”

the room goes still.

you look at him slowly. “i didn’t say you did.”

the words hang between you, ugly and exposed, heavier than anything either of you yelled.

“but you thought it,” he says, quieter now, anger edged with something wounded. “you fucking thought it.”

“because you won’t be straight with me,” you shoot back immediately. “because every time i ask a simple question, you dodge it or minimize it. because you make me feel insane for noticing patterns that are right in front of me.” your voice steadies as you speak, and that scares him more than shouting ever could. “i don’t want your reassurance. i want clarity.”

“she’s a coworker,” he says, louder again, like volume might make it stick. “that’s it. nothing else. i swear.” then, after a beat, softer, “i don’t want anyone else.”

you hold his gaze, searching for the cracks. “then act like it,” you say. “don’t make me fight you just to understand where i stand. don’t make honesty feel like its something i have to earn.”

he stops moving. not abruptly, not like he’s forcing himself to calm down, just… stills, like he’s run out of places to pace to. his shoulders sag slightly, the tension bleeding out of them in a way that looks more like exhaustion than surrender. when he speaks again, it’s steadier, lower, like he’s finally stopped trying to defend himself.

“i handled this wrong,” he says. not rushed. not dramatic. “i kept telling myself i could make it up later. that if i showed up eventually, it would cancel out all the times i didn’t.” you don’t respond. you don’t interrupt. you just watch him, waiting to see if he keeps going. he does. “but that’s not how it works,” he adds. “and i know that now.” there’s no grand declaration in it. no plea. it doesn’t fix anything — but it doesn’t dodge it either. and that’s what makes it land.

you exhale slowly, some of the tightness in your chest loosening despite yourself. not relief. not forgiveness. just the quiet recognition that he finally said something that didn’t feel like an excuse wrapped in better wording.

“i don’t need speeches,” you say after a moment, your voice quieter now, less biting. “i need follow-through.” he nods immediately. “i know.” the room feels different now. still heavy, still fragile, but no longer sharp enough to cut. the anger hasn’t vanished; it’s just stopped screaming. you lean back against the counter, arms uncrossing without realizing it, letting the tension ease fraction by fraction.

“i don’t want to fight like this all the time,” you admit, finally letting a hint of vulnerability slip past the sarcasm. “i don’t want to feel like i’m always bracing for disappointment.” he steps closer, careful, slow enough that you could stop him if you wanted. “i don’t want to be the reason you feel like that,” he says, and you look up at him, really look at him, scanning for cracks, for any sign that he’s still just words instead of someone who actually gets it. he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t smirk. he just stands there, aware, present, letting the quiet stretch between you without trying to fix it.

“i’m still angry,” you say, voice low, almost teasing, though there’s a tremor of sincerity under it. “and i’m not pretending this fixed everything.” he nods slowly, a ghost of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “i wouldn’t believe you if you did,” he replies, and for some reason the absurdity of it makes you exhale a quiet, sharp laugh. the tension softens, just a little, like air slipping through a cracked door.

a beat passes. then another. you push off the counter and step closer, close enough that you can feel his warmth but not touching, letting the moment sit heavy and deliberate. “don’t make me regret staying,” you murmur. his answer is immediate, confident, steady: “i won’t.” you study him for a long second, looking for cracks again. they’re still there. nothing about him is suddenly perfect. but he’s here, present. and for now, that’s enough.

you reach out first, fingers brushing lightly against the front of his shirt, grounding yourself in the moment as much as grounding him. he freezes, waiting, letting you decide how close this gets. you lean in, and the kiss is soft, slow, careful, tentative but full of something neither of you can admit out loud yet. it isn’t desperate or consuming; it’s gentle, grounding, like punctuation after a sentence that’s been running on too long. he doesn’t deepen it, doesn’t rush it. just stays there, steady, letting the quiet stretch between you.

when you finally pull back, your forehead rests lightly against his. “this doesn’t mean we’re fine,” you whisper. he exhales softly, a small breath that’s more relief than anything else. “i know,” he says. then, after a pause, “but i’m here.”

you grin faintly, soft but mischievous, and blurt it before your brain catches up: “i love you.” the words hang in the room, heavy and sudden, and for a split second he blinks, caught off guard. “really?” he asks, voice half-amused, half-disbelieving. you nod, smirking just a little, shaking your head at the absurdity of the moment. “yes, really,” you reply. he lets out a short laugh, exasperated but warm, shaking his head like he’s trying to process that after all this chaos, all the fights, all the almosts, you still managed to say the thing that matters most. and he doesn’t move away. he just leans in again, gently, letting the weight of the night settle in.

the wedding feels gentler than you expected. not quiet— just warm, like the kind of warmth that doesn’t announce itself but settles in anyway. the air hums softly with conversation, laughter kept low and respectful, like everyone here understands that this is something fragile and worth handling carefully. fairy lights are strung across the ceiling in loose arcs, glowing gold against the darkening evening, reflecting off glassware and polished wood until everything looks a little unreal.

you pause just inside the entrance.

he’s beside you, close enough that you feel the heat of him through the fabric of your clothes. not touching yet. just there. it steadies you more than you’d like to admit. for a second, you consider stepping forward alone — old instinct, old habit — but instead his pinky hooks around yours. it’s tentative, almost shy, like he’s offering rather than taking. you glance down, surprised despite yourself, then back up at him. he’s pretending very hard to be focused on the room. his hand doesn’t let go. you let your fingers curl around his.

your brother spots you almost immediately.

his face lights up in a way that makes your chest ache, and he pulls you into a hug that’s a little too tight, like he’s grounding himself. “you made it,” he says, voice thick with emotion and nerves and joy. you tell him you wouldn’t miss it, meaning more than just today. when he pulls back, his gaze flicks to the man beside you, curious but open. introductions are easy — too easy. he’s polite, warm without being overbearing, answering questions without oversharing. you watch him from the corner of your eye, waiting for the moment he checks his phone or drifts or finds an excuse to disappear.

he doesn’t.

when the ceremony begins, the room settles. chairs scrape softly as people stand, the murmur of voices dissolving into a hush. the music swells — not dramatic, just enough — and when the doors open, your brother’s expression changes. he tries to stay composed, but his eyes soften, then shine, and when his partner steps into view, he laughs quietly like he can’t believe this is real. your throat tightens. you blink, steadying yourself.

you feel him glance at you.

when you look back, he’s already watching — not the aisle, not the crowd. you. his expression is unreadable, but there’s no distance in it. no distraction. just presence. it shouldn’t matter this much. but it does.

the vows are simple. honest. no grand promises, just choice spoken out loud. i choose you. i keep choosing you. the words land somewhere deep in your chest, pressing against parts of you you’ve kept guarded for months. you wonder what it would feel like to say them without flinching.

the reception loosens everything.

the lights dim slightly, the music grows warmer, glasses are refilled. you drift between tables, pulled into conversations with relatives who comment on how happy your brother looks. he stays close without hovering, fitting himself into your orbit like it’s natural. when someone asks how you know each other, there’s a split second where your mouth opens and nothing comes out. you feel his attention shift immediately — he doesn’t answer for you. doesn’t rush you.

“we’re together,” you say finally.

the words feel heavier than you expected. solid. grounding. he smiles, not surprised, just quietly pleased, and nods like it’s obvious. during the speeches, he leans in with dry commentary that makes you huff quiet laughs you try to hide. when your brother thanks you specifically, voice wavering, your eyes sting. he notices. passes you a napkin without comment.

after dessert, after the first dance, after the clatter of plates being cleared, you slip outside.

not because you’re overwhelmed — just because you need a moment that isn’t shared. the night air is cool, carrying the distant thrum of music through the open doors behind you. you lean against the railing, breathing.

he joins you a minute later.

not immediately. like he’s learned when to give you space. “you disappear like this,” he says gently. you shrug, saying you like to think. “dangerous,” he replies, earning a small smile. you stand there for a while, shoulder to shoulder. the quiet feels earned.

then he admits he was nervous.

about today. about messing it up. about you. you turn toward him, telling him it mattered that he showed up, that he stayed present. he nods, says he wants consistency. wants real. wants you. the words settle between you, heavy but steady. you tell him you’re not doing maybes anymore. you’re either in or you’re not.

he doesn’t hesitate.

he’s in. something in you finally loosens, a breath you didn’t realize you were holding leaving your lungs.

“okay,” you say. “then you’re my boyfriend.”

his eyebrows lift, joking about the lack of ceremony, and you remind him he just attended one. he laughs softly and reaches for your hand like it’s settled now. like he belongs there. you look at him — really look at him — and the words come without panic.

“i love you.”

he freezes. blinks. “really?”

you groan, accusing him of ruining the moment. he laughs again, squeezing your hand as he says he loves you too — just didn’t expect to hear it like that. “at a wedding,” you tease. “very on theme.”

he kisses you softly.

unhurried.

when you pull back, the music swells inside again. you tug his hand and tell him they’re cutting the cake. he follows without question.

and for the first time, you don’t wonder if he’ll stay.

[spideyjimin]

Break my heart | jjk

—  pairing: jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: college au, roommates au, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, kind of friends to enemies, and enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  summary: jungkook, a mask, and a party. three things that made you weak enough to break all the rules of friendship. you did with him what you usually do with strangers… but he was never supposed to be a one-night stand. there’s too much history. too much comfort. and now, the aftermath of that wild and steamy night has made living with him unbearable, but also impossible to walk away. because you’re falling. fast. deep. and maybe deep enough to let each other break your own hearts.

—  words: 18,123

—  warnings: implied sex, mention of alcohol, heavy sexual tension, so much teasing, strong language, lots of kissing, swearing, oral (f. receiving), penetrative sex, protected sex, mention of sex, kind of heartbreak, crying, fighting, mention of masturbation, flirting, mention of bathroom sex, oc throws very bad jokes at him, mention of toxic relationship, some jealousy, fingering, handjob, and multiple sex scenes

—  author’s note: the fic is finally out!! i’ve had so much fun writing it & i hope you’ll enjoyed it 🥰 i know i said that i was taking a break but i had some days off & my hand is finally getting better so i just wrote 🫣 this is also like a “thank you” fic for all the milestones i reached in the past months i really appreciate you all & thank you so so much for everything 🩵🩵 hope you’ll enjoy this fic ✨

— playlist: OTRO CAPÍTULO | QUE HACES | sports car | railway | die for you

MASTERLIST

As you step inside the impressive ballroom, your eyes look around. The room is already full of people, which doesn’t surprise you, and it’s quite dark. Since it’s a masquerade ball, every single person is wearing a mask. Some are fancier than others, but in general, everybody looks fantastic with their masks on.

You turn to your left, your eyes meeting Jungkook’s before you look down at where your left hand rests on his strong arm. Your best friend looks incredibly well in his black tuxedo and with his phantom half mask. It’s rare to see him wearing such a classic outfit. He usually goes with jeans and large shirts.

“Let’s go?” he asks with a growing smile.

You simply nod. This isn’t the type of party you usually go to. Most of the time, it’s just a random party organized by a student, and you’ll get drunk before getting laid. Or you’ll simply get laid. But tonight is different. You’re not even sure what you’re supposed to do or how to act. You don’t envision flirting with someone like you used to at “regular” parties.

As you make your way to the crowd, you text your friend Lena to check where she is. She told you a couple of minutes ago that she was already inside with her boyfriend, Hoseok, and Jin, another friend of yours.

“Lena told me to join her at the bar,” you say to your best friend, your eyes detaching from your phone.

You and Jungkook walk side by side, your feet moving in sync. Strings of colorful lights illuminate the room, but you’re focused on finding the bar. Your fingers tighten around his arm. Not because you might trip or lose your way, but because, for a split second, you’re afraid he might let you go.

When you reach Lena, your face breaks into a real smile, the kind that slips out before you can stop it.  

“You both look stunning!” she exclaims, her eyes sparkling beneath her mask.

She throws her arms around you without hesitation, and you laugh as she pulls you into a hug. As her arms slide around your neck, you loosen your grip on Jungkook’s arm. But the absence of this warmth doesn’t go unnoticed. Not by you. And not by him.  

“Ready for tonight?” she asks in your ear.

You simply nod while your arms wrap around her waist to hold her close.

“I’ve already noticed some handsome men you might want to end up with tonight,” she whispers.

You chuckle. She always does this when she arrives at a party before you, scouting the room like your personal wingwoman. She knows how you like to flirt with a man or two before settling on the one you’ll take home.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, shaking your head.

She steps back, meeting your eyes with a grin.

“I’m saving you some time. You’ll find your man quicker.”

“Yn doesn’t need help finding her night companion,” Jungkook says. “Give her ten minutes, and she’ll be whispering the dirtiest things in some poor guy’s ear.”

“Eeeh, like you’re any better,” you try to defend yourself.

“I never claimed otherwise,” he smirks, completely unbothered.

You shake your head; they are both annoying.

Lena leads you through the crowd toward a corner booth glowing under soft string lights. Jin and Hoseok are already there, drinks in hand, their laughter spilling over the music. You greet them with easy smiles, sliding into the seat beside Lena. A couple of minutes later, more familiar faces join you. Taehyung, Jimin, and Mara, Taehyung’s girlfriend.

The table fills quickly with chatter and laughter, a rhythm you know well. You let yourself lean into it—the comfort of inside jokes, the clinking of glasses, the way someone’s always teasing someone else. Being with your friends always warms your heart. It feels like time completely stops when you’re with them.

A few guys glance your way. One even makes a move to approach. But you don’t engage. Not because no one’s attractive. Not because you don’t know how. You just don’t feel like it. Your attention stays anchored at the table, where the people know you, where nothing feels like a game.

And somehow, that’s enough tonight. More than enough. The idea of flirting, of peeling yourself open for a stranger, even just for fun, feels tiring in a way you can’t explain. So instead, you laugh at Jin’s stupid jokes. You steal a sip from Jimin’s drink to hear him complain. You keep catching Jungkook’s eye across the table for half a second too long. And then you look away.

Before you even have the time to process, Jungkook is standing next to you, his hand on the small of your back, his lips close to your ear.

“Would you like to dance with me?” he proposes.

A smile appears on your face, your eyes meeting his. You nod, but the motion falters when you realize that he’s close. Too close. Close enough that his breath, warm and laced with mint, brushes across your cheek. It catches you off guard, not because Jungkook hasn’t been in your space before, but because this time, it feels different.

Your heart beats extremely fast in your chest, and you swear you can feel your cheeks burning. But you brush everything away as he guides you to the dance floor, where tons of students are dancing like the night is still young.  

Soon enough, you’re both dancing in the middle of the crowd, your gaze locked on his. The world around you completely disappears. There’s only you and Jungkook. You dance like you always do. Like two crazy kids. Nothing makes real sense, but it does to you and him. You giggle when he does silly moves.

This isn’t something new. You always dance with Jungkook at a party. You always enjoy each other's company before finding somebody to spend the night with.

When the music changes to Die for You by The Weeknd, the entire mood shifts in the room, especially between you and Jungkook. Neither of you moves. You simply stand there, in front of each other, and caught in each other’s gaze like the song was meant for this exact second. 

Just as you start to turn, deciding to go back to the table with your friends before things get too heavy. Jungkook’s hand wraps gently around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. When you turn around, your eyes meet his intense gaze. Your heartbeat increases drastically when you realize how close you are.

Your eyes look down for a second at his lips, his hot breath brushing against your cheek. His hand places yours on his shoulder, bringing you even closer to him. His other hand finds its way to the small of your back, pressing your body against his.    

“What are you doing?” you ask with a shaky voice.

“Dancing with you,” he replies, his dark eyes staring deep into yours.

His body starts to sway, quietly inviting yours to follow him. Your gaze never leaves his as you let him guide you, your steps syncing instinctively with his. The bass pulses beneath your feet like a shared heartbeat. You don’t speak; there’s no need to.

His hand finds your waist, light at first, then firmer as you settle into the rhythm together. His chest nearly brushes yours with each slow step, and his thumb traces the fabric of your dress like he’s memorizing it. And your heart hammers.

You can smell the same familiar scent he always wears, but tonight, it hits differently. Tonight, it feels dangerous. 

He leans in, just barely, his mouth near your ear.

“Still want to walk away?” he murmurs, voice low and almost smug.

You exhale, shaky but defiant. You swallow with difficulty as you realize who you have in front of you. You have the flirtatious version of your best friend. The guy who flirts with any girl he meets. But this guy, you never got to meet him because there was only friendship between you.

Tonight, everything is different. You noticed it the second you stepped out of your room. You noticed it when his eyes devoured you back at your shared apartment. You noticed it when you did the same. Tonight, there’s an unexplained longing between you. You ignore where this comes from, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to be your night companion.  

“Maybe I just needed a reason to stay.”

His eyes say more than words ever could. They are locked on yours like you’re the only thing that exists. He wants you. Desperately. He craves you with his entire soul. And he doesn’t mind as well if you’re his night companion this evening.

And from the way your pulse jumps, the way you look at him, he knows. He knows that you want this too. His hand shifts, his fingers grazing your waist. A light touch, but enough to send a wave of heat through you. Your breath catches. And he notices. Of course he does.

Then, that slow and wicked smirk of his forms. The one that screams trouble. The one he gives to his flirts. The one that usually makes you laugh because it was never meant for you. But now, it doesn’t make you laugh. It makes you weak. It makes you an easy prey for him.

“And what’s that reason?” he murmurs, leaning in, voice thick with heat and tease. “Is it the suit?” he pauses. “I noticed the way you looked at me at home.”

You slowly slide a finger along the lapel of his jacket. You’re trying to hide the fact that this man right here is making it difficult for you to remain composed. How can you resist him? Honestly, now you understand why there isn’t a single woman who can resist his charms. You used to make fun of them, but now, you understand them.

“Should I remind you of the way you looked at me?” your voice is also filled with heat and tease.

He leans in. Closer. His lips hover just beside your cheek, near your ear, but he doesn’t touch.

“I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you,” he confesses.

Your fingers move down, tracing now invisible circles on his chest while your bodies keep moving at the music’s rhythm.

“Such cheesy words,” you reply, a smirk arising on your face. “That’s what I deliver to the men I want in between my legs.”

Jungkook’s lips curl into a mischievous smile, his eyes darkening even more.

“Maybe that’s what I want.”

This makes you go still. Although it’s written all over his face that it’s what he wants, hearing it out loud makes it real. And if this is real, it means your friendship will never be the same anymore. It means that you’ve ruined the friendship. There won’t be any coming back after this night. You won’t even be able to blame it on the alcohol. You barely drank anything.

The music continues around you, bodies moving on every side, but your world has narrowed down to him. His breath. His stare. The way his hand flexes, like he’s seconds from pulling you in. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate a second when the next words leave his lips.

“Say the word,” he breathes. “And I’m yours tonight.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, trying to process what he just said and what is happening. Your fingers resume brushing over his strong chest. Both your hearts are beating extremely fast. If you say yes, you’ll both leave this place and go to yours to have the most mind-blowing sex ever.

“You already are,” you whisper, your eyes dropping to your fingers playing on his chest. “You became mine the second your eyes devoured me back at home.”

Jungkook freezes entirely, as if he fears that moving too quickly will ruin the moment. His breath catches, and for a heartbeat, he doesn’t speak. He just stares at you, like he’s seeing something he’s wanted for far too long.

Then, slowly, his eyes flick to your lips. And when they return to yours, when he sees you looking at his mouth, not pulling away, not breathing, that’s all the permission he needs.

His hand slides to the side of your face, fingers brushing your jaw with aching care. And then, he crashes into you. His lips find yours in a kiss that’s not soft or tentative. It’s fierce. Hungry. The kind of kiss that comes from too many stolen glances.

You answer it instantly, hands fisting in his jacket, body leaning into him like you’ve been waiting forever. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against him like he wants to feel every part of you.

You gasp when his teeth graze your lower lip, and he takes that moment to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping in. This is overwhelming. Way too overwhelming. Jungkook is by far one of the best kissers you’ve got to meet. His lips are addicting, and his touch is fire. You don’t want to let go. You don’t want to ever let go of him.

Although this is overwhelming, it’s not enough.

A little moan escapes your mouth as the kiss gets more and more desperate. A moan that Jungkook swallows. It’s getting clear that you crave more than just a kiss. It’s clear you want him between your legs.

And before you start to give too much of a show, you break apart. You’re both breathless, foreheads resting together, and chests pressed together. Neither of you speaks at first. The only sound is the distant throb of music from inside and the rush of blood in your ears.

Jungkook’s thumb brushes your cheek slowly and tenderly. A sharp contrast to the fire in his kiss. Amidst this overwhelming desire, it’s remarkable that he manages to be gentle.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers.

Your eyes take him in for a moment. His eyes are filled with lust, his lips are swollen, and his breathing is erratic. Your lips get closer, brushing against his, but you don’t kiss him. Not yet.

“Why?” you whisper.

“We’re friends,” he instantly answers.

Jungkook is trying to resist the urge to kiss you once more. His entire soul wants to do it, but he isn’t sure if he should.

“It’s too late now,” your tongue tards out to lick his lower lip. “We have already ruined our friendship.”

Your eyes never leave his. Although desire is written all over his face, there’s also worry. He’s worried about losing you, but now, no matter what happens, it’s already too late. He’ll lose you if he chooses to.

“I’m all yours tonight, Jungkook.”  

He doesn’t respond right away. He simply stares at you like you’ve knocked the air out of his lungs. Like he’s not sure he heard you right. His hand, which was resting on your waist, pulls you in closer, pressing your body even more against his.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your cheek before going down to your jaw and throat.

“I’m all yours,” you repeat, softer this time.

As he hears your words, he lets out a low, shaky breath against your skin. It sounds like half a groan and half a surrender.

“Let’s get out of here before I rip this dress off you,” he mumbles as he presses a gentle kiss on the crook of your neck.  

“We need to tell our friends,” you tell him as you take a step back. “Lena will get worried if I disappear just like that.”

“Okay,” he nods.

You both head back to the table, your fingers entwined together as you navigate through the heavy crowd. The second your eyes notice Lena, you let go of Jungkook’s hand. Somehow, you don’t want her to understand what’s going on between the two of you. You know she’ll dissuade you from doing it, and you don’t want it.

“We’re leaving,” you basically scream in her ear.

“Getting bored?” she asks.

You nod. What you ignore at that moment is that she saw everything. She saw the way you danced, the way you kissed, and the way you almost fucked each other in the middle of the crowd. But she isn’t going to say anything. She’s just surprised this moment didn’t happen earlier. A fuckboy and a fuckgirl living under the same roof, it was honestly bound to explode at some point.  

“Text me when you’re at home,” she asks, although she’s certain you won’t do it, too busy to get railed by Jungkook.

“Can you let the others know?” Jungkook asks her.

She nods, and you both leave in a hurry. Jungkook drives as fast as he can, your heartbeats going crazy and your bodies aching for each other like never before. This new sensation is scary, but also so damn good at the same time.

The moment the door to your apartment shuts behind you, Jungkook pushes you against it, his forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathless, like you ran the whole way there, which isn’t far from the truth.

“You sure?” he whispers, his hand finding yours again, grounding himself in your skin.

You nod, not needing words, because tonight, nothing’s uncertain anymore. Tonight, you want him, not a stranger.

“Absolutely,” you answer.

Your lips press hard against his, your hands move to his head to cup his face. You bite his lips lightly, so he opens his mouth, and your tongue finds his quickly. You passionately kiss each other while you’re pressed against the entrance door. Not the way you picture things, but having his lips on yours feels like a dream.

When you break the kiss, you take his mask off to get a better view of his face. Following your lead, he removes yours. And just like that, there’s nothing left to hide behind. No mystery, no playful distance.

Just him. Just you. Bare and exposed in the soft light, no excuses or costumes between you anymore.

His gaze lingers on your face like he’s memorizing the version of you he knows best. The one without masks, without armor. Then, gently, he leans in and presses a quick kiss to your lips. Not hungry. Not desperate. Just soft and certain. And your heart stumbles in your chest.

“Much better,” you whisper as you take him in without the mask.

A slow smile curves his lips, like he’s about to do or say something reckless. And he is. Without giving you a second to breathe, he leans in and crashes his mouth against yours again. His hand cups your jaw firmly, grounding you as his lips move against yours.

When your mouth parts in a soft gasp, his thumb is already there, brushing your bottom lip before gently tugging it down. A low sound rumbles in his chest as he deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue inside like he owns the right to.

You melt into him, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer—closer than you should. But right now, there’s no space between you. No masks. No rules. Just heat and need.

His hands hold you tight against him as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. This kiss is desperate and wild, but so desperately wanted. When he pulls back, you’re both breathless, and his dark eyes lock with yours. Your hands remain fisted on his shirt.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he murmurs, his fingers leaving your body to gently caress your cheek.

“Wait till you see me without this dress,” you whisper, your eyes never looking away.

“Can’t wait,” he smirks.

He presses a quick kiss on your lips, his hand moving to your back to pull you closer so you can feel his growing desire against your belly. You instantly moan at the sensation. Man, you’re desperate to feel him.

“I can see that,” you mumble against his lips.

Before you can comprehend what’s going on, Jungkook drags you to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. There’s absolutely no need to do it, but in some way, it makes this moment even more intimate. It doesn’t feel like you’re about to have sex with some random guy you met a couple of hours ago.

This is your best friend.

He’s the only man you ever trusted, apart from your father. You’d give him anything, even your heart, if he asked. You’d even let him break your heart.

His mouth finds yours for another kiss while your fingers find their way to his hair to play with it. The kiss quickly deepens, leaving no room for doubt about what is about to happen. His fingers move to the straps of your dress.

“Undress for me, baby,” he commands.

You nod, then reach for the side zipper, taking all your time to remove the dress to give this man a little show. The fabric slides down your body and pools around your feet, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. The second you unveil your body, you notice his jaw flexing.

“Fuck,” he swears in his breath. “You’re no joke.”

“Told you,” you smirk and wink at him.

Jungkook has already seen you like this before at the pool, in summer clothes, and lounging around the apartment, and it never seemed to faze him. But right now, with the way he’s so desperate to touch you, his eyes look at you very differently. His eyes are full of hunger and are looking at you intensely.

You’re not just attractive. You’re irresistible.   

He bites his lower lip while his hungry eyes roam over your body. You’re a fucking dream. He wonders how on earth this didn’t happen before.

“Sit on the bed,” he instructs.

You follow his instructions, sitting at the edge of the bed. The man kneels before you, his hands spreading your legs to give him a view of your core. His face gets closer to your thigh, pressing a featherlight kiss on it. His warm lips move up, getting dangerously close to your wet core. His breath is hot against your skin, which sends shivers down your spine. Jungkook stops when he reaches your clothed core.

His fingers hook beneath the waistband of your underwear, slowly pushing the fabric down. He takes his time, while his eyes are locked with yours. He’s so hot, no doubt that he can easily get any girl he wants at his feet.

And yet, he’s here. With you.

It’s wild to think about it. You’ve known each other for years, and he’s been your go-to person for everything. When you were sad, he’d bring you food and sit in silence beside you until you were ready to talk. When you were bored, he’d annoy you on purpose. You always felt safe around him because he’d let everything down when you needed him. He’d drop any girl he’d be flirting with if you called him.

You’re not supposed to be here, your legs spread with his head so fucking close to your core. You’re not supposed to be ruining the friendship. You’re not supposed to sleep together.

But who cares? You both want this.

And it leaves you wondering. Was there something stronger all those years beneath the friendship? What if you always loved each other? What if this was supposed to happen?

All your thoughts are pushed away when your hungry eyes look down at the man so damn close to your core.

Jungkook leans back in. His lips graze your skin as he presses another kiss to the inside of your thigh, the warmth of his breath brushing over you and making your muscles tense.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he mumbles more to himself than for you. “The prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” his eyes meet yours again.

For a second, his gaze moves down to your core. Jungkook has seen many of them in his life, and although he found them all appealing, yours is even prettier. And he’s so damn excited to taste you. His hard dick is the proof of it.

His fingers dig into your hips, holding you firmly in place as his lips finally taste you without hesitation. Jungkook initially teases you, his eyes looking up at you to catch your reaction. A smirk grows on his face when you arch your back and moan. This is exactly what he wanted.

Without wasting more time, his lips seal around your sensitive bundle of nerves. A strangled gasp escapes your mouth as pleasure takes over you. Your eyes look down at the man pleasuring you. It’s a fucking sight you never imagined you’d ever witness in your entire life. He’s eating you out like a starving man.

“Fuck,” you moan.

As you moan, he can’t help but moan back. He loves hearing you moan, especially knowing it’s because of him this time. He’s heard you before, but those moans were for other men. It might sound weird to think that he already heard you moan, but it isn’t for him. You’ve both brought many night companions home, and let’s just say, the walls are thin.

The vibration of his voice sends a wave of pleasure straight through your body. Your hips buck forward, pushing his face closer, and your fingers find their way to his hair as a trail of moans falls from your lips.

His mouth works you over with hunger, tongue torturing you like never before while his lips seal around your clit. His nose presses into you, dragging against your cunt with each movement.

Your eyes flutter shut as you enjoy every second of his mouth on your pussy. You throw your head back while moans flow out of your mouth. The growing pleasure is overwhelming but in a fantastic way, and your body trembles beneath his relentless tongue.

Jungkook is savoring every second, and if he could, he’d make the whole world hear you moan. A satisfied hum vibrates against you, sending shocks through your core, and when your fingers tighten in his hair, he takes it as encouragement, deepening his devotion, and pushing you further.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you moan.

The way you say his name makes him grow harder in his pants.

“Tell me, baby,” his eyes look up at you.

“I’m gonna cum,” you manage to say between moans.

Before you even realize it, your orgasm violently hits you, your legs shaking, and your walls clenching around emptiness. Even though you’re coming hard against his lips, Jungkook doesn’t stop lapping at your juices falling all over his tongue. He savors every drop because damn, he’s never tasted something as addicting as you.

You can tell without any doubt that this man is the first one to eat out dreamily. Many guys did it before him, and a lot of them were great, but Jungkook surpasses them all. For sure, his experience with girls is a plus right now.

Once you come down from your high, he pulls away. His face glistens with your slick, his lips swollen, and his eyes dark with hunger. Jungkook stands up, a bright smile on his face, before he pushes down his pants and boxers. A sigh of relief leaves his lips the second his cock is finally free. It was getting pretty painful to keep it inside his pants.

You lean back as you hold yourself with your upper arms, your eyes hungrily admiring the man who his stripping for you.

“Already hard?” your eyes look up to meet his.

Jungkook gives you a little show while he removes every piece of his black tuxedo. Your eyes admire the way his muscles flex. You’ve already seen him with only is underwear on, but this time, you can’t help but find him so damn attractive. Suddenly, his tattooed arm becomes a massive turn-on.

“You taste like heaven. I could come in my pants while only eating you out,” he admits.

Once he’s fully naked, his right hand finds its way to his cock, stroking himself. He’s not even sure he’ll last long. His grip tightens around his cock, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’ve a pretty cock,” you wink at him. “No wonder every girl wants to take a ride,” you tease him.

Jungkook has quite a slightly bigger dick than average. You’ve seen many cocks of all sorts. Big, thick, small, long, and tiny. Jungkook’s dick is of average length, but he’s a bit thicker. But over the years, you’ve come to realize that the size isn’t what truly matters.

What matters is how the guy uses it, and also all the other aspects of a sexual moment. There’s the flirting, the teasing, the oral sex. And for you, that is what makes sex better.

“Of course, what did you think?” he answers. “There wouldn’t be this fuss if it were tiny.”

You shake your head with a smile on your face.

“Now it’s your time to take a ride,” he winks at you.  

He gets closer to you, his free hand gently pushing you down on the mattress of his bed. And then, his lips crash against yours while his hand leaves his cock so he can cup your face. His body presses flush against yours, heat radiating between your bodies as he deepens the kiss.

When you break the kiss, he opens the drawer of his nightstand to grab a condom. Even though he’d like to really feel you, it’s better to use protection. Let’s avoid getting you pregnant. He knows you’re not on the pill, you never liked it, but you keep good track of your cycle. And he knows you’re on your ovulation period; you told him this morning.

Once the condom is fully on his cock, he holds you open as he guides the head of his cock into your sopping entrance. For a moment, he teases you first, dragging the tip through your slick folds, spreading your arousal before finally pushing in with a slow, deliberate thrust.  

A deep moan leaves your throat as he stretches you open. Your walls clench around him as his dick makes his way inside your pussy. Your back instantly arches, your thighs trembling around his waist as he buries himself deeper.

“Fuck,” he mumbles the second he looks down, watching the way your body takes him in.

Neither of you expected how incredible it would feel to be connected like this. Jungkook pushes himself further until he bottoms out. The second he’s fully inside, he halts to give you both a moment to adjust.

Having him still inside you is torture. You can’t handle staying like this, you need him to move and fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.

“Jungkook, move please,” you beg him.

“As you wish, baby,” he teases as he slowly pulls back.

He pauses for a second when only the thick head of his cock remains inside. Without any warning, he pushes back. Feeling his thick shaft pushing deeply back into you is beyond satisfying. Damn, it even makes you see stars. Both of you moan loudly as he starts pounding into you. This man right here just knows how to screw you.

Throughout the past few years, you’ve gotten to taste different dicks. Usually, they knew how to use it; some were really bad, but Jungkook surpasses them all by far. And it’s only the beginning. You don’t want to imagine how you’ll feel when you come around his thick shaft.   

His pace is restless, and his hands grip your waist tightly. The room quickly gets filled with the slick sound of your moans, of the headboard hitting the wall, and of your bodies slapping together. The heat builds in your core as he slams into you, filling you completely with each thrust.   

Your hands grip the sheets as hard as possible to steady yourself from Jungkook’s hard thrusts. His lips meet yours for a sloppy kiss while his thrusts grow rougher and quicker.

The familiar coil of pleasure tightens in your stomach while he moans your name. Hearing him pronounce your name this way feels wonderful. You’ve already heard him moaning a lot of times, but now that you’re the reason behind it, it tastes wonderful.

Jungkook is getting more and more lost in his pleasure. The only thing you’re both focused on now is chasing your high, and the heat between you is unbearable. You both know you won’t be lasting much longer. 

“I’m not going to last much longer,” you manage to say, the desperation filling your voice.

His cock twitches inside you at your words, and well, that action causes your orgasm to crash over you. When your orgasm hits you completely and violently, your walls squeeze him tightly. Jungkook groans when he feels your wall clenching around his cock.  

His thrusts get more desperate as he chases his own high. He’s so fucking close. Jungkook closes his eyes because the simple view of your face contorting with pleasure is just too much. Your walls keep tightening around him, a torture you impose him to help him cum.

“Fuck,” he groans.

And then, with one last thrust, he falls apart. Deep groans fall from his lips as he releases his hot semen inside the condom. His hands tighten around your waist, holding you still while he releases himself. He looks incredibly sexy when the orgasm hits him. Jungkook collapses next to you in bed.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, both trying to catch your breath. Your eyes are completely shut, while his are fixed on the ceiling of his bedroom. Slowly, he removes the condom, makes a knot, and throws it in the trash.

“Let’s take a shower,” he tells you as he stands up.

You open your eyes to be greeted with his sweet face. He looks adorable with his big doe eyes. How can a man looks so cute after fucking the shit out of you? And to think that this is what all the other girls got to see.

Jungkook offers you his hand to help you stand up, and you gladly take it. His fingers intertwine with yours while he guides you to your shared bathroom. You shower in silence, your arms wrapped around his body with your head pressed against his chest. You only focus on his heartbeat while the water falls over your bodies.

You try to push away all the questions that start to arise in your mind, but it’s hard to suppress them. What will happen now that you broke all the rules of friendship? Will you pretend that nothing ever happened? Or will you keep fucking around?

You’ll have to wait until tomorrow to have the answers to your questions. For now, you just want to stay in this little bubble.

When Jungkook wakes up, he realizes that you’re not in the bed. He instantly imagines that you might have gone to the bathroom or might be in the living room or something like that. But when he doesn’t find you in the apartment, he finds it weird. Where could you be?

By instinct, he calls you several times, but you don’t pick up. He’s starting to worry about you. You’ve never disappeared like this. Well, he can’t say that you never did it because it’s the first time you shared an intimate moment.

He tries to tell himself you had something urgent, or maybe just needed space. But the silence on the other end of the phone, the absence of a note, a message, or anything, feels too familiar. Too final.

A heavy weight settles in his chest as he walks into the apartment, running a hand through his hair. He frowns as he wonders why you left without a word. He gets back to his bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed. He glances at the rumpled sheets, still warm from where you lay hours ago. The echo of your laughter, your breath, the way your fingers clung to his skin, it’s all still there, as vivid as a memory can be.

But you’re not.

Jungkook exhales sharply, frustrated by the ache creeping up his chest. Last night didn’t feel like something casual, at least not to him. You looked at him like he mattered, like it was more, like it meant something.

So why does this feel like goodbye?

He stands up and starts pacing the apartment, checking again the kitchen, the balcony, even the laundry room. Maybe you just went out for coffee? But your keys are gone. Your coat too. He notices it now. A pit opens in his stomach.

And then, it hits him.

You’ve done to him what you do with the others. You slept with him and now, you ran away before he even got to wake up. It hurts him that you saw last night as a one-night stand because he loved every second of it. He wouldn’t have flirted with you if he didn’t enjoy it. But somehow, deep down, he hoped this wouldn’t be a one-time thing.

He secretly hoped for more.

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself before collapsing on the couch.

Then, his phone starts buzzing and he quickly grabs it, hoping it’d be you. However, his hopes are broken when his friend’s name shows up.  

“Hi Tae,” he says when picking up.

“Hi Kook,” he says. “How was last night with yn?”

Jungkook instantly freezes.

“How…” he begins, but his friend interrupts him.

“We all saw it,” he answers. “Man, you were kissing her like a starving man in the middle of the dance floor. And then, you left with her so no need to be a genius to know you fucked her.”

Jungkook groans while rubbing his face. This is what he wanted to avoid. He’s frustrated because you left him like a dirty sock, and all your friends saw you last night. They will for sure tease the two of you forever with that. And he knows that things have forever changed. Nothing will ever be the same now.

“Yeah, we did it,” he admits without really answering the question. “But let’s forget it.”

“Why?” his friend sounds confused.

 “She was just a booty call.”

At that exact moment, you walk into the apartment with the brightest smile on your face, and with some pastries in your hands, but when you hear your best friend’s words, your entire world falls apart.

How can he say that? Why is he even saying it?

You thought last night meant something, that he enjoyed it, but after all, he seemed not to reciprocate. And it hurts.

“So you’re telling me you two just hooked up for fun?” his voice cuts in, sharp with disbelief. “There were hundreds of people you could have slept with, Jungkook! Why her?”

Taehyung sounds angry, and honestly? He should be. Jungkook should never have touched you, not like that. Now everything blew up, and he’s never going to be able to look at you without feeling a bit of pain.

Yeah, the sex was great. Actually, more than great, but the aftermath isn’t.

“Look, I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “She was there, I knew I could have her, so I did.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jungkook,” he swears under his breath. “Friends don’t do that even if they are into casual shit.”

Jungkook perfectly knows that he screwed up, but he didn’t expect the fallout to feel this awful. He thought maybe, somehow, everything would go back to normal. But he was dead wrong.  

Jungkook’s words hit you harder than you expected. Sleeping with him was different than with any other guy. But now? He proved to you that he’s just like every other guy. Only thinking with his dick. Taking what he wants and moving on without a second thought.  

And just like that, ten years of friendship feel like they’re cracking under the weight of one moment, one mistake, he can’t take back.

You disappear into your room to do something you never did before. Crying over a man. But you promise yourself that it’ll be the first and last time.

A week later

Things with Jungkook have gotten worse. You’re not able to speak without fighting and insulting him, but you know that’s because you’re hurt. You never imagined your friendship going down this badly. You always loved him, you still do, but he hurt you like nobody else ever did.

“Jungkook!” you scream as you pound on the bathroom door.

The man has been inside for like an hour. You need to take a shower before going out. You’re going to a party with your friends, and Jungkook will also be there, but who cares? You’ll only get there to find your night companion, and forget about what Jungkook did to you.

“I need to shower!” you continue.

“Not my problem,” he shouts.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no way you’re going to wait any longer. You take the spare key before opening the door and storming into the room. Jungkook is fully naked, but you couldn’t care less. For a moment, your eyes quickly scan him. He’s still incredibly hot.

“Leave,” you order flatly.

“No,” he shoots back without missing a beat.

You let out a heavy sigh, growing increasingly annoyed by this man's attitude. This man’s been testing every ounce of your patience since that night. You swear, if he keeps this up, you might actually smack that smug face of his.

“Dickhead,” you spit.

“You should find another nickname,” he says, unfazed. “You’ve been calling me that for a week now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Asshole. Is that better?” you say, crossing your arms against your chest.

“Slight improvement,” he smirks.

“Now, if you would kindly get the fuck out of this room, asshole, that’d be great,” you emphasize on ‘asshole’.

“I already told you, no,” he replies while applying moisturizer to his face.

You throw your arms up.

“Okay, fine,” you say.

Instead of making him leave, you turn the water on and undress. There’s no way you’ll wait any longer because he’s decided to ruin your life. He has already seen you naked, so no need to be shy around him.

Jungkook’s eyes widen, not expecting this at all, but he doesn’t move. His eyes even dare to stare at your body, one that has been driving him crazy for a week. He’s stopped counting the times he’s been stroking his dick while thinking of you.

“Didn’t know you were desperate to let me fuck you again,” he teases you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble while shaking your head. “Only in your dreams, idiot.”

“Wow, another cute nickname,” he pretends to be excited. “You’ve improved in the span of five minutes. I’m proud of you, yn.”  

You roll your eyes, not caring at all about his stupid words. You get inside the shower and clean yourself while Jungkook is still in the bathroom. He doesn’t move, continuing to get ready for tonight’s party. This is the first party since you fucked, and even though he wished things were different, he will do everything in his power to at least come back home with a random chick to forget about last week.

After the shower and getting dressed, you wait for Lena to come and pick you up. She knows about this damn tension between you, and she isn’t really happy about it. She’s mainly sad that your ten-year friendship with Jungkook got blown up because of sex.

For now, and until you patch things up with him, she’ll gladly pick you up. She’ll also do everything in her power to get things back to how they were. So, she’ll push you to sleep with random guys. She believes it’s the only way to make you forget that night.

Lena arrives around 10 pm and drives you to the party. Jungkook left with Taehyung in order to avoid being with you in the car. There’s no way he’s staying around you tonight. He wants to dance, get drunk, and have sex.

“How are things going at home?” she asks while driving.

“As long as I don’t see him, fine,” you reply.

“If it’s too much, you can come to mine for a while. I wouldn’t mind,” her eyes quickly leave the road to look at you. “My parents would also be happy to have you around.”

“I’m not going to leave because of him,” you mutter. “If he’s not happy, he can leave. I’m not holding him hostage.”

She shakes her head.

“For how long will you keep acting like that?”

“Until he stops being a jerk.”

Lena really doesn’t understand how things went this wrong. You both said it was a one-night stand, but you’ve been acting like it wasn’t. You’ve been acting like you’re both hurt. She’ll try to help as much as she can, but you both need to solve your problems. Otherwise, it’ll just blow up one day, and it’ll be bad.

“I never imagined you’d ever call him a jerk,” she tries to lighten the mood. “It’s so weird.”

“Me neither,” you mumble to yourself. “Let’s not speak about him anymore. I want to party and have fun.”

She simply nods, and you talk about something completely different for the rest of the drive. You quickly reach the house where the party is taking place. There are already many people. Most of them are already completely wasted. They most probably drank before joining the party. People do that a lot.

You and Lena make your way inside the house while you hold each other's hands. Hoseok, her boyfriend, isn’t coming because he’s sick. He hasn’t been feeling well for the past two days, but he still encouraged her to join the party.

As you walk, your eyes instinctively look for Jungkook. It’s a habit anchored in yourself so deep that even if you’re on bad terms today, you still do it. Very quickly, you find his broad back. Even from behind he looks great, and fuck, you wish he could be protecting you from the crowd while whispering the dirtiest shit in your ear.

There’s absolutely no way you’ll survive this party without this deep desire to spread your legs for him once more.

Easily, you find Mara. Obviously, she’s with Tae, her boyfriend. Jin and Jimin are also with them, and you greet them all. Nobody says a damn thing about you and Jungkook which is honestly a relief for you.

However, as much as you love them, you want to get ruined tonight, so you try to look for a man. In a matter of seconds, you find one who’s hungrily looking at you.

“This is my guy,” you tell them. “See you tomorrow, guys!” You wave your hand before walking to this hot and sexy guy. Unfortunately, he isn’t as sexy as your infamous roommate.

“Stop thinking about him!” you mumble to yourself. “You’re not going anywhere like that…”

When you reach the guy and start talking to him, you feel burning eyes on your body. For a moment, you ignore it, but at some point, you turn your head. Your eyes instantly meet Jungkook’s. They are dark as hell, and a smirk arises on your face before you throw a middle finger at him.

Then, you resume flirting with the guy and start to dance to the loud music. As you move your body around him, your eyes are glued on Jungkook. Just like the girl grinding her ass against his hips, you do the same with the random guy you’re with. That position makes you face your roommate.

This is dirty and wild.

The man behind you is long forgotten. Your entire focus is on Jungkook, and nobody else. You keep dancing and drinking. The guy behind you sometimes whispers dirty words into your ear, but you barely register them. He doesn’t even seem to realize that you don’t give a shit about him.

His hands slide on your hips, bringing you closer to him and making you feel his growing erection. You almost moan when you feel it, since your mind actually imagines it being Jungkook. Jungkook’s eyes get darker, and he swears he was about to moan when he notices your fucked up state. You both crave each other in an unhealthy way, but you perfectly know that nothing is going to happen. At least not tonight.

You both know you'll end up sleeping with the person you're dancing with, even though your minds will be somewhere else. You'll be thinking about each other, about how good it felt when your bodies were connected. You'll remember the moans, the whimpers, the way you came undone together. You'll be replaying every moment, every touch, every gasp. Because the sex wasn’t just great, it was unforgettable.

Tonight, none of you felt like bringing someone to your place. So you had sex in this exact house, in the bathrooms, to be more precise. It was great, but it couldn’t compare to how it felt last week. You know nothing will ever come close to the way you felt with each other.

Two weeks later

For the past two weeks, things have been getting more intense with your roommate. You’ve been avoiding each other at all costs at home. You’d both prefer being out than inside. The casual hookups with random people kept going, just like nothing ever happened.

But it wasn’t true.

Jungkook couldn’t kiss a girl without comparing her to you. You couldn’t open your legs without picturing Jungkook in between them. Every single hookup was a reminder of that night. And because of that, you even increased the number of men you slept with. You just wanted to forget that night and at the same time, relive it all over again.

The worst part was when you’d stumble upon your roommate. You’d fight over silly things, but it was your only way of communicating. Well, it’s still the case. You’re unable to look at this man without wanting to strangle him.

While you’re preparing your breakfast, Jungkook makes his way inside the kitchen. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with a pair of dark blue jeans. His tattoos are on full display, and even though you’re not going to say it out loud, you absolutely like it.

“Will you be home at two?” you ask as he walks past you.  

“Why?” he says, opening the fridge and grabbing the milk like he couldn’t care less.

“Some guy is coming,” you answer, your eyes following his strong figure.

You watch his muscles flex as he reaches for a glass. It’s almost unfair how someone so infuriating can look that good. Buff. Strong. Dangerous in all the right ways. If he weren’t such an asshole, you might just let him ruin you again.

“Who?” he asks without looking at you.  

“Why do you want to know?” you counter, eyes glued on him.

He avoids your gaze, pouring the milk like the carton suddenly became fascinating.

“Because you’re the one talking about it,” he mumbles

A devious smirk grows on your face as you step closer—dangerously close now. He straightens up, facing you, eyes finally locking with yours.

“Are you looking for a guy?” you ask, cocking your head with a teasing grin.

“What?” his scowl is immediate, and you try as hard as possible to repress the smile growing on your face.  

You almost laugh at his expression. It’s ridiculous how easy it is to rile him up. But you hold it in. No cracks. Not yet. You're about to push him further. Annoying him is your new favorite pastime.

“I didn’t know you were gay,” you tease him.

Thank God he wasn’t drinking his milk. Otherwise, he would have choked. His brows draw together, clearly caught off guard.

“I’m not gay,” he says flatly, casually even, but his tone is clipped.

“Jungkook,” you shrug innocently. “You can be whoever you want. I support you, bestie.”

He rolls his eyes and drinks a sip of milk from the cup. Despite being annoyed, his heart skips a beat when you call him ‘bestie’. He hasn’t heard that nickname since that infamous night. You’ve called him jerk, asshole, idiot, stupid, fuckboy, dickhead, and many other things like that for the past three weeks.

“Why are you insisting?”

A little mustache of milk forms on his upper lip when he removes the cup. He looks absolutely adorable, like a little boy trapped in the body of a man who could destroy you with a single touch.

“Because I get it,” you smile. “I like men too.”

He wipes the milk mustache off with the back of his hand, but this time, the playful glint in his eyes disappears. He’s serious now.

“Stop it, yn,” his voice is sharp, like a warning. “You know I don’t like men.”

“Me?” you pretend to be innocent. “I don’t know anything. You’re very mysterious lately.”

Without a warning, he steps closer—your heart hammers in your chest with this sudden proximity. The air thickens between you, and you feel his hot and minty breath against your cheek. This reminds you of that wild night in the ballroom

“Yes, you do,” he whispers, voice dropping into something husky. His lips graze your ear. “And if you’ve forgotten, I can remind you.”

His fingers brush your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

“I can make you moan my name again…” he pauses for a split second. “Or scream it, if you’d prefer.”

He tilts your face toward his, gaze locked on yours—intense, unreadable, and full of heat. He’s daring you to push back, to test him again. Your breath hitches.

Is he serious right now? Or just playing another dangerous game?

You don’t get the chance to answer because suddenly, Lena pops up in the kitchen.

“Yn!” she screams cheerfully, unaware of the storm she just walked into.

Jungkook instantly steps back, reaching for his glass of milk like it’s some sort of shield. He takes a sip, pretending he has been drinking it all this time. But his eyes remain on you like he’s unwilling to break whatever had just almost happened.

Lena pauses, her gaze flickering between the two of you. She’s not stupid. She saw how close your faces were. She saw the heat. And above anything else, she can feel the heavy tension in the air.

“Seems like…” she stutters, clearly caught off guard. “Seems like I interrupted something.”

She half-turns like she’s going to walk back out, giving you and Jungkook some space.

“I’ll leave you two to what you were doing,” she gestures vaguely at the doorway.

“No need,” you answer while never looking away from Jungkook. Your voice is cool, calm, but laced with something pointed. “I was just about to leave.”  

You hold his gaze a second longer—daring him to stop you, say something, or do something. But he doesn’t. So you walk away, pulse pounding, and the confused silence trailing behind you. You want to look back, but you don’t dare to do it, knowing perfectly how weak you’d look.

You’re at Mara and Taehyung’s place for a girls' night with Lena and Mara.

Taehyung is out of town, and his girlfriend immediately organized a little pajama party for the three of you. It’s been a while since you haven’t spent some good time with just the two of them. Life always seems so busy between classes and exams.  

“So any life updates?” Mara asks.

“Not really,” Lena answers. “With Hobi, we’re considering moving together, but we still need to find something.”

Hoseok and Lena have been together since they were sixteen, so it’s been like five years. They still live at their parents’ houses, but now that you’re all reaching the end of your college years, they’ve been considering moving in together.

“You definitely should!” Mara replies with enthusiasm. “It’s so great.”

She’s been living with Tae for three months now. Since she lives far away from college, she was sleeping in the dorms, but after a while, her boyfriend suggested they could move in together. At first, she was hesitant because they’d been together for like two years. She was scared to move on too fast, but then, she decided to go for it.

“You get to have sex whenever you want,” she wiggles her eyebrows in a teasing way. “And cuddles when you desperately need one.”

“I know, but it makes me nervous, too. Like, my parents will freak out. Jennie is still at home.”

Jennie is her older sister. She’s twenty-six, but she doesn’t seem to want to move out of her parents’ place. Lena always believed the first child should be the first to get married, have children, and move out. Jennie is far away from that. She doesn’t even have a boyfriend yet.

“This is your life, not hers,” you tell her. “If you feel ready to take that huge step with Hobi, then do it. Your parents will understand you, I’m sure of it. You’ve been with him for so long.”

You’ve known her parents since you were a baby. They might appear as strict parents, but they are pretty cool. You don’t doubt they’ll let their daughter move in with her boyfriend. They adore Hobi. Who doesn’t?

“Let’s see,” she mumbles. “I still need to speak with them about it.”

You totally understand her nervousness. You felt the same when you told your parents you’d be moving in with your best friend instead of going to a dorm. They took it well since they already knew Jungkook and appreciated him. You wanted to have a bit more privacy, although back then you weren’t hooking up with random guys. You’d also feel safer coming home to a friend instead of a place full of strangers.

“And you, yn?” Mara looks at you. “Any news from your side?”

“No,” you shake your head without even thinking twice.

Lena chuckles. “No?” she raises an eyebrow. “You’re such a liar, yn.”

You frown with confusion, not understanding what she’s referring to. Is she thinking about one of the many men you slept with? There’s nothing to say about it. You barely remember their names, and you lost track of how many you hooked up with lately.

“I just caught you kissing Jungkook,” she continues.

Your eyes widen while your mouth falls open. Mara starts laughing. She’s surprised it only happened now because the tension between you and Jungkook is thick as fuck. All of your friends noticed how you now “flirt” at parties. They saw how you absolutely don’t give two shits about the person you’re with because you’re both too focused on each other. It’s like you’re flirting through Bluetooth.  

“That’s not true,” you reply.  

“Not true?” Lena repeats, and you nod.

Well, on this one, Lena is totally wrong. You weren’t kissing Jungkook, but there was no doubt that it would have happened if she hadn’t shown up.

“Aren’t you tired of playing cat and mouse for weeks?” Mara asks.

You take a sip of wine in an attempt to cool down. This is a very sensitive subject. Jungkook makes you feel hot and bothered, especially after the kitchen incident of earlier.

“Something has been going on between you for almost a month,” she adds. “Admit it.”

You try to act like it isn’t true, although you’re dying on the inside.

“Look, I’m just staying because the wine is good,” you inform them before taking a sip.

They chuckle because they know you’re trying to avoid answering them.

“We’ve been tiptoeing around you and Jungkook, but damn, you should fuck again because the tension is unbearable for everybody,” Lena adds.

“And let’s not speak about the flirting at the parties.”

Your eyes widen even more, and you’re sure you’ll die right here with their comments. They laugh even more at your reaction.

“You thought we didn’t notice?” Mara adds. “It’s honestly amusing, even though I feel sorry for the people you use.”

“You’re saying nonsense,” you shake your head while lying to their faces.

“Really?” Lena arches a brow. “Then, at the next party, I don’t want you to eye fucking him.”

“You’re crazy.”

She’s actually not joking.

“I’m serious, yn,” she continues. “Either you stop or you finally flirt with him like a normal person.”

“Okay, I’ll stop it.”

You would rather die than flirt with him, and you’re sure you can go through a party without eye-fucking him. Or at least, you want to convince yourself of that.

The next day

You’re studying in your bedroom for the upcoming exams with some background music. You’re one of those people who cannot study without background noise. It might be weird, but it isn’t for you.

Your entire life, you grew up with constant noise at home. With four brothers, one sister, and a niece, it makes a lot of noise, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. The house was so alive with all of you. However, being nine people living together under the same roof also made you move in with Jungkook for your college years.

It wasn’t an easy choice, but it was in your best interests. You constantly miss your family, and sometimes, it feels too quiet. You know that you’re partying because of that. You’re partying to be surrounded by people. Being alone isn’t for you. And that’s also why you have tons of hookups.

The idea of being alone for the rest of your life frightens you more than it should, but you also don’t ever want to be in a relationship. People find it odd because your parents are the perfect example of a successful marriage. They’ve been together since high school, got married after graduating from college, and had their first kid right after. They’ve been together for almost 35 years. It’s a lot.

However, your reason is simple. You’re afraid of falling in love. Your oldest sister, who’s ten years older than you, got into a very toxic relationship when you were still young. She was constantly crying and arguing with her then-boyfriend. He knocked her up at eighteen and disappeared under the excuse that he wasn’t ready to be a father. That broke your heart for her, but at least you got to grow up with a niece. She’s thirteen now, and you absolutely adore her.

Nevertheless, that vision of love showed you how messed up it can be when you fall for the wrong person. Your sister has moved on and is now in a perfectly healthy relationship, but you still don’t want to make the same mistake.

Hooking up makes everything easier. You have sex without any commitment. You take the best without falling in love, and that’s perfectly fine for you. At least, it was until recently.

But right now, with what’s going on with Jungkook, sometimes you wonder if you have feelings for him. You wonder if you’re falling for him, but you brush it off. He’s been your best friend for ten years. You’ve basically known him for half of your life. His friendship has always meant the world to you, but since you’ve broken all the rules of friendship, everything is just so different with him.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re falling for him. Falling very hard.

Honestly, never in your entire life have you imagined yourself developing feelings for him. He was the neighbors’ youngest kid who simply wanted to play with you. Being around him made you genuinely happy. You’d go to school together, come back together, and play in front of the houses while your mothers would speak together.

A day without him felt faded, and it still does.

For ten years, you’ve always been together. There hasn’t been a day when you haven’t seen him. Even now that you hate each other. And you can’t imagine yourself going through a day without seeing him.

Suddenly, the doorbell interrupts your focus, and you stand up. You’re not sure if Jungkook is at home, so it’s best if you go open the door. As you make your way to the entrance, you notice your roommate walking to the door as well.

He’s wearing loose clothes, and somehow, you find him ethereal. His black hair hangs messily, his t-shirt barely hides his tattooed arm, and his black jogging pants suit him perfectly. From afar, you simply admire him. And you wonder how you haven’t ever found him so attractive.

No wonder all the girls want to be seen with him or spend a hot and steamy night with him.

All of a sudden, his face turns, and your eyes meet.  

“Did you order something?” he calls out, his tone curt, his jaw tight.

“Mmm yeah,” you respond, trying to remember if you were expecting something today. “Maybe something from Amazon.”

You decide to get closer, next to him. A delivery guy stands awkwardly in the hallway, box in hand, eyes flicking between the two of you. There’s a brief moment of silence, and you don’t really know what to say.

“Who’s the pack for?” Jungkook asks.

The guy turns his head while bringing the box closer to his face.

“Miss yn,” he says, trying to pronounce your name correctly.

“It’s for me.”

Before you even get a chance to grab the package, Jungkook takes it with a quick thank you and shuts the door before the guy can say another word. His eyes land back on you, dark and unamused.

“You’re so fucking rude,” you huff while trying to tear the package from his hand. “And that’s mine.”

But of course, he doesn’t let go. Jungkook is way stronger than you and doesn’t want to give it to you. The package stays firmly in his grip as his dark gaze is on you, causing you to shiver, and instantly, you back off. Even if you like to tease him and all that, you’re not really in the mood for one of your usual verbal duels. Maybe because you’re quite nervous about the upcoming exams.

“Your fucking delivery disturbed me,” he growls.

“I didn’t know something was coming,” you admit.

He shakes his head, and he’s fighting the urge to smile. You’ve always been like this. You order some shit but then forget you did so when it’s delivered, you don’t remember it. But he has to admit that he always enjoyed watching your reaction when you’d unpack the box. You always seem so surprised and happy.

“You never know,” he mumbles. “You order half of Amazon and forget every time.”  

“Not my fault,” you shrug like it’s not a big deal.

He rolls his eyes.

“It is,” he shoots back. “Try keeping track of what you buy, maybe?”

“I do as I please,” you tell him. “You’re not my dad.”

“Thank God I’m not,” he says without missing a beat. “No way I could deal with someone like you as my daughter.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you cross your arms while narrowing your eyes.

Jungkook takes a slow, deliberate step closer, and suddenly his presence is overwhelming. His tall, broad frame towers over you, radiating heat and intensity. The space between you evaporates, replaced by a charged stillness that makes your breath catch. His body feels dangerously close, like he’s daring you to move or daring you not to.

“That you’re a pain in the ass.”  

“Wrong person,” you roll your eyes. “You’re the asshole here.”

“Oh, we’re back to ‘asshole’?” he smirks. “I thought it was the week of ‘jerk’.”

You take a deep breath, trying to remain calm because you’re so close to snapping his angelic face. He’s so fucking annoying.

“Give me my package,” you say with a sharp voice. “I’m not in the mood to deal with your bullshit today.”

A chuckle escapes his pretty lips.

“Oh, you can’t handle me now?”

His voice drops, and his body remains close. Way too close. You roll your eyes and try to snatch the package, but Jungkook lifts it above his head like you’re a child.

“Jungkook,” you warn.

“What?” he grins, enjoying every second. “If you want your order, you’ll have to come get it.”

“You’re a dick.”

You have zero patience for this. If he doesn’t hand you the package, you’ll just go back to your bedroom and leave him alone.

“Asshole, jerk, and now dick,” he says. “Which one will be next?”

You don’t even try to give him an answer. Instead, you try to reach for the box again, moving closer to him. You can’t possibly be closer to him. Your chest is basically pressed against his while you tiptoe. As much as Jungkook enjoys this proximity, he takes a step back.  

“Seriously, give it to me. I’m not in the mood.”

Jungkook takes another step back, but that’s too much. You leave him there, turning your back on him while you walk to your bedroom.

“Keep it,” you scream as you move away from him.

“You’re so sensitive.”

You give him a middle finger before slamming your bedroom door. Jungkook laughs and decides to put the pack down in front of your door.

Two days later

As you’re walking on the campus with Jimin and Lena, you notice Jungkook from afar. He looks busy with some girl, and she’s giggling like a schoolgirl while he’s smiling. Pff, he looks pathetic with her.

When you focus again on your friends, you end up meeting Chris, a cute guy you sometimes speak with. He was in a relationship not so long ago, and you’ve already slept with him once. He’s one of the very few guys you've stayed in touch with. He’s nice and easy to talk to.

“Hi,” he offers you a smile when he’s in front of you.

“Hi, Chris,” you smile back at him.

Your friends greet him as well, and you speak about classes and all that. After a while, Jimin and Lena leave you alone with Chris.

“So how’s life going?” he asks while he resumes walking.

Beyond being cute, Chris is a very handsome guy who happens to hit the gym quite often. He’s well built, and sometimes, you wonder how his ex-girlfriend ever broke up with him. If you were to ever settle down with someone, you might choose him. After Jungkook, your subconscious tells you.

“Fine,” you shrug. “Nothing special has been going on lately.”

“Still partying and hooking up?” he asks.

“Yeah, pretty much,” you nod. “What about you?”

“I’m working hard, trying to hide the heartbreak behind books, but it’s not easy every day. Sometimes, I wish I could be like you, and get my dick wet to forget how I feel,” he confesses.

“A guy like you shouldn’t be hooking up,” you offer him a smile. “You’re the type of guy a woman wants to marry.”

Your words warm his heart.

“And believe me, sleeping with someone doesn’t help with a heartbreak.”

You don’t really know how it feels to be heartbroken, but you know damn well that sex doesn’t make you forget your emotions. Obviously, for a brief moment, you forget about everything, but it’s temporary. That’s why you like it. You don’t commit to anyone. You don’t fall in love. You just get a one-time thing with a guy you’ll forget about the day after.

Chris seems to hesitate about his next words, but you don’t push him. If he doesn’t want to say what’s on his mind, you’re not going to force him.  

“Rumors are saying something is going on between you and Jungkook.”  

For a moment, you close your eyes. You can’t believe people are already speculating about what’s going on between you.

“How?” you ask.

“Apparently, he was with a girl at a party. She was having fun with him, but she noticed he’d never look at her. He was looking at you and you were looking at him too with burning desire,” he explains.

Fuck, other people noticed it too! You place a strand of hair behind your ear while you try to calm down. In a way, it makes sense. If your friends noticed it, everybody else did too, especially the people you’d be “flirting” with. But this is something you didn’t want to hear.

“And she also said that they never fucked although he brought her to his place.”

You frown. This doesn’t sound like Jungkook at all. He’s never done that before, and it doesn’t make sense. Why would he bring someone home if it wasn’t to have sex with her?

“She’s lying,” you instantly reply. “She’s probably frustrated that he didn’t give her what she wanted, so she started spreading nonsense.”

“Well, it’s just rumors,” he says, looking at you for a second. “Nobody said it was the truth.”

When you look over to where Jungkook was standing just minutes ago with his new girl, you find the spot empty. He must have taken her somewhere more private. That thought makes you feel weird. Almost as if you’re jealous of the girl. Oh God, this is not good! You can’t be jealous!

“Well, I want you to know that it’s not true,” you offer him a smile.

When you reach the lecture hall, you attend the classes with him. The class was quite interesting. Thankfully, Jungkook doesn’t share this class with you, so you didn’t get to see him. It was a relief, honestly.

After that, Chris walked you home. Nobody ever did this to you, except for your friends, which includes Jungkook. He’s such a sweet guy.

“Thanks,” you say once you’re in front of the complex. “It was nice to speak with you,” you offer him a smile.

“It definitely was,” he smiles as well.

There is a little non-awkward silence between you. Your mind keeps wondering how it would feel if you ever decided to take this any further with him. For sure, it’d be great to have him as a first real boyfriend.

But you know you can’t do this. You’re too fucked up and you don’t want to hurt him. He deserves to have a nice girl with him. Someone who would be able to love him as he deserves. And that can’t be you…  

“I have to go,” he informs you. “My shift is starting in thirty minutes.”

Chris works in a coffee shop as a barista. You should definitely stop by one day to try one of his coffees.

“We’ll see each other tomorrow, I guess?” you say with some uncertainty.

You definitely wouldn’t mind spending more time with him.

“Yeah, if you want,” he smiles.

You get closer to him before you press a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“See you tomorrow then.”

You get inside the building complex, but you never look back. You want to, but you don’t do it. You’ve learned over time that it’d be a sign that you’re interested in someone, and you never want anybody to discover who you’re into. No matter how nice and charming the guy might be, you’ll never do it.

Seconds later, you’re walking into your apartment. You’re welcomed by a Jungkook walking past you.

“That was the guy you saw the other day?” he stops right in front of you, making his strong scent wrap around you.

“You’re spying on me now?” you say, taking your shoes and coat off.

“I have more interesting things to do,” his eyes lock with yours, and a shiver runs down your spine when his deep stare meets yours.

“Like what?” you raise a brow. “Promising a good fuck to a girl and then leaving her hanging?”

“Who told you that?”

The rumors are then true. Jungkook definitely brought someone here, but never slept with her. That’s new, but something you can now use against him whenever he’s being too annoying.

“So you’re not denying…” you smirk. “Never picture the big bad Jungkookie doing that.”

His eyes look away for a moment before his gaze locks with yours once more. Damn, this look makes you weak. You’d get down on your knees right now if he asked you.  

“It’s not true,” he mumbles.

“That she’s not what she’s saying,” you keep teasing him.

Jungkook takes a step closer.

“I don’t care,” he says.

You chuckle.

“You’re such a jerk,” you shake your head. “Can’t even admit you let down a girl.”

The other day’s conversation is brought back to your mind. And man, you have to tease him even more.

“Was it because you’re into guys now?” you raise a brow. “I’m warning you, I don’t like sharing.”

Jungkook steps even closer, his face is a breath away from yours. Your heart is beating at a crazy pace in your chest. His eyes are dark, which makes you understand that you’ve pushed him to the edge. If you say one more word, he’ll explode. And that’s exactly what you want.

“I already told you that I’m not gay,” his voice is so deep.

“I’m starting to doubt it,” you smirk.

“Yn,” he warns you. “Stop it.”

“Why would I do that?” your eyes scan his face. “I’m having fun.”

“You’re having fun calling me gay when you know perfectly well I’m not?” he asks, clearly irritated. “What kind of fun is that?” he mumbles, but you don’t hear it.

“Yep. Just like you had fun when you fucked me.”

You regret the words the second they leave your mouth. Jungkook’s brow furrows in confusion.

“What?”

“You heard me,” you snap, pushing past him, desperate to escape.

But he doesn’t let you. His hand grabs your wrist, just like he did a month ago.

“Yn,” he says, his voice softer now.

“Let me go,” you plead, yanking at his grip. “Please.”

You can’t do this. You can’t fall apart in front of him. If you do, he’ll know how much he hurt you. He’ll know the power he has, and you hate that.

“Not until you repeat what you said.”

“You heard me,” you say through gritted teeth. “I’m not repeating it.”

He rolls his eyes.

“You’re so fucking stubborn.”

That’s it. You snap.

“Fuck you,” you nearly scream.

You try to pull your wrist from his grasp, but he doesn’t let go. Not harshly, but firmly, like he needs you to stay. Like if he releases you now, something between you will unravel for good.

He’s stronger than you—physically, yes—but right now, he also has the upper hand emotionally. And he knows it. Still, his grip isn’t meant to hurt you. It’s to hold you in place long enough for the truth to rise to the surface.

Your eyes lock with his, and for the first time in a long time, you feel completely exposed. Stripped bare. Not because you’re angry, but because you’re heartbroken. You’ve been pretending you’re fine, like none of this mattered, but here, under his gaze, there’s nowhere left to hide.

No man has ever made you feel this raw.

You realize with terrifying clarity: you’re falling for Jungkook. Maybe you always were. Maybe all these years, under the laughter and sarcasm and closeness, it was already there, waiting to bloom.

You want to blame him for everything. For that night, and for letting the air between you become so sharp and bitter. But the truth is, if it were just sex, you wouldn’t be hurting. You’ve slept with others before. They were bodies, motions, and noise. Nothing stayed.

But him? He stayed. He’s under your skin. And that night? It meant something. It wasn’t just heat and skin; it was more. It was the way he kissed you with passion, and the safety in the way he held you after.

Your voice trembles, but you say it anyway.

“I said… you had fun when you fucked me.”

The words don’t explode. They land softly. Bitter. Tired. But not accusing. Just honest.

Jungkook is close. So close you can feel the faint warmth of his breath on your cheek. One more step and his lips would meet yours. He doesn’t move. He just looks at you like he’s really seeing you for the first time—not the shielded version of you, not the flirty, not the sarcastic girl who throws jabs to hide her pain. He really sees you.

At first, he says nothing. Because at first, he doesn't understand. He’s thinking of that night, how it felt like the most natural thing in the world to have you in his arms. Of course, it was fun. But suddenly, he realizes this isn’t about sex. Not even close.

You weren’t saying it was fun. You were saying you meant it. And that it broke you to think he didn’t. He lets go of your wrist. But his eyes never leave yours.

“Yn,” he breathes, voice low. “You think I didn’t care?”

“That’s what you said,” your voice almost sounds childish.

“I never said that,” he frowns.

“Yes, you did,” you reply. “You said those words the morning after.”  

He remembers. He said those words to Taehyung when he didn’t find you the next day. He thought you had run away like you did with the others. For a brief moment, he closes his eyes, blaming himself for all the chaos he caused.

“I was hurt,” he confesses. “I couldn’t find you, and I thought you considered me as a one-night stand.”

You surprise yourself when your hand lands on his cheek to stroke it. This comforting gesture makes him rest his face on your hand. He missed your warmth. He actually missed you.

“I have to confess that at first I ran away,” you admit. “I was scared about what happened and what it meant, but then, I decided to pick up some croissants for breakfast. When I came back home, I heard you, so I went to my room because those words hurt me.”

What you both realize now is that you’re both stupid. This was all a misunderstanding.

Surprisingly, Jungkook chuckles as you lay your forehead against his chest. His strong arms wrap around your body, holding you close against him.

“We’re so stupid,” he whispers.

You groan against him before wrapping your arms around his waist. You’ve spent this past month hating him unnecessarily. If he was a dickhead, then you were an asshole.

“More than stupid,” you mumble.

You lift your head to look at him. His gaze is different now. It’s not filed anymore with that hatred you’ve gotten to see for the past weeks. And you want to get lost in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he apologies. “I’m so sorry,” he says while his hands cup your face.

His face moves dangerously closer to yours until you feel his hot breath on your skin. Your heart hammers faster and faster in your chest, and for a brief moment, nothing else matters. His nose brushes against yours, his warmth pulling you in, and your lips are a breath away from meeting. But you’re interrupted by the doorbell. You both close your eyes before stepping back.

“I had invited Taehyung to come over,” Jungkook informs you.

You nod.

“I’ll go to my room then.”

And without saying anything else, you disappear into your room while your roommate opens the door to his best friend.

The next morning, you don’t see Jungkook at your place, but you don’t overthink it. You’ve been texting Chris the entire night, even though your mind was occupied with someone else—Jungkook. You’re nervous about meeting him again because you’re unsure of what to say or do.

Now, you’re walking with Chris through campus. You agreed that he’d pick you up and walk with you until the campus. You actually really like him, but only as a friend. There’s no way anything happens with him after yesterday’s conversation with your roommate.

Suddenly, the said roommate appears in front of you.

Jungkook.

He doesn’t say a word at first, but you can tell he’s not very happy to see you laughing and talking with Chris. His eyes shift to your friend for a moment, and a smirk appears on your face. Jealousy does look good on him, and there’s absolutely no way you’re letting this moment slip away without teasing him.

“What do you want?” you ask, crossing your arms and pretending to be indifferent.

“To speak with you,” he flatly replies, his tone clipped and jaw tight.

“I’m with Chris right now,” you say, looking at your friend. “So wait for your turn.” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, and you want to laugh but bite the inside of your cheek to hold back. He’s so easy to rile up, so you’re not giving in just yet.

Your roommate looks at the man next to you. His gaze is sharp, and he’s not subtle in the slightest. He’s practically shooting daggers at Chris with his eyes, and Chris definitely notices it. The tension between them is thick enough to slice through.

“Please leave us,” you add, your voice deliberately nonchalant.

Jungkook’s eyes move back to you, and man, you have to hold it together before you burst out laughing.

“I’m not leaving until I’ve spoken with you,” he insists, his voice lower now but even more dangerous.

You give him a look, mirroring his stubbornness.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” you say, throwing his words from the day before right back at him.

Just like that, you catch that flicker in his eyes. He knows exactly what you’re doing, and it hits him dead on. His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile.

Chris looks between you two and sighs.

“I’ll leave you two,” Chris eventually says. “Seems that you have a lot to discuss.”

Chris feels like he’s in the way, so he thinks it’s best to leave. You don’t stop him; there’s no need. Jungkook will stay, no matter what.

“See you later, then,” you offer him a smile.  

Once you’re alone with Jungkook, a wide grin spreads across your face. No matter what happens between you two, you’ll never get tired of teasing him. Watching his reactions is just too entertaining.

“Are you jealous, Jungkookie?” you ask while getting closer to him.

He looks at you with a gaze that burns.

“Is it a bad thing if I am?” he doesn’t even hide how he feels.

“No,” you honestly answer.

Your face gets closer, your lips brushing against his ear. You notice the way he shivers, and man, this feels like the biggest win of your life.

“You look hot when you’re jealous,” you whisper.

When you slowly step back, you press a kiss on his cheek, but he turns his face to bring his lips closer to yours. It’s undeniable that he desperately craves to kiss you. Just like you.

“Not here,” you end up saying. “Don’t want to break hearts.”

Jungkook chuckles before shaking his head.

“Can’t wait to be home, then,” he presses a gentle kiss on your cheek before disappearing into the campus.

This man will be the death of you.

The second you arrived at your place after classes, you looked for Jungkook in the apartment. He was sitting at the kitchen table, just finishing eating. In seconds, the plate was pushed away, your body was trapped between the table and him, and his mouth devoured yours.

“Fuck, you’re so damn addictive,” he whispers against your lips.

His hand cups your cheek with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch, his thumb brushing softly beneath your eye. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. For a moment, his eyes are simply lost before he kisses you again.

His other hand slides to your waist, while your fingers curl into the hair at the base of his neck. The kiss quickly deepens as all the tension from the weeks of distance, teasing, and denial erupts between your mouths. You both lean into it, mouths parting with the same hunger that once tore your clothes off, but now, there’s something else. Something careful. Something aching.

You gasp softly into him, and he swallows the sound, kissing you harder. It’s messy, and it’s heated. No doubt that this kiss will turn into him in between your legs, fucking the shit out of you. Just like it happened a month ago. However, this time, things will be different. You know that after this intense moment, Jungkook won’t get back to being an asshole to you. Well, at least that’s what you wish.

Jungkook’s hand wastes no time traveling down your waist to the side of your leg. He places his hand underneath the bottom of your dress and begins traveling upwards to feel how wet you are. You let out a soft gasp as his fingers begin traveling up the side of your leg.

“Tell me, baby,” he says, stepping back to take a full, hungry look at you. “How did it feel to provoke me every day for the past month?”

A slow smirk curves on your lips as you remember every time you pushed his buttons, every look, every comment.

“Fantastic,” you reply. “Honestly? I could do it forever.”

He leans in, his voice low, his breath grazing your ear.

“Then I guess it’s my turn to make you pay for it, isn’t it?”

You feel the shiver run down your spine, the air between your bodies thick with the kind of electricity you’ve both pretended not to feel for weeks.

“Oh yeah?” you breathe, your hands sliding up his chest. “And what exactly do you plan to do, Jungkook?”

He grins, that cocky smirk you’ve both hated and loved, and pulls you flush against him.

“Something that’ll make you think twice before you ever call me gay again,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours with a heat that makes your knees weak.

His mouth crashes into yours. There’s no hesitation this time. His hands grip your waist, yours bury in his hair. His kiss is fire, but it’s not just lust. It’s anger, tension, longing, all tangled up in the month you’ve danced around this.

You break apart for a second, breathless, lips tingling.

“Still want to tease me?” he growls softly.

“Always,” you whisper.

Then his lips are on yours again. He begins rubbing you over your underwear, which makes you gasp. His other hand makes its way to your breast and begins caressing you over your dress.

“Jungkook…” You moan, and this time you feel him pull his hand away.

He takes a step away from you and slowly drags his eyes over your body. He can’t believe that this is truly happening. For the past month, he’s been dreaming about it, and he has also masturbated himself a lot while thinking about you.

“Sit,” he says, motioning for you to move backward to sit on the kitchen table. He comes in your direction and takes a proper look at you. “Now, spread your legs.” 

As you open your legs a bit, you feel your dress going up, revealing a bit more of your skin to your roommate. 

“Wider, I want to get a good look at you.”

You do as he says and feel the hem of your dress rise up to the top of your thighs. As he kneels down in front of you, Jungkook pulls the hem of your dress up to your stomach and reveals your lace panties.

“Wow, I love these panties,” his eyes look up at you with the biggest smile on his face.

“I only wear pretty stuff, Jungkookie,” you smile back at him. “You should already know that.”

He rolls his eyes before he places his hands on your thighs and slowly begins kissing his way towards your aching core. His face meets your clothed folds, and he bites his bottom lip, definitely very impatient to taste you. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you all over again,” he whispers, his voice rough with anticipation.

“Then, do it,” you murmur, breathless.

He lets out a low chuckle, brushing his lips near your neck.

“Somebody’s desperate,” he teases, the smirk in his voice unmistakable, while his hands rest on your thighs. You feel goosebumps rise up when his fingers linger on you. 

His fingers slowly dance up and down your thighs, and you lean your head back and close your eyes, loving the feeling of his fingertips on your skin. Jungkook leans closer and suddenly brings his lips to your other thigh, sending shivers down your spine. 

Your hands find their way to his hair, your fingers intertwining with his dark locks. You need him inside of you now. His mouth, his fingers, his tongue, just something.

One of his fingers brushes against your already soaked panties, and he groans against your skin as he feels your arousal.

“Mmm, baby,” he starts saying against your thighs, “you’re turning me on with how wet you already are.” 

Suddenly, he removes his lips and fingers, and that feeling makes your walls clench around emptiness. Damn, you’re dying to feel him touching you again. You suck in a deep breath as you feel him slowly pulling your panties down your legs.

“Shit, I missed this pretty little pussy,” he admits.

There’s absolutely no doubt that you missed each other over the past month. Not just in the heat of lust or the craving of skin on skin, but in the quiet spaces too. You missed the way he made you laugh without trying, and the way his presence used to make the world feel a little lighter, a little less cruel. He missed the way you used to nudge him when he was too serious, how your eyes sparkled when he’d throw a bad joke, and how your voice always cut through the noise in his head like clarity.

You both felt the void in different ways—him, in the silence of midnight when he couldn't sleep; you, in the middle of a crowded room where no one quite made you feel as seen. No hookup, no distraction filled that emptiness.

And now that you’re standing this close again, feeling the heat of each other’s breath, the truth crashes in like a tidal wave: you didn’t just miss the sex. You missed him. And he missed you. Deeply. Desperately.

But right now, all you want is to feel his touch and to feel his long fingers inside of you. You spread your legs wider, hoping he’ll give you something, anything. A smirk appears on his angelic face, clearly understanding how desperate you are for his touch. 

He trails a finger up and down your slit. His touch is featherlight and simply not enough. You want more than that. You want him to finger you until the only thing that can come out of your mouth is his name. 

You let out a barely audible moan when you feel two of his fingers slowly spreading you open, exposing your heated core. His fingers gather your slick and rub it around your pussy before you feel the tip of his fingers slipping into your core. He flicks his thumb over your clit before softly rubbing. 

You quietly move your hips, trying to urge him to go deeper into your core. Jungkook heeds your wants and slips his fingers in slowly until he reaches his second knuckle.

You grab the edge of the table and open your legs fully as you keep moaning like a mess. Your breath slightly quickens as you feel Jungkook pump his fingers in and out of you without any shame. Your roommate looks up at you, enjoying seeing you twitching with pleasure. 

His lips find their way to your wet core before he slowly starts licking at it. This is already too much for you, but you’re loving every second of it. You pull his hair quite harshly, making him groan against your clit and his groan echoes in your body. He takes your nub between his lips and softly flicks his tongue against it, causing you to see stars. As he hears your breathing quicken, he can tell you’re getting close.

“Jungkook,” you moan.

“Tell me, baby,” his eyes rest on your figure.

“I need you inside me,” you mumble.

“What if I want to tease you a little longer?” he says while adoring the way you’re writhing with pleasure.

“Then do it,” you instantly reply.

Jungkook stands up, his fingers still inside you, to kiss you. His lips are covered in your arousal, and fuck, he looks like an absolute god. This vision alone can make you come. He presses a sloppy kiss against your lips.

While kissing him fervently, you grab his shaft and massage it through his pants. A deep groan falls from his lips. A smirk grows on your face when you catch his instant reaction.

“Teasing”, you begin, “is a game I can play too,” you whisper in his ear before biting the lobe with your teeth.

In no time, you’re unbuckling his pants to push them with his underwear. Your hand fully holds his cock, his mouth finds yours, and you both pleasure each other at the same pace. It’s incredibly hot, and something you never knew would happen in your entire life.

Jungkook closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your velvety walls around his fingers and your hand on his dick. You’re both so lost in your own pleasure, but that isn’t enough. You both need more.

Suddenly, he removes his hand and quickly spins you around until your back is pressed to his chest.

“You’ve been driving me crazy for the past month,” his lips press a gentle kiss on your neck.

You close your eyes as he gently kisses your neck, his hands moving along your body. His lips and hands make you shiver.

You close your eyes, surrendering to the feeling as his lips slowly and gently kiss your neck. The soft brush of his mouth sends a shiver down your spine, awakening every nerve under your skin. His breath is warm against your neck; man, he’s driving you crazy. Not the way around.

His hands travel your body, fingers tracing the curves of your waist before gliding up your sides. The contrast of his rough palms and your sensitive skin makes you shiver uncontrollably. It’s as if he’s relearning you, mapping you with touch, memorizing every reaction.

He pulls you a little closer, and your body molds instinctively to his. His kisses deepen slightly, his mouth lingering longer, his teeth grazing ever so gently against your neck. A soft gasp escapes your lips when you feel his growing erection against your ass, and you feel his grip tighten just a little in response.

“Flirting with guys right under my nose,” he whispers against your skin. “And constantly teasing and provoking me.”  

“Do I even need to talk about you?” you say, his hands still moving along your body. “You’d eye fucking me while dancing with random chicks.”

“Well, how couldn’t I when you were looking at me with so much hunger?”  

Jungkook carefully bends you down over the table. His very hungry eyes take a quick look at your body. Your ass is now on full display for him, and fuck, he adores it.

In no time, he grabs a condom from his pocket to put it on his length. Seconds after, you feel his hardness lining up behind you, rubbing at your wet folds.

“You look pretty like this,” he says while bending to press another kiss on your neck.

“I’m always pretty,” you clap back.

“I’m not saying the opposite.”

Since you’re soaking wet, he buries himself easily and in one motion. Both of you hold back your moans. 

“Fuck, yn!” he gasps and gives you both a moment. 

He has been dying to do it for the past month, and he feels euphoric to finally do it. His hands grab our waist as he slowly moves out of you, leaving only the tip of his length inside. He slams his cock inside of you with a harsh thrust, and you don’t hold back your moan as your arms give out and you fall forward flat on the table.  

“Fuck, this is better than in my dreams,” he whines as he sets a pace. 

“In your dreams?” you even manage to tease him while he’s fucking you hard on the kitchen table. “You were that fucking desperate…” you smirk.

Instead of replying, he just goes harder, showing you no mercy. Your ass meets his hips and claps with each thrust. The kitchen is only filled with the sound of his hips meeting your ass as well as the creaking table underneath you. Both you and he moan louder and louder, and man, this is more than wonderful. It’s ecstatic, it’s addictive, and it’s overwhelming.

His grip on your waist is strong as he fucks you deep and relentlessly. After all this time, after all this pent-up tension, you’re both getting lost in this moment. It feels beyond great. Nothing has ever felt as great as this right here. No other hookup can even come close to this moment.

Your eyes roll back into your head at how well he works your body. His thrusts become more and more brutal and deep, and you swear that you could feel him in your stomach. You slowly feel your orgasm building within you.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum, baby,” he warns and feels your walls clench around him. “Fuck, don’t tease me.”

“Or what?” you dare to tease me.

“You’re such a fucking tease!” he groans.  

Your hand slides down to your clit as you want to cum as soon as possible. Jungkook pumps into you even harder. You know that in a matter of seconds you’d be creaming his cock.

“Kook, gonna cum!” you try not to scream but it’s basically impossible with the pace and strength that he’s fucking into you. 

Next thing you know, you’re coming and pulsating around his thickness. He keeps fucking you through your high and he looks with marvel how you’re creaming his length. His breathing is heavy and you can feel that he’s about to cum. And it doesn’t really take him long to fill the condom up with his cum.

“Fuck!” he breathes as he finally comes down from his high.

Your face is resting on the cool surface of the table as your breathing slowly settles back to normal. Jungkook pulls himself out of you, throws the condom in the garbage, and helps you to clean.

“That was fucking good,” you whisper, still breathless, as you pull your panties back on and glance over at your roommate.

Jungkook chuckles lowly, his smile lazy and satisfied. He buttons his jeans and walks back over to you, pressing a few soft, lingering kisses to your lips.

“It was,” he agrees, his voice warm and quiet.

You both collapse onto the kitchen chairs, the air between you thick with everything that just happened, and everything it might mean. Neither of you speaks at first, both staring blankly ahead at the kitchen sink, like it somehow holds the answers.

After a few beats, you finally break the silence. “Just so you don’t freak out after,” you begin, your voice tentative but steady, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You reach for him, your fingers finding his and intertwining naturally, like muscle memory.

“I’m staying… if you want me to,” you add.

He turns to look at you, and that familiar, boyish grin spreads across his face, his doe eyes glowing with something tender and real. “If you’re staying,” he says, squeezing your hand gently, “then I’m staying too.”

A week later

Things with Jungkook are completely different now. He isn’t just your roommate anymore. He’s way more than that. He’s back to being your best friend, but he’s also your fuckbuddy and the man you constantly kiss because you’re so damn addicted to him. It’s been hard to keep your hands to yourself when he’s around, which means all the time.

On campus, you’ve been trying to act like nothing is happening because you don’t want people to talk about you. It was already enough that they were saying you were into each other because of how you were acting before at the parties.

However, it’s been hard not to feed the rumors. When you’re off campus, you don’t hide. You hold hands, kiss in the streets, and tease each other. Anybody with two eyes can see how much you’re into each other. And when you’re partying, it’s even worse. You dance like you’re about to fuck in front of everybody.

But you’ve never been this happy.

You’re cleaning the living room with your Becky G playlist blasting in the background. You’re obsessed, constantly listening to her songs, and Bad Bunny’s too. You even managed to convert Jungkook to liking their songs.

While cleaning, you dance too and sing out loud. Thankfully, Jungkook isn’t home because he would have gotten mad. You’re always too loud—even when you have sex, but he doesn’t complain there—but you don’t care at all. You’d scream in his ears if he complains.

“No digas que no si sí,” you sing out loud. “Si te llamo tú vienes donde mí.”

You turn around in the living room with a cloth in your hands. You’re smiling while singing and dancing, it’s a song that you like a lot.

“Si no me extrañas ahora, ahorita sí,” you continue. “No digas que no si sí.”

“We can hear you in the streets,” Jungkook’s voice suddenly echoes in the room.

You don’t stop, not caring at all about his words. The song is almost over, and you want to enjoy it until the end. Once the song ends, it switches to OTRO CAPÍTULO—your favorite. A smile tugs at your lips as you immediately start dancing in Jungkook’s direction. That familiar, adorable grin grows on his face the moment he recognizes the track.

You sway in front of him playfully until he pulls you closer, his hands finding their place on your waist. You loop your arms around his neck, and the two of you start moving together, perfectly in sync.

“This one’s my favorite,” you murmur with a soft smile.

“I know,” he replies into your hair. “You play it all the time.”

Dancing with him always feels easy, natural, even magical. It feels like home.

“It’s starting to become mine too,” he admits after a moment. “Taehyung won’t stop teasing me about it.”

You laugh, letting the sound float between you.

“Guess I’m a good influence.”

“Not sure I’d go that far,” he teases, though his smile says otherwise.

Still holding your hands, he spins you gently before bringing you back to him. Your fingers stay laced together as they settle at the level of your waist, and your bodies keep moving to the rhythm, wrapped in shared warmth and something deeper neither of you dares to name out loud yet.

Then his voice drops, quiet but certain.

“You’ve broken my heart in ways no one else ever could.”

You blink up at him, surprised but not hurt. There’s a softness in his gaze that tells you it’s not blame. It’s love.

“What a privilege,” you tease, smiling to hide the sudden lump in your throat. “Might have to keep breaking it, then.”

Of course, it’s the last thing you’d ever want. Hurting Jungkook would destroy you.

“Go on, break my heart,” he says, more serious now. “Just promise you’ll be the one to put it back together.”

Your throat tightens. You nod.

“Only if you promise the same.”

Neither of you stops dancing. Even with the seriousness hanging between you like an unspoken vow, your bodies move as one. The music plays on, but all you hear is each other.

“I’ll always pick up every piece,” he says softly. “No matter who breaks it.”

“And I’ll do the same.”

The moment stretches—intimate, quiet, wrapped in the soft pulse of your favorite song. And maybe that’s what love is. Not a grand gesture or perfect timing, but dancing in your living room with someone who sees every part of you and still wants to stay.

This is how two best friends stop pretending. This is how a real love story begins.

And if letting Jungkook hold your heart means he might break it? Then, so be it. Because he’s also the only one you’d trust to put it back together again.

[spideyjimin]

close your eyes (masterlist) | jjk

—  summary: you stopped expecting anything from love a long time ago. four years on your own taught you that much until you crossed paths with jungkook at yoongi’s birthday party. what begins as a chance encounter quickly becomes something real. and now, are you ready to close your eyes and trust him?

—  pairing: jungkook x fem. reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, ceo au, biker au, slow burn, angst, fluff, and smut

— total word count: around 40k in total

— author’s note: soo this happened... this started completely naturally, i never expected to write a fanfic this soon, but i've been having so much fun working on it, and i wanted to share it with you all 🥰 i'm still working on it, but as i've been writing a lot the past few days, i already know that by mid-may both parts will be over. jungkook was used as a visual only on the fic, as this had no chosen member at the beginning 🤗 i guess this puts some kind of an end to my hiatus (still not sure though), and i hope you'll enjoy this as much as i'm enjoying writing it ❤️ thank you so so much for your support guys!! means always so so much ❤️

18+ | warnings listed in each part

join the taglist ✨

PART I

⤷ meeting jungkook at yoongi’s birthday was unexpected, but in less than twenty-four hours, he made you feel more alive than you have in years. letting him into your life felt just natural, but that doesn’t mean it’s simple. as you slowly get to know him, you find yourself trusting him more… but should you really? or is he hiding something from you?

PART II: release on Sunday 24th May 2026

⤷ finding out about his secret from someone else hurts more than expected. you’ve always hated lies, and he knew it, which made it even harder. his intentions were never meant to hurt you; he just wanted to be seen for who he truly is. despite it all, your heart burns for him. you’ve never loved anyone this intensely, but are you truly ready to trust him again?  

[jeonette]

size kink gone wrong right?

in which your boyfriend, jungkook, has always had a massive fuckin’ size kink. but today, something snaps in him when he watches as your stomach creates a huge bulge as he’s fucking so deeply, into you. and let’s just say, that was the moment that led to the decision of him impregnating you right there and then.

You slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, both of you moaning loudly as he stretched you open again, for the 3rd time tonight.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, helping you take him inch by inch. “That's it... fuck... take it all baby.” He hit bottom inside of you, making your stomach bulge again.

“Fuuuck, look at that..” He groaned, watching you take his entire length. He started guiding your hips up and down, maintaining a rhythm.

Jungkook had two obsessions in this world. The first one being the obvious, you.

And the second? The time during sex when he watches as his 9 inch cock penetrates into you, having you crying before his cock is even fully plunged into your cunt.

“Bounce on my cock baby, let me see you use me.” He slapped your ass lightly. “You wanted to ride me, yeah? Fuck, you're so pretty bouncing on my dick like this.” His stomach pressed against yours.

Jungkook's eyes dropped immediately to your bouncing breasts as you rode him, his mouth watering. The sight of your nipples swaying with each bounce made his cock throb violently inside you. “Fuck... look at these fuckin’ tits,” he growled, reaching up to pinch and roll your nipples between his fingers. “So pretty... fucking hypnotic.”

“Nghh—hm! Koo!— please. Wan’ your m-mouth.” You cry out, tears falling from your eyes as the immense pleasure was becoming too intense to handle.

“So fuckin’ greedy. But anything for my princess..” He leaned forward, wrapping his lips around your bouncing nipple just as he slammed his hips up into you, hitting your deepest spot.

“Mmmff..” He sucked hard, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bead while his cock wrecked your pussy, “Gonna ruin this beautiful fuckin’ body. Every part of you is mine. Fuckin’ mine.” He slapped your ass hard, resulting in a wince.

“Mmh!— wait! T-too big, please—!” You try to cry out, but it’s useless.

He’s a fucking goner.

“N-no— You can take it, princess... you were made for my massive dick,” he groaned, releasing your nipple with a wet pop.

He thrusted up harder, making you scream as the huge bulge in your stomach grew deeper. “Shhh... don't fight it, hm? Let kookie stretch this little pussy out.” He gripped your hips, forcing you all the way down.

“How is it— fuckin’ possible that I fuck this pussy every, fuck, day. A-and yet, you’re still s’fucking tight.” He barely lets out, his head lolls back as he starts seeing stars.

“K-kookie!— gonna cum! wanna— t-together.” You manage to stutter.

“Yeah? Where’d you want me, pretty girl?”

“I-inside— please!”

His eyes darkened instantly at your desperate plea. "Fuck. Want me to breed you? Yeah? Is that it?” He repeated, thrusting up savagely, intensely. Almost as if he’s fuckin’ angry.

"Gonna fill this pretty pink pussy until you're dripping with my cum? Want daddy's baby inside this tight cunt?" He slapped your ass hard, pulling your hips down to meet his thrusts. “P-please say yes, angel. Say yes and l'Il bury my cum s’deep inside of you. so deep inside..”

You could barely let out a word, your head barely nodding yes as you could feel his cock repeatedly abuse your sensitive spot inside you.

“Fuuuck yes...” He flipped you both over suddenly, pinning you beneath him, his cock buried even deeper now. “Hold onto kookie, yeah?... gonna breed this pussy so good.” He started pounding relentlessly, his stomach smacking against yours.

“Feel that? That's my dick, baby.... needa fill this empty womb.”

“Gonna pump you so full of my fat cock and my cum.... gonna make you so fucking pregnant,” he snarled, his hips moving rapidly. His massive length slamming into you over and over, the sound of his skin slapping against yours was filling the room, “This pussy is mine... gonna lock my baby inside it.”

“Please!— can’t hold it any l-longer! N-need you to cum r-right now!”

Nails digging into your thighs, he lifted your legs over his shoulders. The new angle allowed him to pound even deeper, making your stomach bulge obscenely with his dick. “Such a good girl... begging so nicely to be fuckin’ bred.”

“I-I’m almost— fuck! Kookie!— d-don’t stop, please!”

"Not stopping... never gonna fuckin'stopp... milk my cock, princess." His hips pounded into you relentlessly, the head of his cock grinding against your g-spot, “Cum for me... make a mess on this fat cock while I breed you.”

Finally, he buried himself balls deep inside your already sensitive pussy, his hot, thick cum leaking out of you continuously.

“T-take it, fuvck... C-can’t let it leak—” His eyes scan the porn scene beneath him, immediately pushing back his cum into you.

His hips jerked with each spurt, making your stomach bulge even more visible.

“Shit. You’re definitely getting pregnant after that.”

so… I had a dream, woke up and am ovulating.. okay? let a girl live 🥹 also FIRST and FUCKING LAST time am I ever editing the whole drabble into smaller font because holy fuck does it take time. Also I did not proof read.. wrote this literally 45 minutes ago so any grammar mistakes will not be mentioned 💗 lmk ur thoughts bcs this is the first ever smut drabble I’ve made!! i tried to be as detailed as possible and that’s not really something I usually do!! so lmkkkk!!!!!! ;))

divider credits : @/cursed-carmine

[yeskookii]

╋━ Jungkook Smut Recs Pt.1

My absolute favorite authors

No minors

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Focus or fuck me | @jeonette

in which your nerd boyfriend attempts to help you study for an upcoming examination. but unfortunately him, his glasses and the fact that you’re ovulating is getting in the way, big time.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

One More Night | @dreamersparacosm

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t do girls. As the first son of the Jeon family, heir to more money than God, he’s spent thirty years being perfectly fine without them. He doesn’t have any desire to engage in frivolous rendezvouses like his friends, nor enter a situationship that will distract him from the title of CEO. That is, until his best friends drag him to a strip club for his birthday and a girl in red lingerie falls right into his lap, and well… there goes that ideology.

Part 2

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the first time jungkook made you squirt was magical {#} @shawtuzi

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

ׁ𑣲정국 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 - 𝐨𝐡, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 | @cocoakook

jungkook finds himself pathetically begging for you to stop ignoring him - to the point he's quite literally, on his knees.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

LIKE $UGAR ON MY TONGUE | @shawtuzi

out of impulse, jungkook gets his tongue pierced, but totally forgot the part that for the next two weeks he’s not allowed to kiss his adorable, oh so desirable gf.

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SOON (m) | @kooklovee

we're still simping over this iconic live

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• I N V A S I O N • @femme11fatale

Jungkook takes charge during a session…

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Criminal | @voyter

your boyfriend ends up loving your costume idea for the two of you more than he initially lets on.

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Treat you right | @borathae ( my comfort fic )

There is no other person in his life Jungkook loves more than you. You are his everything - the very air he needs to breathe, the lingering tingle ghosting his skin, his light in the morning and his stars at night. This also means that he is wildly protective over you and when you talk about the mere potential of booking a massage with a male therapist, he cannot stop his possessiveness from taking control. Only he gets to touch you because only he knows how to treat you right.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

MAD | @hoseoksluna

when an unknown problem appears and you realize jungkook is distant, you have to take matters into your own hands, and you do—quite literally.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

: very thankful to all the authors on the list ! Pls show support to them 🩷.

- And tell me if I should do other members too 🫶🏻.

[borathae]

aaah "your comfort fic" honestly means so much 🥺💜💜

[outrokoo]

𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙪𝙨 | 𝙟𝙟𝙠 : 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

˙⋆✮ They say having feelings for your brother’s best friend is never a good idea…

But loving Jungkook feels like the easiest thing in the world.

He’s been by your side for as long as you can remember, so it’s only natural for you to feel devastated when your brother, Dohyun, tells you that Jungkook is about to get married.

For the first time ever, loving him doesn’t feel easy at all.

pairing: brother’s best friend!jungkook x f!reader

wc: ~800

Warnings: age gap (jk is 32, reader is 22 ops), tension, reader is WHIPPED, pining, initial unrequited love (my fav), eventual smut (!!adding new warnings when needed!!)

>> english is not my first language!!

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You were only 10 years old when you first met Jungkook.

Your brother Dohyun had introduced you as “his annoying little sister.”

In any other situation, you probably would have hit him for calling you that, but the moment you saw Jungkook, the world seemed to stop spinning.

Even at such a young age, you were smart enough to realize that he was insanely handsome.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

You were too shy to greet him back, so instead, you ran straight to your bedroom and locked the door behind you.

From the living room, you could hear laughter erupting as you sat on your bed, your hand pressed tightly against your chest, trying to calm your racing heart.

Since then, Jungkook had always been there — Christmas celebrations, family holidays, random late-night hangouts with your brother… his presence became something constant in your life. Familiar. Warm.

Falling for him was fast, but definitely not unexpected.

You were 15 years old when you started realizing that your silly little crush on Jungkook was turning into something much more serious.

Every glance lingered longer than it should have.

Every smile he gave you stayed on your mind for days.

You knew it was dangerous.

Because Jungkook wasn’t just your brother’s best friend, he was the one person you could never have.

You remember the day Dohyun invited him over for a relaxing pool day in your backyard. The extremely hot weather was just the cherry on top.

You sat there, mouth slightly open, gawking at Jungkook’s wet body.

You were a hormonal teenager, of course. Things like that weren’t embarrassing to you anymore, but they were new.

And seeing Jungkook like that was definitely new to you.

“Come swim with us, sweetie. Aren’t you feeling hot?”

Oh, Jungkook, always so caring and selfless.

Your cheeks flushed as you accepted the invitation and got into the water.

You almost drowned, too busy staring at Jungkook’s tattoos to actually stay afloat.

His arms were around you so quickly that you actually felt dizzy.

Loving Jungkook felt both refreshing and terrifying.

You tried getting over him by dating other people, but obviously none of the relationships lasted long enough to matter.

He was always there, though.

Always trying to cheer you up whenever said relationships ended.

He never knew that nothing hurt you more than not being able to care for him freely,

deeply.

Your brother was one of the many reasons you kept your feelings buried, but he wasn’t the thing truly holding you back:

Your heart tore a little when 28-year-old Jungkook announced he had a girlfriend,

of course someone else would fall in love with him, too.

It wasn’t surprising, considering he was literally perfect, but it still hurt.

But as long as he was happy, you convinced yourself that you could survive keeping your feelings a secret.

And for years, you did.

You thought you were strong. So, so strong.

Years had passed, and your heart still longed for Jungkook.

You had been so strong.

But a person can only take so much.

“Jungkook and Sophie are getting married!!”, the words echoed in your head long after everyone around you started celebrating.

There you were, on the night of your 22nd birthday, crying in the bathroom, your heart unbearably heavy.

You felt pathetic, a lonely smile spreading across your face as you wiped your tears away.

“Get it together, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself before going back to your family.

You listened heartbroken as Jungkook talked about the future awaiting the soon-to-be-wed couple, wishing it could be the two you instead.

It was late when he handed you a small box with a tiny piece of paper attached to it.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

He kissed your forehead, hugged everyone goodnight and left.

You sat alone in your room when you finally opened the present Jungkook had gotten you.

A silver bracelet lay inside, its small star charm reflecting the light of the lamp in front of you.

Your hands trembled as you read the message he had left for you.

“Keep shining bright, Y/N.

love you,

— Jungkook :)”

A single tear fell from your eye as you slipped the bracelet onto your wrist.

How were you ever going to get through this?

────────────

I really hope this little prologue sparked your interest omg :0

It’s my first fic ever and I can’t wait to share it with anyone who’s kind enough to read it <3

Please feel free to point out any mistakes, english is not my first language so i’m always open for constructive criticism lol

anyway see y’all soon with the first chapter🖤

[ggukiebar]

NDA | j.jk

pairing: idol jungkook x f. fan reader

genre: smut

word count: 15.6k

summary: what would you do when your bias offers you an NDA?

warnings: verydom!jungkook x shy!submissive reader, explicit sexual content, clit rubbing, pussy eating, blow job, squirting, edging, spitting, dom/sub dynamic, daddy, heavy degradation, dirty talk, multiple positions, detailed smut, jk is very mean, oral sex, mirror sex, slapping, choking, pussy slapping, anal, rimming, nipple play, praising, dumbfication, usage of slut/whore, cum eating, marking, mentions of oc being his toy, multiple orgasms, rough sex, mentions of sex doll, crying, overstimulation, fingering, nipple slapping, penetrative sex, hair pulling, creampie.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

“Please, please, please!” you whispered to yourself, fingers crossed tightly as you stared at the three screens in front of you.

Your laptop. Your phone. Your tablet.

Your eyes were glossy with hope and adrenaline, your feet thumping uncontrollably beneath your chair, a thin layer of sweat forming despite the air-conditioned room wrapping around you in cold comfort.

This was your first time buying concert tickets. Despite being a long-time fan, this was your only chance—because you had finally gathered enough money to secure one.

You had prepared three Weverse accounts under your name and your parents’ names, carefully reserving each slot so you could slip into the presale the moment it opened. You had already studied how fast tickets sold out in other countries—the quickest being around ten minutes. Ten minutes of chaos, of people like you refreshing, praying, losing.

You bit your lip hard enough to feel it sting. You were still in the queue when the screen suddenly shifted, dragging you into a loading page that refused to move. Thirty minutes had already passed, and all three accounts were still stuck.

“Fuck!”

Your eyes widened when two of your accounts abruptly showed session timeout.

With shaky hands, you tried to navigate through it, but everything lagged—hesitating, freezing, slipping away from your control. You cursed under your breath, glancing at your laptop—the only one still holding on, still alive.

Your vision started to blur at the edges. The chances of getting a ticket were thinning by the second, dissolving right in front of you.

“Please, just this one…” you whispered to yourself, eyes locked on the screen with fragile, breaking hope.

Your eyes widened when the screen finally moved.

No Tickets Available.

Just like that, your hopes were crushed.

You slowly looked up at the posters on your walls, the albums stacked neatly on your shelves, the plushies scattered across your bed, and the ARMY Bomb you had recently bought, displayed beside your BTS McDonald’s figurines.

Tears began falling uncontrollably from your eyes, like a flood breaking through something you could no longer hold together. The realization settled in—heavy, final—that you wouldn’t get to see them.

Your lips quivered as you quickly sank onto your bed, pulling your favorite pink cooky plushie close to your chest. You cried into it, letting everything spill out with an aching, exhausted heart.

Your parents tried to comfort you. They knew how much this meant. They had witnessed your journey growing up—how you stayed up all night waiting for comebacks, how you saved every bit of money just to buy new albums, how you would drop everything the moment a Weverse Live started, how you bought multiple happy meals just to complete all the toys, how you binge-watched their content and replayed Run BTS episodes whenever you had free time.

They had seen it all.

How deeply you adored and loved your bias…

Jungkook.

You appreciated how your parents tried to look for tickets online for you, but the number of scams you’d heard about from resellers made you hesitate. Prices were tripled—far beyond your budget. You didn’t want to burden them, even when they insisted they were willing to cover the extra cost.

You were still a student, after all. You told them it was okay—that they should just save the money for your college instead.

“What if you just check in to the hotel they’re staying at? Girl, imagine!” your best friend Mina suggested.

The hot coffee you ordered had already gone cold. The concert was next month, and Mina was now throwing ridiculous ideas at you on how you could possibly see BTS. The supposed study session in the coffee shop had long been forgotten the moment you mentioned the upcoming concert.

“I doubt it. There’s usually no news about it because of their privacy… sometimes I only find out once they’ve already checked in or when they do a Weverse live.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “I’m sure there’s at least some news if you really dig into it. How many days is the concert?”

“Two days. And even if I wanted to stalk their hotel, I’m sure a lot of fans would do that too—and the next thing you know, the hotel is fully booked.” you pouted.

You were being realistic. The chances of seeing them at their hotel—or even getting a room there—were slim. With the number of fans camping out and others researching nonstop, you had almost zero chance.

“Do you want to see them or not? Come on, I’ll book a room with you!” she nudged your shoulders, wiggling her brows as she sipped her caramel macchiato.

You chuckled softly. “Of course I do, but I swear, Mina, it’s harder than you think…”

Mina groaned, stomping her feet. “Ugh, fine! But watching the concert online is really fucking boring when you know they’re literally in the same country as you.”

You sighed. Mina wasn’t really a fan, but she knew how much you loved BTS. When she found out you hadn’t secured a ticket, she had been the first to suggest the most ridiculous ideas—stalking their hotel, camping outside the arena, chasing anything that even remotely felt possible.

After a few months since the presale, it had been a hard pill to swallow—but you had finally accepted it. You wouldn’t get to see them. Even if Mina’s ideas lingered at the back of your mind, you knew better. The chances were too low. You’d rather stay at home, wear your cooky pajamas, and stream the concert online in peace.

Still… there were the sleepless nights.

The what-ifs that refused to leave you alone.

What if you had attended the concert? What if you had somehow booked the same hotel? What if you caught a glimpse of their van outside the arena?

Being a fan for almost a decade, you knew those kinds of scenarios only happened in fictional stories. Seeing Jungkook on a random day was like finding a bag of cash in a public restroom stall—completely impossible.

Though… still, a small part of you never fully stopped hoping.

“Also, isn’t our country their last stop?” Mina said, already searching for dates and details on her phone.

“Yeah… that’s why I actually had enough money and time… but I guess luck just wasn’t on my side,” you murmured bitterly, glancing around the busy coffee shop as if the noise could somehow quiet the ache settling in your chest.

Mina suddenly froze, her eyes widening. “Wait—since it’s the last stop… don’t you think they’ll stay longer? Maybe for a few more days, like… I don’t know, rest?”

You had already thought about it—but how on earth would you ever know their whereabouts? You’d only find out once they were already there, or when they went live. And since it would be after the concert, you were certain they’d want to rest, to disappear into privacy for a while.

“Mina… it’s okay. I swear, I’ll be fine.” you assured her, her ideas now more amusing than anything else.

Until your lunch break ended, Mina kept babbling—throwing out unrealistic scenarios straight out of books and fanfics. You laughed at her what-ifs, at the corny places her imagination kept taking you.

You knew she wasn’t doing it to be silly.

She was doing it because she knew you. Knew how badly you wanted to see them. Knew how quiet you’d become once the concert actually started.

So, as your best friend, Mina had decided something else entirely.

A short out-of-town trip. While BTS was in the country. A way for you both to disappear for a while, to breathe, to rest from studies, from expectations, from everything—including the concert you couldn’t attend.

“Mina! Why didn’t you tell me?” Your eyes widened in shock when you saw the cottage number and the dates.

Mina had booked a five-day beach trip, complete with daily activities that made your head spin just reading them.

“Don’t worry, you can bring your laptop so you can still stream the concert.” she snickered, handing you the itinerary.

“Mina! That’s not what I meant—this is too much,” you groaned.

She giggled, already sitting comfortably on your bed while you scanned through the list she had prepared. “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun! Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve had a girls’ trip.”

You pouted at her, still in disbelief—but the resistance didn’t last. A smile slipped through as you pulled her into a hug anyway. “You and your ideas,” you chuckled.

“Bring cute clothes! Let’s take lots of pics—I want to update my IG!” she said excitedly.

You grinned. “Let’s go shopping tomorrow. My treat.”

Mina shrieked. “God, yes! Let’s go!”

The upcoming concert was still on your mind, but you were also busy preparing for the trip with Mina. You were excited—the small distraction keeping you from spiraling into a full breakdown over not being able to see BTS.

Wearing a cute sundress and brown sandals, you and Mina finally checked in. It was Day 1 of the concert. You had already set an alarm for the online stream later, a quiet kind of excitement settling in at the thought that, at the very least, you had the privilege of watching it while sipping fresh coconut by the sea breeze.

“Why the fuck are you reapplying your lip gloss?” Mina asked when she caught you touching up your makeup right before the concert started.

“To look cute while watching Jungkook,” you giggled, turning your ARMY Bomb on.

After dinner, you and Mina sat on a bench by the sand, your pocket Wi-Fi, laptop, and earphones already set up beside you.

Mina rolled her eyes. “That’s crazier than my ideas.”

You chuckled softly, eyes already fixed on the screen as the countdown began. Your heart raced like you were inside the stadium with them—like the distance didn’t exist at all.

When the concert finally started, Mina had to walk away because you were screaming too loudly, jumping from your seat and almost knocking over the coconut shake on the table.

“Girl, let me walk around and find a cute guy. Your shrieks are lowkey scaring me.” Mina laughed when she came back and saw you on the verge of tears, fanning yourself like you might actually pass out.

“Okay, oka—oh my gosh! They’re performing Dimple! Oh my gosh!” you shouted, already lost in it again.

For two days, you were completely gone in it—fangirling nonstop, fully absorbed in every moment. It was only on Day 3, when Mina had planned actual activities, that you finally stepped away from the screen. Until then, you had spent your time watching, rewatching, and reposting edits like the world outside didn’t exist.

“He’s so hot—I can’t believe he wore that gray shirt. It looked so good on him,” you babbled, telling Mina everything about the concert details and the surprise songs they performed.

The two-night concert had ended like a whirlwind, yet you were still floating on cloud nine. While Mina had been busy taking pictures and scouting for cute guys, you had been replaying everything in your head—taking screenshots, saving edits, and reliving every moment in real time like you couldn’t let it go.

Mina was just happy you enjoyed it. She even swore she almost thought you were going to have a heart attack when you shrieked so loudly after Jungkook lifted his shirt and revealed his abs. Your gallery probably had ten copies of that exact moment.

“And! Guess what!” you said, munching on your breakfast as you wiggled your eyebrows at her.

“Hmm… Jungkook showed his dick?”

“Mina!” Your cheeks burned as you nearly choked on the waffles you were eating.

Mina laughed, casually pointing her fork at you. “That would be good though.”

You shook your head quickly, your face still hot. “I mean—would want that—but guess what! He sang the chorus of Still With You in acapella!” you babbled again, as if Mina would fully grasp the weight of it.

For your third day, you and Mina were supposed to ride a yacht. You were already getting dressed when Mina suddenly squealed behind you, hurriedly tying the strap of her sandal.

“He replied! Oh my gosh, he’s treating me to dinner!” Mina said excitedly, quickly glancing at the mirror you were using to fix your hair.

“Huh? Who?”

“This guy I met while you were watching the concert! He wants to see me again!” She showed you her phone.

Your brows furrowed. “He’s inviting you to his cottage later?” you said, reading the message.

Mina’s eyes widened as she looked back at her phone. “Fuck! What should I do?”

“Wait… so you’re not going on the yacht with me?” you concluded.

Mina smiled cheekily, biting her lip. “Well… he’s cute and… hot…”

You raised a brow. “Make sure he’s really hot,” you chuckled, fixing your hair again in front of the mirror—when Mina suddenly squealed and hugged you from behind.

“Promise I’ll make it up to you! You’re the best!” she grinned, already moving back to the bed to grab her bag.

Mina had booked this trip for you, and you wanted her to enjoy it too. Even though she originally planned it as a girls’ trip, you had spent most of it absorbed in the concert. She had always supported your whims without hesitation—and now it was your turn to support hers.

“Why are you bringing that duffel bag?” you asked, amused at the amount of clothes she was packing.

Mina wiggled her brows. “Gotta be prepared, y’know.”

She walked towards the door, fixing her neckline one last time.

You grinned. “Text me when you’re heading back!”

“Yes, ma’am!” she giggled, throwing you a flying kiss before hurrying out.

The sheer amount of clothes Mina brought made it obvious—she probably wouldn’t be back tonight. You sighed softly, glancing down at your short pink floral dress, your hair tied in a half ponytail.

You still had two days left of the trip, but today was the first time it truly settled in. For the past two days, you had been completely immersed in the concert—no time to walk along the shore, no quiet moments to watch the sunset.

Now, it was finally your time to unwind.

Although you were tempted to doom-scroll edits again, you forced yourself up instead, deciding to follow the planned activity for the day and step outside.

-

“Number 9! Calling for all passengers on Yacht 9!”

You hurried over to the line, double-checking the receipt number Mina had reserved for you.

There were only a few people waiting—some couples and a small group of friends. You didn’t really mind being alone. If anything, you needed this time to unwind, to breathe, to exist without noise pressing in on you.

“Ticket, please!” the man in a white uniform said.

You handed it over, offering a polite smile before stepping onto the yacht.

A few groups had already settled in—holding bottles of champagne, chatting softly, taking pictures against the open sea. You made your way towards the main deck, where a small group of friends sat around a table filled with snacks and laughter.

Based on the crowd, you felt relieved it wasn’t too packed—maybe around twenty-thirty people scattered across the space, enough to feel lively but not overwhelming.

Soft music drifted through the air as the yacht moved gently along the waves. The salt of the sea lingered in every breath you took, calming something in you without you even realizing it needed calming.

You wandered towards a long table filled with food, your short dress and hair swaying slightly with the breeze.

There were different kinds of pastries, a large charcuterie board, bottles of wine and champagne catching the light, stacks of beer lined neatly at one end, and a few bags of chips scattered casually beside them.

Mina had definitely booked a nice yacht. You smiled to yourself, genuinely happy that you could finally relax and enjoy this moment—with good food, fresh air, and a quiet kind of peace you hadn’t realized you needed.

You grabbed a bag of potato chips and a bottle of wine, scanning the area for a place to sit until you spotted a vacant lounger on the sun deck.

“Perfect!” you mumbled excitedly when you noticed no one else had claimed that area.

Carefully placing your bag, chips, and wine down, you quickly took a photo to update Mina.

“Let’s sit here!”

You were still busy snapping pictures when a small group—maybe four or five people—settled in beside you.

You weren’t really paying attention at first, but in your peripheral vision, you noticed they had brought an impressive amount of snacks with them.

You opened your chips and leaned back on the sun lounger. When you heard the sharp crack of a beer can opening, curiosity tugged at you, and you glanced over briefly.

It was a group of Korean men, older than you—probably in their mid-30s to 40s. Some wore black shades, already laughing as they settled into their drinks, their voices easy and relaxed.

They must be on vacation. This beach was a tourist spot, after all.

You turned your attention back to your chips, letting the sun warm your skin as you sank into the view. The group beside you wasn’t loud—they mostly talked about the scenery and the food, occasionally breaking into laughter over the activities they had tried earlier.

The world felt slow again, almost suspended in that gentle rhythm of waves and wind.

You were busy sipping your wine when you suddenly felt it—an unmistakable stare.

The group beside you was still laughing, their voices blending into the soft noise of the sea, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was looking at you.

These men were older, and for a brief moment, unease crept in.

You sneaked a glance over your shoulder and noticed the broad-built man in sunglasses staring straight ahead—past you.

Does he want potato chips or—

With a slight frown, you followed his line of sight properly this time.

He wasn’t looking at you.

He was looking at your bag on the table.

My bag?

When he realized you were looking back at him, he quickly turned away, though the shift in his posture told you he was still thinking. Still aware.

Confused, you glanced down at your bag again.

It was just a simple beige tote bag. Nothing special. Nothing worth staring at.

You shrugged it off. It must’ve been a mistake. Besides, he was wearing sunglasses—maybe he was just spacing out, looking into nothing.

Munching on your chips again, you noticed him typing on his phone, suddenly more focused, as if he had detached himself from the conversation entirely.

You almost laughed to yourself, thinking he might actually be searching something about your bag online.

A strange thought—but harmless.

With a deep, content sigh, you leaned back again, the warmth of the sun and the rhythm of the waves slowly pulling you under.

And somewhere between the breeze and the quiet, you didn’t notice when your eyes finally closed.

By the time you woke up, it was already sunset.

The bottle of wine beside you was empty, and the small group that had been next to you earlier was gone. The sea breeze had turned cooler now—soft and comforting—while the sound of waves blended with the distant chatter of guests still enjoying the evening.

You stretched lightly and sat up.

Some people were still dancing, some chatting, others taking pictures against the fading orange sky. You still had a few hours left before the yacht returned to shore.

Grabbing your leftover chips and the empty bottle of wine, you frowned when something small caught your attention beside your bag.

A paper.

Leaning in slightly, you picked it up—and realized it was a calling card.

Song Hobeom [phone] **** [email protected]

“Who the fuck is this?”

Looking around, you didn’t see the group of Koreans anymore. You assumed the calling card must’ve come from them, especially given the Korean name and number printed on it.

Still… you were confused. Why would he leave his calling card?

Walking slowly along the yacht, you felt a slight dizziness from the wine lingering in your system. You tossed the empty chip bag and bottle aside, your eyes still scanning the space for any sign of the group you had seen earlier. The air had turned colder now, your short dress offering little protection against the breeze brushing against your skin.

Curiosity got the better of you—and maybe the alcohol gave you just enough courage.

You decided to dial the number.

“Yoboseyo?” a deep voice answered.

You swallowed. “Hello? I-Is this Song Hobeom?”

A brief sigh came through the line. “Yes?”

Confusion crept in when he didn’t immediately recognize you as the person from the sun lounger. You hesitated for a moment. Did he really hand out his calling card just like that?

“Uh, I was the one sitting on the sun lounger by the main deck. I think you left your calling card at my table?” you said, biting your lip as nerves slowly settled in.

You had no idea what he wanted—and yet here you were, calling him back.

“Oh, right. Thank you for calling back, ma’am. May I know when you are free? I would like to discuss something with you.” he said in a formal tone.

Huh?

Confusion was written all over your face.

You walked towards the bow of the yacht, trying to escape the soft music and distant chatter, holding the phone closer to your ear.

“Uhm… may I know what for? This is a bit confusing.” You looked around again, but there was still no trace of the group from earlier. They must’ve already left.

“It is a bit confidential, ma’am. But don’t worry, I will give you a short background once we meet.”

You groaned under your breath. “I’m sorry, but can’t you just tell me this over the phone?”

You didn’t want to sound rude, but you didn’t know this man. It was already strange enough that he wanted to meet in person to “discuss something.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we may need to discuss this face-to-face to ensure the call is not being recorded. If you prefer, you may set the time and place.” he said formally.

What the actual fuck.

You rolled your eyes. This was bullshit—it sounded like a scam. Some foreign guy trying to trick people before disappearing back to his country.

“Sorry, but I’m not interested. Thank you.”

You ended the call immediately.

You weren’t stupid enough to meet a stranger like that. You had only been curious, nothing more—but the moment he refused to explain anything over the phone, something in you clicked.

Suspicion.

And you weren’t taking that chance.

You were about to walk back to the main deck when your phone beeped with a new message. You thought it was Mina, but the moment you recognized the country code, you immediately rolled your eyes.

What does he want?

You instantly regret calling his number. Opening the message, you saw that he had sent a file.

“I swear if this has a virus,” you mumbled.

You were about to tap it when another message came in.

Song Hobeom: The file can only be viewed once. Any form of screenshot or screen recording will be detected and notified. Please contact me again if you wish to proceed after reading the contract.

Song Hobeom: Please do not share this file or inform anyone about this matter. This is strictly confidential. Thank you.

Fucking hell?

You snorted softly, finding his messages almost ridiculous. It sounded like a joke—like he genuinely believed you’d get “in trouble” for forwarding whatever this was.

With a small smirk, you already decided you’d tell Mina about it later. You were definitely not falling for some scam. You’d open it, see whatever nonsense it was, and then block him right after.

With a sheepish grin, you tapped the file anyway… your heart giving a small, restless thump as the screen began to load.

What if it’s a jump scare?

Your brows slowly furrowed when the title finally appeared in bold capital letters:

NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT

What?

You quickly scanned the document, reading faster and faster—until your eyes landed on a name that made your heart jolt.

“W-What the actual fuck?!” you gasped in shock. A few people turned to look at you, but you didn’t care. Your attention was completely locked on your phone.

You were starting to hyperventilate. You wanted to close it, to breathe, to think—but it was a view-once file. Your hands trembled as the alcohol from earlier wore off almost instantly, replaced by something sharper.

“This is not real… no freaking way,” you whispered weakly, quickly texting him back with shaking fingers.

No second thoughts—you typed immediately, afraid he might block you or change his mind.

You: I am free tomorrow at around 1 PM. Let’s meet by the coast area near the bar.

Song Hobeom: Noted, ma’am. Thank you for cooperating.

-

You never thought you would find yourself in a situation like this.

You chose a spot with very few people around. It was a nice sunny day, but your face already felt warm—nervous, alert, almost buzzing with anticipation.

Wearing a white floral dress, brown strappy sandals, and sunglasses, you called Mina beforehand and told her you’d be skipping the snorkeling activity for the day. You wanted to tell her the truth, but she didn’t question it when you said you just wanted to swim and relax by the ocean instead.

She told you she wouldn’t be back for tonight, giggling about the cute guy she had met. She kept talking, but your mind was elsewhere the entire time.

Honestly, you were relieved she wouldn’t be back soon. Given the terms written in the file, you needed time alone.

Or this opportunity—whatever it really was—might slip right through your fingers.

“Are you listening to me? You’re like… spacing out, girl!” Mina chuckled.

Your face immediately heated up. “Oh! A-Am I? I was just thinking about buying this merch, and it’s a bit expensive, so I was wondering if I should buy the whole set or just Jungkook’s edition.” you rambled quickly.

Mina laughed, shaking her head. “Just buy it all! Gosh! Anyways, so I went to this island…”

You bit your lip. She believed it.

She continued ranting, and you did your best to follow along, nodding at the right moments, forcing yourself to stay present. You had to hide this—or you’d be screwed.

“Do you want to order, ma’am?”

You looked up at the waiter and nearly froze when, for a split second, you thought it was Song Hobeom standing in front of you.

You were thirty minutes early.

Last night, you hadn’t slept at all—spending hours searching for the man behind the calling card. And what you found had hit you like a truck.

He wasn’t just some random foreign stranger.

He was BTS’s manager.

The weight of the NDA had settled in slowly at first… then all at once.

The same Song Hobeom you had seen on the yacht… was the same man now appearing across articles and videos all over the internet.

“No, thank you. I’ll order later,” you politely declined. You didn’t think you could eat or drink anything at this point.

The waiter nodded and left you alone.

You let out a quiet sigh, glancing at your phone to check the time. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to steady your breathing—slow, controlled. You couldn’t afford to panic right now. Not here. Not yet.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.”

The familiar deep voice made your eyes snap open.

He was finally here.

He approached in a composed, almost professional manner, as if this were a business meeting rather than something that had your entire morning spiraling. Black shirt, gray board shorts, black shades. Calm, unreadable.

Your gaze narrowed slightly when you noticed the large iPad and brown envelope in his hands.

You immediately stood up, quickly straightening your dress before offering your hand.

“G-Good day, uh… h-have a seat, please.” you gestured, waiting until he sat down before you did.

“Have you eaten, Ms…?” he asked, pausing as if waiting for your full name.

“Oh, it’s Y/N L/N. I a-already had lunch,” you stammered, your heart racing as you finally introduced yourself.

He smiled and nodded. “That’s good to hear. I’m Song Hobeom, the manager of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

He opened the brown envelope and showed you its contents. Like a startled kitten, you carefully took the papers.

“Have you read the file I sent you?” he asked casually, while opening his iPad.

You immediately nodded. “Y-Yes, uh… but I only scanned it quickly.”

It was true—you had replied almost instantly because you were scared he might unsend it or take it back.

He nodded. “Alright. Let me explain this to you thoroughly. Before proceeding, we require a Non-Disclosure Agreement to protect the privacy and safety of our artist. This agreement simply means that any information you may see, hear, or experience during your time with us—such as the artist’s location, conversations, or personal details—must remain confidential and cannot be shared with others, posted online, or discussed publicly,” he said in a formal, business-like tone.

You nodded quickly. “Y-Yes, I didn’t tell anyone!” you replied immediately.

He gave another nod, turning the iPad towards you to display the contract details. Then he began walking you through each section, one by one, in calm, structured explanations.

“Ms. Y/N, the NDA does not take away your rights or force you to do anything. It only ensures mutual privacy,” he stated, and you found yourself listening closely, agreeing more than questioning. The moment you had texted back was already a sign—you had chosen to proceed.

“Once signed, the confidentiality rules will remain in effect for the period stated in the document, and breaking the agreement could result in legal consequences.”

“I understand! I-I have researched how NDAs work as well.”

You bit your lip the moment you said it, suddenly realizing how desperate you sounded. You wanted to ask so many questions—why you, of all people, why this situation had landed in your lap—but you were too focused, too eager to get to the part that mattered most now.

Signing that damn contract.

That was your priority.

“Good. If you have any questions or concerns, I want you to feel comfortable asking before signing—”

“No questions! I’ll s-sign,” you blurted out, cheeks warming as excitement slipped through your tone.

Mr. Song chuckled lightly and nodded before handing you an expensive-looking pen.

“Alright, please double-check the terms and conditions. Take your time, Ms. Y/N.”

But you didn’t.

Not really.

Before you even properly reread the contract, you signed it—like your life depended on it. A shy, almost embarrassed smile formed on your lips as you finished.

He looked amused, like this wasn’t his first time seeing this reaction. As if he was already familiar with how quickly people surrendered to these documents.

Then he handed you the iPad for another copy.

Scrolling quickly, you signed again without hesitation.

Your eyes flickered over your own name—and then, for a brief second, your heart stuttered when you saw the name of the artist involved.

Jeon Jungkook.

Mr. Song explained the terms and conditions again. You listened eagerly, a little calmer now that you had finally secured the contract.

“Thank you for signing, Ms. Y/N. Please remember to keep everything discussed and experienced confidential as agreed,” he said with a polite smile, handing you another calling card. “Mr. Jeon will be the one to contact you directly after this for any further coordination.”

You stared at the calling card—Jungkook’s name and number printed on it—your eyes widening in shock.

This cannot be real.

-

“Ugh! I want to cry!”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, now back in your cottage, pacing in front of it like a maniac.

You had one night. One fucking night with him.

The date stated in the contract was after your vacation ended. You were already stressing about what to tell Mina for extending your stay, what to say to your professors, your parents—because you had clearly told them your trip only lasted until next week.

Jungkook hadn’t contacted you yet. It was still too early. You had no idea if he was even on the island already. The only thing you knew was that you were supposed to meet him in Executive Cottage 3 at 8 PM next week.

You still couldn’t believe it.

You had always thought NDAs were just myths—fantasies spun by fans who imagined idols risking everything for a single private encounter.

Sure, you had heard rumors that things like this might actually happen… but you never thought you would experience it yourself—with your own bias, Jeon Jungkook.

It felt unreal. Worse—or better—than a concert. One-on-one. Up close. No distance at all.

Your cheeks warmed at the memory of the agreement, your heart picking up speed at the thought. It almost scared you how much you didn’t want to wake up in case this was all just a dream.

Sometimes you found yourself lightly slapping your cheek, as if reality still refused to fully sink in.

For months, you had been depressed over missing the ticket, and now—out of nowhere—you had the opportunity, the privilege, to meet your bias in private.

Now it made sense.

It was their last concert. Their managers were staying here to rest… and for what? To arrange potential NDAs?

Last night, after Mina’s call, you had spent hours deep in research—so deep it felt less like curiosity and more like you were preparing a thesis you somehow needed to defend. You searched everything: how NDAs worked, how participants were chosen, what would happen if you told someone, and a dozen other questions that only made your head spin the longer you read.

There was no hesitation anymore.

The moment you confirmed that Song Hobeom was actually their legitimate manager, something in you fully locked in. Any lingering doubt that the contract might be fake—or some elaborate prank—disappeared instantly.

It was real.

And you had already signed it.

Your excitement had gone through the roof.

Even though you wanted to tell Mina so badly, your eagerness to meet Jungkook was far stronger. You couldn’t risk it.

“Huh? Why?” Mina questioned when she returned the next day and you immediately told her about extending your stay.

“I just want to relax more, you know… I didn’t realize the sea was this calming,” you smiled, trying to sound convincing.

You and Mina were now getting ready for the snorkeling activity. After dinner, you had decided you would break the news properly.

“Are you lying to me?” Mina raised a brow.

You went pale. “N-No, I j-just really wanted to sta—”

“You met a cute guy, didn’t you?” Mina accused, squinting at you.

You blinked, caught completely off guard by her conclusion. She knew you weren’t the type to extend a trip like this—especially with school starting next week—unless, of course, it was for BTS.

Or a cute guy.

“W-Well…”

Mina giggled. “Ha! That’s why we’re besties!”

Maybe a little white lie wasn’t so bad.

Mina told you she couldn’t extend her stay anyway since she had a presentation due next week. Even though she wanted to stay longer, you reassured her you’d be fine—and that you just wanted some alone time with your “cute guy.”

Yeah.

Cute guy.

-

The following days felt like a whirlwind. You enjoyed your last activities with Mina, all while quietly trying to keep it together every time the agreement flashed back into your mind and sent your thoughts spiraling.

When the last day came, you practically rushed Mina into the van just to get a proper goodbye out before she left.

Tomorrow was finally the day.

And yet, Jungkook still hadn’t contacted you.

The day before, you had already gone through a medical examination—another requirement of the NDA. You were honestly surprised at how professional it all was, how organized everything felt despite how unreal the situation still seemed in your head.

It was almost ridiculous how seriously you had started taking everything.

You shaved your entire body. Scrubbed yourself religiously every night. Applied lotion more than usual. Even started doing small morning workouts after meals, as if preparation alone could somehow calm your nerves.

“Hi, Jungkookie!” you practiced in front of the mirror, batting your eyelashes.

“Fuck! Why did I do that?” you immediately cringed, shaking your head.

You tried again, this time forcing a different tone.

“So… how was the concert?”

“I’m honored to be chosen.”

“Do I just lay here?”

“I love you. You’re my everything.”

You groaned and covered your face completely.

You had no idea what to expect. The thought of meeting Jungkook was overwhelming in every possible way—like your brain couldn’t decide whether to freeze, panic, or completely shut down.

And honestly, you were starting to worry you might faint… or embarrass yourself beyond recovery the moment it actually happened.

The contract stated “private meeting,” and you weren’t exactly Sherlock, so it wasn’t hard to conclude that it involves fucking. Especially considering they required a medical examination—surely not for a simple chat.

You almost screamed when your phone beeped with a message.

Jungkook: Hi Y/N, see you tomorrow at 8!

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” you jumped onto your bed, staring at the text like it wasn’t real.

His message was so casual, completely different from the formal, business-like tone Song Hobeom used. It almost made it feel even more surreal.

“What should I reply… oh my gosh.”

You bit your lip, carefully choosing your words so you wouldn’t mess anything up.

You: See you, Kookie!

-

The cottage was larger than yours—an executive unit reserved for upper-class guests—with soft ambient lighting, a private veranda, a small plunge pool, a carefully kept garden, a few hammocks swaying gently in the breeze, and direct access to the beach.

This area felt different. Quieter. More secluded. Tucked away from the other cottages scattered across the busy island.

You had expected to be guided by bodyguards, but there was no one. No visible security, no presence at all. It felt intentional—like the meeting was meant to be so private that even protection would disrupt it.

Wearing a lilac wrap dress, white glittery doll shoes, and your hair curled neatly at the ends, you slowly made your way towards the cottage.

Your fingers hesitated before pressing the keycard Mr. Song had given you last week. The soft beep that followed made your nerves spike instantly—a quiet confirmation that you had arrived, and that you were allowed inside.

Once the door opened, you stepped in.

You were immediately met with a spacious bedroom featuring a king-sized bed, a lounge area, a large wooden door that likely led to the bathroom, and wide tinted windows with sliding doors that opened directly to a full view of the sea.

You stood there for a moment, taking it all in with wide eyes.

Carefully, you placed your bag beside the bed and began walking around the space, your curiosity slowly building. On the table, you noticed a selection of pastries and a neatly arranged meal set waiting, untouched.

“Hey.”

You gasped, your eyes snapping towards the bathroom door as the man you only saw on screens stepped out.

Jungkook wore nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp, droplets of water trailing down his neck and collarbones as he ran a smaller towel through his hair.

Your lips parted slightly. Fuck.

He walked toward the coffee table first, casually lifting the silver cloche to check the prepared dinner as if nothing about this moment carried any weight at all.

But for you, everything had just short-circuited.

Jungkook—right there in front of you. Real. Close. Breathing the same air.

You had seen him countless times on screens, in edited clips and fan videos—but none of that had prepared you for this. In person, his presence felt heavier, more grounded. His frame looked broader, more defined. The tattoos you had only ever glimpsed before were now fully visible under the soft lighting, detailed and striking in a way that made your thoughts scatter instantly.

Even his voice—when he spoke—carried a calm, effortless depth that made your mind go blank before it could catch up.

All the lines you had practiced disappeared completely.

You were speechless.

Frozen.

He was real.

You couldn’t believe he was real.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, turning towards you while still holding the cloche.

Your mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. You stood near the couch like you’d been rooted in place, completely caught off guard.

A quiet chuckle left him as he noticed your reaction. He set the lid back down and began walking towards you.

Your breath hitched when he closed the distance. His fresh scent—clean, minty, just out of the shower—wrapped around you, sharpening your senses in an instant.

“Relax,” Jungkook said softly, his tone calm and steady as he gently placed a hand on your arm.

The touch was light. Grounding.

Warmth spread through your skin immediately, like your body had finally registered his presence all at once.

You nodded too quickly, blinking as if that could reset your brain. Your heart was pounding so hard you were convinced it had to be audible.

Jungkook smiled slightly, looking down at you. “Hmm, look at me.” he said when you kept avoiding eye contact.

You tried—but the moment your eyes lifted, you almost froze again.

Dark doe eyes met yours, steady and unreadable, holding you in place. His right hand lifted your chin just as you instinctively tried to look away again.

“Sit down on the couch for me, mhm?” he said gently, guiding you down with an easy, controlled calm.

You were so nervous, looking up at him like a shy deer. All the conversations you had prepared were completely forgotten—you were mentally blocked.

Jungkook tilted his head at you, still standing as he looked down at your form. “You okay, pretty girl?”

Your cheeks turned crimson at the compliment, and you nodded again like you had lost your voice.

Jungkook chuckled, crouching down to get to your eye level. “Talk to me, baby. Wanna hear you.”

“H-Hi,” you said in a small voice, almost choking on the words.

“Hmm, louder.” Jungkook whispered, raising a brow at you.

You gulped harshly, squeezing your own hands in nervousness. “H-Hi, Jungkook. Nice to meet you.” you said, a little clearer this time.

Jungkook smiled, sitting beside you. “There you go. Good job, baby.” he praised. “So polite.”

You smiled back shyly, your breath hitching when he took your hands—hands you hadn’t even realized you were squeezing so tightly.

“Baby, you’ll hurt yourself doing that…” he said gently, holding your hands and lightly tracing over the faint marks you had left on your skin.

“O-Oh, uhm…”

“Do you want to eat first? What do you want to do?” he asked softly, studying your nervous expression.

He was so calm, so composed, so sweet—it made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain. You bit your lip under his attention, suddenly hyper-aware of every small movement you made.

His gaze briefly dropped to your lips. He swallowed subtly, something shifting in his expression for just a moment before he looked back up at you again.

“W-Whatever y-you want to do…”

Jungkook raised a brow at you, tilting his head slightly. “Yeah?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes…”

Jungkook straightened up, his gaze briefly dropping over your short dress, lingering for a moment before he looked back at the table.

“There’s a bunch of pastries you might want to try. Do you like sweets?” he said softly, opening the glass lids of the desserts in front of you.

You smiled shyly, eyes shifting towards the neatly arranged food. “Yes, I like c-cookies.”

Jungkook smiled, reaching for the tray of cookies with different flavors—chocolate chip, walnut, matcha, red velvet, and more you couldn’t even name at a glance.

You kept your eyes fixed on the cookies, forcing yourself not to look at him, especially with how near he was.

“I’ve tried walnut and matcha,” he said, pointing at a few of them.

You pouted and picked the flavor he suggested. He smiled when you chose the matcha, carefully placing the tray back down on the table.

“Do you want milk?” he asked, pointing at the bottle beside the pastries.

You nodded, taking a small bite while he poured a glass for you.

“Thank you…” you said with a shy smile.

He smiled back and stood up to get dressed while you focused on eating the cookies. When he came back, he was wearing a white shirt and black comfy shorts. He sat beside you and took a cookie for himself as well.

Jungkook was patient, sweet, and gentle with you. He occasionally asked about your hobbies, your likes, your favorite food, and small details that only your parents and Mina usually knew.

With a soft, hesitant voice, you slowly opened up—talking about how you became a BTS fan, how long you had followed them, and how much you liked him.

He listened closely, never interrupting, only asking follow-up questions like he was genuinely interested.

His eyes followed your lips whenever you spoke, then shifted to your eyes whenever you looked away. And every time your voice got smaller, he leaned in slightly, as if trying not to miss a single word—especially when you talked about him.

Neither of you mentioned the NDA.

It felt, strangely, like you were simply there to spend time with him.

You honestly thought he wouldn’t talk much, given how shy you were—but Jungkook was unexpectedly patient, giving you space to settle in and feel comfortable around him.

But then

You were giggling about his travel story with Jimin when you noticed his tattooed hands slowly settling around your waist.

“A-And what did he do?” you asked, a little startled.

Jungkook had been talking about some of their personal trips with the members. You were surprised by how open he was with you—the way he spoke during his Weverse lives was exactly the same in person: charming, funny, and easy to talk to.

You hadn’t expected him to answer your small, silly questions, but he was attentive, responding to everything like you had known each other for years. You felt, strangely, at ease.

He pouted slightly, suddenly distracted by the lace ruffles at the hem of your dress, his fingers lightly brushing and playing with them.

“Used all his perfume to spray it on the huge bug.” he chuckled lowly, his eyes still lowered towards your dress.

You giggled, imagining the chaos. “Did the bug get killed?”

Jungkook slowly looked at you, his eyes a little heavy-lidded, his hands still idly playing with the hem of your dress.

“Hmm, no.” he rasped.

Your eyes widened when he pulled you closer, his left arm circling your waist to steady you. His right tattooed hand lifted both your legs across his lap.

“You smell good.” he murmured closely, fingers now toying with the ribbons of your wrap dress.

You gulped harshly, your hands resting awkwardly on his arm for balance. Up close, he could see the details of your makeup—light glitter dusted across your cheeks and eyelids, pink gloss on your lips, a soft blush deepening from warmth, and lashes curled with a hint of mascara.

He lifted a loose strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear, then let his fingers trail lightly along your cheek.

“You dolled up for me?” he said lightly, tilting his head.

His tone had shifted—less careful now, more playful… almost teasing.

“Y-Yes… do you like it?” you asked shyly. It had taken you hours to finish your makeup, hours to pick a dress and style your hair. You were almost embarrassed when you saw that he looked so fresh and handsome after the shower, while you had taken an eternity to get ready.

Jungkook poked the inside of his cheek. He held your face with one hand, almost squishing both of your cheeks. His touch was gentle, but the way he tilted your head to examine your face made you feel weird.

Made you feel wet.

“I do,” he said lowly. “I like the glitters.”

You smiled, a bit more confident now. “Really?” you said happily, leaning a little closer to him. “Matches my doll shoes right?” You moved your toes up and down.

Jungkook nodded, his lazy eyes staring at you, then down at your dress. His hands traced slow circles on your bare thighs, making you tingly.

“I noticed something though…”

“Hmm, what?” you tilted your head curiously.

He pouted. “Your dress has no glitters, babygirl.” He slightly held the end of your dress, as if examining the texture.

You pouted. “Yeah…” You looked down. “B-But—”

Your thoughts were interrupted when he softly kissed your cheek.

“Hmm…” He slowly held the ribbons of your dress, and with one hand, he untied the knot.

“W-Wait—” you gasped, eyes widening when you saw what he was doing.

“It has no glitters, baby… doesn't match your pretty little shoes and makeup." he said in a mocking tone, removing your dress from your shoulders.

“Jungkook…” you said softly, cheeks growing hot under his gaze.

Licking his lower lip, his gaze dropped to your body.

The soft swell of your breasts was hugged perfectly by the white bra you were wearing, matching the delicate fabric of your panties. The small white ribbon resting between your breasts and the top of your underwear caught his attention—something so simple, yet enough to make his cock tighten.

You looked… soft, so pretty, too cute. Ready to be ruined by him.

His hands slowly moved to the straps of your bra “Oh baby…” he said in a cooing tone. “This doesn’t have glitters as well.” He said it like it was a problem. His fingers hooked onto the straps before pulling them away from your skin—only to let them snap back in place, the sting blooming lightly against you.

You were speechless. The way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, the way he played with you—it made your body heat up, a quiet rush of warmth settling low in your stomach.

Your instinct was to cover yourself, but the way he raised a brow at you made you hesitate, a shiver running through you instead. You blinked slowly, caught between nerves and awareness you couldn’t quite name.

“Jungkook, t-this is embarrassing.” you said in a small voice.

You thought you could be confident—years of reading fanfictions had convinced you of that. You were certain you could fuck him better, that you could show him what you were capable of. Make him feel good. Please him. Make him happy.

You had been so sure of yourself—so full of it, even—thinking you could give him the best night of his life.

But the moment he touched you, your mind went completely blank. All rational thoughts slipped away, leaving you flustered and unsure of yourself, shrinking back into a shy, overwhelmed version of you.

Jungkook chuckled sarcastically. You gasped when he suddenly pulled your hair, his lips reaching under your ear to whisper.

“You signed up for this, didn’t you?” he rasped, his lips grazing your earlobe.

You squealed, his dominance eating you alive. His sweet, teasing tone was gone; the way he pulled your hair closer made you shiver.

“Y-Yes,” you bit your lip. You felt his lips move down your neck, his hot breath tickling you.

“Hmm… do you want me to elaborate on what we’re doing here?” he said in a tone like he was talking to a child. You gasped when he slightly bit your neck.

“Sorry, I was j-just—”

He removed your bra quickly, tossing it somewhere before his fingers grazed near the swell of your breast, teasing you.

“Use your pretty little brain, baby, come on…” he said harshly, suddenly pinching your nipples, making you whimper.

Jungkook raised his head to look at you, his pupils dilated. The way he swallowed harshly when he saw your round breast and pink nipples made him leak.

“Do you know…” he whispered under your ear. “How bad…” He slightly slapped your nipple, soothing it afterward by rolling it gently between his fingers. “I wanted to fuck you?”

“J-Jungkook-”

“Look at you… you’ll let me do whatever I want, right?”

You shut your eyes tightly…followed by a slow nod, stunned by his words and actions.

He raised a brow, eyes dropping to your nipples. Your vision almost slipped when he suddenly spat on them, using his fingers to spread it over your breast.

“Yeah? You’ll let me use you?” he said in a low voice, his hands now trailing down the garters of your underwear. “Like a pretty little, sparkly slut that your are.’’

You knew what he wanted—it had been clear from the very beginning. It had already been hours, and you were still shy and hesitant. You wanted this too, but you were scared to make the first move, scared to say or do something that might turn him off.

He, on the other hand, had been patient from the start—letting you settle in, letting you eat, letting you relax, asking you what you wanted, giving you time without rushing you.

You didn’t realize the way his eyes darkened the moment you entered his room—the way they wandered down the valley of your breasts, the way they roamed over your dress that hugged your curves— showing the swell of your hips, the way his gaze followed the pout of your lips. The way your cute little glitters and doll shoes made you look like a proper little slut for him to use.

It’s been more than a year.

Jungkook had been busy with tour, with the group’s latest comeback. He had been working endlessly—promoting their new songs, filming content for a variety of brands, updating his Instagram and TikTok daily for ARMYs, practicing nonstop to show his best on tour. His schedule had been packed for over a year since their comeback.

Now that the tour had finally come to an end, it was his time to relax and unwind.

Jungkook’s stamina was unreal. Despite his busy schedule, there were times he would ask his manager to arrange private, strictly confidential meetings through NDAs.

Unfortunately, their latest tour had been much bigger, making it harder for his manager to coordinate anything outside of his packed schedule. Because of that, for the past months, Jungkook had been letting all of his sexual frustrations by himself.

It started in 2017. At first, he was the one personally choosing and approving everything himself, but after a few years—once his fame and schedule became even more intense—his manager took over the process. It became less personal and more structured, handled carefully behind the scenes.

With his level of fame, everything had to be treated with strict confidentiality and formal documentation.

For years, all the NDAs Jungkook had been involved with stayed quiet—carefully kept private, out of fear of the consequences, but also lingering with the hope of another night with him.

He was a man, after all. With his busy schedule and global fame, there was no room for commitment or long-term relationships. Everything in his life moved too fast, too publicly, too tightly controlled.

Because of that, he relied on brief, private arrangements—carefully managed and kept out of the public eye—to relieve stress and maintain some sense of personal balance amid his packed schedule.

It was almost like something carefully curated over time. He didn’t have a specific type, but his manager knew him well enough to anticipate what he was comfortable with. Over the years, everything had become more structured—quiet introductions, formal agreements, and strict confidentiality before anything could proceed.

After the tour, Jungkook had been particularly insistent on arranging an NDA soon. The long schedule and constant pressure had built up, and he needed a way to release the pent up sexual frustration.

When the team decided to extend their stay in the country after the final stop, his manager quietly began looking into possible private, strictly confidential arrangements handled under NDAs.

It wasn’t urgent—more of a routine precaution when they had extended time in one location. In most cases, it was beneficial if the person involved was already an ARMY, since familiarity with boundaries and expectations made things easier. Over time, most of the people who signed were fans in one way or another, while others were simply individuals who happened to be in the right place at the right time and agreed to the confidentiality terms.

Jungkook himself rarely interfered with the process. He trusted his manager to handle the details, especially during tours and rare breaks when privacy mattered more than anything else. The goal was simple: rest, recovery, and avoiding unnecessary exposure.

That was why his manager moved discreetly when he saw you—subtly noting your presence, your behavior, and your isolation from the crowd before eventually placing a small calling card on your table.

When Jungkook saw you standing in front of him, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, all his rational thoughts slipped away for a moment. You looked so sweet, ready to be used.

Jungkook was unbearably horny.

He wasn’t the type to extend another night, even with a potential NDA—but he was the type who wouldn’t stop fucking you once you stepped into his space. The kind who fucked hard. The kind who took control and dominated you without hesitation. The kind who would leave marks—bruises that lingered long after the night ended. Whether you were the shy type or the bold type, you would fold once he touches you, once he pulls your hair and manoeuvres your body to his own liking.

He’s mean when he fucks, praising you in a degrading way… though he would always start off sweet, to ease the tension, with his usual kind self and bunny smiles.

But, afterwards?

He would fuck you like a dirty whore, play with you like a little toy, use you like a cum dump.

When he noticed how hesitant and vulnerable you were, he took the lead by making sure you were comfortable at first. But his patience was running thin. Your sweet scent engulfed his senses—your soft voice and small giggles, your shy smile and twinkling eyes—it all made his cock twitch.

It had been months—too long without a proper release. At first, he wanted to take his sweet time with you, but your hesitance and shy demeanor were driving him crazy. Jungkook wanted to bend you over and fuck your unused holes, wanted to wrap his hands around your neck, wanted to fuck your pretty mouth until you were gagging and crying for him, wanted to feel your warm pussy wrapped around him until he could no longer think straight.

He forcefully ripped your underwear, leaving red marks on your thighs. Your body was now fully exposed to him.

“Pretty girl,” he mused, when his gaze dropped at your pussy, you instinctively closed your legs.

He gripped your thighs, forcing them open so he could look at your cunt. “Pretty little pussy.” he whispered, staring at your cunt with a faint shine visible from your wetness. “Acting so shy yet your pussy is soaking.”

“Jungkook, p-please…” you pleaded, slightly moving your legs.

“Aww, a few moments ago you wouldn’t let me see you. Now you’re pleading, hmm?” he cooed.

Your breath hitched when his index finger traced the slit of your cunt, gathering your juices.

“Oh, t-that’s—” you whimpered. 

You were long gone.

He was making you so wet and turned on. Not that you weren’t already—your shyness was already getting the best of you—but the moment he took the lead, whatever composure you had left began to slip away. Your thoughts scattered, your attention narrowing to him alone, your body reacting in a way that made you feel both overwhelmed and helplessly aware of him.

Your eyes widened when he licked the finger that had gathered your wetness, staring at you while his tongue rolled over it.

“Hmm, you taste so good.” his finger, now wet with saliva, went back down your cunt to gather your juices again, bringing it to his mouth to taste it once more.

“Do you taste yourself?” 

“N-No, I haven’t,” you admitted shyly.

He placed his wet finger on your lip. “Open,” he said sharply, like he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

You slowly opened your mouth, his finger immediately sliding in so you could taste yourself. 

“That’s it… twirl your tongue, baby.” You obediently twirled your tongue around his finger, your saliva dripping down his hand messily. His cock twitched at the sight, he pulled his finger from your mouth with a soft pop.

“Get on the bed and spread your legs.” slapping your thigh lightly to urge you up.

You were almost dizzy, his words barely registering in your mind… you stood up, almost stumbling, but Jungkook caught your waist firmly.

“Careful, baby.” he chuckled lowly, your cheeks heating up in response.

Your legs felt weak as you made your way to the bed, Jungkook following behind. When you bent down to remove your doll shoes, he held your arm to stop you.

“Leave them.”

“O-Okay,” your brows furrowed, slowly sitting on the bed with your doll shoes still on.

Jungkook raised a brow at you. “Raise your legs on the bed.”

“But my shoes…” you pouted.

Jungkook chuckled, crouching down to level with your face. “It has glitters, baby. No need to remove it.”

You blinked slowly, the realization settling in as you recalled his earlier comment about your dress and undergarments not having any glitter details.

Raising your feet, you let your doll shoes rest on the mattress. Your legs were folded as you adjusted yourself, your wet cunt fully exposed under his gaze.

Jungkook’s hand moved absently over his shorts as he looked at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his attention fixed on your wet pussy. “Spread wider, baby. Hold your ankles for me.”

You spread your legs wider, holding your ankles, making yourself open for him. Your juices leaked down onto the mattress, giving him a clear view. Your cheeks and neck turned red from what you were doing for him.

“That’s it, wider.” he groaned, removing his shirt and shorts in one go. Your arms almost gave out when you saw him naked in front of you.

He was so huge—his cock red and veiny, precum leaking from the tip, his hand gripping himself, rolling the foreskin, pumping more wetness onto his mushroom head.

Jungkook moved closer, looking down at your cunt while palming himself shamelessly. “Do you like how I touch my cock?’’

You whimpered when his other hand went down to you, his middle finger sliding into your hole easily. The wet squelching sound filled the room.

“Slut,” he whispered. 

Using your wetness, he spread it around his cock like lubricant, mixing it with his precum. “You’re so wet baby, my good little whore.”

You whined, your arms growing tired from the position. When you tried to let go of your ankles, Jungkook slapped your pussy.

“Keep them open,” he said harshly, squeezing his cock tighter, releasing more precum at the tip. 

“Let me see your pretty holes, yeah?” His cheeks hollowed as he gathered saliva and spat onto your exposed cunt, letting it drip inside your wanting hole.

“Jungkook, p-please… I can’t anymore,” you whined, your body clenching around nothing. You wanted him to touch you.

“Shh, be a good doll and stay still, yeah?” he groaned, spitting down on his cock, spreading it along his shaft as he pumped faster while looking at you.

It was so overwhelming—the way he looked at you while touching himself made you so wet.

“P-Please, t-touch me.” you pleaded, your eyes glossy with need, whining when you felt more of your juices spill onto the bed.

Jungkook groaned, “Be a good fucking slut and watch me touch my cock.”

It was obscenely dirty—watching him touch his cock so fast, his gaze locked on your pussy. Every now and then, he’d gather your slick with his fingers, spreading it along his length, making himself even wetter, even more desperate.

And just when it looked like he was about to cum—he stopped.

His hand tightened around the tip, squeezing just enough to hold himself back, dragging the moment out, edging himself with a restraint that only made it worse.

“Fuck!” he quickly kneeled down in front of you, his face now very close to your pussy. When you looked down, your eyes fluttered when you saw him staring closely at your twitching hole.

“You look so tight,” he groaned, his finger tracing your cunt lightly.

“Koo…” you moaned, already shaking from the contact.

He kissed your inner thigh, occasionally biting the soft skin to leave marks. When you were already getting too whiny, he leaned in closer, his tongue pushing inside you.

“Oh, Jungkook—” you moaned loudly, the feeling of his hot tongue inside your hole making you quiver. He was pushing his tongue so deep, like he wanted to collect all your juices.

“Mhm,” he moaned, the vibration giving soft pulses down your clit. He collected all your juices, sucking them as much as possible, going deeper and deeper just to spit it right back up on your swollen clit.

“Oh my gosh—” you whimpered. He was making you as messy as possible. When he wrapped his lips around your clit to suck, you almost saw stars from the pleasure, the sensation pulsating through your whole body making you roll your eyes back.

“You like that?” he murmured while sucking your clit, his tatted finger going inside your hole, releasing more juices from you.

You nodded almost instantly, holding your ankle tighter. When he nipped harshly on your clit, you almost dropped your legs, shaking from how good his lips and tongue felt. He looked up at you, still sucking your clit while inserting another finger inside you, instantly brushing your sensitive spot.

The way his middle and ring finger brushed your g-spot made your clit pulse. With the pressure of his lips around your clit, you were close to cumming.

“Jungkook, I-I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead baby, wanna eat your cum,” he whispered against your cunt, sucking harder, his fingers moving aggressively inside you.

You were shaking. When you felt your high building, you almost pushed him away, letting go of your ankles to grip his hair.

“Jungkook! S-Stop,” you pleaded weakly. The pleasure was too much, too intense. His pace did not falter, his hand pressing your lower stomach down.

When he removed his fingers, you thought he was done, but he immediately rubbed your clit in circles, spitting down on your hood while holding your wriggling body in place.

You moaned loudly… his fingers, his mouth, his spit—all of it pushed you over the edge. You came so hard you almost fainted. 

He still didn’t stop- you were overstimulated, trying to push him away, but he wouldn’t let you, drawing more release out of you. The pressure of his fingers dragged you into another climax, making you squirt messily around him, splashing his face, his neck, his body.

“S-stop, please Koo…” you cried, shaking uncontrollably as you squirted again. His fingers still didn’t stop. His dark eyes stayed fixed on your swollen pussy, amusement etched across his face.

“Messy girl, good job baby.” he cooed, giving your pussy a light slap to coax out the remaining slick.

Your cheeks were wet with tears, your body weak from orgasm. He leaned down, holding your cheeks gently to make you look at him.

“Poor baby, let me wipe your tears, hmm?”

He leaned down, licking your tears slowly, his hot tongue dragging wetly across your cheeks.

You whimpered, your body barely holding itself together. His lips moved down to your nipple, sucking the hard bud softly, while his other hand caressed your other breast, pinching and rolling your nipples.

His hard cock grinds against your spent pussy, his swollen tip smearing messily against your slit, spreading his precum all over your cunt.

“Koo…” you said softly, still tired and hazy from your release.

His mouth moved to your other nipple, his teeth tugging slightly, making you gasp. You were certain you would have bruises—the way he sucked your nipple mirrored how he had sucked your clit, lingering just enough to draw a reaction, coating it in spit before taking it fully into his mouth.

“Baby, can you feel how hard I am for you?” he whispered, his cock grinding slowly against your wet pussy, his tip brushing your clit… making you wetter again. “Do you know how long I wanted to fuck a nice warm pussy?” He grabbed your neck, your lips parting instinctively. He took the chance to spit into your mouth, leaning down to slip his tongue in messily, swallowing your moans and protests. His grip tightened each time you whimpered.

“Been touching my hard cock for months baby,” His movements were slow, deliberate—drawing arousal back into your body. “Need your tight pussy so bad.” The way he rolled his hips against you, the way he silenced you with his tongue so no protests could leave your mouth.

“You wanted this?” he groaned against your lips, releasing your neck only to squeeze your breast harshly.

“Ouch, Koo—”

“Answer me,” he said sharply, tapping your right cheek.

“I w-want this,” you said with glossy eyes, small hands gripping his arm tightly.

He tilted his head at you. “Yeah? You wanted to be fucked like a slut don’t you?” he taunted, sitting up to squeeze his cock, teasing himself by twirling his index finger over his tip. “Are you a slut? hmm?”

You nodded weakly. “Would do anything for y-you.’’ you said shyly.

Jungkook raised a brow, standing up at the edge of the bed. “Come here then, crawl to me.”

It was degrading, the way he treats you like a slut for him to use… yet it makes you wetter, makes you hornier. You crawl towards him like a good whore, looking up at him with pleading, sparkly eyes. Your makeup is ruined, your hair disheveled, your doll shoes still intact, making you look like a ruined sex doll.

“Good girl, now wrap your hands around my cock.” he rasped, holding the base out for you. When your small, shaky hands felt his veiny shaft, you almost came again. It twitched in your grip, hard and flushed red at the tip.

He groaned. “Spit on it, baby. Make it nice and wet for me.”

You spat on his cock, spreading it around the base before moving your hands up and down, rolling the foreskin as you worked him. He moaned loudly, head tipping back, jaw clenched, sweat forming across the expanse of his chest.

“That’s it, what a good little whore.” he praised, caressing your hair.

You tried your best to make him feel good. You raised your other hand, spitting into your palm and spreading it together with his precum.

Jungkook groaned at the sight. Using both of your hands, you made a twisting motion along his length, looking up at him like a good girl.

“I w-want you,” you said with a bit of confidence.

Jungkook cursed under his breath. “Suck my cock.” He slapped your hands away, then pulled your hair, forcing you to take his cock into your mouth. His breath hitched when he felt you gag around him, your nose pressed against his pelvis, your eyes turning watery.

“Take it,” he groaned harshly, guiding your head up and down like you were his personal fleshlight. You tried your best to take him, even though he was so big in your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

It was sloppy and nasty. Your tongue pressed flat against the underside of his cock, tracing the mushroom tip while you hollowed your cheeks and sucked hard. Spit and precum was leaking down your chin, your eyes glossy and red, the way you twirled your tongue to trace the veins of his cock made him groan.

“Hands behind your back,” he panted.

You immediately did what he said, your body fully under his control. When he pushed deeper, your face pressed against his pubic hair. You choked, saliva and precum bubbling at the corners of your mouth, you want to tap his leg, the air in your lungs limited.

“You look so pretty with my cock- fuck! I’m gonna cum.” he grunted, keeping you close until you felt the liquid heat spreading inside your throat. He forced you to swallow, keeping your face snug against his pelvis so not a single drop would spill.

When he released your head, you almost collapsed onto the bed. Your eyes were red, your mouth slightly bruised, and your neck ached from the way he had angled your face. Due to exhaustion, you let him maneuver your body, pushing you down and flipping you over.

“Bend over, baby. I’m not done using you.”

He was still hard, giving his cock a few more pumps before guiding it towards your pussy.

“Open your pussy, baby. Be a useful slut and spread yourself for me.”

With weak hands, you reached back to spread yourself for him, opening your folds. Your wetness leaked down your inner thighs.

“Look at you. You just came, yet your pussy already wants more… dripping all over my sheets like a whore.” he said mockingly.

You whimpered. “P-please, f-fuck me.” You were almost crying, your arms tired and your body aching from the position, but you wanted to please him so badly, wanted him to use you till you could no longer take it anymore.

Jungkook chuckled behind you. You thought he would tease you again, but you gasped when he suddenly pushed his cock inside you. Despite your earlier orgasm, the stretch was still painful, making you scream into the sheets.

“You’re so tight, fuck.” he groaned, looking down at his cock getting swallowed by your tight pussy.

He leaned down, pressing your head down further, his cock pushing deeper and deeper, making you squirm in both pleasure and pain.

“Fucking slut, so tight around daddy.” he whispered, your face buried in the sheets.

You clenched around him, whining against the mattress.

“Oh, you like that?” he taunted, pushing deeper until he reached your g-spot.

You could feel every drag of his cock inside you—his veins, his mushroom tip. The stretch was so good you were close to cumming, clenching around him as he fucked you deeper.

“Stop that, baby, I’m gonna cum.” he almost laughed, pulling your hair up so he could see your face. “Want to fuck you for hours, baby. I’m gonna use your tiny hole till daddy can’t release cum anymore. Do you want that?”

You whimpered, “Yes, d-daddy.”

He groaned harshly; the way you called him made him even hornier. He pulled out and shifted down on his side, pulling your body snug against his chest, your back pressed against him. “Keep your legs up,” he whispered, holding his cock and directing it against your leaking hole.

You didn’t expect to be fucked by Jungkook sideways. He held your waist while driving his hard cock into you, your legs spread wide in the air as his lips nipped harshly at your neck.

“Feels so g-good, daddy.” you moaned, your body bouncing slightly from the force of the way he was fucking you.

Jungkook bit your neck, his hands moving down to rub your clit. “Uhuh, daddy’s gonna fill you with so much cum and you’re gonna hold it like a good girl.’’

You moaned, trying to bite your moans back, but Jungkook slapped your clit harshly. “Moan louder,” he groaned, his balls hitting your ass as he pushes his cock all the way out just to push it harder all the way in.

“J-Jungkook.” you moaned, eyes rolling back.

“Louder.”

“Jungkook!” you moaned louder.

“Good girl,” he chuckled behind you, his fingers coming back down to rub your clit again.

You could feel your cum dripping down your thighs, the loud squelching sound of his cock fucking into your pussy and his deep groans pushing you to the edge. When he gave your clit a good rub, you came all over his cock, your pussy clenching around his girth, releasing so much cum. You held his wrist to stop him, your thighs shaking—you were certain you almost drooled from the deep pulses your cunt was producing.

Jungkook groaned behind you. You gasped weakly when he removed himself inside your twitching pussy, your cum leaking onto the mattress, but he immediately lowered his head to catch your cum, wasting no drop.

“I c-cant, too much!” you cried.

Jungkook held your thighs firmly, slurping all your juices like a starved man. When he raised his head, his chin and nose were wet from your arousal. Using both his index fingers, he opened your hood, exposing your puffy clit. He leaned down to suck it, and you gasped when you felt your cum and his warm saliva spreading.

“Oh daddy,” you moaned, another wave of pleasure rolling through your body.

He looked up at you, his tongue giving kitten licks on your clit. “Are you daddy’s good girl?” he murmured against it, his thumb circling the bud, the dual sensation making you lose your mind. “Do you like how daddy eats your pussy?”

“Yes daddy, it f-feels nice.”

“Nice?” Jungkook chuckled, sucking his thumb before rubbing his spit all over your clit. “Is this nice?” he mocked, looking at your bud as it looked so swollen and pink.

“Describe nice for me,” he growled before standing up, carrying you with him. Your thighs wrapped around his waist as he walked beside the large mirror. Using both of his hands, he held your ass and pushed his cock inside your used hole, using almost no strength to lift your body just to push you up and down around his hard cock.

You could see your reflection in the mirror—the way he used your body to pleasure himself, the way his biceps flexed every time he pushed and pulled you against him. He carried you like a feather, your body like a used, fucked-up sex doll.

“Is this… nice?” he mocked you, his lips parted as he looked at your pleasured face. He could feel your juices dripping down his muscular thighs. He chuckled at you. “Too dumb to answer, baby? Is my cock making you feel so good?”

You squealed, gripping his arms tightly as your body bounced up and down. He was going so fast, his hips snapping against you, pushing up while forcing you down, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix.

“Gonna cum, baby. Would you hold my cum inside like what I taught you?” he panted, his thrusts getting sloppy, his eyes hazy.

“Y-Yes daddy.” 

Jungkook groaned, his hands gripping your ass hard, enough that it hurt. His cock drilled in so deep that you whimpered when he pulled your body close, forcing you down as he spilled all of his warm cum inside you. He groaned beside your ear, biting your neck through his intense orgasm, balls deep and snug against your ass. Your legs were shaking; you felt so full. You tried to move, but his grip was too strong. You could feel all of his cum filling your pussy, and it was so much that you could feel some of it dripping down your legs.

You thought he was done when he removed his cock inside you. Your legs wobbled as he quickly set you down on the bed, his hands palming your pussy as if to keep his cum inside you. Your eyes almost went out of their sockets when you saw that he was still hard.

“Raise your legs,” he rasped, gripping his cock from the base as he spread the cum that was left on his girth.

When you weakly raised your legs, he could see how much cum was inside your pussy, threatening to spill out.

“Touch yourself, push my cum deeper,” he said with serious eyes while staring at your hole.

Your eyes widened. “J-Jungkook, t-thats-”

‘’Come on baby, daddy’s waiting.” 

You gulped harshly. He was slowly rubbing his swollen cock, teasing the tip while waiting for you to move. Your small hand slowly reached down to your hole, pushing his cum deeper, but some of it spilled onto the bed. You tried your best to push it in further, but your past orgasm was still overstimulating you.

“Like this, d-daddy?’’ you said shyly.

Jungkook groaned, staring at his cum in your tight hole. “Good job baby, can you add another finger for me?” 

You added another finger. It was a lot easier to push his cum deeper, but your pussy was getting sensitive. You were whimpering—the fact that he was just staring at you while rubbing his mushroom tip made you chase another high you didn’t even realize was coming. The pad of your fingers brushing against your g-spot with his cum felt so good, forcing you into another mind-blowing orgasm. The fact that you came just from pushing his cum deeper felt so dirty.

“Oh my gosh, I-fuck..” you were convulsing. You removed your fingers, trying to close your thighs shut, but Jungkook held your legs. He quickly inserted his hard cock, you were still pulsating and the feeling of his cock replacing your fingers extended your orgasm, your wet pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock.

“Fuck you feel so good, Daddy didn’t stretch you enough huh? You’re still fucking tight.” he growled, his hips making a rolling motion as his fingers pinched your nipples harshly.

Your tongue was almost out, your pussy still quivering, your clit so sensitive that even the feeling of his pubic hair brushing against it felt incredibly intense.

“Gonna fuck that tight little pussy till your loose, so that everytime you touch yourself your fingers would be too small for your gaping hole.” he grunted, his hands holding both of your wrists above your head, his other hand gripping your throat. He was fucking you so hard that your body was bouncing up. He crouched down to lick your sweaty neck, then moved down to your underarm, licking your sweat messily. You tried to move your arms, but his hold was firm, licking your other underarm and creating a huge wet mess.

“I-I’m close,” you choked, chasing another orgasm, overwhelmed by how many times you had come—you were certain your pussy would be numb after this.

“Hold it, you slut.” he bit the swell of your breast causing you to scream.

He held your body up, then laid down on the bed while holding your waist, placing you on top of him.

“Ride my cock.”

Desperate for release, you positioned your body in front of him, but Jungkook stopped you.

“On your back, babygirl.” he tapped your thighs.

Your cheeks reddened as you positioned your body with your back facing him. When you sank down, you immediately moaned, your ass against his lower stomach. The stretch felt so good, the veins on his cock filling your spongey walls perfectly.

“That’s it, make daddy proud.” he groaned, holding your waist while you moved up and down on him. Your legs were aching, but you didn’t care. When you felt his right tattooed hand slapping your ass, you almost came.

“You look so pretty.” you heard him whisper, his hand caressing your ass, your brows furrowed when his hand went deeper.  “Lower your body for me.”

Confused and a bit dazed, you lowered your body while still riding him. You shrieked loudly when his fingers played with your exposed rim, circling around the hole. You held his thighs, squeezing them hard when he tried to push his thumb in, the stretch making you shiver.

“Would you let me fuck you here, baby?’’ he whispered, pushing this thumb deeper, your tight walls swallowing him.

You haven’t done that before—you can’t even imagine it. He was the first man who touched you there. You were in so deep that you desperately nodded, clenching around his cock as the thought excited you.

He chuckled, “You’re so dirty baby, gonna let me fill all your holes hmm?”

You nodded again. “Yes, only for you J-Jungkook.”

“Yeah? you love me that much huh? I bet you hump your little cooky plushies thinking it’s my hard cock instead.”

He removed his thumb from your ass just to insert his middle and index finger, causing you to scream at the stretch. Your movements slowed down from the sensation.

“Do you fantasize about me? Fantasize about your bias fucking your slutty holes?’’ he taunted, pushing his fingers deeper, his hips pushing up to meet your thrusts.

It was embarrassing; you didn’t answer, afraid to admit the dirty things you did every time you thought of Jungkook—afraid to admit how dirty you were behind your shy demeanor and innocent looks. You liked him so much, idolized him for years, dreamed about meeting him, dreamed about attending his concert, and in your most hidden fantasies… you dreamed about being his girlfriend, what it feels like to be loved by him, to be fucked by him.

“Hmm baby? I bet you do.” he chuckled. 

He removed his fingers, slapping your ass cheeks, then flipping you down onto the bed. You couldn’t maintain eye contact, your fingers fiddling with the sheets when he went down to grind his cock against your pussy, both of his arms beside your head.

“Aww baby, are you shy?” he cooed, pushing his cock inside you, trying to find the angle that hits your spot.

You pouted, your eyes a bit hesitant. He held your cheeks so you would look at him. “Don’t worry… daddy’s here, I’m gonna fuck you so good.” 

He spit into your parted mouth, urging you to swallow before fucking mercilessly into your tight hole. He held your thighs, almost folding you in half. Your pussy was so stretched and swollen. He leaned down to whisper moans in your ear, his movements so fast you were impressed by his stamina at this point.

“Cum with me baby,” he panted, his thrusts getting sloppy, his mushroom tip hitting the right spot.

Jungkook forced you into another orgasm. You thought you wouldn’t cum, but your pussy was pulsating so badly, his cock still drilling inside you.

He let out a strained growl, his breathing turning heavier with each passing second. When you felt him cumming, he removed his cock from your pussy… quickly inserting it into your other unused hole.

You screamed loudly, the stretch sudden and painful… you could feel his cock pushing his cum deep inside your ass, the sensation making you shake and cry. When you tried to move, he held your waist tightly, balls snug so he could keep his warm cum inside.

He kissed your cheek, “So good for me, so pretty, so tight.” he whispered.

You thought he was done, but when he kissed you hard, his tongue dominating yours, you realized he wasn’t fully sated yet. He pulled you onto the nearest table, bending you over, your hands gripping it for support.

“Lift your leg here, baby,” he instructed, lifting your other leg so you were exposed to him.

The memories were hazy—you remembered him fucking you on the table while your cheeks burned red from the way he pushed you down. You could see the reflection in the mirror, your doll shoes still intact, the table wet from your drool. After that, he fucked your breasts, urging you to suck the tip like a good little whore.

Every time you thought he was done, he would pull you back again, whispering dirty praises about how you were such a good slut for him. His stamina was so impressive, and you were also impressed that you managed to stay awake the whole time.

Even when he was washing you up, he was very sweet, washing your hair and body, yet his fingers were still trailing down your swollen pussy. You protested, but he told you not to worry, saying, “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna rub the pain away,” while rubbing your pussy in slow circles, causing you to release another orgasm in the shower.

Before you drifted off to sleep, you felt him spreading your legs, whispering. “Last one pretty girl, let me leave you a present when you wake up, yeah? All nice and wet in the morning.” 

It felt almost unreal—like something pulled from a dream you weren’t fully ready to believe had happened.

When you woke up, Jungkook was no longer there.

Your body felt heavy, drained in a way that made even small movements difficult. You shifted under the covers, blinking slowly as reality started to settle in piece by piece.

The room was quiet. Still.

When you sat up, your gaze fell to your doll shoes placed neatly nearby. 

You stared at them for a long moment, your chest tightening in a way you couldn’t quite explain. A quiet reminder that last night had not been a dream.

You weakly stood up, wearing a comfy oversized shirt you were certain was his. Walking over to the table, you noticed a set of breakfast meals laid out—eggs, waffles, bacon, fruits, and a pitcher of orange juice.

Still a bit dazed, you sat down on the couch and stared at the food in front of you, your mind struggling to catch up with reality. Last night still felt distant, almost unreal—like something your brain hadn’t fully accepted yet. But every time you shifted slightly and felt the marks on your skin, the memory returned sharply.

It was real.

You knew the rules. You would never see him again, you would never contact him again, and anything that happened that night would stay with you—carried quietly, taken to your grave.

Your eyes grew teary, not because you regretted it, but because some part of you wished it didn’t end so quickly.

Wished it lasted longer.

You knew better—that you and him were not in a fairytale. You wouldn’t be the special girl who eventually ends up with him. You weren’t inside some ridiculous fanfiction where he would text you afterward, telling you he missed you, that he wanted to see you again, that he might even love you. Pure fiction.

Looking at the food in front of you, your eyes caught a small folded paper tucked beside the plate.

When you opened it, you had expected something sweet—maybe a cute note, maybe his number. You already knew the number he used wasn’t personal anyway, just an exclusive one-night line tied to the NDA.

“Dollshoes.”

It was written quickly, but you recognized his handwriting immediately.

You looked around and spotted a paper bag beside the bed. You stood up at once, walking towards it, your hands already shaking before you even reached it.

Carefully, you opened it.

Inside was a pair of glittery doll shoes.

You searched for a note, but there was none.

You pouted slightly, your heart still skipping at the small gesture. It wasn’t much—but it was something. At least he had left something for you.

It had been months since that night, but you would never forget it.

You told no one—not Mina, not anyone, not even in passing. You were almost afraid that speaking it out loud would make it less real… or worse, make you forget it entirely, reducing it to something that only felt like a dream.

Over the months, something else slowly clicked into place.

While reviewing your notes one day, your eyes drifted absentmindedly to your tote bag. Only then did you notice the small cooky keychain attached to it.

It had to have been what his manager saw.

A quiet sense of relief settled in you then—knowing that despite changing bags since that day, you had never taken it off.

You also tried to think harder—why did he give you a pair of doll shoes? Does he do that with all his hookups? Does he give them a farewell gift too after sleeping with them?

The thought left a strange mix in your chest. A little sadness. A little jealousy you couldn’t quite justify.

And yet, the doll shoes still felt like a strong reminder that you were once his—like he gave you something so you wouldn’t forget him.

Sometimes you would even wonder if everything that happened was only your imagination. His manager’s contact number, Jungkook’s number—gone from your phone. The NDA had included a strict no-contact clause, and everything tied to that night had disappeared with it.

Afterward, you didn’t see them anymore, and you had no idea whether they had even stayed in the country or left immediately.

The moment the marks on your body began to fade, you almost cried—like something of him was slowly slipping away from you too.

Wearing the doll shoes he gave you, you sat in a nice outdoor coffee shop with your laptop and a hot latte.

It had been almost a year.

Despite the beautiful view around you, your attention was fixed on your screen. You were writing a paper—your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment longer than necessary, like they understood something you didn’t want to admit.

You had been careful. Writing the details with precaution.

You changed the places, the countries, the names. You rewrote reality until it no longer belonged to anyone but you. Until it couldn’t be traced back—not to him, not to that night, not to the NDA that should have never felt real in the first place.

You even made sure to hide it in plain sight.

Just another fanfiction.

Just another story.

Just enough to protect yourself.

Just enough to protect him.

Your foot tapped lightly beneath the table, uneven, restless. A habit you picked up a year ago. A habit you never lost.

And then you wrote it—the memory still too fresh to feel like a memory at all.

“Please, please, please!” you whispered to yourself, fingers crossed tightly as you stared at the three screens in front of you.

And for a brief second—you wondered if anyone would believe it was just fiction.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

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[jeonstudios]

between takes | 04

as a fluffer for a popular porn star, your focus is to keep him hard and performing on set. turns out he's not the only thing that's hard.

pairing: porn star!jk x f fluffer!reader

genre: porn star au, fluff, angst, smut

word count: 6k

warnings: smut (very sweet, a tiny bit dom/sub switching), oral both receiving.

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 4/7

<previous | next>

© between takes is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

Keeping eye contact, he lowers his face incredibly slowly, sticking his tongue out while watching you and seeing what you’ll do.

“Jeongguk, don’t do it,” you warn, staring at him with your legs kept wide open, “I’ll punish you…”

You’re definitely not using a color.

Giving you no time to prepare, he dives back in, leaving you gasping at the intense feeling that washes over you, “Jeongguk.”

“This is a dream come true. You’re a literal dream,” he groans against you.

Sinking two fingers inside you this time, he pumps them in and out while lapping at your clit.

The rubber band tightens in your stomach again, and you arch your back, moaning his name.

“Come for me,” he speaks encouragingly and without faltering. Your legs move as you do, but Jeongguk’s hands hold your thighs, preventing them from closing around his head.

It doesn’t take long, and you definitely didn’t need to be told. Right before the rubber band snaps, you reach your hand down to tangle it in his hair, pulling a little on it.

“Fuck, Jeongguk,” you curse as your eyes roll back and wave after wave hits you. Your heart works overtime, pumping the ecstasy around your body.

Showing no intention of stopping, he keeps licking up and down slowly until you come down, breathing heavily and grabbing him by the back of his hair to pull him up your body.

Like he’s the happiest man in the world, he cages you in with his arms on either side of you, smiling down at you.

“What?” you question, out of breath and gazing up at him. He licks his lips clean of you, still grinning.

“I’m just saying I wish we would’ve done this sooner. I’ll be thinking of this at work; your arched back, your sweet pussy, the look on your face right now.”

You roll your eyes, blushing slightly, “You’re an idiot.” 

Still, you reach out to grab him by the back of his neck, bringing his face down to yours so you can kiss him silly.

From his muscular arms and shoulders, his defined back and stomach and to his small waist, he lets you feel him up without a trace of objection, just like you’re used to. You revel in the feeling of his warm skin under your fingers, the way he just… pulls you in and makes you crave more. 

In turn, he fondles your right breast, tugging slightly on your nipple before letting go and trailing his hand lower. It travels softly over your skin, over your stomach and in between your legs. 

You moan shakily into his mouth when he circles your clit again, and he eats it up, remaining extra gentle for a while before he starts applying more pressure, his hand expertly following along even as your hips start to move on their own, instinctively trying to escape the intense pleasure. 

As you gasp for air, he moves his mouth to the side of your face instead, and then to your ear, kissing the skin that leads him to your neck. It’s really not a surprise how quickly he learns your body and its signals, what you like and what you love, and so, with your arms around his neck and his face in the crook of yours, you soon come again, moaning his name.

Happily, Jeongguk sits up, bringing his hand to his face and putting his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean.

“Only four left.”

His lighthearted smirk has you sitting up as well, putting your hand on his chest and pushing him down where you just lied. His back hits the mattress, his smile only widening.

“Pants are coming off,” you inform, unbuttoning his jeans and starting to pull them down, revealing his boxers. Supporting his upper body on his elbows, he watches you rid him off the pants, lifting his hips when you ask him to, the happy grin on his face the whole time. 

He’s obviously very hard underneath his white boxers, and you take a second to… observe it. The shape, the outline of it, the way you can nearly see it… pulse. Although you’re very used to it and have had your hands on it more times than you can count, it’s different knowing that it’s going inside you. Because you weren’t lying before when you reminded him of how big he is. It puts a little caution into your mind, but more than anything, a carnal want. It’s so hard, so ready, which also reminds you….

“What?”

“Huh?” you blink.

Jeongguk gazes at you, confused yet amused. “You look like you’ve never seen my dick before when in reality, it’s like… the part of me you’re most familiar with.”

He isn’t wrong. Like you said, you’ve for sure spent hours and hours with that thing in your hand.

“Oh? It’s… nothing.”

“Now I’m curious; tell me.”

“Well, Wendy might have told me she saw you pop some blue pills.”

Jeongguk chuckles, “Did she?”

You look at him, knowing your face shows very well that you know it doesn’t have to mean anything but if it does mean something that you’d listen. “Yeah.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with me, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’ve just had some trouble keeping my head in it, and when that’s hard, I’m not.”

This time, it’s his joke he chuckles at, watching you roll your eyes at it instead.

“But now that you’re here, it’s not a problem, cause I’m al–”

“--Always at least half hard when I’m around,” you repeat what you’ve heard him say countless times before. “Yeah, yeah. I told her it’s not necessarily a problem.”

It obviously isn’t at the moment, at least.

You reach out to trace the bulge lightly, enjoying how his cock twitches slightly at the touch he wants, barely there. 

Jeongguk bites his lip, looking down at your hand on him in anticipation. You know that he’s used to your slow touches, but you’re taking the teasing a step further, wanting to get your point across. 

So your fingers trace the shape of him. Down the shaft, his balls, the other side of the shaft… His stomach tenses shakily when your fingers ghost over the waistband under which the head of his hard cock rests. 

A groan falls from his lips when you don’t venture below the band and instead start tracing his shaft down again.

“Is it frustrating?”

“A bit, yeah,” he admits, “You usually at least jerk me off.”

You smile at him, “I know. But I want you to apologize first.”

“For?”

“For disobeying?” you say, expecting him to know, before you continue with something akin to a little threat. “I’ll make it torturous…” 

He seems to contemplate, eyes flitting down to where your fingers have returned to the waistband, tracing it slowly. “I’m… sorry. For disobeying.”

“How many times?”

“Twice.”

You raise an eyebrow curiously; this is going better than you thought. “Do you regret it?”

But of course, a grin so big his eyes crinkle at the corners breaks out on his lips, “No.”

“Jeongguk!” you gasp, pinching his cock between your fingers in a way you know he finds frustrating.

“Fine! Yes, I’m sorry for disobeying twice, and I regret it.”

Despite the exasperated tone, you decide his apology good enough, and so you place your fingers at the waistband once more, toying a little with it. “Will it happen again?”

Oh, how clearly you can see it on his face, how much he wants to say ‘yes,’ but instead, he bites his lip to stop himself, and you almost burst out laughing.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to remind you that good boys get rewards,” you promise sweetly, touching the tip of your index finger to the head of his cock, making him tense slightly at the contact.

“It won’t happen again,” he promises, but you know he’s lying.

“Good. Now these,” you tug on the elastic of the waist band, “have to go.”

Quick to obey that order, Jeongguk slides them down his hips, then sits up to pull them down the rest of his legs and throw them somewhere on the floor. Reaching out, you grab his hard cock, and he lies back down again, looking strangely serene as you start to move your fist slowly around him.

“What color?” you ask.

“What?” he smiles up at you happily.

“The safeword colors are for you too, so what color?”

Realization flashes across his eyes. “Oh, green as fuck.”

Warmth spreads inside your chest. “You really like this, don’t you?” you laugh. “Did I accidentally Pavlov you into relaxation? Close your eyes.”

Surprisingly, Jeongguk does what he’s told and shuts his eyes. “Mhm. I like having you near… and your hands on me… your attention…”

Truth be told, you really like it as well. Too much.

You spend a minute just watching his body’s reactions to your slow and predictable touch. There’s the slight tensing and relaxing of his abdominal muscles, the relatively slow but still affected way he’s breathing, the occasional biting of his bottom lip… Despite the intoxicating vision in front of you, and the warm feeling of his hard cock in your hand, you know that… you mostly just want to be close to him.

“Is there anything you don’t want me to do? Any limits I should know of?”

“No,” he shakes his head, keeping his eyes closed. “If you really wanna peg me, I guess we can discuss that.”

His words make you chuckle, and you watch him smile at the sound. “Good to know.”

“But like I said earlier; you can’t do anything that leaves marks. So hickeys, scratches, bitemarks…”

You nod at the reminder, deciding to try to keep it positive, ”And here I was, just waiting to bite.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t bite, you just can’t leave any marks that will show on camera.”

It makes you laugh. Using your other hand, the one that’s not jerking his cock, you touch his body. Soundlessly and without time for him to prepare, you run your fingers softly over his chest before removing them. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t open his eyes.

Five seconds later, you touch the top of his warm hand that’s resting against the sheets, watching it twitch at the unexpected touch but then relax just as quickly. You repeat the action, ghosting your fingers over his thigh, and then his throat. You see how he tries to predict what part of him you’ll touch next, but instead of doing so, you focus your eyes on the hand still tugging gently on his cock. Keeping your eyes on him best you can, you lean down slowly and place him into your mouth. 

He twitches, both his body and his cock, and he lets out the most delicious moan.

You take him out briefly, collecting some spit in your mouth and letting it drip down onto his cock. “See? Good boys get rewarded,” you remind, leaning down to deepthroat him.

“Fuck,” he curses, tensing up, and you see how he fists the white sheets.

Keeping your movements slow and deliberate, you fondle his balls as you swallow around him. You know he’s been blown a million times before; in fact, you’ve witnessed a lot of it, but he still feels more… genuinely responsive now than what you’ve seen him, and you don’t know if that’s good for your ego.

He touches your thigh with desperate fingers. “I… want more,” he pleads, still with his eyes shut.

“Do you?” you pop off him, a string of saliva still connecting your mouth to his cock. He nods, and you wipe your mouth with your forearm.

“Okay. You’ve been good; you can open your eyes now.”

He does, immediately catching your gaze. He’s so incredibly handsome, and he watches you lean over him to open and rummage through the nightstand drawer.

You find what you’re looking for, ripping the condom open with your teeth. The gaze, with which Jeongguk watches you roll the condom down his cock, is a heated one.

Just as you’re done, he tries to sit up, but you push him back down by his chest, “Stay down. Let me have my fun.”

“You just had your fun,” he complains, sitting up again. This time, when you push him down, he listens, which is lucky for you because you’re definitely very aware of the fact that he’s about a thousand times stronger than you. Truth be told, he could do absolutely anything he wants to you.

“Me? Please, that was heaven for you.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he argues, and you gasp at his outright lies. “Okay, it was,” he smiles cheekily.

“That’s what I thought. You’re such a goddamn brat, I swear to God.”

Rising to his elbows, he looks at you like he’s about to give you the deal of a lifetime, tilting his head slightly. “What if I fuck you though? You know what I can do; you’ve seen my stroke game. I’ll have you screaming my name in no time.”

“Shut up,” you warn, taking a hold of him and jerking once, twice. “This is not good boy behavior.”

“Who said I was a good boy?” he quips, but you can tell he’s fighting a moan.

“You’re not. But you will be when I’m done with you. Now shut up and enjoy it. You realize this is the first time for us, right? How many times have you imagined this, huh?” you tease, lining him up with your pussy and sinking down slowly.

There’s definitely still a stretch, and you shut your eyes for a few uncomfortable seconds. Despite knowing that his co-stars prep themselves before the shoots, you still can’t help but be a little jealous at how easy they always seem to take him.

Heartwarmingly, you feel a supportive hand on your thigh, thumb stroking your skin gently and wordlessly encouraging you to take your time. You try your best to relax and breathe, and fortunately–and just like he said–you are so wet that as soon as the bulbous head pops in, the rest follows pretty quickly and painlessly. When you open your eyes, there’s a sweet look on Jeongguk’s face as he watches you.

“The amount of times I’ve imagined this? Too many to count,” he admits and lets his gaze fall to where he’s disappearing inside you.

As soon as the discomfort starts to subside, pleasure is taking its place, and it’s borderline insane how good he feels when all you’re doing is filling yourself up with him.

He moves under you, sitting up once more. “You’re driving me insane,” he says, his words quiet and closer than you expected.

The second you’re filled to the brim with him, you start to move, slowly rocking your hips back and forth. Even this, just sitting on him and moving the tiniest bit, feels like absolute heaven. It’s almost too good, and you wonder if his dick should come with an addictive warning or if it’s your emotions who are to blame because it shouldn’t feel this good. Soon enough, you feel his arm wrap around your waist, holding you to him. You open your eyes, meeting his that observe you with something you’d almost describe as a very intense and heated adoration.

“I can make you feel even better. I’ll fuck every little thought out of your pretty head,” he promises with honeyed words.

“Behave or there will be punishments,” you warn, putting your finger to his lips to physically shush him, all while getting ready to ride him properly.

However, you can clearly see the one second he spends contemplating and how his smirk widens and that mischievous glint in his eyes returns.

“You know what?” he starts, grabbing your hand and removing it from his mouth. “I don’t think I will.”

You don’t have time to react before he’s once again attacking, turning you over so quickly you barely have time to think. He slips out of you in the process but the moment you find yourself on your hands and knees, he fills you up again from behind, that stretch still there but not as strong and instead more… delicious.

And you feel him in your entire body and against your back as he lifts you toward his chest. 

He isn’t too rough, nor is the pace he sets too forceful, but it’s definitely brutal compared to what you were doing moments earlier.

“Jeongguk,” you call in a high pitched voice, holding onto his arms that cross your chest as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room.

“Color?” he mumbles into your ear from behind, to which you answer an already out of breath “green.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he continues, and you nod, teeth biting your bottom lip so hard you think you might draw blood.

“See, I told you so.”

Slowly, he lets go, and you’re back to supporting your weight with your own arms, but when Jeongguk uses the better posture and angle to increase the pace even further, you simply give up, resting the side of your face against the pillow instead.

You think you hear him chuckle, but you’re way too absorbed in pleasure to scold him, and besides, it didn’t sound arrogant, just… sweet.

It doesn’t get much better when he lifts one of your thighs to spread your legs wider, snaking his hand around to once again rub your sensitive clit. God, he is just out to kill you, isn’t he?

Just like you suspected, Jeongguk is on a mission, and his fingers and the non-stop pounding of his cock into your sweet spot have you coming in no time. His voice is sweet and encouraging, calling you good girl for taking him so well. It’s almost embarrassing how he, in basically no time, has you coming again. 

You’re breathing heavily, and your legs start to hurt from being so spread while supporting your weight. As if he notices, Jeongguk slows down, lifting you by your hips and maneuvering you onto your back.

Seeing his happy smile gives you a surge of energy, and before he can bury himself inside you once more, you make your attempt at overthrowing him, sitting up and trying to push him down. He stumbles a little and laughs at your mischievous eyes but regains his balance and pushes you back down effortlessly.

“Nuh uh,” he grins.

You laugh and admit defeat for now, instead pulling him closer by loosely hooking your index finger under the chain around his neck.

He pushes in once more, but instead of setting a higher pace, he rolls his hips at a tenth of the previous speed, lowering his face to yours. Slowly rocked back and forth, you reach up to brush his sweaty hair away from his forehead, suddenly hit by a wave of emotion.

“You might be a brat, but you are so pretty,” you say, and you’re sure he can see the stars in your eyes as you admire him. 

“So you really do find me attractive?”

“Are you kidding me, Jeongguk? You said you imagine me on the set while you’re fucking someone else? Don’t you think I wanted the exact same thing? Every single part of you feels like it was tailored for me.”

“No? Not to the same extent. You never watched me do anything naked; as soon as our clothes came off, you worked or read a book or something.”

“Yeah, dumb-dumb cause if I watched you fuck those girls like that, I wouldn’t be able to think about anything else.”

“I knew it,” he smirks.

“No, you didn’t,” you argue, still smiling, “I’ve been in love with you since I first met you, yet you overheard a two sentence conversation and dropped me.”

Your confession has him slowing to a stop mid-thrust, looking down at you under him with gentle but also slightly sad eyes. With your hands still on his face, you stroke your thumbs over his cheekbones.

“I’m sorry for doing that. I just… you were right; I heard you say that and convinced myself that you were ashamed of me and what I do, and I thought maybe you didn’t actually want to… be around me or touch me like that. There were just so many things pointing to that, like how you never showed any interest in hanging out outside of work, or even communicating outside work. You didn’t want me to touch you, either. So I knew I couldn’t let you touch me like that anymore with a clean conscience.”

Oh how your heart hurts at his confession.

“So you didn’t want me there for my sake?”

Jeongguk nods. “I was really hurt, and there was no way I’d be able to pretend like I wasn’t and like everything was fine, but I also didn’t want you to do something you might not really want to.”

Guiding his face closer to yours, you kiss his lips lovingly and much sweeter than the kisses before it.

“And here I was,” you mumble against the corner of his mouth, “setting boundaries for myself when it came to you. You were too… warm and too funny and too sweet, and also way too hot, and I knew that if I didn’t draw a line for myself then… I’d have my heart broken in one way or another when it wouldn’t work out. Which I was right in doing because look at us, I see you outside work one time, and you’re–”

“–balls deep?” 

You laugh, “Exactly. But since we’ve fucked up already, what are you waiting for; are you gonna fuck me or not? Because if not, you should let me on top.”

“Oh, you should not have said that.”

The second the words have left his mouth, he resumes fucking you at a pace and angle that makes your eyes tear up from pure pleasure. Your hands hold onto his back like your life depends on it–though not leaving any marks–and your teeth bite your lip. 

You really don’t know how he does it, and you almost wish you’d paid even more attention on set to pick his techniques apart, because how does he make you feel so incredibly good? Your breaths are shallow, your skin sweaty and on fire, and the sounds falling from your lips seem to please Jeongguk.

Over and over again, he hits that sweet spot inside you, and as a woman who’s always needed external clit stimulation to come, you’re not used to the feeling of the rubber band tightening to the rhythm of his hips. 

“Jeongguk…” you call shakily, feeling like it’s about to wash over you.

“You close?” he grunts between powerful thrusts that would have you falling off the bed had you not been clinging to him. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

“Fucking shit,” you manage to curse at the onslaught of stimulation, feeling your breaths become even more shallow, “fuck me.”

“I am.”

You don’t laugh or berate him for his cheeky remark because half a second later, the band starts to tear until it finally snaps, and you’re thrown over the edge. To deal with the powerful waves and keep somewhat quiet, you bite his thick bicep. 

Jeongguk, however, doesn’t stop nor slow down. Not until fifteen seconds later when you’re on your way down, loosening your hold on his back.

“You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he admits, eyes flitting down to the way your tits jiggle with his slower thrusts.

“And you’re absolutely insane,” you comment, sensitive and breathing heavily, because while you feel like you’re on death’s doorstep, Jeongguk, although breathing heavily and skin glistening, doesn’t seem like he intends on quitting anytime soon. 

He smirks, showing you that goddamn dimple of his.

“For real. I know this is what you do, but do you not need a break? Like a real break? How long are you gonna keep going for?”

“Forever. Why would I want this to end?”

“Because…” you start, your breathless voice turning slow and sultry, “I want to see you come. I never got to make you come; I want to see it–you coming for me–up close.”

Meeting his eyes, you trace one of your hands from his back around to his chest, gently tweaking his nipple. The action surprises him, noticeable in the slight stuttering of his otherwise smooth hips that gets even worse as you start to clench around him.

He licks his lips, the cheeky attitude gone as he looks at you.

With your other hand, you grab his jaw, holding it sweetly. “You’re gonna fuck me, okay? Like really fuck me. You’re gonna give me all you’ve got, and you’re going to come for me, okay?”

Finally obeying, Jeongguk starts to slowly increase the pace of his thrusts again, and the sound of skin slapping against skin, his heavy breaths and slight moans, will be hardcoded into your brain for the rest of your life. As he starts giving in, chasing his high, you take a second to also admire the vision above you. The black strands of hair that hang in front of his forehead are damp, sticking together, and his eyes are slowly turning almost… hazy. 

You try your best not to let the increase in pace get to you too because you really want to savor the moment, and although the pleasure is building inside you again as well, you’re not about to chase the finish line again on your own accord.

“Come for me.”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, just breathes harshly and his brown eyes flicker across your face. They lose their focus for a moment before he shuts them, his movement getting sloppier, but you squeeze his jaw slightly to remind him. “Look at me.”

He does, the eye contact between you so intimate, but a second before he comes, he shuts them tightly again. You don’t reprimand him this time, satisfied with his attempt and seeing his face as his body stills, and he reaches his climax because of you. 

At this moment, you’re almost glad you never actually got to bring him to orgasm before, because this is… so much better, so much more intimate and meaningful.

He groans quietly, and you feel how he pulses, releasing everything he’s got into the condom inside you.

You let him ride out the waves that wash over his body, a smile growing on your lips when he opens his eyes, looking dazed for another second.

“You’re crazy,” you chuckle, letting go of his jaw to hug him to you. He laughs too, still audibly out of breath, and nuzzles his face into your hair.

In an attempt to calm him down–or maybe mostly just because you want to–you use your nails to draw light shapes onto his heaving back, listening to the combined sounds of your breathing.

He’s still inside you, making no effort to pull out yet, and you honestly don’t care, too preoccupied with keeping him close.

Not sure how long you lie there just like that, you blink when he moves back to look down at you, grinning widely and endearingly.

“What?”

“One left.”

“Wha–Oh, my… Jeongguk,” you grab his forearm, meeting his eyes as he circles your clit with the fingers of his other hand again.

However, sensing your surprise, he stops. 

“Color?”

And you sigh before giving him a roll of your eyes and a smile. “Green, you monster.”

Not wasting a second, he resumes the action, having you gasping his name yet again.

“I don’t know what you’re made of, but there’s gotta be, like, cocaine or something in there cause I don’t know, but you’re addictive. Especially your cunt, it’s all I can think about. Your body and your reactions.”

“I don’t know, I think maybe you just have a problem? Are all male porn stars like this or did I end up with the defective one?”

“I'm not defective, just very into you. So in that case, you’re my problem, and it’s your fault, because actually…”

You watch him lift himself off you completely, removing his hand from your clit in the process as well as sliding out of you. In the blink of an eye, he’s removed the condom from his soft dick, tied it, and dropped it to the floor like a madman.

About to comment on it, you’re thrown off when he grabs your thighs, swiftly pulling you toward him before lowering himself to his stomach.

“Jeongguk,” you breathe at the first, very light lick of his tongue.

“Mhm?”

But you don’t say anything, just throw your head back and tangle your right hand in his hair. He’s much slower this time, less… rushed, and now that he knows what you like and what drives you to bite your lip, your breath to hitch, and your back to arch, he’s being thorough, wanting you to feel as good as possible. You’d be at least a little embarrassed if you had the energy because, despite not exactly needing any warm-up, you’re still already nearing the edge.

“Fuck,” you shut your eyes when he goes from long licks to shorter, more intense flicks of his tongue over your clit. “I’m close…”

He doesn’t say anything to that, just holds your hips as still as possible while you writhe on the bed. 

You stop breathing as it happens, your back arching and your hand gripping Jeongguk’s dark hair. He doesn’t pull back until your body relaxes, wiping his mouth on his forearm.

Out of breath again, you open your eyes to see him above you and smiling down.

“Six.”

If you had any energy, you’d probably slap his arm lightly, but you don’t, you just smile at him with a raised eyebrow. “Happy?”

He nods firmly, sitting back. “Yeah. Should we shower? I think I need to shower at least.”

“We’re not showering together though,” you shake your head.

“Why not?”

“Jeongguk. I am not having more sex with you tonight. Especially not in the shower.”

“And you don’t think I can control myself?”

“You compared me to cocaine?”

“Touché,” he admits, laughing, “You can go first, and I’ll pick out some clothes for you to sleep in.”

“Okay,” you smile, watching him stand up. Trying to urge your tired limbs to move, you’re instead surprised when he bends down to pick you up bridal style.

“I can walk,” you argue even if you’re not entirely sure of your words. 

“Shh. Let me.”

And you do. Because it feels nice to have him care for you.

As promised, he leaves you to shower in peace, a set of clothes left for you. In your head, you’re already counting down the hours until you’ll have to break your own heart.

Dressed in the spare underwear from your bag and one of Jeongguk’s obscenely oversized t-shirts that’s more like a dress on you, you wander through his apartment while he showers. He offered some of his sweatpants for you to wear as well, but you left them in the bathroom, guessing they would be too hot to sleep in.

Most of the rooms are still dark, moonlight reaching through the windows and casting a bluish hue over everything. Somehow, the tint matches the thoughts whirring in your head. How did this happen? Where will you go from here? Or maybe you know where, but… how do you get there?

Absolutely spent, you end up in Jeongguk’s kitchen, reaching for a glass in the cupboard over the sink and filling it with cold water. You’re staying the night, that’s for sure, even if it’s most likely not the best idea.

Downing the water gulp by gulp, you refill the glass mindlessly, wondering what Jeongguk will say when he steps out of the shower. What does he think about everything? You can’t help but feel like he’s optimistic, maybe too optimistic?

A stray drop runs from the rim and down to your fingers. It’s cold against your skin.

You feel his presence looming behind you before you hear him; the warmth radiating from him, and the breaths ghosting your hair. When he noses at it lightly, goosebumps start littering your skin.

“You know what the worst part of porn is?” he asks lowly, quietly.

You swallow, gathering your thoughts.

“How it gives men unrealistic sexual expectations and has young men and women thinking it’s normal and even expected for the woman to be hurt under the excuse of ‘rough sex?’”

You can’t help but be a smarty pants, even though you know Jeongguk doesn’t partake in concepts that he deems are too violent. The bar is definitely very low, but it’s one thing you admire him for.

“Well, that too, but… rephrasing my question: you know what the worst part about my porn experience is?”

“No,” you admit quietly, and although you know how things will end, you just can’t help it, so you close your eyes, emptying your head of all of those blue thoughts, and you lean back against his warm, sturdy chest.

“The fact that there’s no cuddling.”

You let out an amused breath through your nose. “You want to cuddle with your costars?”

“No, but you get what I mean, right?”

Jeongguk reaches his hands around your waist, his right one taking the glass right out of your grasp and bringing it up and over your head, presumably to his own mouth. His other hand grabs a hold of the edge of the sink. You feel his body move as he downs the water in approximately three seconds.

“I meant that I want to do the whole aftercare, cuddling with someone I like, but unfortunately, I rarely get to sleep with people I really like.”

“You’re saying you don’t like them?” you smile to yourself, happy to be annoying.

You lift your left hand to trace his left arm and the veins running just under his skin, until you reach his larger, angular hand.

“I do like them,” he says, putting the glass down on the counter just slightly to your right. “They’re nice women, but I don’t like them like that.”

You hum in response, perfectly fine to just stay in the moment a little longer. There’s just something about having him around that makes you… happy. You know that the rules you accidentally put in place for yourself were a good thing because after seeing him outside work and after finding out that he likes you too, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to deny that… he’s all you want. 

“I don’t know what you like,” he mumbles close to your ear, “but I’d want… this…”

Jeongguk turns his hand over, briefly intertwining his fingers with yours before releasing your hand. He drops his, and you feel his soft touch graze your thigh.

“To be close, to sleep next to you. To get to touch you and have you touch me, if you want.”

He wraps his arm loosely around your waist, and you’ve long since accepted the fact that tomorrow doesn’t matter, nor do the reasons for his actions, at least not tonight. 

So you nod eagerly.

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