[juunieez]

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[juunieez]

I really loved this story!! Thank you so much! As I understood, it’s the end and not a ducking trick made by JK and these bitches? JK and OC have their happy ever after, right? 🥹💖

( 💌.) hi anon!! thank you for this question! i understand how the open end might be confusing but yes!! its a happy ending, its a joke in which Jungkook insinuates that OC is so quiet he would've never thought she'd be so freaky >___< i hope this clears it up. i did go ahea and added another phrase to the end that maybe makes it a bit more obvious.

[juunieez]

Is jk story (When you are watching) chapter five last chapter or there is more?

( 💌.) hi reader! unfortunately, chapter five is the last one. while i did love writing the story i dont want it to be the only thing i write. so if you have any requests please let me know!

[juunieez]

SUℳMARY ╋━ You hated the fact you were invisible. Until you weren’t. He’s everywhere around you : on campus, online, in your head. You try to ignore him, try to be normal, try to pretend that the past doesn’t still sting. But he knows the effect he has on you. This is about watching, wanting and losing control. About a boy who doesn’t play fair, and you, who can’t help yourself.

PAIℛING ˖˙ ᰋ ── Campus BadBoy/Streamer ! Jungkook x F ! Reader

JJK MASTER LIST | W.C 5.8K | 𓊈 PART FI𝓥E𓊉 Things take an unexpected turn when you realize you don't know how love truly feels like. You're afraid, so running from it is your safest bet, you think. But a certain someone is willing to change everything to make you see you deserve all he can give you.

TAGS / WARNINGS ╋━ COLLEGE AU, some angst, toxic relationships, suggestive content, sexual tension, slow burn, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, some fluff, SMUT SMUT SMUT, virginity loss, unprotected p in v, slight impact play, hairpulling, dirty talking, use of pronouns for readers vjayjay, creampie, jungkook whines (yummy), sub & dom dynamics.

You moved out after a week.

It wasn’t dramatic. No slammed doors, or awkward goodbye at the threshold. Just a normal morning, your suitcase by the door with his hand lingering on the handle a second longer than necessary before letting it go.

Living with him had been.. strange. Not bad. Just strange in that way something becomes when it gets past the version of a person you thought you knew. You’d spent so long disliking Jungkook, or convincing yourself you did, that seeing him walk around his own apartment barefoot and half awake and pouty, making coffee for both of you without asking how you like it because he already knew, well, that was strange.

He’d been patient, softer than you expected. He never made you feel like you were in the way, even when you clearly were, with your things on his chair, your shampoo next to his in the shower, your presence folding into his routine like it had always belonged there.

You hadn’t known he could be that sweet.

And maybe that’s what unsettled you the most.

You found a place eventually. It’s far from campus, inconvenient enough that your mornings now start earlier and end later, but the bus ride long and quiet and gives you much time to think. Alas, it’s yours, small, slightly outdated, and a little lonely. Still, it feels safer that way.

Distance helps.

Or at least that’s what you tell yourself when you start taking different hallways between classes. When you stay in the library longer than necessary, when you spot him across the courtyard and pretend you’re suddenly so very interested in your phone.

You’re not avoiding him in any obvious way. If anyone asked, you’d deny it. But your body betrays you though, the way your shoulders tense when you hear his laugh somewhere behind you, the way your pulse spikes if you think he might call out your name.

Because what you feel now isn’t so simple. Not anymore at least. Or maybe it never was.

It’s there when you wake up and there again when you’re trying to fall asleep. It’s there in the memory of everything he has ever done and said.

You don’t trust it. You don’t trust yourself with it. You don't trust him. So you put space between you and the possibility of it becoming something real. You’re careful, meticulously so.

The problem is that Jungkook notices everything.

He doesn’t confront you. Instead, he starts always appearing in the margins of your day, sitting a few rows behind you in lectures he never used to attend, waiting by the vending machines outside your building like he just happened to be there at the same time you were. It would almost feel coincidental if he didn’t look so aware when your eyes accidentally meet.

One afternoon, you’re halfway down the steps outside the humanities building when you hear him call out to you. He jogs the last few steps to catch up, slightly out of breath, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

"You’ve been hard to catch." he says, and there’s a faint smile there, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His eyes.. look tired. He looks tired.

"I’ve been around."

"Have you?" You hate that question. Hate that he asks it like he already knows the answer.

The bus pulls up across the street, and you’re grateful for the distraction. "I need to go, Jungkook." you say, adjusting the strap on your shoulder.

He glances at the bus, then back at you. "That’s the earlier one."

"So?"

"You don't take that one." He says them without accusation, almost curious, but it feels like he’s peeling something back layer by layer.

You force a shrug. "Schedules change."

"Right."

He steps back then, giving you room to pass, but not before his hand brushes yours. Your body reacts instantly, heat flashing through you in a way that makes you angry at yourself.

Another day, you find yourself in the a corner of the campus café, tucked behind a stack of books you’re only somewhat reading. The place smells like toasted bread and strong coffee, the buzzing of low conversations all around you. You tell yourself it’s to get work done, but really, it’s to avoid leaving and stepping outside, where he might just appear again.

You stir your coffee absently, watching steam curl in lazy patterns, pretending you’re absorbed in the textbook in front of you.

"You’re hard to find." a voice says.

Your head snaps up. Of course. There he is, leaning against the table, hands wrapped around a cup of black coffee, hair slightly damp from the drizzle outside.

"I’m.. busy." you shrug.

He steps closer. "Busy?" he repeats, tilting his head. "Or avoiding me?"

You force a brittle laugh. "Maybe a little of both."

"Yeah?" He moves a fraction closer, resting one elbow on the table beside your books. "I don’t know if I like that answer."

Your stomach flips. "Well, you’ll just have to get used to disappointment."

He smirks faintly, but it doesn’t hide the hurt in his gaze. "I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you." he says softly.

Your fingers tighten around your pen. You don’t look at him. You can’t. You want to, you want to feel the nearness of him without losing your composure.

"You should at least finish your coffee." he continues. "Don’t let it get cold just because you’re avoiding me."

You manage a small nod. "Thanks."

And just like that, the tiny bubble you’ve been floating in, your careful little world of avoidance, feels like it’s slowly cracking.

On a friday evening, you’re walking back to your apartment, umbrella barely doing its job against the rain that’s picked up. Your bag swings against your hip, a little heavier than usual, filled with books you probably won’t read tonight. You try to focus on the rhythm of your steps, the wet pavement glistening under the streetlights, anything to ignore the knot of thoughts curling in your chest.

"Hey."

You stop, heart stuttering. Right. He’s there again, just a few steps behind you. The street is mostly empty, the crowd has dispersed hours ago.

"Listen, I—" you start, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.

"No, I just.." He hesitates, takes a slow step closer. "I wanted to see if you were okay."

You glance up at him, want to say something mean, something to keep the distance you’ve been meticulously guarding, but the words die in your throat. "You don’t have to.. follow me.." you manage finally.

He chuckles softly. "I’m not following." he says. "I’m.. walking the same way. Coincidence."

You bite your lip, pretending to look down at your shoes. Coincidence or not, the proximity makes your stomach churn in a maddening way.

"Anyway." you say, trying to keep your tone light "I should get inside. It’s late."

He doesn’t move. His eyes catch yours, he's insistent. "You’ve been avoiding me." he says.

You shift your weight on your legs, cheeks warming, your hands now gripping the umbrella tighter. "I’m.. figuring things out."

He steps closer again. "We can stop pretending, you know." he murmurs. "Stop pretending that everything is normal. That what we feel, what I feel.. you can’t hide it forever."

You want to step back, but your feet feel rooted in the concrete. The drizzle falls in soft sheets around you, and for a moment, the street, the rain, the city, none of it exists except for the pretty sparkles in his eyes.

You swallow, forcing yourself to look away. "I— Don't know what you're talking about."

"Please stop. Look, I know I have been a jerk and me helping you up until now won't fix it all but, fuck— please, let me make it up to you, I can't—" He takes in a deep breath like he's about to start crying. "I can't stop thinking about you."

You blink, heart hammering so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. "I.. I don’t.." you start, voice trembling even though you’re trying to keep it steady. Your hands grip the umbrella so hard it feels like it might snap. "I can’t—this is.. everything’s too much right now."

He steps closer again."Bug.." he says softly, almost like a plea. "I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t. I’ve been trying to hide it for so long, and it’s not fair to either of us."

Your stomach twists, a mixture of fear, desire, and something you don’t really have the words for. "You—" you start, trying to think of something mean to say, but your voice falters.

He tilts his head slightly, giving you a small crooked smile that somehow makes your chest hurt more. "I’m not asking for anything crazy. I just.. I need you to know. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t like you."

The rain drips off your hair, onto your shoulders, onto your hands, and yet, somehow, it feels like the world has shrunk just to the two of you.

"Please let me do this. Give me a chance and I swear— I swear if I fuck up I'll leave you alone. Just.."

And your heart betrays you, answering before your mind can. You step closer, closing the last sliver of space, and the world falls silent, rain and city lights blurring into this one thing you've been wanting to do for one whole year.

Your hands find his shoulders, your body tilts into his, and the rain becomes applause around you as the kiss deepens. He sighs against your lips, in a mixture of relief and disbelief, and you cling to him just as desperately.

Jungkook pulls back, hands cupping your cold cheeks. "So is that a yes? Can I be your boyfriend?" He smiles a little shaky, still searching in your eyes. "You don’t have to say it out loud if you’re not ready.." he whispers, thumb brushing your cheek, wiping a stray drop of rain. "I just.. needed to know."

Your lips twitch into a nervous smile. "I think— Yeah. Yeah, I want that."

Relief floods his expression, and he pulls you close again, forehead resting against yours. "Thank you. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that." he admits.

You laugh softly, the tension of the past weeks melting just a little. "You’ve been so frustrating." you tease, hiding your blush behind a hand.

"Frustrating?" he echoes, eyes glinting, lips curving into a mischievous grin. "I’ve been patient. Very patient."

You shove him gently, laughing again despite yourself. "Yeah, yeah, very patient."

He leans down, resting his chin atop your head. "I don’t care how long it takes, or what I have to do. I just.. I don’t want to waste any more time." You squeeze him, heart full, rain soaking through both of you, but you don’t care. Not now, not ever.

"Let's go inside." You speak up. "You wanna stay over tonight?"

He chuckles softly, warmth brushing against your ear as he whispers, "If you want me to, I wouldn’t mind."

You shrug, trying to act casual, though your fingers are still entwined with his. "I mean— I guess we could. Just.. for tonight."

His grin spreads wider, a little triumphant, but gentle. "Just tonight, huh? Right."

You roll your eyes. "Let’s get out of the rain before we catch pneumonia." you say, tugging gently at his hand.

The days after feel unreal.

It’s strange. Funny.

You’ve spent so long fantasizing about this, about him. Late nights staring at the ceiling, replaying conversations, imagining how his hands would feel on you, how it would feel to finally be chosen. And now that you are it almost feels like you’re watching someone else’s life.

He’s different.

Or maybe he’s just finally honest. He waits for you outside your classes, brings you coffee without asking what you want because he already knows. He looks at you like he’s still scared you might disappear, like he can’t believe you said yes either.

And everything is good. Too good.

He kisses your temple. "You okay?"

You nod. "Yeah. I’m just.."

"Happy?" he finishes.

You smile. "Yeah."

You keep waiting for something to go wrong. For him to slip back into the version of himself you knew before. The mean one. The inconsistent one. The one who made you feel like you were always standing just outside the door of something you weren’t allowed into.

But he doesn’t.

He texts you first, calls you just to hear your voice, shows up when he says he will. When you’re walking together, he doesn’t walk ahead, he stays beside you, fingers brushing yours until they lace together naturally, like that’s always where they were meant to be. It is subtle, but it feels monumental for you. You catch yourself staring at him sometimes, almost confused. This is the same boy you spent so much time aching over. The same one you built entire daydreams around. And now he’s real. Your boyfriend.

You talk about small things, stupid things. What you’re cooking later, a show you both pretend not to like but still binge. He watches you when you speak, holds you when you cry. And you start relaxing, start believing maybe this is what it was always supposed to be.

──────────────

The days after you go public with him feel good, and calm in a way you’re not used to. You’re not anxious anymore.

Maybe the universe felt your were getting to comfortable. Too happy.

When an anonymous account messages you, you don’t expect anything serious. Probably a troll, someone bored.

There’s a video attached. You assume it’s spam, but you press play anyway.

The room is familiar, his old bedroom. The one he had before he moved, one you’d only seen in his lives when he had less than 100 viewers.

It was him and.. Your ex-best friend ?

It’s clearly from over a year ago. You can tell by her hair, by the furniture and by his voice. He had it deeper when he used to smoke.

God.

Technically, he didn’t do anything wrong. He wasn’t yours yet. But that doesn’t stop the way your heart genuinely hurts.

Because she knew. She knew you liked him, she knew you were in love with him, ahe was there when you cried about him, when you overanalyzed every interaction, when she told you to give him that note.

And she slept with him anyway.

She never told you.

Was she ever really your friend, or did she hate you from the beginning? Now you’re finding out from a fake account like some kind of punchline. Another message comes in.

"No secrets now, right?"

It’s not even about the timing, it’s more about the silence. About the fact that you built your courage to confess while she had already crossed that line. About the fact that she let you pour your heart out to him a year ago without ever mentioning that something had happened between them.

Maybe it was meaningless to him. But it wasn’t meaningless to you. You sit there staring at your phone, trying to sort out what you’re actually feeling. Jealousy? Yes. Hurt? Definitely. But deeper than that is humiliation.

You don’t know if you’re mad at him. You don’t know if you’re mad at her. You just know that something that felt solid a second ago now feels like fucking rot.

You can already hear him saying it meant nothing.

But if it meant nothing, why does it feel like everything to you right now?

He knows something’s wrong the second you stop answering.

You don’t text back. Don’t open his last message, don’t react to the stupid meme he sends an hour later just to get your attention.

By evening, he’s standing outside your apartment door with a small paper bag from that dessert place you love, the one where they make strawberry cream buns you always pretend are too sweet but eat five of anyway.

You almost don’t open the door, but he keeps knocking. Should you even hear him out?

"Please.." he says through it. "Just— I know you’re in there."

When you finally unlock it, your face gives you away instantly. His expression drops. "Hey. Hey, babe, what happened?"

You don’t answer. You just step back and let him in.

He sets the bag down on your counter slowly. "You didn’t answer me all day. I thought—" He stops, scanning your face. "Why have you been crying?"

You laugh, but it sounds wrong. "You’re really good at acting, you know that?"

His brows pull together. "What?"

"Whatever."

"Hey. Talk to me."

Something in you snaps so you shove your phone into his hands. "What is this?"

He frowns, confused, and looks down. You watch his face as the video plays. Confusion, then recognition, then something like shock.

"What the fuck—" He looks up at you. "Where did you get this?"

"So it’s real!" you choke out.

"Yes, it’s real, but— I don’t know when this was filmed. I swear to God I didn’t know she recorded this. I would never—"

"So you were cheating on Sydney with my best friend?" you shoot back, tears already spilling over.

"What? No. No. God, no. We weren’t together then. Me and her weren't together, ok? This was just— it was before anything. Before you gave me the note. Before all of that."

You shake your head, crying harder now. "You slept with her."

"Yes." he says, running a hand through his hair. "Yes. One night. I was drunk out of my mind. It meant nothing. I didn’t even know you two were friends. She never said anything."

"You didn’t tell me after you found out she was either."

He freezes.

"I poured my heart out to you a year ago." you say, your voice breaking. "Do you know how humiliating that feels now? To find out you’d already been with her? And neither of you said a word?"

"I didn’t think it mattered.." he says, and then immediately winces. "No, that sounds wrong. I mean— it didn’t mean anything to me. It was stupid. I was stupid."

You stare at him. "Is that why you rejected my note back then?"

His head snaps up. "No! No. That had nothing to do with it."

"Then why?" you demand. "Why were you so mean to me? Why did you act like I was embarrassing you? Why did you push me away for a year?"

Your voice cracks completely. "Do you know what that year was like for me? Watching you live your life. Watching you with other girls. Torturing myself. Imagining it was me. Touching myself thinking about you while you were out there fucking half the campus!"

He looks just stunned.

"Why?" you whisper. "Why were you so shitty to me, Jungkook?"

Something shifts in him then, the defensiveness drops and the frustration turns inward. He laughs once, but there is nothing amused about it.

"Because I loved you, okay?" You blink. "I’ve loved you since first year." he says, voice shaking now. "Before you tutored me. Before I got popular. Before any of that. And I didn’t know what to do—" He swallows. You stare at him like he’s speaking another language.

"I was broke, on probation. Barely passing. You were the smartest person in every room. I was the guy barely hanging on. I liked you so much it made me feel stupid. Small."

He steps closer to you.

"When you started tutoring me, I thought it was charity. I thought you pitied me. And I hated that I needed you. I hated that I liked needing you."

Your tears slow, but they don’t stop.

"So what?" you say. "So you decided to hurt me first?"

"I decided to push you away before you could see how messed up I was." he admits. "Before you realized I wasn’t good enough. I figured if I acted like I didn’t care, you’d stop looking at me like I mattered."

He rubs his face. "And when you gave me that note, I panicked. Because suddenly it was real. And I thought, if I take this and I mess it up, I lose you for good. So I told myself I was protecting you."

"By humiliating me?" you whisper.

"By keeping you away from someone who thought he’d ruin you." he says quietly.

Silence fills the room.

"And Sydney? My friend?" you ask.

He exhales sharply. "She was there. She was a distraction. And your friend.. I was drunk and angry and trying to prove to myself I didn’t care about you. That I could want someone else. It was stupid. It was empty. I left before she even woke up."

You study his face.

"I swear to you." he says, stepping closer but not touching you yet. "That night had nothing to do with rejecting you. I didn’t reject you because of her, or Sidney. I rejected you because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you."

You shake your head weakly. "You don’t get to decide that for me."

"I know." he says immediately. "Fuck— I know that now. I was insecure and selfish and a dick. That’s the truth."

The room feels smaller, you can barely breathe.

"I should have told you." he adds. "About her. Even if it was nothing. You deserved to know. I didn’t think it would ever come back. I didn’t think it mattered."

"It mattered to me." you say.

"I can see that." His voice softens. "I have never loved Sidney. I have never wanted her, or your friend. I have never looked at them the way I look at you. That year I kept my distance because I thought I was protecting you from me. And all I did was hurt you anyway."

He finally reaches for your hands. "If you want to walk away right now, I’ll let you." he says. "But don’t think for a second that I didn’t love you. I’ve loved you so long it scares me."

He’s bracing himself for you to leave. Instead, you grab him. You don’t think and you don’t let it cloud your head. Your hands fist in his shirt and you pull him down to you, crashing your mouth against his like you’re trying to erase every second of that lost year. The kiss is messy and desperate and wet with tears. You taste salt, you don’t even know if it’s yours or his.

He makes a broken sound against your lips. You push him back a step, then another, and then you’re kissing him again, harder, deeper, like you need to prove he’s real, you need to prove he’s yours now.

"I’m not walking away." you breathe against his mouth.

He pulls you up so suddenly you gasp, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. His hands are everywhere and you cling to him just as tightly.

He kisses you like he’s been starving.

He stumbles toward your bedroom, still holding you. You’re both crying and laughing at the same time, overwhelmed, and raw. Every kiss feels like relief and grief.

He lowers you onto the bed gently.

Your fingers tug at his shirt, and he pulls it off without breaking the kiss. His forehead rests against yours for a second, breathing hard.

"I was so stupid." he whispers.

"I know." you whisper back. But you’re smiling through tears.

He brushes your hair back from your face, hands softer now. His thumbs trace your cheeks where tears are still drying. "I love you." he says.

Jungkook kisses your mouth one more time before his lips drift lower. Your jaw, your throat. His hands move carefully.

His mouth brushes the sensitive skin beneath your ear and you shiver. He exhales softly against you, then presses another kiss there, slower this time.

You can feel his hands trembling slightly as they slide to the hem of your shirt.

He pushes it up inch by inch, watching your face the entire time. When the fabric slips over your head, he pauses and just looks at you awed.

"You’re so pretty, baby."

His fingers trace lightly down your collarbone, then lower, and his mouth follows with gentle kisses down to your chest, tongue circling one of your nipples, unhurried. Your hands slide into his hair.

His eyes lift to yours. You swallow. Your heart is beating so hard you’re sure he can feel it.

"I’ve never.. done this before." you say softly.

You don’t have to spell it out, he understands. Then, without breaking eye contact, he leans down again. His lips press to one of your breast. Lower.

His hands slide along your waist and he kisses down your stomach, achingly slow, his eyes lifting occasionally to meet yours

"I’m not going to hurt you." he murmurs, placing soft kisses above your bellybutton.

"Jungkook, I need—" you shy away, not quite believing any of this is real. suddenly you're fully naked, with him between your legs, and you try your best to keep quiet, you really do, but god, was he great at what he was doing.

You swallow back a few moans, his digits finally making their way inside of your gummy walls. What a strange feeling, you think.

"Okay?" he asks and you nod rapidly while you look him in his big puppy dog eyes.

He eats at you like he's been starving for years, his hair all messy from you pulling on it and cheeks rosy like cherry blossoms. For a moment it looks like you swapped places, with how flustered he seems.

You feel yourself tighten around his digits, that familiar heat crawling up your legs, but he pulls away and you instinctively whine.

"Want you to come on my dick." Jungkook says, like it's the most casual thing ever. You nod, nipping at your lower lip while he places your thighs on either side of his hips. He leans down prepping a few gentle kisses all over your hot skin, whispering sweet words like he can feel how nervous you are.

"Just tell me if anything feels wrong and I'll sto—"

"Oh, god, Jungkook, just f—uck me!" you hiccup and he can't believe his ears.

"Oh— Yes, ma'am." He laughs, shaking his head. "Dirty girl." In no time he's completely naked too, pants discarded somewhere far into the room, and you'd lie if you said you weren't a bit scared.

The rumors were, in fact, true. But maybe it won't hurt half as much if you think of something else while he slowly stretches you out. You feel like maybe you should look away, like when you're getting a shot and you don't want to see the needle because it'll hurt less. Yeah, that feels like a good analogy.

But your mind stops conjuring any semblance of thought when he finally pushes in, slowly. By the time half of his cock is inside of you, you're a mess. His hands slide lower, fingers brushing places that make you shudder uncontrollably, and the tension inside you snaps tighter. "Look at me." He orders, and you can't help but listen. With teary eyes you look up at him and it makes this moment feel even more unreal.

"You're so cute like this." Jungkook smiles, his bunny teeth never giving up the filth he hid in those words. "I didn’t even start properly and you're already fucked out."

Your chest is rising fast, your lips are parted, your eyes are wide and dark and needy. He exhales out and bottoms out, the stretch so deliciously painful.

"God, you're tight." His hand slides up your waist, over your ribs, thumb brushing just beneath your breast. "I'm sorry if it hurts. Promise it'll feel good soon." And with that he starts moving with a slow pace, your pussy practically crying around him.

His jaw tightens slightly, like he’s holding himself back. Then he shifts closer, elbows now on both sides of your head. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his hips and something in him snaps. "Oh, you're naughty." He laughs and snaps his hips harshly, once. You let out a soft cry, burying your face in his tattooed shoulder.

"You wrap your legs around me like that again." he whispers. "And I’m not promising I’ll stay gentle."

Your stomach flips yet you tighten your legs just slightly in response. He exhales sharply through his nose. "You’re trouble."

Finally he starts moving again slowly, slowly, this feeling so strangely addicting. You don't think you've ever been this wet. He hold himself up with one elbow then with his free hand spreads your thighs wider apart, his hips angling a tad and you see stars.

Long moans slip past your lips, brows furrowed as you're trying to make sense of this new feeling.

"I know baby, I know.." He tuts, hips snapping down harsher with each thrust. He watches your face carefully, the way your brows pinch together, the way your lips part around those breathless sounds you can’t seem to control.

Your fingers dig into his shoulder, nails pressing into inked skin as another wave rolls through you. "Oh— Jungkook..."

You force your eyes open. They’re glossy, unfocused for a second before settling on him.

"That’s it. There's my girl." His moves come down with more force, bullying your poor pussy, and you can feel his tip almost kissing your cervix. Each movement makes your body react faster, your breathing already uneven, your hips instinctively trying to meet him.

"Mhm."

Your hands slide into his hair, pulling him closer as the familiar feeling starts to twist into something addictive, you tighten around him. "Fuck— Don't do that, I don't wanna come yet." Jungkook laughs and looks away, a boyish smile now on his lips.

You whine, as you finally hear the lewd sounds your pussy made, squelching and wet. You felt so full.

Jungkook fucks into you harder and harder, the bed creaking whilst you let him take over you. He grabs your hips pushing himself even deeper into your cunt, groaning when you arch your back against the mattress, yout breasts perking up. "Fuck, baby, you're so pretty." He whines, and you can only moan back and cry as you feel your orgasm approaching. Desperately, you clench around his cock again, almost sending Jungkook into a frenzy.

"Gonna come?" he's stern and mocking with his words. "Hhhaㅡ y-yes, plea-se..." you don't know if you're crying because you feel too good or because of how long you've waited for this.

Jungkook almost loses himself, but he's steady with his movements. "Wanna come on my cock, hm? Isn’t that what you're begging for?" your pussy drips and wraps around him perfectly, you don't want it to end. And when you're almost there.. he stops. You whine in protest but you're quickly put back in your place with a firm tug of your hair. "Ass up." you comply. In a second, your back is facing him, red cheeks now hidden into your pillow. You try to balance yourself up with one arm, but he grabs you by the wrist.

"Spread." And you do just that, pulling at your flesh, like an auction, only it's you presenting your cunt for fucking. "Fuck, look at that.." Jungkook tuts, gathering some of your juices on his pulsing tip, dragging it up and down your puffy lips. "Pretty girl. She's crying for me, isn't she?" a string of fain 'yesyesyes' reaches his ear. He's quiet for a bit but the moment he pushes the tip inside you feel your knees buckle, all the strength you had left into your arms fading away. You fall face first into the mattres under you as Jungkook pushes down on your lower back until it hurts.

Your moans and that rhythmic plaplaplap fill the room, with the occasional slap to your ass interrupting them. Jungkook is strong and brutal, leaving you no room to breathe, and you're wondering where that gentle boy from a few minutes ago went.

"T-taking it so well, baby, so well.." your skin burns where he touched it, whole brain fuzzy and empty. "Pleasepleaseplease!" as the whole bed shakes and sways to his movements.

Your back arches as waves of pleasure break over your body like water on a shore. Your head was spinning, heart pounding, as his whole body dominated over yours. "That's it, take it." his thrusts are rough, each hit making your body bounce, the urgency as he hit that very spot each time got your whole insides burning, too cock drunk to talk or respond, other than some pathetic whines that perfectly accompanied the wet sounds your pussy made.

Eyes shot open when he roughly yanks your hair, your skin slapping against his being to only sound you can faintly make out in your dazed state. You let your whole body go in his grip, mouth slack as he takes out on you anything he might've been feeling. You were at his mercy, your moans irrefutable. Your stomach flips and churns as that unmistakable feeling pools again in your lower tummy, and you were chasing it, crying, from what, you didn't quite know. Maybe because you've never thought being fucked felt this good or maybe because it'll be over so soon.

The room was stuffy. "O-oh myㅡ god!" You yelp when Jungkook’s speed picks up. "Shitㅡ I gotta come, baby. Can I do it in you? huh?" You nod your head so, squeezing around him like a magic ring, and he rewards you with a slap to your ass. "What a slut." he laughs through breathy moans.

You're holding on for dear life, reaching for anything your fingers can grasp at this moment. You're sure the neighbors are having a blast listening to you getting fucked into oblivion. "That's it, baby, c'mon..." with a few more pumps his hips come to a halt, whole body trembling as he comes ropes inside of you.

Finally, you let go, bliss washing over you, the ringing in your ears covering the soft curses escaping Jungkook’s lips. Steadying himself, he pulls out, voice cracking as he speaks again. "Fuuck... baby, look at that." he smiles crooked, watching with wide eyes as his come drips out of you, cascading down to your thighs and onto the mattress.

You lick your lips, looking back and right up at him whilst spreading your legs wider. He chuckles "Wow, you're nasty. It's true what people say."

You frown, lips forming a pout. "What do you mean?"

"It's the quiet ones you need to watch out for."

juniᧉsㅤ⁔ㅤ˚ㅤtagl𝒾stㅤׅㅤʚɞ → @mar-lo-pap @oopscoop @magicalnachocreator @lachimolalajeon @mniys @bjoriis @dotheharakiri @rabbittedd @ellushic @justanarchiveforfics @azxher @emmie2308 @yeongjii @tatamicc @songbyeonkim @magicshop96 @sadiayn @thebaratheonlion @nomadclairo @judesbitch @ttipa @jggui @cherricherryy @curiouslykeenvanguard @angeleclipsey

[dotheharakiri]

Thank you so much for your story! I’m soooo intrigued, and it’s SOOO good!

[juunieez]

thank you so much for reading <3<3<3

[juunieez]

SUℳMARY ╋━ You hated the fact you were invisible. Until you weren’t. He’s everywhere around you : on campus, online, in your head. You try to ignore him, try to be normal, try to pretend that the past doesn’t still sting. But he knows the effect he has on you. This is about watching, wanting and losing control. About a boy who doesn’t play fair, and you, who can’t help yourself.

PAIℛING ˖˙ ᰋ ── Campus BadBoy/Streamer ! Jungkook x F ! Reader

JJK MASTER LIST | W.C 5.8K | 𓊈 PART FI𝓥E𓊉 Things take an unexpected turn when you realize you don't know how love truly feels like. You're afraid, so running from it is your safest bet, you think. But a certain someone is willing to change everything to make you see you deserve all he can give you.

TAGS / WARNINGS ╋━ COLLEGE AU, some angst, toxic relationships, suggestive content, sexual tension, slow burn, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, some fluff, SMUT SMUT SMUT, virginity loss, unprotected p in v, slight impact play, hairpulling, dirty talking, use of pronouns for readers vjayjay, creampie, jungkook whines (yummy), sub & dom dynamics.

You moved out after a week.

It wasn’t dramatic. No slammed doors, or awkward goodbye at the threshold. Just a normal morning, your suitcase by the door with his hand lingering on the handle a second longer than necessary before letting it go.

Living with him had been.. strange. Not bad. Just strange in that way something becomes when it gets past the version of a person you thought you knew. You’d spent so long disliking Jungkook, or convincing yourself you did, that seeing him walk around his own apartment barefoot and half awake and pouty, making coffee for both of you without asking how you like it because he already knew, well, that was strange.

He’d been patient, softer than you expected. He never made you feel like you were in the way, even when you clearly were, with your things on his chair, your shampoo next to his in the shower, your presence folding into his routine like it had always belonged there.

You hadn’t known he could be that sweet.

And maybe that’s what unsettled you the most.

You found a place eventually. It’s far from campus, inconvenient enough that your mornings now start earlier and end later, but the bus ride long and quiet and gives you much time to think. Alas, it’s yours, small, slightly outdated, and a little lonely. Still, it feels safer that way.

Distance helps.

Or at least that’s what you tell yourself when you start taking different hallways between classes. When you stay in the library longer than necessary, when you spot him across the courtyard and pretend you’re suddenly so very interested in your phone.

You’re not avoiding him in any obvious way. If anyone asked, you’d deny it. But your body betrays you though, the way your shoulders tense when you hear his laugh somewhere behind you, the way your pulse spikes if you think he might call out your name.

Because what you feel now isn’t so simple. Not anymore at least. Or maybe it never was.

It’s there when you wake up and there again when you’re trying to fall asleep. It’s there in the memory of everything he has ever done and said.

You don’t trust it. You don’t trust yourself with it. You don't trust him. So you put space between you and the possibility of it becoming something real. You’re careful, meticulously so.

The problem is that Jungkook notices everything.

He doesn’t confront you. Instead, he starts always appearing in the margins of your day, sitting a few rows behind you in lectures he never used to attend, waiting by the vending machines outside your building like he just happened to be there at the same time you were. It would almost feel coincidental if he didn’t look so aware when your eyes accidentally meet.

One afternoon, you’re halfway down the steps outside the humanities building when you hear him call out to you. He jogs the last few steps to catch up, slightly out of breath, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

"You’ve been hard to catch." he says, and there’s a faint smile there, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His eyes.. look tired. He looks tired.

"I’ve been around."

"Have you?" You hate that question. Hate that he asks it like he already knows the answer.

The bus pulls up across the street, and you’re grateful for the distraction. "I need to go, Jungkook." you say, adjusting the strap on your shoulder.

He glances at the bus, then back at you. "That’s the earlier one."

"So?"

"You don't take that one." He says them without accusation, almost curious, but it feels like he’s peeling something back layer by layer.

You force a shrug. "Schedules change."

"Right."

He steps back then, giving you room to pass, but not before his hand brushes yours. Your body reacts instantly, heat flashing through you in a way that makes you angry at yourself.

Another day, you find yourself in the a corner of the campus café, tucked behind a stack of books you’re only somewhat reading. The place smells like toasted bread and strong coffee, the buzzing of low conversations all around you. You tell yourself it’s to get work done, but really, it’s to avoid leaving and stepping outside, where he might just appear again.

You stir your coffee absently, watching steam curl in lazy patterns, pretending you’re absorbed in the textbook in front of you.

"You’re hard to find." a voice says.

Your head snaps up. Of course. There he is, leaning against the table, hands wrapped around a cup of black coffee, hair slightly damp from the drizzle outside.

"I’m.. busy." you shrug.

He steps closer. "Busy?" he repeats, tilting his head. "Or avoiding me?"

You force a brittle laugh. "Maybe a little of both."

"Yeah?" He moves a fraction closer, resting one elbow on the table beside your books. "I don’t know if I like that answer."

Your stomach flips. "Well, you’ll just have to get used to disappointment."

He smirks faintly, but it doesn’t hide the hurt in his gaze. "I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you." he says softly.

Your fingers tighten around your pen. You don’t look at him. You can’t. You want to, you want to feel the nearness of him without losing your composure.

"You should at least finish your coffee." he continues. "Don’t let it get cold just because you’re avoiding me."

You manage a small nod. "Thanks."

And just like that, the tiny bubble you’ve been floating in, your careful little world of avoidance, feels like it’s slowly cracking.

On a friday evening, you’re walking back to your apartment, umbrella barely doing its job against the rain that’s picked up. Your bag swings against your hip, a little heavier than usual, filled with books you probably won’t read tonight. You try to focus on the rhythm of your steps, the wet pavement glistening under the streetlights, anything to ignore the knot of thoughts curling in your chest.

"Hey."

You stop, heart stuttering. Right. He’s there again, just a few steps behind you. The street is mostly empty, the crowd has dispersed hours ago.

"Listen, I—" you start, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.

"No, I just.." He hesitates, takes a slow step closer. "I wanted to see if you were okay."

You glance up at him, want to say something mean, something to keep the distance you’ve been meticulously guarding, but the words die in your throat. "You don’t have to.. follow me.." you manage finally.

He chuckles softly. "I’m not following." he says. "I’m.. walking the same way. Coincidence."

You bite your lip, pretending to look down at your shoes. Coincidence or not, the proximity makes your stomach churn in a maddening way.

"Anyway." you say, trying to keep your tone light "I should get inside. It’s late."

He doesn’t move. His eyes catch yours, he's insistent. "You’ve been avoiding me." he says.

You shift your weight on your legs, cheeks warming, your hands now gripping the umbrella tighter. "I’m.. figuring things out."

He steps closer again. "We can stop pretending, you know." he murmurs. "Stop pretending that everything is normal. That what we feel, what I feel.. you can’t hide it forever."

You want to step back, but your feet feel rooted in the concrete. The drizzle falls in soft sheets around you, and for a moment, the street, the rain, the city, none of it exists except for the pretty sparkles in his eyes.

You swallow, forcing yourself to look away. "I— Don't know what you're talking about."

"Please stop. Look, I know I have been a jerk and me helping you up until now won't fix it all but, fuck— please, let me make it up to you, I can't—" He takes in a deep breath like he's about to start crying. "I can't stop thinking about you."

You blink, heart hammering so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. "I.. I don’t.." you start, voice trembling even though you’re trying to keep it steady. Your hands grip the umbrella so hard it feels like it might snap. "I can’t—this is.. everything’s too much right now."

He steps closer again."Bug.." he says softly, almost like a plea. "I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t. I’ve been trying to hide it for so long, and it’s not fair to either of us."

Your stomach twists, a mixture of fear, desire, and something you don’t really have the words for. "You—" you start, trying to think of something mean to say, but your voice falters.

He tilts his head slightly, giving you a small crooked smile that somehow makes your chest hurt more. "I’m not asking for anything crazy. I just.. I need you to know. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t like you."

The rain drips off your hair, onto your shoulders, onto your hands, and yet, somehow, it feels like the world has shrunk just to the two of you.

"Please let me do this. Give me a chance and I swear— I swear if I fuck up I'll leave you alone. Just.."

And your heart betrays you, answering before your mind can. You step closer, closing the last sliver of space, and the world falls silent, rain and city lights blurring into this one thing you've been wanting to do for one whole year.

Your hands find his shoulders, your body tilts into his, and the rain becomes applause around you as the kiss deepens. He sighs against your lips, in a mixture of relief and disbelief, and you cling to him just as desperately.

Jungkook pulls back, hands cupping your cold cheeks. "So is that a yes? Can I be your boyfriend?" He smiles a little shaky, still searching in your eyes. "You don’t have to say it out loud if you’re not ready.." he whispers, thumb brushing your cheek, wiping a stray drop of rain. "I just.. needed to know."

Your lips twitch into a nervous smile. "I think— Yeah. Yeah, I want that."

Relief floods his expression, and he pulls you close again, forehead resting against yours. "Thank you. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that." he admits.

You laugh softly, the tension of the past weeks melting just a little. "You’ve been so frustrating." you tease, hiding your blush behind a hand.

"Frustrating?" he echoes, eyes glinting, lips curving into a mischievous grin. "I’ve been patient. Very patient."

You shove him gently, laughing again despite yourself. "Yeah, yeah, very patient."

He leans down, resting his chin atop your head. "I don’t care how long it takes, or what I have to do. I just.. I don’t want to waste any more time." You squeeze him, heart full, rain soaking through both of you, but you don’t care. Not now, not ever.

"Let's go inside." You speak up. "You wanna stay over tonight?"

He chuckles softly, warmth brushing against your ear as he whispers, "If you want me to, I wouldn’t mind."

You shrug, trying to act casual, though your fingers are still entwined with his. "I mean— I guess we could. Just.. for tonight."

His grin spreads wider, a little triumphant, but gentle. "Just tonight, huh? Right."

You roll your eyes. "Let’s get out of the rain before we catch pneumonia." you say, tugging gently at his hand.

The days after feel unreal.

It’s strange. Funny.

You’ve spent so long fantasizing about this, about him. Late nights staring at the ceiling, replaying conversations, imagining how his hands would feel on you, how it would feel to finally be chosen. And now that you are it almost feels like you’re watching someone else’s life.

He’s different.

Or maybe he’s just finally honest. He waits for you outside your classes, brings you coffee without asking what you want because he already knows. He looks at you like he’s still scared you might disappear, like he can’t believe you said yes either.

And everything is good. Too good.

He kisses your temple. "You okay?"

You nod. "Yeah. I’m just.."

"Happy?" he finishes.

You smile. "Yeah."

You keep waiting for something to go wrong. For him to slip back into the version of himself you knew before. The mean one. The inconsistent one. The one who made you feel like you were always standing just outside the door of something you weren’t allowed into.

But he doesn’t.

He texts you first, calls you just to hear your voice, shows up when he says he will. When you’re walking together, he doesn’t walk ahead, he stays beside you, fingers brushing yours until they lace together naturally, like that’s always where they were meant to be. It is subtle, but it feels monumental for you. You catch yourself staring at him sometimes, almost confused. This is the same boy you spent so much time aching over. The same one you built entire daydreams around. And now he’s real. Your boyfriend.

You talk about small things, stupid things. What you’re cooking later, a show you both pretend not to like but still binge. He watches you when you speak, holds you when you cry. And you start relaxing, start believing maybe this is what it was always supposed to be.

──────────────

The days after you go public with him feel good, and calm in a way you’re not used to. You’re not anxious anymore.

Maybe the universe felt your were getting to comfortable. Too happy.

When an anonymous account messages you, you don’t expect anything serious. Probably a troll, someone bored.

There’s a video attached. You assume it’s spam, but you press play anyway.

The room is familiar, his old bedroom. The one he had before he moved, one you’d only seen in his lives when he had less than 100 viewers.

It was him and.. Your ex-best friend ?

It’s clearly from over a year ago. You can tell by her hair, by the furniture and by his voice. He had it deeper when he used to smoke.

God.

Technically, he didn’t do anything wrong. He wasn’t yours yet. But that doesn’t stop the way your heart genuinely hurts.

Because she knew. She knew you liked him, she knew you were in love with him, ahe was there when you cried about him, when you overanalyzed every interaction, when she told you to give him that note.

And she slept with him anyway.

She never told you.

Was she ever really your friend, or did she hate you from the beginning? Now you’re finding out from a fake account like some kind of punchline. Another message comes in.

"No secrets now, right?"

It’s not even about the timing, it’s more about the silence. About the fact that you built your courage to confess while she had already crossed that line. About the fact that she let you pour your heart out to him a year ago without ever mentioning that something had happened between them.

Maybe it was meaningless to him. But it wasn’t meaningless to you. You sit there staring at your phone, trying to sort out what you’re actually feeling. Jealousy? Yes. Hurt? Definitely. But deeper than that is humiliation.

You don’t know if you’re mad at him. You don’t know if you’re mad at her. You just know that something that felt solid a second ago now feels like fucking rot.

You can already hear him saying it meant nothing.

But if it meant nothing, why does it feel like everything to you right now?

He knows something’s wrong the second you stop answering.

You don’t text back. Don’t open his last message, don’t react to the stupid meme he sends an hour later just to get your attention.

By evening, he’s standing outside your apartment door with a small paper bag from that dessert place you love, the one where they make strawberry cream buns you always pretend are too sweet but eat five of anyway.

You almost don’t open the door, but he keeps knocking. Should you even hear him out?

"Please.." he says through it. "Just— I know you’re in there."

When you finally unlock it, your face gives you away instantly. His expression drops. "Hey. Hey, babe, what happened?"

You don’t answer. You just step back and let him in.

He sets the bag down on your counter slowly. "You didn’t answer me all day. I thought—" He stops, scanning your face. "Why have you been crying?"

You laugh, but it sounds wrong. "You’re really good at acting, you know that?"

His brows pull together. "What?"

"Whatever."

"Hey. Talk to me."

Something in you snaps so you shove your phone into his hands. "What is this?"

He frowns, confused, and looks down. You watch his face as the video plays. Confusion, then recognition, then something like shock.

"What the fuck—" He looks up at you. "Where did you get this?"

"So it’s real!" you choke out.

"Yes, it’s real, but— I don’t know when this was filmed. I swear to God I didn’t know she recorded this. I would never—"

"So you were cheating on Sydney with my best friend?" you shoot back, tears already spilling over.

"What? No. No. God, no. We weren’t together then. Me and her weren't together, ok? This was just— it was before anything. Before you gave me the note. Before all of that."

You shake your head, crying harder now. "You slept with her."

"Yes." he says, running a hand through his hair. "Yes. One night. I was drunk out of my mind. It meant nothing. I didn’t even know you two were friends. She never said anything."

"You didn’t tell me after you found out she was either."

He freezes.

"I poured my heart out to you a year ago." you say, your voice breaking. "Do you know how humiliating that feels now? To find out you’d already been with her? And neither of you said a word?"

"I didn’t think it mattered.." he says, and then immediately winces. "No, that sounds wrong. I mean— it didn’t mean anything to me. It was stupid. I was stupid."

You stare at him. "Is that why you rejected my note back then?"

His head snaps up. "No! No. That had nothing to do with it."

"Then why?" you demand. "Why were you so mean to me? Why did you act like I was embarrassing you? Why did you push me away for a year?"

Your voice cracks completely. "Do you know what that year was like for me? Watching you live your life. Watching you with other girls. Torturing myself. Imagining it was me. Touching myself thinking about you while you were out there fucking half the campus!"

He looks just stunned.

"Why?" you whisper. "Why were you so shitty to me, Jungkook?"

Something shifts in him then, the defensiveness drops and the frustration turns inward. He laughs once, but there is nothing amused about it.

"Because I loved you, okay?" You blink. "I’ve loved you since first year." he says, voice shaking now. "Before you tutored me. Before I got popular. Before any of that. And I didn’t know what to do—" He swallows. You stare at him like he’s speaking another language.

"I was broke, on probation. Barely passing. You were the smartest person in every room. I was the guy barely hanging on. I liked you so much it made me feel stupid. Small."

He steps closer to you.

"When you started tutoring me, I thought it was charity. I thought you pitied me. And I hated that I needed you. I hated that I liked needing you."

Your tears slow, but they don’t stop.

"So what?" you say. "So you decided to hurt me first?"

"I decided to push you away before you could see how messed up I was." he admits. "Before you realized I wasn’t good enough. I figured if I acted like I didn’t care, you’d stop looking at me like I mattered."

He rubs his face. "And when you gave me that note, I panicked. Because suddenly it was real. And I thought, if I take this and I mess it up, I lose you for good. So I told myself I was protecting you."

"By humiliating me?" you whisper.

"By keeping you away from someone who thought he’d ruin you." he says quietly.

Silence fills the room.

"And Sydney? My friend?" you ask.

He exhales sharply. "She was there. She was a distraction. And your friend.. I was drunk and angry and trying to prove to myself I didn’t care about you. That I could want someone else. It was stupid. It was empty. I left before she even woke up."

You study his face.

"I swear to you." he says, stepping closer but not touching you yet. "That night had nothing to do with rejecting you. I didn’t reject you because of her, or Sidney. I rejected you because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you."

You shake your head weakly. "You don’t get to decide that for me."

"I know." he says immediately. "Fuck— I know that now. I was insecure and selfish and a dick. That’s the truth."

The room feels smaller, you can barely breathe.

"I should have told you." he adds. "About her. Even if it was nothing. You deserved to know. I didn’t think it would ever come back. I didn’t think it mattered."

"It mattered to me." you say.

"I can see that." His voice softens. "I have never loved Sidney. I have never wanted her, or your friend. I have never looked at them the way I look at you. That year I kept my distance because I thought I was protecting you from me. And all I did was hurt you anyway."

He finally reaches for your hands. "If you want to walk away right now, I’ll let you." he says. "But don’t think for a second that I didn’t love you. I’ve loved you so long it scares me."

He’s bracing himself for you to leave. Instead, you grab him. You don’t think and you don’t let it cloud your head. Your hands fist in his shirt and you pull him down to you, crashing your mouth against his like you’re trying to erase every second of that lost year. The kiss is messy and desperate and wet with tears. You taste salt, you don’t even know if it’s yours or his.

He makes a broken sound against your lips. You push him back a step, then another, and then you’re kissing him again, harder, deeper, like you need to prove he’s real, you need to prove he’s yours now.

"I’m not walking away." you breathe against his mouth.

He pulls you up so suddenly you gasp, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. His hands are everywhere and you cling to him just as tightly.

He kisses you like he’s been starving.

He stumbles toward your bedroom, still holding you. You’re both crying and laughing at the same time, overwhelmed, and raw. Every kiss feels like relief and grief.

He lowers you onto the bed gently.

Your fingers tug at his shirt, and he pulls it off without breaking the kiss. His forehead rests against yours for a second, breathing hard.

"I was so stupid." he whispers.

"I know." you whisper back. But you’re smiling through tears.

He brushes your hair back from your face, hands softer now. His thumbs trace your cheeks where tears are still drying. "I love you." he says.

Jungkook kisses your mouth one more time before his lips drift lower. Your jaw, your throat. His hands move carefully.

His mouth brushes the sensitive skin beneath your ear and you shiver. He exhales softly against you, then presses another kiss there, slower this time.

You can feel his hands trembling slightly as they slide to the hem of your shirt.

He pushes it up inch by inch, watching your face the entire time. When the fabric slips over your head, he pauses and just looks at you awed.

"You’re so pretty, baby."

His fingers trace lightly down your collarbone, then lower, and his mouth follows with gentle kisses down to your chest, tongue circling one of your nipples, unhurried. Your hands slide into his hair.

His eyes lift to yours. You swallow. Your heart is beating so hard you’re sure he can feel it.

"I’ve never.. done this before." you say softly.

You don’t have to spell it out, he understands. Then, without breaking eye contact, he leans down again. His lips press to one of your breast. Lower.

His hands slide along your waist and he kisses down your stomach, achingly slow, his eyes lifting occasionally to meet yours

"I’m not going to hurt you." he murmurs, placing soft kisses above your bellybutton.

"Jungkook, I need—" you shy away, not quite believing any of this is real. suddenly you're fully naked, with him between your legs, and you try your best to keep quiet, you really do, but god, was he great at what he was doing.

You swallow back a few moans, his digits finally making their way inside of your gummy walls. What a strange feeling, you think.

"Okay?" he asks and you nod rapidly while you look him in his big puppy dog eyes.

He eats at you like he's been starving for years, his hair all messy from you pulling on it and cheeks rosy like cherry blossoms. For a moment it looks like you swapped places, with how flustered he seems.

You feel yourself tighten around his digits, that familiar heat crawling up your legs, but he pulls away and you instinctively whine.

"Want you to come on my dick." Jungkook says, like it's the most casual thing ever. You nod, nipping at your lower lip while he places your thighs on either side of his hips. He leans down prepping a few gentle kisses all over your hot skin, whispering sweet words like he can feel how nervous you are.

"Just tell me if anything feels wrong and I'll sto—"

"Oh, god, Jungkook, just f—uck me!" you hiccup and he can't believe his ears.

"Oh— Yes, ma'am." He laughs, shaking his head. "Dirty girl." In no time he's completely naked too, pants discarded somewhere far into the room, and you'd lie if you said you weren't a bit scared.

The rumors were, in fact, true. But maybe it won't hurt half as much if you think of something else while he slowly stretches you out. You feel like maybe you should look away, like when you're getting a shot and you don't want to see the needle because it'll hurt less. Yeah, that feels like a good analogy.

But your mind stops conjuring any semblance of thought when he finally pushes in, slowly. By the time half of his cock is inside of you, you're a mess. His hands slide lower, fingers brushing places that make you shudder uncontrollably, and the tension inside you snaps tighter. "Look at me." He orders, and you can't help but listen. With teary eyes you look up at him and it makes this moment feel even more unreal.

"You're so cute like this." Jungkook smiles, his bunny teeth never giving up the filth he hid in those words. "I didn’t even start properly and you're already fucked out."

Your chest is rising fast, your lips are parted, your eyes are wide and dark and needy. He exhales out and bottoms out, the stretch so deliciously painful.

"God, you're tight." His hand slides up your waist, over your ribs, thumb brushing just beneath your breast. "I'm sorry if it hurts. Promise it'll feel good soon." And with that he starts moving with a slow pace, your pussy practically crying around him.

His jaw tightens slightly, like he’s holding himself back. Then he shifts closer, elbows now on both sides of your head. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his hips and something in him snaps. "Oh, you're naughty." He laughs and snaps his hips harshly, once. You let out a soft cry, burying your face in his tattooed shoulder.

"You wrap your legs around me like that again." he whispers. "And I’m not promising I’ll stay gentle."

Your stomach flips yet you tighten your legs just slightly in response. He exhales sharply through his nose. "You’re trouble."

Finally he starts moving again slowly, slowly, this feeling so strangely addicting. You don't think you've ever been this wet. He hold himself up with one elbow then with his free hand spreads your thighs wider apart, his hips angling a tad and you see stars.

Long moans slip past your lips, brows furrowed as you're trying to make sense of this new feeling.

"I know baby, I know.." He tuts, hips snapping down harsher with each thrust. He watches your face carefully, the way your brows pinch together, the way your lips part around those breathless sounds you can’t seem to control.

Your fingers dig into his shoulder, nails pressing into inked skin as another wave rolls through you. "Oh— Jungkook..."

You force your eyes open. They’re glossy, unfocused for a second before settling on him.

"That’s it. There's my girl." His moves come down with more force, bullying your poor pussy, and you can feel his tip almost kissing your cervix. Each movement makes your body react faster, your breathing already uneven, your hips instinctively trying to meet him.

"Mhm."

Your hands slide into his hair, pulling him closer as the familiar feeling starts to twist into something addictive, you tighten around him. "Fuck— Don't do that, I don't wanna come yet." Jungkook laughs and looks away, a boyish smile now on his lips.

You whine, as you finally hear the lewd sounds your pussy made, squelching and wet. You felt so full.

Jungkook fucks into you harder and harder, the bed creaking whilst you let him take over you. He grabs your hips pushing himself even deeper into your cunt, groaning when you arch your back against the mattress, yout breasts perking up. "Fuck, baby, you're so pretty." He whines, and you can only moan back and cry as you feel your orgasm approaching. Desperately, you clench around his cock again, almost sending Jungkook into a frenzy.

"Gonna come?" he's stern and mocking with his words. "Hhhaㅡ y-yes, plea-se..." you don't know if you're crying because you feel too good or because of how long you've waited for this.

Jungkook almost loses himself, but he's steady with his movements. "Wanna come on my cock, hm? Isn’t that what you're begging for?" your pussy drips and wraps around him perfectly, you don't want it to end. And when you're almost there.. he stops. You whine in protest but you're quickly put back in your place with a firm tug of your hair. "Ass up." you comply. In a second, your back is facing him, red cheeks now hidden into your pillow. You try to balance yourself up with one arm, but he grabs you by the wrist.

"Spread." And you do just that, pulling at your flesh, like an auction, only it's you presenting your cunt for fucking. "Fuck, look at that.." Jungkook tuts, gathering some of your juices on his pulsing tip, dragging it up and down your puffy lips. "Pretty girl. She's crying for me, isn't she?" a string of fain 'yesyesyes' reaches his ear. He's quiet for a bit but the moment he pushes the tip inside you feel your knees buckle, all the strength you had left into your arms fading away. You fall face first into the mattres under you as Jungkook pushes down on your lower back until it hurts.

Your moans and that rhythmic plaplaplap fill the room, with the occasional slap to your ass interrupting them. Jungkook is strong and brutal, leaving you no room to breathe, and you're wondering where that gentle boy from a few minutes ago went.

"T-taking it so well, baby, so well.." your skin burns where he touched it, whole brain fuzzy and empty. "Pleasepleaseplease!" as the whole bed shakes and sways to his movements.

Your back arches as waves of pleasure break over your body like water on a shore. Your head was spinning, heart pounding, as his whole body dominated over yours. "That's it, take it." his thrusts are rough, each hit making your body bounce, the urgency as he hit that very spot each time got your whole insides burning, too cock drunk to talk or respond, other than some pathetic whines that perfectly accompanied the wet sounds your pussy made.

Eyes shot open when he roughly yanks your hair, your skin slapping against his being to only sound you can faintly make out in your dazed state. You let your whole body go in his grip, mouth slack as he takes out on you anything he might've been feeling. You were at his mercy, your moans irrefutable. Your stomach flips and churns as that unmistakable feeling pools again in your lower tummy, and you were chasing it, crying, from what, you didn't quite know. Maybe because you've never thought being fucked felt this good or maybe because it'll be over so soon.

The room was stuffy. "O-oh myㅡ god!" You yelp when Jungkook’s speed picks up. "Shitㅡ I gotta come, baby. Can I do it in you? huh?" You nod your head so, squeezing around him like a magic ring, and he rewards you with a slap to your ass. "What a slut." he laughs through breathy moans.

You're holding on for dear life, reaching for anything your fingers can grasp at this moment. You're sure the neighbors are having a blast listening to you getting fucked into oblivion. "That's it, baby, c'mon..." with a few more pumps his hips come to a halt, whole body trembling as he comes ropes inside of you.

Finally, you let go, bliss washing over you, the ringing in your ears covering the soft curses escaping Jungkook’s lips. Steadying himself, he pulls out, voice cracking as he speaks again. "Fuuck... baby, look at that." he smiles crooked, watching with wide eyes as his come drips out of you, cascading down to your thighs and onto the mattress.

You lick your lips, looking back and right up at him whilst spreading your legs wider. He chuckles "Wow, you're nasty. It's true what people say."

You frown, lips forming a pout. "What do you mean?"

"It's the quiet ones you really need to watch out for." He winks and you roll your eyes, trying your best to hide the growing warmth of your cheeks.

juniᧉsㅤ⁔ㅤ˚ㅤtagl𝒾stㅤׅㅤʚɞ → @mar-lo-pap @oopscoop @magicalnachocreator @lachimolalajeon @mniys @bjoriis @dotheharakiri @rabbittedd @ellushic @justanarchiveforfics @azxher @emmie2308 @yeongjii @tatamicc @songbyeonkim @magicshop96 @sadiayn @thebaratheonlion @nomadclairo @judesbitch @ttipa @jggui @cherricherryy @curiouslykeenvanguard @angeleclipsey

[juunieez]

Hi! I really enjoy your story. Do you happen to know when Chapter 5 might be uploaded?

( 💌. ) hello dear reader !! in less than an hour chapter 5 (the last part) will be up. it's been longer to upload because o wanted to let the other parts sit some more nd get discovered. so keep an eye out !

also , since WHEN YOURE WATCHING will officially be over this is the perfect time for you guys to request anything. <3

[juunieez]

222 of little angles agghhh thank u guys so much for being here. i will take this as a very very #lucky sign !! love u all so so much 🫶🏻🏹

[okhees-deactivated20260424]

ATTENTION!

❤︎ ’ 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘂𝗽 𝘀𝗲𝘅 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘅 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱

❪ 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 ❫ ˊᯅˋ ✶ 𝗲𝘅 𝗯𝗳! 𝘀𝗷𝘆 𝘅 𝗲𝘅 𝗴𝗳! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝟒𝟒𝟒 ✿⸻ 367! + doggy style, ass slapping, dirty talk, mention of heeseung! NON PROOF READ (18+)

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED (╥﹏╥)

you made it clear you’d never take him back, yet here he is—pounding into your ass as your hands grip the headboard tightly.  

“fuck, you’re such a good girl for me. taking me back even though you swore you wouldn’t.” jake’s hands grip your hips tightly, watching his cock disappear inside of you. 

“jake..” you whine. “slow down.” 

“you want me to slow down?” jake laughs. “i bet you weren’t telling heeseung to slowdown.” his hips slap against yours, the pace brutal. 

you couldn’t deny anything, you enjoyed the attention heeseung gave you. when jake found you, he was pissed. 

you both swore up and down you wouldn’t run off and try anything with anyone. jake wasn’t in your radar, not close in your orbit to know who you’d be seeing. 

it wasn’t a shocker that he found out, jake knows everything. 

so when he came to “apologize”, in reality he came to confront you about heeseung and remind you exactly who you belong to. 

you enjoyed every fucking second of it. 

“come on baby… admit it, you missed me.” jake’s palm slaps against yours ass, leaving a sting. “say it.”

“i missed you.” moans fall from your desperate lips, gripping the headboard with all the strength you’ve got. 

“good girl, and you won’t go back to heeseung right?” his hand reaches around your body, sliding in between your legs as jake rubs your clit slowly. 

you didn’t say anything, you knew it yourself you’d go back to heeseung as soon as jake was finished with you. 

“i said.. no more fucking heeseung?” jake removes his hand from your clit, giving you a second spank to your red asscheek. 

“i won’t. no more heeseung.” you cry out one final time, orgasm falling upon you. 

“that’s my girl.” jake watches as you fall onto the bed—stomach first. “you’re mine, okay?” he kisses your forehead sweetly. 

“okay..” you mumble softly, succumbing into slumber.

your eyes grew droopy. you watched as jake put his clothes back on. the jingle of his belt filled the room, followed by the zip of his jeans. your eyes closed before you could see him leave, leaving you alone once more in your tiny apartment. 

[juunieez]

hiii june would you be able to write a smutty yoongi something? i don’t have any specifics but i know im in good hands 😌

( 💌. ) omggg my first eva request yaaaaaayyy tysm for thisss i hope i did it justice. its pretty short but i hope you enjoy ♡

YOONGI x AFAB!Reader 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 , established relationship, dom yoongi, unprotected p in v.

The door clicks shut behind him before you even have a chance to greet him. You hear the snap of his jacket hitting the floor, the familiar grunt that tells you something’s off.

"Yoongi?" you ask cautious, because you know that tone.

He doesn’t answer at first. He stalks past the kitchen, hands tugging at his hair. You follow quietly, leaning against the doorframe of the dining room.

"You’re home late." you say softly, but there’s a smirk in your voice. "Long night at the studio?"

"Don’t start." he snaps, voice rougher than you expected. His gaze finds yours dark, and you feel it physically burn you. "Nothing went right tonight."

You step closer, letting your fingers brush his arm. "Then let me help."

His eyes narrow, and the tension in his shoulders softens just slightly. Yoongi huffs, leaning down until his forehead touches yours, his hands are on you, pulling you flush against him, lips brushing yours with a barely controlled force.

"You fucking vixen." he growls, lips moving to your neck. You shiver at the sound, and at the way his lips move marking you as his without hesitation. You melt into it, letting him take over, letting him release everything he’s been holding back.

You push closer, hands tangling in his hair, breath coming faster. "Oh— my god." He wastes no time undressing you, your naked chest now flush with the cold marble counter in the kitchen. You hear little metal clinks as he undoes his pants.

"Hands. Back." And you obey, crossing your wrists behind your back before he wraps them tightly in his leather belt. "Good girl."

He leans closer, lips brushing over your shoulder, down the curve of your neck, each kiss pressing heat into your cold skin. You’re taut, shivering under each touch. "Keep still.." he murmurs, fingers ghosting over your clothed pussy, testing. His body presses into yours from behind, and you can feel how hard he is.

You feel him slide against you, then friction then makes you clench around nothing. "God, you’re so fucking good for me.." he groans, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp, before pulling your wet panties to the side and pushing his leaking tip inside your dripping hole.

"Yoongi—" you choke back a sob from the sudden stretch.

"Shh." he hisses in your ear, one hand leaving your bound wrists to cup your jaw, tilt your head, exposing your throat. His lips brush over it again as he buries himself deeper and deeper. "You're so wet, pretty. Been waiting for this all day, I bet?"

You can only nod shamelessly, hips pushing back to meet his. "Oh, you're greedy, are you?" His pace picks up, harder, faster, each motion sharp, claiming. The cold marble against your chest contrasts with the heat pooling between your legs and tummy.

"You feel that?" He asks while pushing down on your lower belly. Your moans fill the kitchen, small and helpless against him.

"God.. so tight." he moans, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. The sound makes your knees weak, hips tilting instinctively.

A low growl vibrates from his throat, chest pressing fully against your back. "Don’t stop." he whispers, hand sliding down your side, fingers tracing a line over the creamy liquid that’s pooling between you. "Move your hips." And you do just that, rolling your hips against him, as his length stretches you more and more. "Ah.. Yoongi—" a soft whine slips past your lips.

"Shh." he rasps, lips brushing the side of your neck. "Good.. just like that." His hips drive harder, as he guides yours, and your thighs tremble under the feeling.

"You’re close?" he whispers, voice harsh, teeth biting at your shoulder as you desperately clutch your fists behind you. "Let go for me."

You gasp, nodding, hips rolling instinctively, shaking against him, every nerve on fire. His hands tighten on your hips, thumbs pressing into your sides, guiding you, keeping you flush against his cock as the tension coils impossibly higher.

"That’s it." he says again. "Shit— just like that."

Your breath comes in ragged pants, small moans and whimpers spilling out, and he says your name softly, every thrust consuming, until the ache in your belly twists tighter, unbearable and delicious all at once.

"I-Inside— please come inside, Yoongi, please.." You plead through little sobs and you hear him let out a soft laugh. "Yeah? Do you deserve it?"

You nod desperately, hips pressing up, scrambling under him. "Yes.. please!"

A low laugh rumbles from his chest, vibrating through you. "Fuck.. always so eager." His hands tighten on the back of your neck, guiding you as he pulls back just fully before thrusting in again. You feel your juices overflowing and dripping down your legs that are barely holding you up anymore.

You whine, breath hitching, small whimpers spilling past your puffy lips. "Hah, Yoongi— I’m—" Your words break, lost in the sensation.

"Right there?" he asks, mocking. You cry out, small and desperate. "Ask me. Ask me again—" You can feel the shake in his voice.

"P—lease fill me up, Yoongi." You gasp, shuddering against him. "Fuck.." he growls, feeling you let go beneath him, hands tightening on the back of your head as your pussy clenches around him, warm slick dripping around his cock. He pushes your face into the counter, movements quickening one last time, relentless, until he shudders, chest pressing into your back, as he starts spilling his come into your heat with ragged breaths.

Your legs shake as you start to feel impossibly full. "Shh.." he tuts, voice softening, hips pulling back a bit. "Good girl.. that’s it, look at that." He sounds proud as he sees the state your pussy is in, all puffy and slick with his cum.

"Are you still angry?" You finally ask, small. You tilt your head back slightly, lips parting, trying to catch your breath.

Yoongi lands a small slap on your ass. "I might need to fuck you again to figure that out."

You rest your cheek against the cold marble, eyes half closed, smiling, and he presses a light kiss to the crown of your head.

[juunieez]

guysh if i were to start posting stuff on wattpad.. would u all read it ?? i feel like some fics in longer format and with more parts are easier to read on there soo.. lmk !!!! BTW DONT FORGET TO REQUEST STUFF GUYSSS PLS MAKE ME WRITEEEEE ♡

[yinyjw]

𓍢 ⋆📖⊹ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ you are reading: midnight release

mmafighter! ni-ki x f.reader (niki has tatts and an eyebrow piercing yay, smut +18, mdni)

"being the personal agent of an mma fighter at the beginning of his career isn't easy, especially when he's dealing with so much pressure. what about giving him a little help?" wc: 6.7k author's notes: writing this was intense, to say the least. this is probably the smuttiest smut ive ever written in my life so far... yeah. so i really hope u guys can enjoy. im so ashamed to list some songs i heard while baking ts but here we go> altitude by montell fish, in for it by tory lanez, all mine by plaza, needed me by rihanna (ENOUGH)! i reread it like 3x but its probably full of liddol mistakes sorry T_T anywaysss good reading!!! ALSO PLZ HAVE IN MIND THAT ONE SCENE FROM 'RIVALS' WHERE ART PLACES HIS HEAD ON TASHIS LAP AND LOOKS UP thats very important for references! tw: english is not my first language!!!, anger issues, violence (not towards the reader), reader is a little older, mma terms (few), mentions of blood and cuts, use of yn and noona, lowercase writing, some romaji (dont come at me riki talking in his mother tongue is so sexey), massive manhandling, massive size difference (yeepyy), dirty talk, oral (f. rec), clit play, nipple play, pussy slaps (FAH-), different positions, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it duh), multiple orgasms, belly bulge, coming inside, edging, praising LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT ANY!

the shrill sound of bells ringing signaled the end of the final round! on one side a boy slumped, hunched over, eyes unfocused, without any strength left, on the other niki, as everyone called him; a thin trickle of blood ran from his brow down to his chin where it dripped and stained the rubberized floor, but the adrenaline simply kept him from caring.

the central referee approached, pulling him by the shoulder and raising his arm, victorious. he smiled tiredly, showing off his mouthguard covered in diamond patterns and looking around.

the arena went wild.

nishimura was the sensation of the moment, pointed out by several articles as the 'future of mma', he was only 20 years old, but had a great thirst for victory. banners were raised in celebration and you, the boy’s agent, stood outside clapping and shouting encouragement. with that result he could finally earn better sponsors, and climb quite a bit in the rankings. the team gradually gathered, some hugging, others greeting each other as they exchanged congratulations...

that is... until the announcer drew everyone’s attention again.

"wait, what’s this? it looks like the jury panel are signaling to the referee! they’re checking the footage from the second round!", the celebration was interrupted.

quickly the feeling of excitement was replaced by one that made the heart race just as much; anxiety. you hurried over as well, alongside your boy who stepped down from the octagon with his eyes widening, not understanding. "what’s going on? i won, didn’t i?", he asked hoarsely and breathless after removing the mouthguard. his sweaty, heated body slowly beginning to feel the thermal shock from the venue’s air conditioning.

the arena fell into complete silence as the commentators explained the situation and the replay was shown on the big screens.

the two of you came closer to the panel where they analyzed the monitors. on each screen, different timings of the replay showed riki being pressed against the fence. to avoid being taken down, his fingers, by instinct, curled into the gaps of the wire mesh, pulling it to regain balance. it was a half-second movement and enough for the judges to change the score.

"ladies and gentlemen, we have an unbelievable turn of events! confirmed! violation for holding the fence in the second round. the judges are deducting one point from fighter nishimura. with that, the final score that would have been 29-28 in favor of the japanese fighter now becomes 28-28. we have a majority draw!"

the suspense in the arena, however, was not broken by any of the spectators - who were still trying to understand how something like that could nullify such an overwhelming victory - but instead by the opposing coach, who let out a mocking laugh, intentionally commenting out loud that the prodigy was just another cheater.

and he got exactly what he expected. it was the perfect trigger. within seconds riki had him by the collar, gripping him - to the point his knuckles turned white - eyes locked, nostrils flared, asking over and over if the man would repeat that to his face and saying they could settle his discomfort in a more direct way. the grip was so tight that the tape wrapped around his fingers snapped and the other man’s shirt collar stretched loose.

the scene played before your eyes like slow motion.

when you first met the boy, it was during one of the sponsor visits to the gym where he trained. the group had asked the boys to organize among themselves to fight and show their best. the matches would all be balanced and everyone knew each other, without exception. there was only one problem, none of the others wanted to fight him.

at first, he was just another quiet dude, head down, lip bruised in a familiar way, but as the eliminations went on, riki grew more and more intimidating, more aggressive and out of control. it was in the final bout when he wouldn’t stop hitting even as his teammate tapped the floor in surrender that your superior decided to call him to sign an exclusive contract. he was young, very strong, a bit unbalanced, but your boss believed that with some guidance from a personal agent he could achieve great results; in other words, he was willing to turn riki into his fighting dog and profit enormously from him.

members of both teams moved to pull them from each other, the man raising his hands as if surrendering, reinforcing the blond’s image of being unstable. the head coach grabbed riki by the shoulders, dragging him away toward the locker rooms, and you threw a towel so they could cover his face while passing through the press and the crowd gathering at the exits.

the previous silence now gone, shouts, questions, the sound of camera flashes, commentators once again discussing the fight and technical mistakes that had already proven fatal in other mma moments. you refrained from answering any reporters, leaving the arena with the rest of the team.

"that was quite a reaction from little niki, don’t you think?", one commentator remarked, triggering laughter from the other two. "i think he needs to learn a thing or two about temperament before trying to climb the rankings."

***

as soon as you finally entered the room, the first thing you saw was nishimura throwing his gloves away, hard and far, then moving to kick the coffee table - and the decorations on top of it - and punching the nearest drywall. the blond’s voice came out like an angry growl as he cursed in his native language.

the coach wore an expression of someone not surprised by the reaction and who would do nothing to stop it, the cutman didn’t even dare suggest cleaning the open cut on the boy’s eyebrow, everyone grabbing their gear and leaving the ticking time bomb to you. "see you at the meeting" the last one said on his way out, and you gave a faint smile, arms crossed, waiting for riki to sit on the couch before approaching him.

the boy dropped onto the narrow black leather sofa and held his head with both hands, elbows resting on his knees, staring down.

"have you calmed down a bit? you know i’m not coming near you while you’re like this, right?" your voice was low, calm, restrained.

there was no answer, but he didn’t move anymore either, just tapping his bare foot repeatedly against the floor, anxious, impatient.

you picked up the hoodie he had brought in his bag and carried it over to him, sitting beside him and extending the change of clothes. "get changed, i’ll tell the driver to wait for us at the back entrance" you said. riki snatched the item from your hands, clicking his tongue as he stood up to put them on.

the exchange of messages on your phone was brief, everyone was always on standby on competition days. and it was obvious you would play dumb about all the adjacent messages the sponsor had already sent you, at least for now. truthfully, you weren’t in a much better position than the fighter, it was your first real job, and you were still in your early twenties; it wasn’t as if you inspired much respect from the man who paid a large portion of your salary.

riki finished dressing and put on sunglasses, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and walking out behind you.

if you were good at playing dumb with the agency’s demands, he was good at pretending the media didn’t exist. he didn’t stop to answer invasive questions or even the reasonable ones, didn’t smile, and didn’t step aside, which resulted in several shoulders being bumped. the young man slid into the back seat of the car and slammed the door shut while you once again declined interviews and blocked one of the cameras pressed against the window trying to film and photograph through the tinted glass, before walking around and getting in on the other side.

"where to?"

"let’s head back to the apartment. you’re off after that, aj."

"thank you, ma'am."

the ride inside the vehicle was suffocating. the low volume of the radio did nothing to ease the tension. riki stared out the window, but his aura radiated a state of nerves that made your skin prickle; it was almost as if his anger wasn’t limited to the mistake he had made or the opponent’s provocation, but to everyone who had witnessed it… everyone who had been there during his humiliation, especially you.

***

the door opened after you entered the code into the digital lock. nishimura walked in, still head down, without saying a word since the arena. he tossed his backpack somewhere in the living room and went straight to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. you sighed and headed to the kitchen, getting some water for yourself and leaning against the counter before returning one of the many calls you had received.

"yes, yes, he’s aware of the rules. he has been training, yes" you replied unenthusiastically. "i understand the frustration, sir, i understand about the sponsorships as well, but it was a technical mistake and-, i’ll handle it".

your exact role as niki’s agent was to manage his career, the bureaucratic and unbearable part, the marketing, what he posted on instagram or what he absolutely could not post. however, from the very first day, you had both been placed to share an apartment, and so your extra function became that of a full-time babysitter.

you grocery shopped together, bought clothes, you were the one who received his deliveries, you were the one the boy talked to about trivial things and the more complicated feelings, it was you he called to watch a movie or try a new recipe, to watch him play some game he liked, or simply sit in the same space doing nothing. in short, the closest person he had since the contract.

you knew about his explosive temper, knew about the heavy armor he hid behind when things didn’t go his way, knew about the distance from his family… you also knew he was always in a good mood when he had natto for breakfast, that he loved playing basketball on the court of the apartments complex, and that he preferred handheld consoles over computer games.

riki was young, even younger than you. carrying the weight of thousands of people’s expectations on his shoulders. he needed to perform well, he needed to qualify, climb the rankings, win… he needed to be “the niki” people admired. there was no room to be anything else.

you answered a few more emails and put your phone on silent, not intending to respond to anything else. you finished your water and turned around, leaning back against the marble counter as you opened the delivery app. if you ordered his favorite food, maybe you could sit down and talk for a bit.

you ordered from the restaurant you were already used to. rice balls, ramen, some grilled meat, and a taiyaki for dessert.

you left your phone there and went to the bathroom, grabbing a first aid kit from the cabinet before heading to his room. you knocked once, calling softly, and on the second try you noticed the door wasn’t locked. when you stepped inside, riki was finishing putting on a pair of jeans, the fresh scent mixing with his woody cologne, his broad back still dotted with droplets of water running down, making it clear he had just come out of the shower.

"are you going out? i just ordered food" leaning against the doorframe, watching him.

"not in the mood" he answered dryly, sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his sneakers.

"you should at least take care of your cut first," you said simply, receiving a faint side smile as a response; meaning: he wouldn’t. "i see" you concluded. "well, don’t do anything you’ll regret later" you added before stepping away from the doorway.

that was new.

he usually stayed quiet for a while after one of his outbursts, but he always preferred staying home, specifically in his room. you thought maybe he just needed some air, or a change of scenery. so you didn’t insist. truthfully, you didn’t have the energy to either, since the situation was awful for everyone.

you walked to the living room and dropped onto the couch, burying your face into the cushions. you always felt like screaming whenever things slipped out of control, but you never did, always wanting to set an example for him. you always chose to put on headphones or take an extra long hot shower, but never to physically release your feelings, even though you were fully aware it would probably be far more effective.

"have fun-" you were cut off by the loud sound of the front door slamming shut as he rushed out. "okay…"

***

neon lights sliced through the room in shades of blue and violet, but to riki, everything looked monochrome. the loud music pounded against his temples, as if the dj himself were there hammering at his skull, competing with the relentless echo of those infernal bells from the octagon and the commentators’ laughter that wouldn’t leave his head. the drink in his hand had already gone warm, the melted ice watering down the liquor he barely felt like swallowing whenever he brought it to his lips.

in front of him stood a pretty girl whose name he had already forgotten three times. her lips moved animatedly. it was something irrelevant, maybe about a party or someone they both knew, but to him it sounded as interesting as an ant crossing the asphalt.

riki was there, but his mind was elsewhere.

he was back in the arena, replaying moments from the fight and searching for some way he could have avoided the penalty. he was in the locker room, under his team’s eyes once again forced to endure his loss of control. and finally, he was at the apartment. more specifically, on the expression you made. that tired look, the low voice trying to be his safe harbor even when he acted like an animal. the way you held the first aid kit, ready to care for a cut he couldn’t even feel, but that you seemed determined to heal with all the patience in the world.

he felt a familiar tightness in his chest. the boy hated not being in control. hated the contract that bound him, hated having started at the top without being ready for the fall, and hated, above all, that the only person he truly wanted to scream at, cry with, or simply exist beside in silence was the same person who had to be his professional "babysitter".

it was maddening. how could they expect him to keep his hands off you when you were the one who picked up his pieces every single time? it infuriated him that that damn phone was always between you, reminding him that you were paid to be there. he wanted you there because you wanted to be, not because some old man could fire you if you weren’t.

"hey, are you even listening to me?"

the girl’s hand touching his arm felt like an unwanted electric shock. he blinked, dragged back into the suffocating reality of the bar. he looked at her fingers against his skin and felt an immediate recoil; it wasn’t the touch he wanted. it didn’t carry the soft perfume you wore, nor was it firm and subtle like yours.

he forced an awkward smile, the kind he used for cameras when he wanted to be left alone.

"i need to go" he muttered, his voice rough from disuse.

the girl parted her lips, confused about what reason he could possibly have. he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, an automatic gesture from someone whose body was already turned toward the exit. he stepped away from the table, ignoring the protest forming at the tip of her tongue, and pushed through the crowd.

***

the ride back was a thin line between unease and regret. as soon as riki stepped out of the bar, the icy dawn breeze hit his face like a bucket of cold water, but what truly chilled him was the phone screen: zero notifications.

usually, when he stayed out past two in the morning, there was always a message from you. a sarcastic "did you get lost on the way?" or a picture of the tv paused on a movie you both liked, a silent invitation for him to return. the absence made the knot already tight in his throat feel like it had turned into a sailor’s knot.

as if conditioned by that emptiness, he climbed onto his bike and started the engine. the machine’s growl echoed through the street, and as he accelerated, the streetlights blurred into dotted streaks along the horizon. the building’s automatic gate seemed to take forever to rise, every inch of metal dragging upward while the boy’s leg bounced anxiously against the pedal.

he entered the apartment abruptly, the beep of the digital lock cutting through the air. the living room lights were low, casting long, cozy shadows. spotify was still connected, playing a soft instrumental that filled the silence, and on the table, a few beer cans showed that you had tried, in your own way, to cope with the night’s frustration.

nishimura stopped. a small smile appeared when he saw you there, curled up among the couch cushions. you were dozing, one hand beside your head, the other resting on your stomach, now exposed where your shirt had ridden up slightly in your sleep. so serene and unguarded, so different from the composed posture you always carried, the one he knew was exhausting.

he approached slowly, kneeling on the rug to be at your level. the scent of your perfume mixed with the familiar air completely disarmed him. with rough, calloused fingers, he reached out and brushed your cheek in an almost imperceptible caress.

"i’m sorry" he whispered. his deep voice came out unsteady, heavy with everything he hadn’t managed to say before.

the warmth of his touch and the sound of his voice stirred you awake. your eyes opened slowly, focusing on the japanese boy watching you with an intensity you rarely saw.

"i thought i’d have to put your face on a ‘missing’ poster" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep, a gentle tease to break the tension.

that drew a genuine smile from him, the first of the night to reach his eyes, but the movement pulled at the skin of his brow. he hissed softly through his teeth, bringing his fingers to the cut he had ignored the entire time. the sting finally caught up with him.

you sat up. gently, you held his face, guiding riki’s head down until it rested in your lap. he didn’t resist; on the contrary, he let his full weight sink, eyes closing as he felt your small, soft hands steadying him. "let’s take care of this, hm?" you said quietly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

there it was, the tenderness riki had never learned how to receive, yet desperately craved. the softness of your skin against his, the comfort of someone who shared none of his blood. closer, and impossibly out of reach. he simply nodded, his chest falling with a long, deeply held sigh.

***

the taller one sat on the closed toilet lid while you remained standing between his legs. the kit with bandages, alcohol, cotton, and healing ointment lay open on the bathroom sink. with one hand, you held his chin, keeping it lifted. dark, sharp eyes watched you the entire time, warm, steady breaths brushing against the back of your hand or your wrist whenever you pressed the alcohol-soaked cotton to the wound that was beginning to form a thin scab.

"you’re probably the most stubborn person i know, you know that?" you teased, but he simply nodded, his focus completely fixed on you. "good… because if that cut gets infected, you’ll have to take out your piercing…"

riki would listen to you talk for hours, even if it was just to complain about him and his reckless actions. he watched your lips, your eyes, your lashes fluttering softly, your neck, your collarbones, your smooth skin that mocked him and the desires hidden behind every swallow of his throat. he wasn’t much of a talker on his own, but when he was with you, it felt like a sport, and he would watch every season where you were the main objective.

"noona…" he called.

"shh… this is going to sting a little, i’m going to spray the antiseptic…"

"yn…" he insisted, lifting his hands to your wrists, holding them so you would look back at him.

"yes, i’m listening…" you looked down and found a different expression on his face. it wasn’t anger, nor that neutral mask he wore when he didn’t want to be bothered, nor even the guilty look of a scolded puppy. he looked feverish, eyes shining with something uncertain that made your heart skip a beat. you were about to ask if he was feeling alright, but your words vanished when riki buried his face against your chest.

"niki…"

"no… not like that…" he muttered, shifting slightly.

"riki…" you ran your fingers through his soft hair in a half-caress, noticing as he lifted his face just enough to stare up at you. "what are you-"

"don’t ask questions you already know the answer to" his large hands slid higher, fingers intertwining with yours.

"we’ve already talked about this…"

"have we?" he challenged, and you pressed your lips together.

"it’s in the contract"

"i don’t care…" he said, leaning into you again, inhaling deeply, absorbing your scent before turning his face, rubbing softly as if seeking comfort. "i need you"

"i’m here…"

"you don’t understand…" his voice vibrated against you, the familiar growl surfacing as his nerves tightened. "i’m at my limit"

he pulled back once more, looking at you.

"i understand how things work now. i understand the road is long, that i’m still a rookie, that i’m not as good as the journals say…" his grip tightened around your fingers, not to hurt. "but this contract… i can’t do it anymore. honestly, i don’t give a damn about it. and i’m so tired of denying… denying that i need you. not as a caretaker who organizes my schedule, but as a woman… my woman"

your cheeks burned, the air suddenly too thin in your lungs. but he didn’t stop. his gaze dropped, intense, almost obsessive.

"you think i don’t notice? the way you bite the end of that pen while frowning at my planner? the way you straighten your posture and hold your elbows when you’re nervous?" he shook his head, as if the confession itself exhausted him. "i tried… i tried going out with other girls, tried feeling anything that wasn’t the same indifference i feel with paparazzi… but it doesn’t work. none of them are you". he let out a soft breath of a laugh. "i know i’m terrible with feelings, i can’t even explain them properly, but this…" he guided your joined hands to his chest, where his heart pounded like a caged beast. "this is clear to me"

the heat radiating from him felt overwhelming. your fingers burned, the bathroom air thickened, your vision blurred. you tried to pull away, clumsy, attempting to free yourself.

but riki’s reflexes were too quick.

before you could reach the doorknob, he rose, strong arms circling your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his broad, heated chest. the contact was immediate, his jeans against your hips, his lips near your ear.

"running away? pretending your heart isn’t racing just like mine?" he pressed a slow, damp kiss beneath your ear, making you shiver. "tell me… do you really feel nothing? you really don’t want me at all?"

to seal the fate of that night, riki turned you gently yet firmly toward the large bathroom mirror. the reflection revealed the stark contrast. You, flushed, breathless, held against his solid frame. his hands slid upward, palms exploring the lines of your body, one circling your neck, the other lifting your chin.

"look at us…" he commanded, his face close to yours. "tell me i’m the only one who’s lost control… tell me you don’t want me too…"

***

the confined space made everything feel claustrophobic. your mind swirled with emotions, yet none of them involved denying that you wanted him too. how many times had you caught yourself watching his sharp profile, his jawline, his perfect lips, his sweat-slicked torso, muscles tightening at the gym or during training. it was impossible not to notice. and like a switch flipping, you turned toward him, hands framing his face as you pulled him down into a kiss.

the boy was surprised for exactly one second before responding with enthusiasm. the kiss was a collision. the way your mouths clung together, lips crushing, your slender fingers sliding up to the back of his neck. riki sniffed softly, almost in relief, bending further over you, craving more contact. one of his hands braced against the mirror, the other slid down to your thigh, gripping firmly as he pulled you closer.

he lifted you, setting you onto the cold marble counter, drawing a heavy gasp from you. the walls seemed to close in around you both, the tension far too thick to stay contained there. riki held you with ridiculous ease, stumbling through the doorway with you toward the living room, never breaking the kiss for even a second.

he dropped you onto the couch possessively and, in one fluid, impatient motion, crossed his arms to pull his shirt off, tossing it somewhere without care.

you parted your lips, breath uneven, eyes roaming over his sculpted torso, the tattoo trailing along his ribs. your senses blurred, and you couldn’t help it, the tip of your tongue slipped out, wetting your lower lip as you devoured him with your gaze.

riki smirked before kneeling again, hands gripping your hips as he pulled you to the edge of the couch. he didn’t need to ask for help; your fingers were already at your jeans, undoing them so he could slide the fabric down and off you.

"damn…" his eyes swept over your thighs, quick, hungry, hands roaming shamelessly. he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, turning his head to bite and suck, leaving a reddening mark.

"you are going to eat me out?" your voice came out slow, breathless.

"eat you out?" he looked up at you, tongue tracing a heated path along your inner thigh. "i’m going to devour you…"

your body arched in impulse... the shame was there, yes, but it was what turned you on the most. the shame, the fact that this would fuck up any professional relationship you had. but, when his hot tongue touched your covered pussy a spark ran through your body, making a whimper escape you and your worries evaporate. nishimura shook his head, laughing softly and repeating the act, only soaking the already messy fabric further; bordering on transparency.

thick fingers hooked into the waistband of your undies and he didn't take it off, he just pulled until the fabric tore, revealing your sex flushed and glistening with lubrication.

riki lowered his mouth, opening wide enough to take you all in. his tongue spread out, licking deep from bottom to top. his eyes closed so he could concentrate, his nose also burying itself, brushing against your clit every time his head went back and forth to lick you. he didn't need to breathe that much.

you watched as he dived in there, his puffy lips sucking your folds, before he took his thumb to your bundle of nerves to finger you there, horizontal and circular motions, alternating. you threw your head back when he penetrated you with the damp muscle, taking it in and out making your hips lift in small jolts from the force he put into it.

"hnng i-... riki!", you tried to warn the younger one.

"mhmm?", his voice muffled as he squeezed your pussy between his index finger and thumb, like a sandwich, and turned his face to engulf all the sensitive flesh munching. he didn't make it easy, furrowing his brow when your thighs tried to close and holding you spread open for him.

the blonde enclosed your clit again, sucking greedily, fingering your entrance which pulsed non-stop now, indicating you were on the edge. he held the nub between his lips and used his tongue to lick fast, looking up at you again just so he wouldn't miss the exact moment your eyes rolled back.

your fingers tangled in his hair pulling him down as you came, grinding against his mouth through the whole orgasm. he let out a needy groan feeling your fluids wet his chin and yet he didn't stop, continuing to lick with will even as your legs shook, completely inebriated.

"give me one more, please, please...", he asked coaxingly, not giving you time to think of protests before pressing his mouth to your pussy again, this time taking a finger to the entrance and shoving it to the base... he curved it inside and heard you practically meow, loving how you sounded for him. "can do it for me?". it didn't take long for him to find the spongy part that made you see stars when he pressed it. he added another digit leaving you full just with them, making a curved back-and-forth motion that hit all the spots you needed most.

at this point your restless hands squeezed your own breasts over your shirt and bra. lower lip was swollen and reddened from so much biting. the tickle in your lower belly indicating you could handle even less.

the boy licked slowly this time, savoring every groan, every time your hips lifted without your permission, every time your sweet spot pulsed for him. he was completely ecstatic with your taste, with your texture.

"fu.. i can't-!!"

you came once more, squirting a little, making him watch mesmerized, as if he had discovered oil right there in the living room. you whimpered while your abdomen contracted and you closed your legs. riki denied it and grabbed your knees this time, using all the size and strength difference between you in his favor.

he blew against your sex and the cold wind hitting the hot, damp flesh made you suffer a groan before pulling a pillow to hide your face behind.

"ah- hontouni kawaii", he spoke softly, so absorbed in the scene that the phrase came out in his native language, rising and kneeling on the sofa, before taking the pillow from you and holding your wrists together with one hand, lifting them above your head while capturing your mouth again, kissing you and letting you taste yourself.

his mouth then went down to your neck, nipping at your soft neck skin, giving little bites. "you're so delicious", he whispered, making you shiver. he held your face, sliding his thumb across your mouth, feeling your trembling and wet lips.

the younger one's gaze was so piercing, he moved his hand to squeeze your chest pointing through the fabric, testing the weight and softness before finally letting go of your wrists. with agile movements, he helped you get rid of the rest of your clothes.

when you were already naked, he also took off his pants, staying only in gray boxers that left almost nothing to the imagination. you saw his perfect outline, big and thick, leaving the fabric darker where he leaked pre-cum.

"come here" riki sat on the sofa and pulled you onto his lap. the size difference was glaring. his hands circled your waist and almost met at your back without effort, making you feel tiny and completely at his mercy to handle.

"are you holding back?" you questioned, feeling his skin comfort yours as you leaned over his strong body.

"maybe... a little" he admitted with a smirk, that dangerous glint still in his eyes.

"why?" curiosity bordering on innocence.

he looked away for a second trying to keep his composure, fingers tracing your narrow shoulders with a delicacy that contrasted with the bruises he usually caused in the ring. you were so soft, so small, so perfect...

"because i don't want to hurt you..." he replied, his voice heavy with that low vibration that made you melt.

"but i want that" you cut off his thought.

riki stopped his hand movement, lifting an eyebrow slightly, his index finger tracing a downward path until reaching your perky nipple, circling the areola around it. "you do, huh? what exactly do you want?" he brought his face close, leaving your noses brushing, his breath mixing with yours.

"i want you to use me... to relieve all the tension you've been feeling...", you whispered back, grinding lightly against the stiff member positioned right toward your mons pubis, maintaining eye contact. and you meant it.

"you're asking me to fuck you hard then?", he put it in more direct words, almost disbelieving what he had heard from you. squeezing the nipple he was playing with, pinching and pulling, eliciting a groaned 'yes' from you. "you're going to let me fuck you right, noona?", he continued, close, involved, just feeling your lips crawling over each other as you nodded positively.

the energy of the environment changed gradually, as if the air were charging with a silent electricity. riki's pupil dilated and narrowed, adjusting focus as he interlaced his fingers in the hair at your nape before pulling hard. "get on all fours then".

***

riki kept you arched on the sofa, hips raised perfectly for him while your hands pulled your butt cheeks apart as he had asked. he brushed your entrance with the tip, teasing. the sound was obscene, the wet slap of skin on skin every time he hit the length of that thick dick against your slit, already dripping with desire, was a trigger for your brain to tingle.

"how naughty, getting so soaked for your own dongsaenggie..."

before you could process the outrage, he delivered a stinging slap to your butt, the sound echoing in the room. and he took advantage of the exact moment you let out a whimper of surprise and pain to thrust in all at once, sinking to the base.

his teeth clenched, letting out a low curse about how tight you were. the boy blew air out forcefully through his mouth and groaned low before moving, holding your hips firmly to fuck your pussy with precision.

he dragged one hand to your head, forcing your face against the sofa upholstery. the pressure made your cheeks squeeze and your mouth form a beautiful pout, while he started to ram faster and faster. your body rocked violently with every thrust and your moans only grew in volume, filling the apartment.

he sank his fingertips into your hips, leaving marks, before pulling you flush against him. he used his own thighs as support for you and slid his flat hand to your lower belly, feeling the bulge he caused himself as he stretched you out from the inside.

"can you feel me here?" he nibbled on your ear, his voice breaking with pleasure. "so deep in this tight cunny..." he pressed harder against your belly, feeling you writhe before him, completely surrendered, babbling things and trying to hold onto his forearms.

the sofa creaked under the weight of both of you and that rhythmic, wet squelch mixed into the sensual melody you created together. riki seemed in a trance, eyes focused only on your body's reaction to his every move. and as soon as he felt the inner walls of your canal spasm, squeezing him with an almost desperate force, that "strangulation" that indicated you were at your limit, in a moment, he pulled out.

the sudden emptiness made your body give way, falling against the cushions, trembling arms barely able to support you. the japanese boy remained kneeling behind you for a few seconds, catching his breath. he tilted his head to the side, hair sticking to his forehead from sweat, watching with a dark fascination the way your intimacy pulsed, contracting in search of the fulfillment he had just taken away.

he slid his perfectly trimmed nails along the inside of your thighs, a caress that sent shivers to your soul, before delivering a sharp slap right on your sex.

"oh she’s begging..." he whispered, his voice thick with a cruel satisfaction.

as he pulled his hand away, a string of lubrication connected his fingers to your entrance, glistening under the low light of the room. you let out a muffled whimper, face hidden, but he gave you no rest. riki pulled you by the waist, handling your body as if you were a doll.

now, your back was pressed against the fighter's broad, warm chest. he distributed wet kisses along your sweaty nape, savoring the salt of your skin as if it were addictive. with firm hands under your knees, he guided you, aligning your bodies again. guiding you to help him with it too.

you felt his tip press against the entrance and, as he lowered you, you were slowly impaled, feeling every inch being reclaimed again. your back arched, head hanging back on his shoulder while the moans became constant, almost a song. "shit- taking me so good" riki gasped, erratic breath hitting your neck.

the blonde started making you bounce, up and down; every squeeze, every sound, every thrust loaded with lust. with every harder descent, his cock hitted your cervix, producing a muffled, wet little noise that seemed to shut down the boy's last neurons.

he tightened his grip under your legs and began to lift his own hips to meet you halfway, accelerating the pace frantically.

"..kuso!" he cursed in a thin voice, failing as he felt he was about to lose total control at the way you squeezed him inside. "you're driving me crazy! fuuuck… i'm gonna cum-"

his hawk-like eyes went down to where the bodies met just so he could see your pussy lips fully stretched around his girth, making him bite the tip of his tongue before wrinkling his nose. he used one arm to hold both of your legs, taking his newly free hand to finger your clit which was exposed by the bulging.

in a few seconds you were squirting once more, much more than the first time that night, squeezing him as if you wanted to break him, but all it did was make him cum, releasing loads and loads of cum inside you while he held you against his lap, groaning low and husky.

***

your bodies relaxed together, with you feeling every muscle of his abs against your back contracting with a breath that was slowly steadying... the warm cum escaping only after he went soft inside you, dripping and forming a puddle between your legs. the smell in the room was strong, a thin, nearly imperceptible layer of steam thanks to the closed windows was created.

lifted a hand that was resting on your thigh to bring it to his face, giving him a slow caress which nishimura accepted, leaning his heavy head into it, still daze in his own state.

“i’m going to tear that piece of shit contract up” he finally said, as if telling a secret, without moving a single muscle to pull out of you or move away.

“I’d make you glue it back together, piece by piece...” you replied with a tired smile.

“you know no championship belt guarantees me this...” he murmured, burying his face in the curve of your neck.

you thought about the words spoken, laughing to yourself with the only response that came to mind at the moment. “then this will be your consolation prize every time”, whispered, and felt his smirk widen against your skin.

*

taglist: @cherryw0n @yjnwonstars @lisie-loves-u

[juunieez]

noona >>>>>

[jenyluv]

REWIND

Jungkook comes back into your life the same way you left his, abrupt and selfish. When a song brings you face to face with anything and everything you left behind to chase a dream, you try holding yourself together between demos and late night sessions where you and Jungkook circle around the truth you’ve both been avoiding.

PAIRING: producer!jk x popstar!reader

GENRE: exes to lovers, smut, angst, fluff (if you squint)

WORD COUNT: 16k

WARNINGS/DETAILS: fem!reader, forced proximity, overall they’re very human in this, a lot of tension (ofc), smoking, alcohol use, pls don’t hate the reader she’s just trying to get by :( smut wise: oral (m receiving), he fucks her in the studio, car sex, hair pulling, riding, penetration, unprotected sex (please lmk if i forgot anything)

NOTES: !!not proofread or edited!! this was going to be an angsty little pwp but i got carried away 🐣 for some reason i got stuck somewhere around the middle of it and thought i’d never finish so i can’t believe it’s finally done. hope you like it <3

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

You’re craving sugar.

Behind you, the practice room reeks with the smell of sweat and energy drinks opened long before practice even started. Sunlight spills inside through the glass walls, cutting right into your eyes in a way that’s borderline aggravating, kissing your cheeks in a blazing tinge. Across the room, sneakers squeak from behind, and it echoes whenever someone stomps their feet too loud during footwork.

You’re not supposed to be here right now, but you’re craving something sweet. You crave something sweet before anything important, like it’s tradition. So now, you’re here because you’ve decided Jimin’s laughter and the pack of sour belts you know he always keeps in his bag are exactly what you need.

You’re mid laugh when Jimin hits your shoulder with the bag of candy. “Fashionably late isn’t a thing. When you’re late, you’re just late.” He says confidently, already grinning like it’s his job.

“Keep lying to yourself.” You shoot back, ripping the packet open before biting a gummy in half. “I was late because I’m booked and busy.”

“Busy being dramatic.” He corrects, rolling his eyes playfully. There’s no bite to his words, because Jimin never has bite when it comes to you. Or truthfully, when it comes to anyone that’s only a little decent. Because Park Jimin is a man that’s sickeningly sweet no matter the occasion.

He tilts his head, studying you and your outfit, perhaps in a way that assesses. “Your make up looks like you’re taking this very seriously.”

“It’s a demo meeting, I’m excited.” You shrug, because you are excited, because that demo is the only thing that has been looping in your head all morning.

“You’re excited excited.” He points out, a small smirk tugging at his face.

You stop chewing on the candy, tilting your head up to look at him. “Okay, you’re reaching at this point.”

Jimin smiles knowingly. “You played that demo like twelve times yesterday.”

You reply instantly. “Because it’s good.”

“Because he is good.” Jimin counters, stretching the words in a way that sings, like he’s enjoying this way too much. “Mystery producer, dark horse, sexy RnB chords. You’re obsessed.”

You scoff at his words, but don’t say anything that demonstrates denial. “I just like the music.”

Jimin attempts to wiggle his eyebrows, but fails miserably. “That’s how it starts.”

You met Jimin four years ago, when you first signed with your current label. You realized your demeanours clicked perfectly when you fell over your shoe laces on just the second day of dance practice, and he fell over on his own while laughing at you.

Jimin is socially fluent the exact way you are, buoyant and glib. He makes you laugh even when you’re about to cry, puts a smile on your face by just smiling on his own. He complements you in a way no one ever has.

Before you can shoot back another remark, a familiarly calm voice cuts through the conversation, calling out your name.You turn immediately, because it’s instinct at this point.

Jiwon, your manager, stands a few feet away from you across the room. Her blouse and trousers are tailored seamlessly just like they always are, and her black heels raise her above the ground like that’s where she’s supposed to be. Her ipad is tucked to the side under her arm, and her expression is composed. You wish she could surprise you with a sweet smile for once, but she doesn’t. The air around her is invariably calm, and her presence has a way of settling in rooms without trying or announcing. She doesn’t look rushed today. Because she never does.

“The meeting’s in five.” Jiwon says. “Conference room 3.”

You nod almost automatically, laughter fading from your face like it’s a practiced reaction. “Got it.” You reply.

Jiwon’s eyes flick briefly between you and Jimin. It’s quick, assessing a little, but she doesn’t comment. “Let’s not keep anyone waiting.” She speaks for the last time before turning around swiftly, then leaves the room.

Jimin leans into you. “You just lost your spark.” He murmurs, voice much quieter than before.

You exhale through your nose, closing your eyes for half a second. “Shut up.”

But you know he’s right, you feel the shift too. It happens ungovernably whenever she casually walks into the happy moments of your life as if she has the right, and you’ve yet to find a solution. Jiwon isn’t a bad person by any means, but she has a certain way of tightening you every time she includes herself in sequences she shouldn’t. Unannounced, but alive. Whatever version of you that exists easily with Jimin or anyone else from your team doesn’t follow you into anywhere that’s with her.

But you trail behind regardless.

The hallway to the conference room is quieter than the practice rooms to the point where your heels sound louder than before. And you hate every second of it. You like people and you like the noise. You absolutely love your job, the heart, and the labor that goes into it. But not whatever this is. This feels almost corporate, and you would’ve never guessed that to be a reality before you stepped into professional life. Because why the fuck is everyone always so tense? You would’ve gotten a finance degree if you wanted wrinkles on your forehead before forty.

Jiwon walks ahead of you unhurriedly. She doesn’t look back to check if you’re following, because she knows you are. Her reflection moves sharply through glass walls, too relaxed as if nothing could ever press too hard against her spine.

Jiwon stops in front of the door, stepping to the side to let you enter before her. “Phones away, let’s stay focused.” You nod again without thinking. To you, her demeanour is too much, even unnecessary at times. But you’re used to it. There are parts of life you have to endure for the things you love and she is one of them.

Your hand slips into your bag to feel your phone, even though you know it’s there, because checking things over and over again is a habit. So you don’t reach for it, just let it rest wherever it is.

The room is occupied when you enter. Two people from your team are already on the opposite end of the table, laptops open, coffee freshly poured. You don’t forget to send them a smile before taking your place next to Jiwon, and they return it reassuringly.

You’re adjusting the corner of the papers in front of you when the door opens. You don’t look up, eyes focused on the key topics of today. Regardless of Jiwon’s dull voice trailing off to explain something unnecessary, you feel excited. Because the demo you listened to last night was outstanding and you feel eager to meet whoever it is that was behind it.

But the feeling doesn’t last long.

”Sorry, traffic.”

Your breath catches before you can stop it.

You know that voice. You know it too well. It’s familiar in a way that has been lingering for a long time now. Your chest tightens uncomfortably and you feel nausea running up to your throat from your stomach. You blink at the sheets in your hand, trying to wash the feeling away.

But it doesn’t go anywhere. So, you don’t dare to look up until it’s objectively disrespectful not to. You tilt your head up, and his eyes meet yours in an instant, locking for a second too long. His breath doesn’t seem to hitch the way yours did, as if he already knew what to expect before he arrived.

Jungkook stands by the door, black leather jacket slung carelessly over one arm. His expression is unreadable in a way you don’t recognize, and you realize you don’t recognize a lot of things. He looks older, sharper around the edges, in contrast to how soft his features were back then. His hair is a little longer than you remember, styled nicely without too much effort.

He looks away first, seating himself opposite to you. Well yes, you didn’t expect his eyes to light up with joy, or didn’t expect him to sit right besides you either. But it still hurts.

He leans back slightly, like he’s already comfortable here, like this is easy for him. Your eyes shift to his hands behind the rings on his fingers, and you wonder how many more of those tattoos he got.

You realize four years didn’t soften the impact at all.

“No problem. Please, have a seat.” Jiwon says even though he’s already seated, and Jungkook murmurs a thanks regardless.

The meeting starts easily, and you don’t make it harder for anyone besides yourself. Jiwon leads most of it, she speaks fluently on the timelines and expectations like she was born to be here. Your team fills in the details, discussing music theoretically and creatively.

Jungkook listens more than he talks, and you feel how distant his gaze is even though he doesn’t look at you unless he has to. Whenever he speaks, it’s precise yet somehow casual. Too casual that it almost bothers you. But you know you’ve lost that right long ago.

“This is a rough mix.” He says to the room, not you. His tone is professional, and that’s something you aren’t used to at all. “It’s unmastered, the lyrics are just placeholders.” He says, as if anything he does is ever accidental.

“I’m open to revisions.” He continues. “The structure isn’t locked. If she wants to write, I’m comfortable with it.” Your name lands differently when he says it after all those years. You feel like it rolls off his tongue in a way it never has before, and that unsettles you a little too much.

You don’t look at him when you respond. You don’t let anyone see whatever you’re hiding inside. “I’d want to preserve the emotional core.”

“Of course.” He says, nodding. “That’s the point.” He glances at you briefly, and your eyes meet for half a second. But it’s controlled. There’s something sharp under his gaze, it has a certain bite that agitates you. Something harsher than restraint.

You hate when you feel like this, closing in on yourself without meaning to. Your voice is professional the same way his is, you measure your words too much before speaking. And that’s something you never do. Because you like to live with emotions and you’d hate to be in a world where you can’t.

You resent that he does this to you without trying.

The meeting wraps up eventually. The dates are discussed, follow ups are agreed upon and the song is now in the hands of both of you completely.

The room empties fast. Jiwon gathers her essentials, iPad still in hand when she turns to you. “Give me five, then we’ll debrief.” She says collectedly, eyes flicking between you and Jungkook like she’s analyzing something in her head.

Neither of you are able to leave the room, but you don’t speak either. You give Jiwon a nod, standing up slowly. Finally, when Jiwon leaves, Jungkook closes his laptop and stands. He pushes the chair into the table, and it scrapes softly against the floor.

“You look surprised.” Jungkook says. But it doesn’t sound curious, just flat.

“I didn’t know.” You reply quietly, eyes looking directly into his even though you feel them shaking beneath.

“You didn’t ask?” His brow lifts, and the way he looks at you feels accusing.

“No.” You say. “I didn’t.”

You didn’t ask because you didn’t think it would matter. But it does now and you have no idea how you will pretend it doesn’t.

He nods carefully. “I’ll send over my notes.”

“Okay.” You say quietly before he nods once again, then turns his back to you, disappearing behind the door as if he didn’t just walk into your world and crush every ounce of light you had inside.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

You met Jungkook your freshman year of college.

You remember the silky breeze of late evening draft when spring was folding into summer and birds were splitting the sky into two with newly hatched butterflies. The youth of early adolescence allowed you to flow in spaces without a care in the world, and the glint behind your eyes glittered with every new feeling that caved into you.

It was the smoking area outside the studio you shared with people much more than you should have when you first saw him. You don’t smoke at all now, in hopes of protecting your voice, but you did a lot of unreasonable things during college and smoking was one of them.

He came up to you in a way that should have warned you, too easy and confident. He didn’t have as many tattoos and piercings as he does today, but it was still enough to hint trouble. Though you couldn’t have cared less, because that was the exact type of man you were fooled by and it didn’t take Jungkook long to charm his way through your heart.

When he gave you his name, you realized you had heard of it before. What you didn’t know was that he had heard of yours too.

Jungkook had always thought you weren’t aware of the glamour you radiated, and that made everything so much more dangerous to him. Jungkook didn’t do relationships, especially not when it was only his first year in college. But you were the most alluring girl he had ever seen and he knew he wanted you irresponsibly the moment he laid his eyes on you.

Soon enough, lascivious glances turned into meaningful ones and he realized he couldn’t touch a girl without your face drowning him whenever he closed his eyes.

Late night drives stretched past reason, your voice echoed through the microphone as he perfected it behind a screen, lust transitioned into after care and you got lost in each other’s eyes more and more as seasons went by.

Jungkook played you half finished tracks he hid like secrets, and you sang words you hadn’t written down yet. He didn’t interrupt, he never did when it was important.

There were cracks, of course. Not because they were intentional, but because you were too young and you felt too much in a way you weren’t prepared for. Because you never talked about what you were until it became unbearable. And he noticed before you did.

You kept your options open, opportunities excited you more than stability, and you never stayed at one place for too long. It wasn’t betrayal, he knew that. As much as he wanted to blame you, he couldn’t. Because he couldn’t gather up the courage to talk to you about it either.

One night, after a drunken night of clubbing with your merged group of friends, you were sitting inside of his car, heels already off as you held your legs near your chest.

“Your set was really good.” You had said softly. He used to DJ sometimes on nights like this, and you always watched him with adoration in your eyes, like he had your heart and beyond.

He hummed, leaning back into his seat. “You say that every time.” But you didn’t miss the small smile tugging at his lips. You couldn’t, not when it was that pretty.

You talked a little more about how you said that because it was true, and you wouldn’t if it were to be not. That was the night when you fully realized he stared into your eyes longer than anyone else would, because that night, he looked to be finally accepting of whatever it was that he was feeling for you.

“You could’ve left with them.” He had said, eyes stuck back onto the window instead of you.

You shrugged. “I didn’t want to.”

Jungkook tapped his hand onto the wheel, even though you were parked and the engine was off. He had been thinking all night. Cuts of thoughts about you, about how you lingered in a way he couldn’t shake off anymore.

“You choose me even when you don’t have to.” He said, turning his face to look at you again, right in the eyes.

You tilted your head, eyes catching his the same way. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

His response came immediately. “It’s not. It just, means something more now.”

The air shifted in a way both of you could feel easily. Your expression softened, and your eyes stayed on his. “Does it scare you?” You said, voice quieter now.

He let out a breath, but it almost sounded like a laugh. “Everything scares me.”

You smiled, hoping for it to be some kind of reassurance. “You hide it well.”

“Only with you.” He admitted without thinking.

College had a way of making everything feel temporary. Anything and everything left eventually, to wrap themselves in something else. But for the first time in his life, Jungkook didn’t wonder if it would last. He just let himself want something.

You learned each other through habits that felt accidental until they started to become intentional. You met Jungkook’s friends before he met yours, you slept in his bed more times you did in your own, and a relationship that started out as shared curiosity became the first love neither of you ever learned how to truly leave.

And right now, when you’re sitting on your bed, eyes closed as if you’ll lose your breath if you open them, it’s him you wrap yourself inside. You feel yourself drowned in traces and memories you know will never feel the same again, and his lingering presence doesn’t fade away no matter how hard you try.

When your screen lights up, you swiftly shake yourself awake, until he’s not there anymore.

But unfortunately for you, it’s his name that stares back into your eyes.

jungkook: Everything from today is attached. Let me know what you want to keep.

The words are too polished that it hurts. He even paid attention to the punctuation and everything, and that makes you want to throw your phone across the damn room. Because he detonated your entire sense of stability by simply reminding you that just because he existed at some point in the past doesn’t mean he doesn’t today.

You open the file attached to his text. The notes are written in a way that’s meticulous. Emotional cues are broken into technical language like they don’t mean anything. He has references to breaths and spaces, and it feels intimate when it shouldn’t.

You scroll through the notes.

Pre-chorus should be restrained. Don’t oversing it.

Pause before the chorus, let the lyrics sit. It hurts better that way.

If you rewrite anything, do the second verse.

Harmonies only during the final chorus.

Your jaw tightens at how he is. These words don’t mean anything, they shouldn't mean anything. Yet you can’t help but take them personally.

you: i agree mostly, but i don’t want the pre-chorus to sound careful

The reply comes faster than you expect.

jungkook: That doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be controlled.

You exhale through your nose. You don’t get mad, that’s not you. You don’t like to feel anger and you’re not someone who gets there easily. But he’s irritating you too much and you’re afraid you’re going to let it out in a way you don’t want to.

He’s correcting you like you’re twenty again, like you haven’t lived an entire life without him.

You don’t respond after that. How can you? You drop your phone onto your bed, spiralling only on the inside as you pick your phone up again when you remember to set up your alarm. You tuck yourself into the bed, turning off the lamp on your nightstand before closing your eyes to let sleep wash the feeling away.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Raindrops fill the studio in a serene harmony, but to you, it feels cruel. You still feel the cold from outside, even though it’s warm and cozy inside. The smell of freshly made coffee usually comforts you in a way not a lot of things do, but not today. Because you don’t want to enter a room he already occupies. But he’s already there.

You arrive ten minutes early, and it’s not because of habit. You’re never early.

Anxiety creeps up to you in a way you feel it physically. Your body reacts to him before your mind does, and it takes so much in you to not just slam the door shut back and leave the room.

He’s seated comfortably on the chair behind the console. His sleeves are pushed up and his rings catch the dim light as his fingers hover over the keyboard. The headphones rest over his collarbones instead of his ears, and his eyes stay on the screen even when you enter.

You hate how he looks like he owns the place already.

“Hey.” You force out, closing the door behind you.

”Morning.” He says, too professionally, eyes still focused on something that’s not you.

He gestures to the mic booth. “Warm up. We’ll start with the pre-chorus.”

He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t even try to include you in some way. No should we? No when you’re ready. Just instructions the same way he would give anyone else.

You nod, holding your head up high in contrast to whatever you’re going through on the inside. Because he can’t know what he still does to you, because it’s you who left him and you have no right to feel this way.

Inside the booth, the glass feels thicker than it ever has before. You feel meters turn into kilometers and his voice sounds much further away than it actually is.

You slide the headphones on, then his voice comes through.“The levels are okay?”

“Yeah.”

You close your eyes when the song starts, pausing for seconds to let the instruments fill in the space that’s already too empty.

You start singing, eyes still closed because it feels too hard not to. You lighten your voice when you have to, let breath escape even though it’s not written down, and your riffs hurt so good that it feels personal.

Outside the booth, Jungkook leans back in his chair, trying to ease himself up. His jaw is tight only slightly, and his hands rest still on the controls like he suddenly forgot his job.

He tells himself this is professional focus, that he feels this way only because he wants to do the song justice. It should be about the mix, about placing everything right. But he knows it’s not.

What it actually is, is that you still sound like that when you’re not even trying. It’s the way he still knows when you’re going to inhale and exhale like it’s the route to his home. It’s the way four years weren’t enough to erase parts of you that are carved into his heart.

Suddenly, he stops the track somewhere he shouldn’t.

”Again, the last line, don’t rush it.” He says.

You open your eyes, confusion written on your face. “I wasn’t”

What you say goes over his head. “Let’s take it from the top, no run-throughs.” He says instead.

You tilt your head, brows furrowed slightly. ”You always do a run-through.”

There it is. Always. Always.

Always means pattern, always means history. And he hates the way you acknowledge that so casually.

That snaps something in him he has been trying to hold in. Something he doesn’t want to show, for you to see.

“I don’t want one today.” His tone isn’t harsh, but feels like it. You exhale through your nose, but don’t argue. You don’t want to argue when it sounds like the only thing he wants right now is control. So you slide your headphones back on, close your eyes again, then take it from the top.

“Stop.” He says in the middle of the verse, then runs a hand through his hair, and you freeze when you hear the words.

”That wasn’t it?” You ask, removing one side of the headphones.

”It was.” He stops, closing his eyes for half a second. “It sounded too messy.”

Your eyes narrow. “It’s a vocal choice. And it’s a good one.”

“I know what it is.” He snaps, then pauses to take a breath slowly.

Silence fills the room, because you don’t know how to respond. You don’t want to respond. That was a slip you didn’t expect, and you hate how it makes you feel better about yourself. You feel relieved, because that’s how you see you also still affect him in some way. It comforts you how he actually isn’t as composed as he is on the outside, and you hate yourself for feeling this way.

He straightens immediately, like he caught himself in something he shouldn’t have done. But it’s too late, because you’ve already noticed. “Again, don’t make it pretty.”

That’s when you start to get annoyed too, because it’s not only him who’s stuck on working with his ex.

“You don’t want it pretty, you don’t want it messy. What do you want, Jungkook?”

He looks you in the eyes for the first time today.

“I want it raw.” He says. “And we’re done for today.”

You don’t move right away, but he does. He immediately shoves the headphones off, standing up right after. You’re still standing there, frozen like you’ve just been stabbed somewhere. That’s when you realize this isn’t just difficult, but personal too.

Because to the both of you, music means so much more than just music. It had always been a form of intimacy, a kind of language only the two of you understood.

You left Jungkook your last day of college.

It was when summer still felt breezy at nights, when you knew you still had to take a jacket with you on night outs, and when Jungkook still thought he had a lifetime with you ahead of him.

But he didn’t.

You had received an outstanding offer a few months before graduation. A label was interested in you, having to come across you at one of your shows at the jazz bar you occasionally performed at, and it was an opportunity you knew you could never refuse.

You had wanted to be a singer ever since you learned how good a hairbrush and a mirror felt. You knew you wanted to be the one in front of the cameras instead of the one behind. You loved to perform, you loved to tell something, and music was exactly what could give that to you.

The spotlight never felt suffocating, the rush never became boring and the love never went away.

So you accepted before you even gave yourself time to think.

You did wonder about Jungkook, about what this would mean to you. He would support you with all his heart, he would tell you to not worry about him and go chase your dreams, he would reassure you that he was only one call and a plane ticket away.

But you didn’t want that. You knew it would only be him where your mind would be at, him where your heart would lay next to. And at the time, you wanted that to be music and nothing else.

So you didn’t tell him anything. That night, you kept pretending like even though nothing in the future was guaranteed, he was. You kept pretending it didn’t hurt when he touched you the way you knew he never would again. And you kept pretending the promises you made were ones you could keep.

You held in your cries when he kissed you like he would for a thousand times more, you held onto him like it wouldn’t be the last time you did. And before he could even wake up, the only trace that was left of you was the note on this nightstand that read i love you, i’m sorry.

And now, even if it hurts, even though it feels more like a need than a want, it’s a story you know you can’t go back to.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The next day, you meet Jimin outside the company to grab coffee before starting a day you know will be full of work and emotional damage.

The conversation starts out light, the way it always does with Jimin. He asks how you slept, if you’d like to go out for a drink with the rest on friday night, and he offers you some candy that you accept instantly.

But, despite everything, he sees through you. He sees the way you look like what you’re letting out is the absolute opposite to what you’re feeling. Because even though you said you slept good last night, he knows you were awake until sunrise.

You’re walking to the company side to side, shoulders bumping into each other occasionally. Somehow, your matching sweat set and the coat over it isn’t enough to protect you from the cold, and you slip the hood over your head when rain starts to drizzle.

“You’re breathing like you just had to run up the stairs because the elevator stopped working.” He says, sipping his coffee before turning to look at you.

You laugh, trying to ease yourself. “It’s him.” You answer honestly, because there’s no reason for you to lie to Jimin. He listens, he understands, and he softens the world for you when you need it the most.

Jimin doesn’t react, already expecting your answer. “Producer him, or him him?”

You close your eyes, and that’s enough to be an answer.

”Oh.” Jimin murmurs. “Okay, I hate when the universe does that thing to you. You know, sucks up your energy and you go all calm and quiet.”

You groan softly, your head falling back slightly as you walk. “I know right.” You say, dragging the words. “And he didn’t even do anything! That’s the worst part. He just exists and I feel like I’m taking up space I shouldn’t.” You run a hand through your hair, then take a sip from your coffee.

“And that’s the worst part?” He asks, stealing a quick glance from you before turning his eyes back to the road. The look he gives you is the one he always does when he knows fun and wit won’t fix anything.

“He’s so fucking controlled that it feels like I’m just a random session.”

“That hurts because you know you’re not.”

You exhale through your nose. “Exactly.”

Jimin sighs, slowing down subtly. “Do you want advice, or do you want me to curse him out until you’re more mad than upset?”

You laugh briefly. “I don’t know. I can’t keep being in the same room as him without wanting to either kiss or yell, so I’m telling this to you instead of actually doing anything.”

Jimin laughs thoroughly, head falling back as he stops walking for a second. “Classic.” He says, and you roll your eyes, but a small smile rests on your lips. Because how much longer can you sulk for when it’s Jimin who’s the one next to you?

When you arrive, the studio is loud before it’s productive. You give quick hugs and greetings before placing yourself on the couch. You kick your shoes off somewhere across the room, then cross your legs on top of the leather. You grab a lyric sheet that’s sitting on the floor for some reason, folding it like that’s going to tell you something.

Yoongi, your engineer, plays you the demo of a new song he wrote last night, probably during a drunk episode. Jimin stretches himself out next to you, but he’s on the floor, leaning his back against the couch.

“That count makes no sense unless you want me to snap my knee on stage.” Jimin says dramatically.

Yoongi doesn’t even look up from the screen, but he does roll his eyes. “Your knee is replaceable, that count isn’t.”

You snort, head rising up from the sheet in your hands. “That’s one way to put it.”

Hana, your songwriter, swivels in her chair next to Yoongi and turns to face you. Her legs are hooked over the armrest comfortably as she taps a pen against her lips. “I listened to your recordings from yesterday.” She starts, and you turn your head towards her. “You sang the pre-chorus like you were about to get a divorce with two kids.”

You roll your eyes, arguing. “It’s vulnerable.”

“It’s too dramatic.” Jimin counters, his head falling into the couch next to your legs, and you flick his forehead at the words.

He scrunches his face. “The fuck?” He mutters.

Yoongi finally glances back, his eyes finding yours. “Sing it again. Don’t make it sound like you’re guilty, we need audacity.”

“God, I love it here.” Hana says. “It’s all about the adjectives.” She continues.

You push yourself off the couch, helping yourself with your hands. You step towards the mic, then take a sip of the water next to Yoongi. “If this sounds bad, it’s Jimin’s fault.” You say

Jimin gasps, way too dramatically. “I don’t even sing!”

”Then don’t influence!” You shoot back.

You sing, cleaner around the edges and sharper with every breath you let slip.

“That!” Hana shouts, pointing a finger at you in satisfaction. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

As you keep on discussing more and more, laughter overlaps, messy in the most comforting way possible. It’s easy with them, because you understand each other. Your hearts are burning with the same passion and you connect on a level you can’t even explain because you all hold a different type of love shared for the same purpose.

By the time Jungkook arrives, the studio is alive and you’re already halfway through the fresh demo Yoongi brought.

Through the glass, his eyes spot you first. You’re seated comfortably on the couch, laughing unguarded at something your engineer says. Your head falls back, loose hair falling over your shoulders. He hears someone toss a lyric suggestion, and you catch it mid sentence, reshaping it until it’s yours.

You look effortless here, that’s what gets him. You don’t try to be loud, people gravitate towards you naturally, like you know the space inside out and you bend it around yourself willingly.

His eyes stop at the guy that’s seated on the floor under you, pretending to be annoying and the grin on your face is enough to let Jungkook know you’re not complaining. You shove his shoulder lightly, and he laughs loosely with the movement.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. He’s used to watching you perform, used to seeing people orbit around you. But that was different, that included him. And this? This doesn’t. This is intimate, this is familiarity and he hates how he can’t be a part of it today.

Because this is a life that didn’t wait for him.

He notices that the mess isn’t chaotic, but rather lived in. It feels yours. He pauses just outside the door a little longer than he should, hand hovering over the handle like he’s mentally preparing himself for whatever he’ll have to endure today.

When he steps in, clicking the door softly behind him, Jimin turns his head immediately. “Oh, hi!” He says brightly.

You turn at the sound, and for a split second, your smile falters. But you replace it quickly with something composed and polite.

“Hey.” You say, careful.

Jungkook nods once as a response. Your team greets him easily, having met a couple days ago. It’s casual, and it holds respect without reverence. He takes his place behind the console next to Yoongi, grabbing a pair of headphones and placing them around his neck.

You’re still laughing, still moving with ease, still you. It’s like his presence means nothing to you. It does, but he doesn’t know that. So suddenly, Jungkook feels jealousy burning hot in his chest.

It’s not because anyone is flirting with you, or touching you in a way he doesn’t like. But because you’re happy here. You aren’t careful, you’re unguarded. And that’s a version of you that doesn’t exist for him anymore. Because it looks like whatever you lost with him didn’t hollow you the way it hollowed him.

He hates that. He hates that he wants to be the reason your laughter drops, he hates that he wants you to slip, he hates that he still wants all your attention, and it doesn’t matter if it’s in a good way or not.

“You’re early.” Yoongi says, snapping Jungkook out of his thoughts.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Jungkook replies, not looking at him as he’s busy adjusting something on the screen.

“Shocking.” Jimin mutters, so quietly that the only one who hears it is you.

You don’t say anything else, already turning back to Hanna to discuss Yoongi’s demo before it’s time for Jungkook to awaken every single miserable emotion in you with his song.

“So if we flip the melody the second half of the chorus,” You start, but Hana interrupts impatiently.

”Yes! Absolutely. Yoongi, what do you think?” She exclaims, turning her head towards Yoongi.

Jungkook sits quietly, pretending to work on something when the only thing he’s busy with is listening to you.

He secretly watches the way your eyes light up with pride when Yoongi compliments your ideas, watches Jimin lean over to demonstrate something, touching you in ways Jungkook thinks is unnecessary. He watches Hana say something that makes you grin, bumping your knee with hers as your laughter echoes.

Hana glances at the phone in your hand, where the notes app is open with something that’s from years ago. “Wait, what’s that? Who did you write that with?” She asks, scrolling through without asking.

You tilt your head. “Oh.” You pause. “Just, someone. It’s nothing, late night nonsense.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, because he knows what that is. He knows exactly when and how it was written. He remembers your laughter as you kept adding something one after another, the way everything flowed like it was natural. He remembers the voice memos you sent, and he knows you remember the ones he sent back, revamped.

And now Hana is smiling at it like it means nothing.

He leans back, appearing more comfortable than he is, then talking before he can stop himself. “I didn’t realize we were paying ghost writers.” The way he says it is too casual, and it sends a feeling of shock through your spine.

The room stills subtly, and your eyes move until they find his. “What?” You ask.

Yoongi’s fingers pause over the keyboard, Jimin straightens his posture on the floor, and Hana raises an eyebrow with interest.

Jungkook immediately clocks that he said something he shouldn’t have. He doesn’t respond, because he doesn’t know how. But the words are out and the damage is already done. So he just slides on the headphones, pretending to not hear your question.

The session starts when you go into the booth. Jungkook cues the track, fingers moving with practiced ease. “Let’s take it from the second verse, don’t overthink it.” He says.

You slip the headphones on after taking one last glance from him behind the glass. The music rolls in, and you start singing.

You don’t oversing, but you don’t hold back either. You give exactly what the song, exactly what he asks for. Your voice melts into the words like it belongs there, warm and assured.

From the couch, Jimin hums appreciatively, bobbing his head softly as his eyes are settled on the lyrics. Yoongi mutters a that was nice, and Hana nods agreeingly.

But Jungkook stops the track. “Let’s try it again.” He says.

You blink in disbelief. “Again?”

“Yes.” He swivels slightly in his chair. “Less phrasing this time.”

Your brows furrow, because he’s being fucking ridiculous. “That is the phrasing.”

He doesn’t look at you when he replies. “It doesn’t need personality yet.”

The words land wrong. You inhale sharply, hands balling into fists at your sides without realizing. “Vocals always need personality.”

“To an extent. Keep it neutral.” He counters easily, like he’s not thinking.

You tilt your head to look up to him behind the glass. He’s watching the screen instead of you, jaw set, eyes detached. So you swallow the words down. “Okay.”

This time, when you sing again, you don’t make it yours. You strip away from any tiny inflection that could make it mean more. And you hate every second of it, because it’s not you, because it’s not yours.

“See? That sits nicer.” Jungkook says.

Jimin shifts on the couch. “I kinda liked the first one.”

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, replying instantly. “It sounded indulgent.”

You pull one side of the headphones off, tilting your head. “Indulgent how?”

He finally looks at you. His gaze is steady in a way that feels cruel. It’s like he feels better by being mean to you. “Like you were enjoying it too much.”

Yoongi clears his throat, and Hana leans into him, pretending to check levels. You let out a short laugh out of exasperation. “I’m supposed to enjoy it.” You say.

“Sure, but you need control.” Jungkook says.

Now, it’s taking so much for you to not burst into the room and land a hard slap on his pretty face. You feel your chest rise, then your spine, and the anger twists into something harsher. If he’s doing this on purpose, he’s suceeding so fucking well.

You close your eyes for half a second to calm yourself down before speaking. “You didn’t seem worried about control when you sent that demo.”

“That was before it was a collaboration.” He replies, exhaling a short breath beforehand.

Jimin’s eyes flick between you, attempting to lighten the air with a remark but Jungkook beats him to it.

“I’m just saying.” Jungkook continues, voice even, “This song doesn’t need history.”

Your breath catches. “History?” You repeat softly, careful to not let your voice break.

He shrugs. “No one cares about the back story, they care about how good it sounds.” His words alter something in your body, and something sharp flashes across your face before you can stop it.

“So what?” You say. “I should sing like it means nothing?”

Jungkook leans back in his chair, and it aggravates you so much how relaxed he looks. “I think you’re capable of separating personal feelings from performance.”

Silence fills in the room. Yoongi and Hana are still pretending to work on something when Jimin opens his mouth, then closes his again like he suddenly doesn’t want to say what he was going to.

You straighten your shoulders, your voice still calm when you speak, but it costs you something. “I don’t separate them.”

“That might be the problem.” Jungkook says, almost absentmindedly, eyes back on the screen.

That’s when reality hits you, hard. He isn’t trying to make the song better, because this isn’t about music anymore. Because it seems as if he now completely disregarded the actual purpose and made it too personal. He’s trying to make you feel small inside the song, and you shove your headphones off roughly at the realization.

“Take five, I need air.”

Jungkook nods like he expected it. “Sure.”

When you pass him, his breath hits you even though he doesn’t say anything, just enough for you to feel the heat of him again. You leave the studio without looking back, slamming the door shut.

Jungkook watches as you leave. Not as a producer, not as an ex, but as someone who realizes he has pushed too far. The room empties after you, and the air changes until Jungkook feels suffocated. But now, neither of you are willing to back down.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

You left Jungkook terribly.

That day, he woke up to an empty bed, arm slung over where you usually slept. You slept on the left side of the bed, always did, and he knew that like it the back of his hand. Another thing he knew was that you never left without saying anything, never before he woke up. So when he opened his eyes to a bed you weren’t taking space upon, he immediately knew something was wrong.

When he saw the note on his nightstand, he didn’t believe it at first. He tried calling you, hell, he called you more than a hundred times. But you were already gone and you packed everything left of his heart in your suitcase.

Jungkook loved you like you were the first snowflake falling on winter, he loved you like you were the only star inside the cluttered night sky of the city. You made him feel real in ways he couldn’t even think of before. Jungkook didn’t know how to love, he memorised leaving before anything else. You were whom he tasted all of these feelings with, and you just left like it all meant nothing.

His room was still full of you even though you weren’t there. He saw you ghosting over every corner until you didn’t leave an inch without your trace. He felt himself trying to shout at your fading silhouette, but he couldn’t. Because you weren’t there, because you were selfish. At least that’s what he told himself.

The first few months were only heartbreak. The weight of you drew him in until it swallowed him up completely. You left avoiding every little piece falling apart and now he was left to drift through the world without you. Your presence lingered around too long, but he would be lying if he said he expected it not to last. No matter what, he kept holding onto you with the same force even though he knew damn well he shouldn’t. But he would. Until your touch didn’t linger and he couldn’t bear calling out your name anymore, he would hold out a hand.

With time, longing turned into anger, and anger turned into hatred until he convinced himself he didn’t feel anything anymore. But he did feel something, because he mistook love for hatred and hatred didn’t exist in a place without love.

He was stumped when your team reached out to him about the song. He was about to shut it down, he really was. But something impulsive washed over him and before he could realize, and he found himself wounded inside the same room as you.

Maybe he wanted to see how you would react, maybe he wanted to see how you would hold up. You had been living a life without him and even though he was now at a point he couldn’t admit, he knew that was something he hated.

What he didn’t expect to realize was that you still had the same effect on him. His heart still stuttered whenever your gaze hovered over him with the eyes he loved so much, and his breath still got stuck in his throat when you sang the same way you did for him.

And now, when Jungkook is left all alone inside the studio, the silence presses against him thick and hostile. He stands abruptly when something snaps in his chest, chair scraping against the floor harshly. His hands flex at his sides, trying to shake the feeling off his skin.

He didn’t mean to say that.

He knew he was wrong for this, he knew he was stripped away from every ounce of professionalism he promised himself. But he doesn’t even know what this means anymore.

He just knows that he can’t shake the image of your face behind the glass; steady, hurt, and so fucking done.

He moves before he thinks.

He runs through the hallway until he finds you, and he spots you at a corner, hands crossed on your chest like you’re trying to hold yourself together

He calls your name when he sees you. You don’t react for a second, don’t turn back to face him. “What?” You say flatly, eyes focused on the screen of your phone.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” He says, and you let out a humorless laugh under your breath. “Which part?” You ask sarcastically.

He steps in front of you when he realizes you won’t be the one turning to face him. He closes the distance between you, standing close enough that he can smell your skin beneath the perfume.

“History, control.” He stops, running a hand through his hair, then exhales before continuing. “All of it.”

That’s when you finally look up from your phone, eyes distant in a way he isn’t used to. “You don’t get to decide what I feel for my song.”

“I know.” He responds quickly. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No.” You snap. “You were thinking, you just didn’t care.”

The silence stretches until he breaks it. “I care.” He says, lowering his voice. “Too much.”

You scoff despite the flutter of your stomach. “That’s not an excuse to punish me for having a life without you.”

His jaw tightens. “You’re the one who walked away.”

“And you never asked me to stay.” You fire back without realizing how stupid the words sound.

“You didn’t let me!” He raises his voice without meaning to, then inhales before continuing, quieter. “I didn’t think you’d leave.”

The words hang between you, like something will break if either of you moves. You know he’s right, you know you’re not in the place to blame him. But he doesn’t get to act like this either. The hallway hums softly around you, distant music bleeding through walls, heels clicking on the floor from afar, rain tapping against the wall…They all feel far away, like you’re stepped outside of time and it’s only you and him who can feel.

You turn away from him, dragging a hand down your face. “You can’t just show up four years later and decide you want to hurt me now.”

“I didn’t come here to hurt you.”

“And yet,” You say, meeting his eyes again. “You’re doing a phenomenal job.”

Something breaks there, not loudly maybe, but it’s enough for the both of you. Jungkook steps closer, hands lifting like he’s asking for permission even though neither of you are pretending this is careful anymore.

“I don’t know how to be around you.” He says, and your breath stutters.

”Just stop looking at me like I owe you something.” You hate how your voice cracks, betraying you.

“I’m not.” He insists. “I’m looking at you like I lost you.”

That’s what does it. You shove him lightly in frustration, but your force does nothing. He grabs your wrists instinctively, and the contact makes you shiver. Because that’s the first time you feel his skin on your own after four years and you don’t know what to do anymore. His grip is too familiar, and you don’t pull away even though you think you want to.

“Don’t.” You warn, looking directly into his eyes.

“Then tell me to let go.” He says, voice so low that it’s almost a whisper. “And I will.”

You don’t.

The space between you collapses before either of you can think, too fast, too intense. Your mouths collide with the kind of desperation that has nothing to do with lust and everything to do with grief. It’s messy and unplanned, years of things unsaid crashing together all at once. He presses your back against the wall, lips moving against yours until he pulls away, breathing hard.

”This is a terrible idea.” You whisper.

“I know.” He says before crashing his lips onto yours once again.

You don’t remember how you get back to the studio. The door closes, and you lock it with closed eyes, because your lips can’t leave his even when they should. You feel his hands shake slightly when they find your waist, like he can’t believe this is really happening and is scared you will vanish away if he touches too hard.

As his hands roam around your body, you drown inside the closeness of someone who once knew you better than anyone else. His hand tugs at the hem of your sweatshirt, and you hum into the kiss as a confirmation for him to take it off. He pulls the fabric over your head, and you lift your hands to help him. He gasps at the sight of your bare skin, because it feels unreal how he gets to feel this again after years. Because he thought you disappeared without leaving space for any ifs.

“Fucking gorgeous.” He says when your sweatpants are also off, thrown over the chair behind the controls. He pushes you onto the couch, pausing for half a second to take everything in. You’re laying in front of him only in a matching pair of lace underwear and he doesn’t think he can control himself any longer. So his lips never leave yours for too long and the only time he pulls back is to stare at you like he wants to devour you.

He strips naked quickly before climbing onto you, left only in his boxers. You palm him over the fabric when he’s on top of you, and he groans into your mouth. The sudden contact makes him realize he won’t be able to last at all, and he feels years of pent up frustration all gathering up in his cock.

“Fuck, baby.” He says when your hand tightens around his cock, and his eyes close at the feeling. You feel pride swell up in your chest at his reaction, smirking to yourself as you bend down onto your knees under him, sliding off from the couch.

His eyes snap open when he feels what you’re about to do, breath catching in his throat.

“Wanna suck you off, Koo.” You say sweetly, fluttering your eyelashes, and he feels like he’s about to combust with everything he’s feeling right now. The nickname catches in his throat the second it hits his ears, and he feels his stomach flutter.

Your eyes don’t leave his as you slide his boxers down. His hand reaches over to your jaw, tracing it softly. His dick springs out, slapping harshly against his abs. You gasp when you see how hard he is, tip swollen and angry with impatience.

”Please, baby, wanna feel your mouth.” He says desperately, and his hand slides into your hair, leaving your jaw. You stroke him up and down for a few times before leaning in, then placing a kiss on his red tip. You start slow, giving small licks to the top before sinking down. He’s somehow even bigger than you remember, stuffing your mouth so fucking full until you can’t think of anything else anymore.

He groans loudly when you fully take him into your mouth. You lift a hand, wrapping it around his base that you can’t fit in your mouth. His grip tightens in your hair, tangled in a way that pleasures you too. You moan around his cock at the feeling, and Jungkook’s head falls back with the vibrations.

“Such a pretty girl, taking my cock so well.” He says, then starts thrusting his hips, losing control over his body. You try not to gag, steadying yourself by hooking an arm around his thigh.

You pull away when you feel his dick twitching, releasing it with a pop. “Want you to cum in my pussy.” You say, standing up. He groans, calling out your name, before he reaches over to you and unclasps your bra. He pulls you closer, then turns your bodies until his back is facing the couch. You slide down your panties, then crawl over him when he sits down.

You place your legs on both sides of him, and he spreads his thighs for you to sit comfortably. He palms your breasts when you grab his cock, aligning it with your entrance. You sink down with ease, embarrassed by how wet you are.

“So fucking wet, swallowing me like that.” Jungkook moans. His hands settle on your hips, and you adjust yourself until you get used to the stretch.

You start moving, hopping up and down as your breasts bounce with every movement.

“Missed your cock.” You say, and Jungkook groans at the sight, because you don’t have a single idea on how fucking hot you look right now.

He’s missed this so much more than he thought. He feels himself never wanting to push off of you, never wanting to lose any contact. Because for four years, he hasn’t even breathed the same air as you and he wants to feel you as close as possible.

“Fuck, Kook, I’m close.” You moan, voice unstable and breathy but he swears it sounds sexier than anything he has heard before. He starts bucking his hips into yours when he feels your legs giving out. He grabs your hips, leading your body as you reach your high.

“I’ve got you baby.” You hate how reassuring those words sound.

You feel his dick twitch inside of you, and your walls clench around him at the feeling. You cum with a loud moan, head falling back, nails digging into his shoulders. He follows not long after, pulling you into a sloppy kiss with the release.

Now, the room is quiet again, only soft breaths and pants filling it up until reality creeps back up. Your legs are still hooked over his thighs, and your forehead rests on his shoulder, your breath warm against his skin. Jungkook exhales, staring up at the ceiling because he can’t find it in himself to look at you.

“Jungkook.” You mutter softly. The words aren’t asking for anything, they’re not pleading for something. They just echo the sound of his name but to him, it somehow feels like so much more.

“Fuck.” Jungkook mumbles in realization, pulling back just enough to look at you.

An ache settles in your chest the longer he stays quiet, and you stare into his eyes in anticipation, searching for an ounce of something that will somewhat relieve you. But you can’t find it. Because the only thing that stares back at you is fear.

He inhales before speaking again. “This is how I lose my head with you.”

The words land wrong immediately.

You freeze, trying to digest what he means, but your body responds before your mind even registers. “What?” You say quietly.

“So this is just a relapse? A bad habit?” You continue, pushing yourself off his lap.

“No, I mean,” He tries, but you interrupt, hurt and anger blinking through your eyes.

“You sound like I’m something you survived.” You’re off him now, walking around the studio hysterically to gather your clothes up.

He replies immediately. ”Because you are! You randomly left me one night like I was just anyone.” His voice raises uncontrollably, like something he has buried inside long ago can’t bear staying there anymore.

You still for half a second, then put your clothes back on. But the room feels colder even though you’re fully dressed

”Then why did you get close when you’re still punishing me for that?” Your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. You try so hard to hold yourself together, but your voice betrays you, cracking around the edges.

“I’m not punishing you.”

“Yes, you are.” You say, voice lower than usual, but it’s not exactly soft. “And you did this to prove something to yourself. You wanted to see if you could still have me without it costing you anything. And I won’t be that again.”

He straightens up on the couch, slipping his shirt on swiftly. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like I’m the one who fucked it up the first time.” He leans forward a little, elbows resting on his thighs as his eyes track through your movements.

Your eyes widen slightly, and your head turns towards him when you’re standing in front of the door, hand resting on the handle like you’ll break down if you don’t leave soon enough.

“I’m not acting like that.” You pause, eyes still on his. “But you don’t get to touch me like you’re afraid of me either.” You say finally before opening the door, then slamming it shut as you walk away.

It sounds too loud.

For a second, Jungkook can’t find it in himself to move. He’s still sat where you left him, half naked, pants still laying somewhere across the room. His hands hover uselessly at his sides before falling onto the couch, as if his body still hasn’t caught up with what just happened. The air still smells like you, and it clings at the back of his throat like it’ll never go away.

“Fuck.” He mutters to himself, voice breathy, a hand running through his hair in frustration. His brain replays moments like they’re now carved into his brain, and his pulse echoes loud in his ears.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to feel anymore. It’s like any sense of right or wrong is now stripped away from his consciousness and he can’t decide which one of you is more selfish.

He hadn’t meant to hurt you, but he also can’t bear with how you don’t see the way he hurts too. Because the ache in his chest has been there for so long that it has finally reached the very end of his fingertips. He wonders if there’s still a way to rewind until you’re twenty again, but you haven’t lived inside the truth long enough to be able to fix anything.

He hates that he doesn’t hate you, that he can’t hate you no matter what you do. This was supposed to be about the song, he wasn’t supposed to get anywhere that was at least a little close to you.

But it was never about the song.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Your penthouse is your safe place.

It’s warm like always, still reeking with the smell of the cinnamon cookies you baked in the afternoon. But it’s night time now, and silver moonlight paints your windows instead of gold.

Yoongi’s laptop is open on the dining table, but he has already abandoned it to refill his glass with the Spanish wine you’ve been drinking for the past hour. Hana is sat on the couch, legs crossed on top of the soft beige cushion, bare foot. One of your old notebooks is in her hand, flipping through the pages hoping to come across something worth utilizing. Jimin is on the floor like he always is, because he swears that’s how he’s the most comfortable, back leaning against the couch. He takes a sip from the wine that’s definitely not his first, then stretches his arms over Hana’s feet.

Jimin telling a story about some backstage disaster, and Yoongi mutters out comments absentmindedly as if he couldn’t care less. You’re halfway through a laugh at whatever they’re talking about when something snaps in you in a way that’s totally out of your control.

“And then he says,” Jimin starts, but suddenly silences himself. Because you laugh, you laugh too hard until your hands are shaking and you don’t stop until the room silences completely.

Then it dies down just as abrupt, as if it drops like a shattering glass. Jimin freezes, Hana’s pen pauses mid air, and Yoongi looks up slowly, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed the way they are when something doesn’t sit right. You’re standing now, though you don’t remember when you lifted yourself off the couch.

“Nope.” You say suddenly, breath shaking unevenly. “I can’t,” You pause, trying to take deep breaths but they come out as pants instead. “I can’t do this right now.”

Jimin blinks, starting to feel worried now. “You can’t do what?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Your chest tightens instead, breath stuck like your body finally caught up with everything you’ve been avoiding. Your vision blurs, and the pressure around you feels like it’s rising until it becomes unbearable.

Hana slides off the chair immediately, locking her arm with yours. “Hey, hey, you okay?” She asks, tilting her head to look at you properly.

Yoongi stands, grounded like he’s trying to stabilise whatever you’re feeling. “Sit down.” He says, pointing at the couch. But you shake your head.

”If I sit down, I’m not getting back up.” At your words, he exhales slowly before walking towards the kitchen to grab you a glass of water.

You calm down a little when you take the water, gulping it down all too fast. Your pants steady out, and Hana walks you over the armrest.

Jimin’s voice softens. “Did he say something?”

You lean onto the couch, but don’t seat yourself completely. You close your eyes, inhaling slow and long breaths before speaking.

”It was like he regretted everything. He made it sound like I’m a mistake he keeps repeating.” Tears fall down your eyes while speaking. You don’t sob, your voice doesn’t get caught up in your throat, but tears don’t stop rolling either.

No one speaks. You hear the car engines and flicker of lights over the city outside the windows. They’re distant and indifferent, but they feel so close.

Hana swears softly under her breath, Jimin pushes himself off the floor at the same time. He makes his way near you in only two steps, pulling you into his arms without asking. You melt into him instantly, forehead pressed to his shoulder, tears soaking through the fabric of his hoodie.

”I didn’t leave because I didn’t love him.” You whisper. “I left because I was scared if I didn’t choose myself that time, I never could again. And now he looks at me like I’m something he fears.”

Jimin’s grip tightens around your figure. Yoongi turns away discreetly, pretending to adjust something on the table even though his jaw is also just as hard. Hana crouches in front of you, holding your hand gently before giving it a squeeze in reassurance.

“I’m not asking him to forgive me, hell, I know I can’t. But I wish he’d stop punishing both of us for living.”

“You shouldn’t be someone’s mistake regardless of what you did.” Hana says. “Not after everything you built.”

You force a nod through the hurt, then pull yourself away from Jimin’s embrace, pushing yourself out of the arm that was placed over your shoulder.

You swipe his hoodie with your own, and then your face. “Sorry.” You mutter, wiping the mascara that’s now smudged all over your undereyes.

“Don’t.” Yoongi says from the table.

“But.” Jimin starts, and the three of you turn your heads towards him, curious on what he’s going to say. “You can’t expect him to be the bigger person either. Maybe the way he’s coping is wrong, but it’s his, and he has every right to feel what he does.”

That feels like a slap in the face.

You know what you did was unacceptable in every way possible. Who the fuck leaves a three year long relationship just like that? You had so many chances to talk to him, to figure this out. You could’ve at least considered a way to launch this at least a little softer. But you didn’t, because you didn’t launch at all. You chose the easiest way out. The one that’s the safest yet hurts the most.

Across the city, Jungkook sits quietly, locked inside the studio.

He doesn’t know how long he has been here for, doesn’t know how long he shut off all his connection from the real world to work on something just to get things off his chest.

The room feels too quiet, but nowhere near peaceful. It’s the kind of quiet that presses against his ribs until his breath becomes so heavy that his bones are about to break. The couch still looks like it’s warm with your body, but in reality, you haven’t seen each other for days.

A half empty can of beer is sitting next to him on the table, along with a few more that are already supposed to be tossed into the trash. He’s not drunk to the point where he can’t control what he’s doing, but he’s somewhere he can find it in himself to discard the control, at least to an extent.

He leans back into his seat, back leaning down as he runs a hand through his hair that’s too messy compared to how it usually is. His fingers fall down to his face right after, rubbing his temples before covering his mouth like he’s trying to wipe you off his skin.

Jungkook can’t concentrate anymore. He has been locked in here all day, his only breaks being to smoke. He feels like your perfume is still lingering in the air even though that’s impossible, and he closes his eyes to inhale harshly in hopes of not smelling your scent anymore.

But despite himself, he picks up his phone without thinking. He opens your contact automatically, like it’s a habit he missed. His eyes stay on the last thread of texts, and he inhales at how sterile and professional they are.

He doesn’t type, because typing would mean thinking. Instead, his thumb hovers the voice memo icon for a second before he decides to put all his dignity aside and press record.

He doesn’t know what to say, so a breath escapes his lips before he can stop it. Then, he speaks. No thinking, just feelings he can’t bear holding in anymore.

”I shouldn’t have said that.”

The words sound unfamiliar even to him. Because this is the first time he’s admitting to something so clearly, stripped away from all the filters he usually holds up. The edge he hides behind is completely gone now.

He lets out a humorless laugh.

“Actually, I shouldn’t have said a lot of things.”

His free hand grabs the collar of his hoodie, balling it up in his fist until his knuckles whiten. Because that’s the only way he can release stress right now.

”I didn’t mean,”

He shakes his head even though you can’t see him, breath uneven in ways he doesn’t like, at all.

”No, that’s a lie. I did mean it. I just, didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He corrects, because he has to. Because right now, he’s at the point that leaves no space for anything that’s not honest.

”You make me forget how to do all of this. I don’t know how to be around you if it means I should act like it means nothing.”

He gulps down the rest of his beer, clearing it out completely. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then inhales softly before continuing.

“You walked away and I never got to be angry at you. This is not the punishment you think it is, it’s just…”

He stops, because the words are now trailing off to somewhere he can’t control.

”Fuck,”

He never knew honesty would cost him this much.

”You didn’t decide with me, you decided for me. And I hated that.”

“I hate that you still feel like home.”

His breaths echo through the studio until they reach his phone.

“I didn’t come back to hurt you, I came back because I couldn’t keep acting like you didn’t exist anymore.”

That’s when regret starts to wash over. Not because he doesn’t mean the things he just said, but because he means them too much.

“Forget all this. You don’t have to respond. I’ll handle everything, I’ll delete the song right now. Just say it.”

He pauses for half a second.

“Or do whatever you want with it, without me.”

That’s when he almost ends the recording, his thump almost hitting send. But he realizes, he’s already more than halfway through something that has absolutely no turning back. So he adds one more thing before pressing send.

”I can’t stay here longer knowing you still sound the same as you did when you sang only for me.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

You don’t see his message until the morning.

When you do, you feel horrible. Because it’s you who should take the accountability, it’s you who should try to reach out. Because it’s you who left him terribly yet it’s still him who’s honest.

Every word he says takes you back to that night, to when you thought you were doing the right thing. And really, for yourself, you did do the right thing, just the very very wrong way. And you hate how it took nothing for everything you once felt for him to rush right back as if it never went away.

So you decide you will talk to him. You don’t want him to throw the song away, you don’t want to finish it without him. Maybe he won’t forgive you instantly, maybe you won’t be able to discard the hurt in you right away. But you’ll try, because he’s worth it. He’s worth so much more than what you treated him like.

So with the new found clarity, at least in your head, you rush out of your bed. You throw on the first set of clothes that’s within your reach, then put on some makeup that’s enough to make you look presentable.

You don’t remember how you drive to the company, your mind too busy replaying the conversation you hope will happen. You park your car to the first slot you find, then enter inside without forgetting to wish your rushed good mornings.

To your bad luck, it’s Jiwon who finds you first. You so want to act like you don’t see her but you can’t, because she knows you do. She walks over to you, her posture high like always as her heels click softly against the marble floor. Her ipad is already tucked to her side, a coffee too black for her own good in her other hand.

“You’re early.” She says, like she’s a little surprised. She starts walking through the hallway, and you’re left with no choice but to follow.

”I couldn’t sleep.” Your reply comes quick, because you want to end the conversation, because you have something more important to do. But it doesn’t end.

”I was actually looking for you.” You blink in confusion, something uneasy settling in your chest. You stop walking without realizing, and she stops with you too.

”Is something wrong?” You ask before you can filter your worry.

She turns to face you fully, and you feel the noise of the lobby disappearing in your ear. She takes a small breath like she’s choosing her words carefully.

”Jungkook finished the final draft last night.”

Your brows furrow, because you don’t understand. “Oh?” You whisper in a way that asks, then continue after a pause, collecting yourself back together.

You hate how the mention of his name is enough to make you falter.

”Good, great, I was actually coming to-“

She cuts you off before you can finish. “He sent the full mastered file this morning. Transferred full production credits.”

You’re taken aback now, your eyes widening before you can stop yourself. Because what the fuck does transferred full production credits mean?

You frown slightly. “Okay? So, where’s he now?”

Jiwon’s gaze softens subtly, but enough for you to notice. “He wrapped up the contract early.” She starts gently. “He’s flying out today.”

You don’t register the words at first. But when you do, stomach drops, heavy.

“What? What do you mean flying out?”

She hesitates, and Jiwon never hesitates. “He told the label he’s stepping away from the project, requested all further revisions go through Yoongi instead.”

The hallway suddenly feels too narrow, any outer noise is now fully out of your hearing and you feel like oxygen isn’t enough for you to live.

You swallow down the hurt. “I didn’t know.” Your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

“I assumed you two already had a conversation.” She admits.

Your silence is enough to be an answer. Something shifts in her expression, understanding, maybe. “He’s leaving this afternoon. International departure.”

Your breath stutters at International.

“What time?” You ask, and she doesn’t question why you’re spiralling like your whole world is falling apart. It’s like she already knows, like she understands for once.

She exhales through her lips, as if she had expected the conversation to fold out this way. “He boards in three hours, terminal two.”

You nod once, already turning your back, but you stop when she calls your name.

When you glance back, her posture is still perfect, but her eyes are warmer than you have ever seen before.

“He didn’t look relieved when he sent that file.” She pauses. “He looked like he was trying to walk away before he changed his mind.”

She holds your gaze for a second more. “I’ll handle whatever comes after.” She says like it’s confirmation for you to go. You nod, wanting to thank her but the words get stuck in your throat. But to Jiwon, the nod is enough.

You run without looking back.

When you arrive, the airport is loud exactly like you expect. Announcements echoing are too many that they overlap, luggages roll against the marble soundly, people rush past you like their lives depend on it. You usually like the rush of airports, it makes you feel alive in ways you like. But today, none of it feels real.

Your coat slips off your right shoulder, and your hair falls over your forehead messily from running. Your eyes scan through the terminal, and you spot him before you feel ready.

Jungkook is standing near the departure gates, backpack slung over one shoulder as his eyes are glued to his phone like he’s trying not to look up. And somehow, here, he doesn’t look as composed as he has been since he walked back into your life.

“Jungkook.” Your voice cracks before you can stop it.

He turns towards your voice, and for a second, it’s like nothing moves. His eyes widen with surprise, but something guarded washes over right after like it’s muscle memory.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He says quietly, walking over to you after tucking his phone in his back pocket.

”I know.” You breathe, trying to steady it out. “I had to see you.” You admit honestly, because that’s the most you can do right now.

His jaw tightens at the words. “You didn’t seem to mind last time.” He mutters, eyes stuck on yours.

You know the wound is still there, you know it’s as raw for him as it is for you. But you step closer anyway, because right now you aren’t here to talk about why you left, you’re here to make him stay.

“I’m not making the same mistake twice.” You say. Your voice is steadier now, more confident, like you’re someone who finally knows what she wants.

And he does notice that. He looks into your eyes like he has found what he was searching for, and whatever distance he was holding onto cracks. His shoulders drop lightly like he’s finally exhaling the breath that was stuck in him for too long.

“You shouldn’t have come.” He repeats, but it’s softer this time.

”What was I supposed to do after you sent that memo?” You ask in a way that indicates whatever you’re doing is the only correct way to handle all of this.

”I meant it.” He says, then adds suddenly. “I hated you for a long time.”

You flinch. “I know.”

“And I tried to convince myself I didn’t care anymore.” He continues, voice rougher now. “But every time you look at me like you don’t remember how we used to be,”

“I remember.” You cut in, stepping closer like you’re trying to prove something. “I remember everything.”

He exhales sharply, and you continue, not letting him respond.

”I never stopped carrying you with me.”

You see how that lands. He looks away, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. The distance collapses faster than either of you expected.

“My flight boards in twenty minutes.” He says, but it sounds more like a question than a statement. You’re running out of words now, so you just reach for his hand, and his fingers close around yours instinctively, like it’s habit.

“My car’s outside.” You whisper.

He knows where he’s going.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The parking lot is quiet compared to the airport, and neither of you break the silence for a moment. You lead him towards the passenger seat, then go in yourself. You don’t buckle up right away, watching the way his chest rises and falls with every breath he takes.

You tilt your head from his chest to his face, nibbling onto your lip before speaking. “You still look like you’re angry at me.” You say quietly.

”I am.” He answers honestly, turning his head to stare into your eyes. “But I know you’re trying.” He pauses. “So it’ll be fine. Just, we need time.”

You nod slowly, exhaling. The we does things to your stomach you can’t admit out loud. Because we means he’s thinking with you.

Your hand slides over the console, fingers brushing his wrist at the movement.

He inhales sharply at the sudden contact, and it’s like that’s all it takes for him to lose it completely.

He leans over to you when you expect it the least, hand coming up to your jaw like he’s been holding himself back for days. Your foreheads touch first, and you share a breath beneath the closure. It’s shaky, disbelieving almost, and doesn’t last long until his lips crash into yours.

It’s messy, unplanned in a way that brings you relief. He laughs softly against your lips, breath uneven. “Come here.” He says, patting onto his thighs.

He slides back the seat as you climb over him, positioning your legs at the sides of his thighs. You connect your lips back the moment you’re seated, your hands wrapping around his neck. They move up to his hair when he bites your bottom lip, sucking it in. You pull onto his hair, and he moans into the kiss.

You start straddling his lap, hips circling back and forth eagerly, desperate for some type of friction. You feel his bulge growing beneath his sweatpants, and you’re sure he’ll feel your wetness if you continue this for a second longer.

“Fuck.” He breathes out. “Keep doing that and i’ll cum just like this.”

You laugh at his reaction, pulling away to catch your breath.

“Won’t last long?” You ask teasingly, hands already making their way to the waistband of his sweatpants. He rolls his eyes at your words, but a smile tugs on his lips. When you try pulling down his sweats, he raises his hips off the seat a little, helping you remove them fully.

“Shut up.” He says, but the smile is still there. This time, it’s him who slides your bottoms off, leaving you in your panties and hoodie.

You laugh, leaning in to kiss him again. Even though the setting is very teenage-like, the kiss feels magical. Because now, it feels like so much more. Not grief, not longing, not this time. It’s you finally facing the truth you’ve been circling around, it’s him admitting to his feelings and it’s you holding yourself accountable.

It’s the two of you who are finally reliving the love that has been buried for so long.

You palm him through his boxers, his cock big and hard under the fabric. You give it a squeeze before pulling his boxers down, letting it pool around his ankles.

You don’t take off your panties, he just pulls them aside before inserting a finger inside you. You moan instantly at the feeling, back arching, nails digging into his neck. He moves it slowly, staring at the expression on your face, because you look so fucking hot right now.

”Want more.” You say, rolling your hips over his hand.

”Yeah? My greedy girl wants more? My fingers aren’t enough?” He says as he puts another finger in you, pumping them up and down. You moan when he slides them out, spreading the wetness over your folds.

“Shit, want your cock.” You say between moans, eyes closed as he curls his fingers inside you. He pulls his fingers out at your words, bringing his fingers over to your mouth.

“Taste yourself, baby.” And you say no more, circling a lick over his fingers before taking them into your mouth, sucking until there’s nothing left. Jungkook swears he’ll cum in his pants at the sight, because you look fucking insane.

Your lips leave his fingers, then you lift your hips to align his cock with your entrance. You grab his length, giving it a few strokes before sinking down. It doesn’t take long for you to get used to him as you’re already way too wet, and you start hopping on his dick.

”Wanna see your tits.” He pants out, hands already on the hem of your sweatshirt, pulling it over your head. He doesn’t remove your bra, but pulls it down just enough so that your tits are spilling out, all bare and perky.

He instantly connects his mouth with your nipple, licking and swirling his tongue. You whimper at the new sensation, then almost yell when he pulls onto it softly with his teeth.

”Fuck, Koo, so good.” You moan, voice heavy and breathless. Oh how much he loves that nickname.

His mouth leaves your boobs, head tilting to kiss your lips, swallowing every drop of your moans. You sound so pretty and he doesn’t think he can last for much longer.

”Gonna cum.” He says, panting almost. You feel his dick twitching inside you, and your walls clench around him at the sudden feeling.

“Fucking love this pussy, all mine.” He says, hands on your hips to help you move easier.

“Fuck, Koo, I’m cumming.” You breathe, holding onto his shoulders tighter. Your legs are starting to give up now, but you don’t stop until both of you reach your highs.

“Let it go baby.” He says, and your body shakes right after, your orgasm washing over you. Your eyes close shut, back arching in this lap as he helps you ride out your high with a hand over your clit, rubbing it with circular motions.

His thrusts don’t stop. ”Where do you want it?” He asks, bucking his hips into your pussy.

“Inside, please, wanna feel every drop.” He has to hear no more than that as he cums, cock emptying into your pussy. He groans loudly at the feeling, thrusting into you a few more times, slower this time.

”Shit.” You say, voice breathy, his dick still in you.

“That was insane.” He continues your words, a hand reaching over to your hair, caressing it gently as his eyes stare right into yours.

“Yeah.” You respond, still on his lap. You think you could die like this, his dick buried deep in you, his chest hot against yours, his arms wrapped strongly around your body.

For the first time since he walked back into your life, you don’t feel like a relapse, you don’t feel like a mistake. You feel safe, like you’re his world and more. Like he’d do anything to keep you where you are.

You know you still have to talk, you know your impulsive actions aren’t enough to fix everything. Yes, maybe enough to make him stay, but you don’t think they’re enough for more.

He pulls out of you, and you suddenly feel too empty, clenching around nothing without realizing. He laughs softly when he sees you whimpering at the loss, pressing a gentle kiss onto your temple like he’s making up for it.

You stay like that for a moment, your forehead pressed against his shoulder, breath breath steadying out until it’s in sync with his. His hand drifts down your back, like he’s relearning something he never thought he would ever need to.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, like he’s able to read you perfectly. Because you’re thinking too much and you think you’ll combust if he doesn’t reassure your worries.

“Us.” You start, voice soft and quiet. “You know we still have to talk, right?” You ask, pushing your head away from his shoulder to take a look at him.

He stays silent for a second, not because he doesn’t know what to say, but because he thinks you look so beautiful that he needs time to digest it all in.

“We can talk now.” He replies eventually.

”Yeah?” You say, slowly gathering yourself and raising from his lap. You reach for your sweatpants, then your sweatshirt, pulling them back on. Because you have been in this parking lot for way too long now and it’s starting to get a little uncomfortable.

When you finally shift back into the driver’s seat, turning the engine on after buckling yourself, his eyes don’t leave you.

”I listened to the memo.” You say, eyes on the road as you’re making your way out of the parking lot.

His shoulders tense only slightly, but he recollects himself quickly. “I figured.” He murmurs.

“You were right, I decided for the both of us back then.” You say, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought it would hurt less that way. I wanted to do something for myself and I didn’t know how to do it with you because I cared too much. You were such a big part of my life and I panicked I would fuck up my future because I loved you too much.” You pause. “I thought I was being brave.”

You stop for a second, taking a deep breath. ”I didn’t just choose music, even though I thought I did. I chose a life without you without letting you choose what you wanted, and that’s the part I regret.”

“I woke up thinking we were still us.” He says finally, after you finish explaining yourself. “And suddenly I wasn’t even worth a goodbye.” His words sting, but his honesty matters so much to you.

You stop at the red light, turning towards him, eyes gazing over his. “I thought I was making it easier for us.” You say, voice barely above a whisper.

“So you ran.” He turns his head towards you, and your eyes stay locked until the light turns green.

”Because you mattered too much.” You say.

He looks stunned by your words, letting them sit between you. “I hated you.” He says for the second time today, but it doesn’t make you flinch like earlier.

”I know.” You reply.

“When I saw you again, after years, you were still you.” He pauses. “But you weren’t mine.”

He continues. “I couldn’t be in the same room as you like it meant nothing when you still felt like home.”

“That’s why you were like that.” You pause. “You know, the song, the control, the way you talked to me.” Your words trail of softly, stealing a glance from him before fixing your eyes back on the road.

He huffs out a soft breath, almost a laugh. ”Yeah.”

Your lips curve up slightly. “You were an asshole.”

His reply is immediate “I know.”

You inhale slowly, replaying your question in your head, not sure if you should ask. But it comes out before you can stop yourself. “Are you still going to leave?” You ask, turning your head towards him, eyes afraid yet curious.

He shakes his head. Barely, but he does. “No.” He says quietly.

Relief washes over you, and a smile plays out on your lips without you realizing. You laugh suddenly, anxiety finally disappearing from your stomach.

“I’m not expecting anything.” You tell him, voice lighter now. “But I’m willing to try.”

He smiles, really smiles. And you think you’re seeing him smile genuinely for the first time in a long time.

“Yeah.” He says. “Me too.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Next week, when you’re in the studio, Jungkook finally back in the project, everything feels different. The suffocating tension isn’t there anymore, his words don’t feel like a coping mechanism and yours are stripped away from their usual bite.

Jimin’s annoying remarks don’t bother Jungkook, he agrees with Hana much more than he expects, and he realizes Yoongi’s eyes are softer on him too.

Even the rain outside sounds gentler, tapping softly against the windows like it isn’t trying to interrupt anything anymore. The lights are dim and low like always, and the freshly poured coffees blend into that smell you love.

You’re inside the booth, adjusting the headphones over your ears. Jungkook is behind the controls, Yoongi is standing next to him, packing up quietly. Hana hums to a melody under her breath while scrolling through lyrics on her tablet, and Jimin is near the wall, eating his food like he hasn’t eaten only an hour ago.

The movement doesn’t feel heavy like it has been for the last month, playing out in a noise you find comfort in. You’re finally fully back to the life you love, and you’re so fucking glad you don’t have to brace yourself for it anymore.

”Last chorus,” Jungkook calmly says into the mic. “We’ll keep the first take if it feels right.”

He doesn’t tell you what to do, he doesn’t control in ways that make you feel small. He just waits, giving you space until you feel what’s right. You catch his gaze lingering on you through the glass. It feels comforting now, loving even, like he’s finally letting himself exist in your presence.

When the track begins, you let the first few notes float around the room before filling it with your voice. Then, you close your eyes, starting to sing.

It’s not careful, not restrained, not too controlled. You sing the way you’ve always wanted, honest.

Outside, Jungkook leans forward slowly, elbows resting over the console. His lips part sightly when you sing the pre-chorus, the part that used to feel impossible, the part you both kept circling around like it was something you weaponized.

This time, to Jungkook, it feels just as beautiful as it sounds. He doesn’t stop you when your voice cracks a little on one note, he just watches. And for the first time since years ago, music doesn’t feel like war.

It feels like home again.

The last note fades into silence, and you open your eyes. The room stays silent for a second, as if your voice is still streaching and no one wants to break it.

Jimin claps loudly, being the first one to interrupt. “That was fucking insane! You can’t sound like that at nine in the morning.”

Hana laughs, agreeing. “That’s the one, baby!”

”Fucking finally.” Yoongi mutters under his breath.

You glance at Jungkook, but he doesn’t speak right away, eyes focused on the screen. He presses a few buttons, replaying the last few seconds through the speakers. Your voice feels the room, and his stomach feels warm at the sound.

He exhales slowly. “That’s it.” He says, a soft smile tugging on his lips, like he’s proud of you. Your expression mirrors his when you step out of the booth, pushing the door open.

Jimin throws an arm over your shoulders dramatically before whispering into your ear. “I’m emotional for you.” He says, fake crying before grabbing his bag and dragging Hana out with him. You laugh at the sight as Yoongi gives Jungkook a quiet nod, shutting the door behind him as he leaves.

Suddenly, it’s just the two of you. But nothing feels sharp anymore.

You lean against the table, and he walks over you, placing both of his hands at your sides. “It’s finally done.” You say softly, head tilted to the side like you’re taking in his features like you’re memorizing them again.

“Finally.” He replies.

”You know,” You start. “Four years ago, we would’ve argued over that last note.” He smiles at your words.

”Yeah.” He says. “But now it’s perfect, because it isn’t.”

His fingers brush against yours, and for the first time in years, the contact doesn’t feel dangerous. It feels right.

You let the silence stretch for a minute, his lips ghosting over yours before you start speaking. “What happens now?” You ask.

He pauses for a second, eyes dropping down to your lips before they raise up again. ”I love you like I always have, and you stay.” He says softly.

Your breath catches in yout throat at the confession. Outside the rain starts to slow and inside, the song replays softly from the speakers. Neither of you say anything else, because fiinally, silence doesn’t mean distance.

You lean in, closing the space between you, catching his lips in yours gently. He reacts almost instinctively, kissing you slow and passionate.

Because this time, silence means a life you’ll never leave again.

[juunieez]

SUℳMARY ╋━ You hated the fact you were invisible. Until you weren’t. He’s everywhere around you : on campus, online, in your head. You try to ignore him, try to be normal, try to pretend that the past doesn’t still sting. But he knows the effect he has on you. This is about watching, wanting and losing control. About a boy who doesn’t play fair, and you, who can’t help yourself.

PAIℛING ˖˙ ᰋ ── Campus BadBoy/Streamer ! Jungkook x F ! Reader

JJK MASTER LIST | W.C 4.5K | 𓊈 PART F𝒪UR𓊉 While you’re trying to rebuild your footing and figure out where you belong next, something else shifts too. And the closer you stand to what once felt impossible, the harder it becomes to tell whether you’re healing or just repeating old patterns in a different room.

TAGS / WARNINGS ╋━ COLLEGE AU, mentions of bullying, swearing, violence, drinking, some angst, toxic relationships, suggestive content, sexual tension, slow burn, enemies to lovers, everyone but Jungkook is a jerk in this, themes of obsession, humiliation, reader is mentally unstable pretty much but fights back, mentions of masturbation. ( let me know if i missed anything )

BEG𝕴NNING ❤︎ 𝕹OTE : guyyysss one more part and this series is coming to an end, i know what you are waiting for, and in part 5 i will make all of your dreams come true, until then, here are our two dumbos in love. enjoy!

You don’t remember walking home, you just remember the cold, your mascara streaked down your cheeks and endless tears overflowing your vision.

Your dress is wrinkled and your heels are in your hand by the time you unlock your door. You don’t even turn the lights on. You just peel the dress off, tug on an oversized shirt, wipe your face with the sleeve, and collapse onto your bed.

Your phone buzzes and you almost ignore it, but you don’t. Thankfully?

Jungkook: where are you?

Your heart stops. You stare at it for some time, thinking maybe it's just your drunken haze making things up, before another message comes through.

Jungkook: you home?

You still don’t answer. Should you? For all you known he's been in on it from the beginning.

Jungkook: is your roommate there? m coming over.

Your stomach drops. How the fuck does he know where you live?

You sit up, heart pounding, brain still foggy from alcohol and humiliation. You don’t respond, because you don’t have the energy.

Fifteen minutes later, there’s a knock at your door that at first you mistake for an hallucination.

Another knock. "It's me." Jungkook’s voice comes softly from behind the door.

You slowly open it. He's standing there in the hallway, hair still wet from the rain, holding two beers in one hand like he grabbed them on the way out. He looks different, but you're ready for him to start laughing at you. All though he doesn't seem amused.

He looks at your face, the ruined makeup, the red in your eyes, your flushed cheeks. "Can I come in?"

You hesitate for a bit, then you step aside. He walks in quietly and sets the beers on your desk. He doesn’t comment on your messy room, doesn’t look around, just looks at you.

"You okay?" he asks.

A laugh comes out broken. "Yeah. Great."

He doesn’t push or tease, he just sits on the edge of your bed. "I heard some of it." he says carefully. "Not all.. But enough."

You swallow.

"I didn’t know about the account." he adds. "I swear."

You look at him. For once, he doesn’t look like he’s playing a mind game on you. He hands you one of the beers.

"Drink." he says softly. "You look like you’re gonna pass out."

You sit next to him and you talk. Not about everything, but enough to calm your nerves and the stupid ache in your heart. About the account. About you feeling dumb. About thinking someone was watching, you thinking that you mattered to someone, somehow.

You don’t realize how fast time is flying or how exhausted you are until you’re lying back against your pillow, drifting into sleep mid sentence.

You wake slowly, surfacing from sleep in fragments. The first thing you register is the subtle move of the mattress, a change in weight that wakes you just barely into consciousness. For one second, panic flickers, then you remember, your eyes open halfway. He is still there?

──────────────

The room is soft and gray with early morning light, quiet and still.

Flash.

The sharp white burst burns across your vision and you flinch. "What the hell—?"

"Oh, I'm gonna barf." Your roommate is standing a few feet away, phone in her hand, front camera still up. She’s grinning ear to ear. "My God, you two look so domestic."

Jungkook is on his feet before you’re fully aware. "Delete that." He doesn’t raise his voice.

She laughs. "Relax."

"I said delete it."

You push yourself up onto your elbows, hair messy, shirt sliding off one shoulder, bare legs tangled in the sheets. You feel exposed, but too groggy to care. "We didn’t even do anything." you mumble. "Let her send it. Who cares?"

"I care." Jungkook snaps. The sharpness in his voice makes you go still.

Oh. Right. Of course.

You look down at the blanket gathered in your lap, forcing a small laugh. "It’s fine. I know you don’t want people thinking—"

"No." He cuts you off quickly. You look up.

He drags a hand through his hair, frustrated, not at you, at the situation. "Sidney will care." he says, more calm now. "I don’t want them using this shit against you."

Your roommate tilts her head, watching both of you like she’s at a live show. "Oops." she says lightly and taps the screen. Sent.

Your stomach drops so fast it feels physical. Jungkook swears under his breath as your phone buzzes on the nightstand almost immediately.

"Get dressed." he says.

You blink. "What?"

"Get dressed. You’re not staying here."

Your voice stutters. "I live here."

"Not today."

He reaches for the hoodie he tossed over your desk chair the night before, throws it toward you and it lands in your lap.

Your roommate rolls her eyes. "Oh my God. Is this a rescue mission?"

"You are so lucky I don't hit girls." Jungkook snaps towards her and you can see her smile falter slightly.

The hallway outside your building is too bright, the morning light hurts your eyes and everything feels exposed.

You walk beside him, arms folded tight, hoodie sleeves covering your hands. Neither of you speak until you’re in his car.

The door shuts and you sit in silence for some time.

"It makes sense now." You begin.

He glances at you.

"She always knew..." you continue. "My friend, I mean— Exactly when to send things. When to say something, when to bring it up." Your throat tightens with the threat of tears spilling once again. " My roommate was in on it too. She had to be."

Jungkook’s jaw flexes. "I’m sorry." he says.

You let out a small, humorless laugh. "For what?"

"For not noticing sooner."

"You couldn’t have know."

"I should’ve."

You look at him. "You don’t even like me. I'm pretty sure you find me repulsive ever since last year."

His hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel. "You don’t know that."

The car goes quiet again as you stare out the window.

His place is quieter than you expected.

No loud roommates, no chaos. Just clean floors, neutral walls, a faint scent of detergent and something distinctly him. It looks different than in his lives.

He tosses his keys onto the counter. "You can take my room." he says.

"What about you?"

"I’ll be fine."

You hover awkwardly near the kitchen.

"You’re not a burden." he says flatly. "You can stay as long as you want."

You nod because you don’t trust your voice right this moment.

"I have to go live for a bit."

Your stomach drops. "Oh."

He hesitates. "You’ll be okay?"

"Yeah."

He studies you for a second like he doesn’t fully believe that, or maybe because he doesn't really want to live you alone again. He then disappears into the other room and you hear the faint sound of his voice a few minutes later. The public version of him, the one everyone likes. In a way, everyone you know is a liar, even him. Especially him.

You curl up tighter in a blanket. You try not to think, but the thoughts come anyway.

The account, Sidney overseeing it, people laughing, Jungkook in your room, in your bed, so close. So close.

You press your palm against your chest but it doesn’t help. Your body feels strange. Overstimulated. Emotional, raw, everything that happened last night and this morning sits all so heavy under your skin.

You whisper under your breath. "Not here. Please not here." You don’t want to feel anything else today, you don’t want your body to betray you too, but it does.

The feeling of him near you, the way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you.

It all builds in your tummy until you feel like you’re going to explode. You press your thighs together, ashamed. This is so humiliating.

You’re in his house, he’s in the next room and your body doesn’t care about timing or dignity or pride. You slide your hand down under the blanket, biting your lip hard enough to draw some blood.

It’s not even about pleasure. It’s about grounding yourself, perhaps. Trying to feel something you control.

Your breathing gets uneven as your pussy drips more and more onto your fingers. Tears spill before you know realize they’re coming.

It’s too much. Everything is too much.

Your thighs start shaking, your shoulders too, and you try to stay quiet. You really try, but a broken sound escapes you and then another. In a few seconds you're a mess, coming undone on your own fingers while hysterically crying.

The door in the next room opens, his footsteps are fast. "What’s going on?" Jungkook appears in the doorway. "Are you okay?" His eyes scan you immediately. "Did they message you? Did something happen?"

You pull the blanket tighter around yourself, face hot with humiliation and tears. "N—no."

"Then what—" He steps closer, concern replaces confusion. "Hey.." he says softer. "Talk to me."

You’re crying harder now, and you don’t even know why exactly. It’s not just one thing, it’s everything. "I don’t know what’s wrong with me," you choke out.

His expression shifts instantly. "There’s nothing wrong with you."

"Yes—" You shake your head. "I feel crazy."

"You’re not."

"I thought someone liked me. I thought you—" Your voice breaks. He kneels in front of the couch. "You thought I what?" he asks quietly.

You can’t even finish the sentence. He exhales slowly. "I came over." he says. "I stayed. I brought you here. I’m not doing that because I think you’re a loser, am I? And you’re not crazy." he repeats. "You’re overwhelmed."

Your crying softens into shaky breathing. He reaches up slowly, carefully, like he’s asking without words, and brushes his thumb under your eye to wipe a tear. "Nothing’s wrong with you." he says again.

"You’re just saying that.."

He doesn’t argue with you, he just moves slowly and sits beside you on the couch then pulls you into his arms, one around your shoulders, the other pressing gently at your back.

You freeze for a second, then you collapse into it. Your forehead presses into his chest. Your breathing is uneven at first, but then you take a long inhale, and another.

"Fuck—" He exhales against your hair. "I hate seeing you sad." he murmurs as his hand moves up and down your back. "I hate seeing you cry."

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. "I hate that I was a jerk for so long." he continues quietly. "I thought it was funny. Or easy, or whatever."

You don’t lift your head from his chest and he doesn’t loosen the hold he has around you. "I know saying that doesn’t fix anything. I know it doesn’t undo it. But I don’t want you thinking that’s what I actually thought of you."

He rests his chin lightly on top of your head. "It’s okay if you feel different." he says. "If you feel like a stranger. That’s fine. But don’t let other people decide what that means. Don’t let them tell you who you are."

You close your eyes. For the first time in days, your body stops bracing. He just holds you.

──────────────

The next morning at school feels unreal, like you’re walking into a place that doesn’t belong to you anymore. Not that it ever did, but all of that work you put into feeling more confident clearly amounts to nothing.

"You good?" Jungkook asks.

"Yeah."

He studies your face for a second, then nods. "I’m gonna go find the guys. I’ll be around."

You nod then he leaves.

You barely make it halfway down the hall before you see them. Sidney is leaning against a locker, arms crossed, your ex-best friend beside her, your roommate standing slightly behind them, as if this is some kind of coordinated formation. They are not even pretending they were not waiting for you.

Sidney pushes off the locker when she sees you. "Well, if it isn’t the transformation of the year!" she says loudly. "From pest to skank. That’s impressive progress!"

You keep walking, but she steps directly into your path, forcing you to stop. "How was it?" she asks, tilting her head as if she is genuinely curious. "Did he tell you he came inside me first, or did you figure that out on your own?"

Your stomach tightens, but your voice remains steady. "We didn’t do anything."

Your ex-best friend laughs. "You expect anyone to believe that? You’ve been obsessed with him for how long? You could barely look at him without practically drooling."

Sidney adds. "I’d love to know how you suddenly developed self control."

"We talked." you reply. "That's what we did. We talked."

Your roommate snorts under her breath. "Oh, please." she says. "You really want us to believe you went over there to have a deep emotional conversation?"

"Yes." you answer more sharply than you intended. "That’s exactly what happened."

Sidney rolls her eyes. "Right. And I’m sure he just held your hand and told you you’re special."

"He helped me." you say, feeling your anger begin to outweigh the humiliation. "He listened. Which is more than I can say for some of you." you continue while looking into your ex-best friends eyes.

There is a murmur from a few people nearby. The hallway is not as private as they probably assumed it would be. Your ex-best friend steps closer. "You were always pathetic when it came to him. Don’t act like you suddenly grew a spine overnight, babe."

You feel the lack of sleep pressing against your temples. The exhaustion, the leftover ache from yesterday, the humiliation, the relief, all of it churns together into something volatile. "You’re really testing my patience." you say quietly. "I didn’t sleep much, and I’m not in the mood."

Sidney laughs in your face. "Oh, I am so scared!"

You do not announce your decision, your hand moves before you have the chance to reconsider. The sound of the slap is loud enough to carry down the hallway unmistakable. Sidney’s head turns with the impact, and when she looks back at you, her expression is not mocking or amused. It is stunned, disbelieving, as if she genuinely did not think you were capable of responding.

The hallway has gone quiet. Conversations have stalled. Several people are openly staring. You do not raise your voice. "Don’t talk about me like that again."

Sidney’s fingers press slowly against the reddening mark on her cheek. For once, she does not have an immediate comeback.

For a moment, it almost looks as if she might cry.

Not because she is hurt, but because she is embarrassed. Her gaze flicks past you, taking in the faces lining the hallway, the phones half-lifted, the silence that feels heavier than shouting ever could. The attention is no longer flattering, it is clinical.

Your ex-best friend steps forward first. "What is wrong with you?" she demands, hesitating.

You do not look at her.

Sidney lowers her hand slowly. The red imprint on her cheek is clear. "You just assaulted me, you bitch." she says, her voice thinner than before. "Are you insane?"

You meet her eyes evenly. "No. I am done."

A ripple moves through the crowd.

Your ex-best friend lets out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "This is exactly why nobody takes you seriously. You lose control and then you play victim."

You fully turn towards her. The restraint you had been holding onto thins dangerously. "You do not get to talk about control." you say. "Not after the months you spent standing behind her while she ran her mouth. Making me think I had a friend."

Her expression falters.

Sidney straightens, trying to recover what little dignity she has left. "Oh please." she scoffs, though it lacks her often bite. "You finally snap and now you think you are intimidating? Give me a break."

"You mistake my quiet for weakness. That was your first mistake. You thought I would just keep listening, keep ignoring it. Keep letting you belittle me, that I would never fight back."

Sidney’s jaw tightens. "You are overreacting." she says, but it comes out strained. "No one was belittling you."

A few people in the hallway exchange looks. You tilt your head slightly. "You really want to pretend?"

Her shoulders square. "Say it. Go on."

"You talk like I am beneath you." you reply evenly. "Like I am something you tolerate. Like my existence offends you."

Sidney lets out a snort. "If you feel inferior, that is not my fault."

There it is. The tone she always uses, designed to sound untouchable.

"I never felt inferior. At first, at least." you say calmly. "But I just got tired of watching you try to make me feel that way. So I gave in."

The crowd is no longer pretending not to listen.

Sidney’s eyes flicker around the hallway again. "You think you are some victim?" she presses. "You have been playing innocent this entire time."

"Innocent of what?" you ask quietly.

Her mouth opens but nothing comes out.

"The only reason you had was the threat that your ex might like a loser like me, right?"

A sharp breath escapes someone behind you.

Sidney’s eyes flash. "He was my boyfriend!"

"Exactly." you reply. "Was."

Her jaw tightens. "Do not twist this, you bitch."

"I am not twisting anything." You take a small step closer. "You heard about a Valentine’s note I gave him a year ago. A stupid, harmless note.. And you acted like I had committed a crime."

"It was not harmless." she snaps. "You were trying to—"

"Trying to what?" you cut in. "Confess that I liked him? Yes. I did. I never hid that." Whispers ripple through the hallway. "I gave him a note." you continue. "I did not flirt with him while you were standing there, I did not sneak around. I did not lie."

Her face reddens. "You are acting like I stole something from you. But he was never your property."

Sidney laughs, but it sounds forced. "You are unbelievable. You went after someone who was taken."

"I liked someone." you correct. "And I respected his answer. I moved on." you say. "You did not."

Her lips part.

"You kept bringing it up. Kept making comments. Kept trying to make me look desperate for something that happened once."

"It was humiliating." she hisses.

"For who?" you ask calmly. "For you? Or because you were scared he might realize someone else cared about him without playing games?"

Her expression hardens. "You think you are better than me? You're still drooling over him, when he also talked shit about you."

"Yeah, well, at least he had the balls to apologize and see where he was wrong. But now with my new view on things—" you smile crooked, heart beating fast. "I'm thinking he was somewhat influenced."

"You wanna fuck him? Go ahead! I don't give a flying shit about him or you for that matter!" She rages.

Brittany steps forward, crossing her arms, her expression cool but sharp. "God, Sidney, what is it with you and always wanting to have the last word?"

Sidney whirls toward her, face twisted, lips pulled back. "You don’t get to talk, Brittany! You’re just as bad as she is!"

"No." Brittany says. She glances at you briefly before returning her attention to Sidney. "I’m done with pretending, and you should be too. You don’t get to act like this anymore, and dragging her into it isn’t going to make you look good."

Sidney scoffs, but the bravado is cracked. "And what? You think you’re better? You think I give a shit about what you think?"

"You’ve been hurting everyone around you." Brittany says. "I know I was part of it, okay? I know I helped. And I’m not here to defend myself. I’m here to make sure she knows she’s not the only one you’ve been tearing apart."

You watch them, heart hammering. Part of you wants to step back, hide, melt into the floor, but another part, the part that’s been waiting for months, is fully present.

Sidney’s lips curl into a sneer, but it’s smaller now. "Oh, so now you care about her? You trying to give her head, too? How sweet. Too little, too late, Brittany."

Brittany shakes her head. "No. I care because I’m tired of your shit. You were selfish then, and you’re selfish now. You’ve been manipulating and lying, and I’m not standing for it anymore."

Sidney’s hands ball into fists at her sides. "Fine!" she spits. "You think you’re all high and mighty? You think this— this little lecture changes anything?"

You step slightly forward. Brittany glances at you with a quick nod of acknowledgment.

"What do you want me to say? That now everyone thinks I’m the freak?" she hisses. "You’re just a—"

"My god." You cut her off. "Stop talking. Just leave me alone Sidney, okay? I am willing to let it all go if you just leave me alone."

You finally see the first cracks of fear, embarrassment, recognition of her own failure to control this moment. For once, she is the one silenced.

"Fuck you." She pushes into you hard, her body pressing against yours for just a second before you pivot slightly.

You look her square in the eyes. "You’re done. I don’t owe you anything."

Sidney stumbles back, blinking, her mouth opening and closing like she’s searching for words that won’t come. She glares, flustered.

"What the hell?" Jungkook steps forward then. His voice is calm but you can tell how frustrated he is. "Sidney, enough."

Sidney turns toward him, eyes wild. "Oh, now you’re here? What, are you gonna lecture me too?"

He doesn’t move closer. "I’m not here to argue with you. Leave her alone."

Sidney’s jaw tightens. "Or what?"

"Or you’ll see that your games don’t work on everyone." Jungkook says evenly. The whispers swell, and for the first time, she looks genuinely exposed.

You let yourself breathe slowly, feeling the heat in your chest settle into something better. Not entirely relief, but at least you're not alone in this moment.

Sidney glares one last time, mutters something under her breath, and stalks off down the hallway, alongside your ex-best friend.

You follow Jungkook out of the building, the cold air biting at your cheeks. The streets are nearly empty, the rain from the night before left puddles glinting in the morning sunlight. You kick at one, watching ripples spread, not speaking.

He falls into step beside you, silent at first, letting you set the pace. The only sound is the squelch of wet shoes on pavement and the occasional distant car.

"You didn’t have to handle that by yourself." he says finally.

"Yeah, no—" you mutter, kicking another puddle. "I actually.. needed to."

He glances at you, eyes unreadable for a moment, then nods. "I get it. You’re stubborn as hell."

You snort, despite yourself. "I learned from the best." you say, a tiny edge of humor trying to break through the tension.

He chuckles softly. "Maybe. But stubborn doesn’t mean wrong."

You glance at him. "Doesn’t it? I feel.. I don’t know. Everything’s been messed up, and then, today.. it all just—" Your voice breaks slightly. "It’s a lot."

He stops walking, waiting for you to notice. When you do, you almost stumble into him. "You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah." you lie, shaking your head. "Just.. tired, I guess."

He studies you for a long second, then reaches out, brushing a strand of wet hair off your face, and you swear you feel your heart crawling up your throat. "You don’t have to lie to me." he says softly. "I saw what happened back there. I know who was in the wrong."

You look away, heat rising in your cheeks. "Doesn’t matter."

"It matters to me." he says quietly. "You don’t have to let them get to you."

The two of you keep walking, side by side, in silence. Finally, he speaks again. "You wanna grab coffee? Just— somewhere to sit, somewhere quiet?"

You think about saying no, think about staying angry, staying wound up, but something in the sound of his voice makes your nerves loosen. "Okay." you say finally. "Yeah. Coffee sounds— good."

The storm is over, the world still wet, but for the first time in days, it feels like you might finally catch your breath.

──────────────

You’ve been staying at Jungkook’s place for a few days now. Every morning you wake up to the quiet of his apartment, the faint smell of coffee in the air, and the sound of his snores in the living room. You’ve been feeling guilty almost the whole time, you’re intruding, you shouldn’t be here at all, especially with how your body handles.. nerves.

"I should start looking for a place." you mutter, tracing the edge of the couch with your fingers. "I can’t keep imposing."

He glances up from his laptop. "Imposing?" he asks, tilting his head. "You’ve been here only a few days. I’ve got space. It’s fine."

"It’s not fine." you whisper, staring down at your hands. "I just.. I don’t want to take advantage of you."

"You’re not taking advantage of me." he laughs softly, sliding the laptop aside. His voice is steady and warm, and so not like the man you knew almost a month ago. "I don’t mind. I like having you here."

"I still need to find somewhere." you murmur, trying not to meet his eyes. "I can’t— can’t stay forever."

He leans back against the couch. "I know," he says just that.

But your mind is still split, that's main reason you need to move. Every time he moves, every time he laughs, every time he sits too close or brushes past you in the kitchen, you feel it that same heat, a tension you thought you were over, a memory of the way your body reacts. You tell yourself you’re over it. You really do. But your heart is stupid, your stomach flips, and you feel small, caught, and guilty.

How long until he catches you? What would he think, what would say? The girl he's been trying to help, touching herself in his own house, on his bed, only at the mere thought of him.

He shifts inches closer on the couch. "Bug.." he begins, body moving closer to yours. Can he smell it on you, your arousal? His gaze flicks to your lips and you can see him lean in.

Oh no. No, no, no.

You stumble to your feet, heart hammering, and force a laugh. "Uh—tea? Coffee? I think I need—something." you mumble, gripping the edge of the counter for support. Anything to distract from the moment, to cover the heat rushing through you.

He doesn’t move back. He just watches, and smiles. "Something," he repeats, quiet, almost teasing. "You mean.. to calm your nerves?"

You bite your lip, twisting the hem of your shirt, cheeks burning. "Yeah." you whisper. "Nerves.. tea. Definitely tea."

You busily grab a mug, fumbling with the kettle, just to keep your hands occupied, to keep from noticing him.

You spin, forcing a smile, and step toward the counter. "Tea’s ready." you say, voice firmer than you feel. "Sit. I’ll pour."

He doesn’t move to sit, just tilts his head, eyes flicking to yours with something like amusement or curiosity.

You pour the tea, hands shaking, and keep your gaze down, focusing on the steaming mug like it’s a lifeline.

"Here." you finally say, sliding the mug across the counter. "Careful.. it’s hot."

Much like the in-between of your legs.

juniᧉsㅤ⁔ㅤ˚ㅤtagl𝒾stㅤׅㅤʚɞ → @mar-lo-pap @oopscoop @magicalnachocreator @lachimolalajeon @mniys @bjoriis @dotheharakiri @rabbittedd @ellushic @justanarchiveforfics @azxher @emmie2308 @yeongjii @tatamicc @songbyeonkim @magicshop96 @sadiayn @thebaratheonlion @nomadclairo @judesbitch @cherricherryy @curiouslykeenvanguard @angeleclipsey @ttipa @jggui

[juunieez]

I'm so excited for part 4 🥹🥹🥹

( 💌. ) thank you for being here and for reading! part for is ready to post, so expect it some time tonight ! ♡

[juunieez]

haven’t seen another ive faceclaim girlie jungkook writer here yet EEEK i have a tumblr crush on uuu

( 💌. ) staaawwp u got me blushing n whatnot D: u r adorable

[juunieez]

SUℳMARY ╋━ You hated the fact you were invisible. Until you weren’t. He’s everywhere around you : on campus, online, in your head. You try to ignore him, try to be normal, try to pretend that the past doesn’t still sting. But he knows the effect he has on you. This is about watching, wanting and losing control. About a boy who doesn’t play fair, and you, who can’t help yourself.

PAIℛING ˖˙ ᰋ ── Campus BadBoy/Streamer ! Jungkook x F ! Reader

JJK MASTER LIST | W.C 3.2K | 𓊈 PART THRℰE𓊉 As more secrets unfold you start to question if change was what brought it all to fruition. Or maybe it was all just how your life is supposed to go, maybe this limbo between want and hate is destiny to you.

TAGS / WARNINGS ╋━ COLLEGE AU, mentions of bullying, drinking, some angst, toxic relationships, suggestive content, sexual tension, slow burn, enemies to lovers ( ? ), jungkook is a jerk again, themes of obsession, humiliation, reader is mentally unstable pretty much, mentions of masturbation. ( let me know if i missed anything )

BEG𝕴NNING ❤︎ 𝕹OTE : hello hello everynyan and welcome to the second last part of this mini series !! yaaay !! its was short, but a roller coaster and i am excited but also kind of bummed that its almost over. all of that being said, i hope you enjoy this part and again, sorry for any mistakes !! part 4 is coming soon and until then my REQUEST ARE OPEN !! Oh the other parts of this series you can find in the jjk masterlist. And if u guys asked me to tag u pls pls dont change your user name and everything right after please, its really hard for me to fund you otherwise. okay thats all ly buhbye ✨️✨️✨️✨️

A wave of heat rises through you. Anger, jealousy, and maybe something else, something that's worse. You step into a changing booth, letting the door close behind you. Your hands are shaking before you even get the dress off the hanger.

You’re running late, bag slung too low, skirt riding up just enough to make you aware of every eye on you.

"Careful, bug." a voice says behind you. Of course it’s Jungkook. The corner of his mouth quirks, amused.

"What do you want?" you snap, hating the way your tummy flutters just by the sound of his voice.

"Nothing." he says easily. "Just enjoying the view." He points to your clearly too short skirt.

You glare. "Funny."

He smirks "Mhm. Very funny."

You keep walking and he falls into step beside you. "You headed to class?"

"Maybe." you mutter, vague.

"Right."

You grip your bag strap tighter, trying your best to cover how enormously affected you are by his presence.

At the lecture hall, he wait for you to take a seat then immediately takes the one behind you. He didn't even say anything else after that, not a word, which made it all the more strange, because, if he didn't sit this close to belittle you some more why did he do it.

Your friend nudges you. "Looks like we found your secret admirer."

"Fuck no." you hiss, clutching your pen.

"Sure." she whispers. "Hoping you'll wake up soon."

After class, you sit with your friend on the steps outside the arts building because there’s nowhere else to go between classes that have only 20 minutes between them. The concrete is cold through your skirt, and you keep tugging it down, remembering the way Jungkook looked at your legs earlier.

Your friend eyes you over the rim of her iced coffee. "Why're wearing that again?"

"It’s just a skirt."

"Yeah, but— It’s tight."

You shrug as if you don’t care. "So?"

She hums noncommittal. "Just saying. People notice when you change stuff all of a sudden, babe."

You know what she means.

You see Jungkook cut through the crowd with his headphones on, jaw set, and he's walking with that annoying sway you so totally hate.

"There he is." She sing-songs.

"Don’t.." you say quietly.

"What? I didn’t say anything." She asks, smiling.

Jungkook passes close enough that you catch his cologne, but he doesn’t look at you, not even accidentally, like you’re part of the scenery.

You tell yourself that’s good, that’s what you want. Right?

When he’s a few steps past, he stops, turns his head slightly, like something irritated him. His eyes flick to you, then away again. He pulls one headphone off. "You staring, bug?"

Your heart jumps so hard it’s embarrassing. "As if." you say too quickly.

He looks at you up and down. "Uh-huh."

Your friend snorts beside you. "She just started dressing like a person. Give her a break."

You whine. "What does that mean?"

Jungkook’s mouth twitches into a smile. "That explains it."

"Explains what?" you snap.

"Why you look so fucking uncomfortable." he laughs easily. "Like you’re wearing someone else’s skin."

Your face burns. "Why do you even care?"

He shrugs, slipping the headphone back on. "I don’t."

Then he walks off like he didn’t just gut you on the steps. You stare after him with your throat tight.

Your friend laughs softly. "See? Told you he noticed."

You don’t answer.

The worst part isn’t what he said. It’s that when his eyes dragged over you, you felt as if he saw what you wanted, saw right through you. And you hate yourself for wanting it again.

──────────────

You didn’t want to go shopping, but your friend had insisted. "You need something cute for the party!"

So here you are, dragging your feet through the mall, arms crossed, trying not to think about how stupidly out of place you feel. Every mirror you pass reflects someone else’s confidence.

You round the corner to the women’s clothing section and freeze when you see Jungkook next to a display, laughing with his arm wrapped around some girl. She’s looking at him like he's the only person in the world. Her hand brushes his, and he doesn’t even notice but he’s smiling, his attention all hers.

You try to convince yourself it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t see you, that he couldn’t possibly care about anything. But your legs feel weak and your hands cold. You step behind a rack of dresses, taking one out and peeking through the gap it left. You watch them laugh at something and you feel like you could vomit your heart out.

──────────────

You sit on the small bench, clutching the fabric against your chest.

Tears prick your eyes and you feel pathetic. You whisper his name under your breath, and it comes out in broken cries. Your hand drifts under your skirt, brushing over your already wet underwear. You press harder, your body reacting before your brain can stop it. You cry quietly into the fabric of the dress, imagining him, imagining it’s him in the mall with you, imagining that he’s yours, even though he isn’t and he will never be.

"Oh, please—"

Your chest heaves, your fingers move faster, and the shame twists through you like a knife. You’re crying and shaking, and yet the heat in your belly refuses to go away. You’re a mess, a stupid, desperate mess, and you can’t stop.

When you finally come down, your hands are sticky, your clothes slightly rumpled, mascara streaked. You breathe through it, trying to calm down, smooth your dress against your legs, and force yourself to stand.

You step out of the booth slowly, forcing a calm you don’t feel.

And then the lightning flashes blinding, and the thunder follows immediately. You curse under your breath and quicken your pace, only to realize the awning you were aiming for is blocked. The wind throws rain into your face, drenching you instantly.

The rain hits like a drum against the pavement, cold and hard. You grip your jacket tighter, the hood doing nothing against the sideways gusts. Your hair sticks to your face, and your boots slip slightly in puddles.

You look back and see Jungkook as he lags a step behind you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, hoodie drenched and sticking to his back. His usual smirk is gone, now replaced by him scowling, just looking annoyed, like you’re annoying him personally, which, well, maybe you are.

"Are you seriously just gonna stand there?" you snap over the rain.

"Yeah, and what? You’re walking like a stormtrooper." he mutters, voice low and sharp. "Relax."

You roll your eyes, pulling the straps of your bag tighter. You hate him. Hate that he’s here. Hate that he’s so calm. Hate that you can’t stop thinking about him.

Of course he’d look at you like you’re crazy. Why would he, basically a star, want you, a weirdo who watches him constantly, who has only disgusting thoughts about him?

Jungkook finally catches up, grabbing your arm before you slip again. "Hey. Watch it!"

You yank your arm free. "I don’t need your help."

He tilts his head amused, but there’s a flash of irritation in his eyes. The storm drowns out the sound of his voice when he says. "Yeah? You sure about that, bug?"

You don’t answer. Instead, you spot a narrow doorway between two closed shops. You dash for it, hoping it’s covered and Jungkook follows silently. By the time you’re inside, the rain has become a curtain of white noise behind the glass. You’re soaked, your hair sticks to your cheeks and your chest heaves.

"Great." you mutter, tugging at your jacket. "Just great. Stuck with you in a storm."

He doesn’t respond. He leans against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes trained on. You can feel the tension like static between you, much like the storm outside.

"Don’t. Look. At me." you snap finally.

"Or what?" he asks quietly, taking a step closer. His voice is lower than usual, like the storm made everything within him meaner.

Your heart hammers in your chest and you want to run, you want to tell him to go, but something about the rain, the closeness, the way his hoodie is soaked and clings to his body, it’s suffocating.

"Stop being a pain." you breathe out.

He tilts his head, a smirk tugging at his lips despite the clear shiver running through him. "I could say the same to you."

You groan, dragging your hands down your face. "You’re impossible."

"Yeah." His voice is quiet. But then he gets closer and steps into your space. You can feel his breath now, see his wet hair sticking to his forehead better, eyes darker than usual. "You’re weird today."

"Thanks?" You can’t stop your hands from shaking. Your face is hot.

Before you can brace yourself he leans in close. Zo close that your pulse spikes and his lips are nearly on yours.

"I know the burner account is you." you blurt out.

The effect is immediate. He freezes, pulling back slightly, eyes wide, confused. "What? What the fuck are you talking about?" He laughs.

"You don’t think I’ve noticed?" you whisper, voice shaking. "All those times you watched, all that.. attention. It’s you. You’ve been watching. You’ve been— messing with me." You swallow hard.

"No. I— What? Bug, I swear it’s not me." he says, voice harsh now, defensive.

You stumble back a step, rain dripping from your hair. "Don’t lie! I know it’s you."

He throws his hands up, frustrated. "I didn’t— look, I don’t even know what to say. It’s not me, alright? I wouldn’t—"

"You wouldn't?"

The storm rages outside, drowning out the world. You’re soaked, trembling with your heart pounding out on a platter, chest tight with humiliation, lust, anger, everything.

You want to believe him and you want to push him away, and you want to collapse against him all at the same time.

"Then who is it?" you hiss, barely able to keep your voice steady.

He stares at you, jaw tight, trying to process the venom and the vulnerability in your eyes. "I.. I don’t know."

You glare at him, furious, wet, desperate. "You better hope I never find out."

The storm didn't stop, the rain still drumming against the glass, knowing nothing is as simple, and nothing will be ever again.

You don’t wait for him to say anything else. You push past him, shoulder clipping his arm and step straight back into the rain.

It’s colder than before. The storm feels personal now, the rain soaking through your clothes instantly, wind slapping wet hair against your face, thunder cracking like it’s laughing at how stupid you are. You walk fast, almost reckless, shoes splashing through deep puddles.

"Bug!"

You don’t stop.

"Bug, get the fuck back in here!"

His voice cuts through the rain, and he sounds angry, almost desperate. You keep walking. Faster. Faster.

Whatever.

If he can’t just say it, if he has to hide behind a burner account, watching you, poking at you, feeding you attention in secret and then pretending none of it exists then he can fuck right off.

By the time you reach your place, you’re far drenched, shaking, fingers numb as you fumble with your keys. You slam the door behind you harder than necessary and lean back against it.

Silence.

You peel off your jacket, drop your bag on the floor, kick your shoes off. Water drips onto the tile, little dark spots spreading like evidence. You run a hand through your hair and just laugh, breathless and bitter.

Of course he’d deny it.

You sink onto the edge of your bed, water staining the sheets.

He almost kissed you. Oh.

The thought hits harder than the accusation. You press your palms into your face, groaning softly.

You’re so tired of wanting someone who won’t claim you out loud, tired of feeling watched but never chosen, tired of pretending you don’t care when it’s obvious you do, when your whole body reacts to him like a bruise being pressed.

You curl up on the bed, still in damp clothes, staring at the ceiling as thunder rolls outside.

If he likes you, he should say it. If it’s him, he should own up to it. If it’s not then why does it feel like he’s everywhere?

──────────────

The party is a mess of red and pink. Streamers hang crookedly from the ceiling, the bass of the music obscuring the actual melody, the smell of overly sweet perfume, alcohol, and fried food.

You duck through a cluster of people, your heels clicking against the hardwood floor, and slide into a seat in the corner, near the snack table. Alone. Safe.

You sip your drink, trying not to think about the storm yesterday, trying not to think about him.

"Wow."

You glance up. Jungkook. He looks perfect. His gaze lands on you, assessing. "Second party in a month," he says amused. "Crazy. It’s like you’re actually trying to be a normal college student."

You bite your lip and don’t answer. He smirks, steps closer. The smell of him makes your stomach knot. You try to look elsewhere, fix your hair, anything to avoid making eye contact.

"You okay?" he asks voice softer now, almost genuine.

You shrug, sip your drink. The silence stretches.

He leans a little closer, lowering his voice so only you can hear. "I mean you don’t speak to anyone. And somehow, you show up again."

"Yeah." you mutter. "I like parties."

He laughs softly. "Right." he says. "Parties."

For a moment, it feels like he’s different. Not teasing or challenging. Just present. Maybe last night really did change something.

Then the beautiful girl from the mall appears, the one he was with that day. She slides her arms around him, laughing, pressing her cheek to his.

"Hey, handsome!"

He smiles at her, relaxed, easy, like he's forgotten you even exist.

You stand abruptly, drink forgotten, half full.

The air feels harder to breathe in so you step outside. Rain hits your face almost immediately, but it doesn’t matter. You can feel the heat rising in your chest, the bitterness of humiliation.

You wander toward the quieter side of the building, letting the night air hit your soaked hair, pressing the jacket tighter around yourself.

A few minutes pass before your friend finds you.

"Oh my god." She slips an arm around your shoulders, pulling you toward the restroom. "You look like a drowned rat." she says, half laughing. "Come on."

Inside, she fusses with the hand towels, muttering something about asking the host for more. She leaves the door slightly ajar, her phone left on the counter.

It buzzes once, twice. Three more times. Curiosity pricks at you. You know you shouldn’t, but your hands reach for it anyway.

What is this? Messages. Messages upon messages

Between your friend and Sidney.

Plans. Mentions of posts she'll tell you to make, stories to like, reactions. Everything. All for that one account : @heart_still_yours.

The flood hits all at once. Every moment, every view, every nudge of attention you’d thought came from him, it was them. They’d been watching. They’d been planning.

Made you build this insane fantasy only to make it all hurt more when they tear you down piece by piece.

You sink to the floor, knees pulled to your chest, phone clutched tight. The truth tastes bitter in your mouth.

And in that moment, you realize he never watched you at all— never wanted you. Was he in on it too?

You stare at the messages on the phone, frozen.

Your stomach twists and you want to vomit. Everything you thought, everything you felt, every glance, every moment where you convinced yourself he was watching.

The alcohol fades a little. Betrayal, anger, shame. You feel almost sober, and painfully clear.

Your friend’s footsteps echo in the hallway. She comes back, smiling. "Hey, you okay?" she asks, voice friendly.

You glance up. Nothing. Nothing but fury and disbelief. "Fuck off." you mutter. You push past her, storming out of the restroom, sloshing through the crowd, ignoring the music, ignoring the people.

She stops at the door for a second, notices the phone on the floor and her eyes widen. "Fuck."

You don’t wait. You barrel through the hallway, hoping the noise will shield you from her.

"Wait up!" she calls out, as she tries her best to grab you.

You yank your arm free and keep pushing through people, shoulders bumping, music blaring loudly, your ears are ringing and your head is empty.

"Oh my— Seriously, stop!" she snaps, louder now. You spin around.

The crowd seems to hear too and people are already watching. A couple of girls near the couch go silent, aomeone pretend not to stare and fail miserably. Eventually the music dies down.

"What?" you say. Your voice doesn’t shake like you expect it to. "You done yet?"

Her face hardens. The nice girl mask slips, just a little. "God, you’re so fucking dramatic." she scoffs. "You really thought someone like Jungkook would like you?"

Your chest aches. She keeps going, getting louder, crueler, like she wants witnesses, like this was her grand finale. "It didn’t work last year, remember? You think some lip gloss and a dress was gonna fix your fuckass weirdo personality? Be serious."

Someone behind her mutters "Jesus."

You feel heat crawl up your neck. Your eyes burn, but you don’t cry. "Why?" You look straight at her and ask. "Just why?"

She laughs. "Because I was tired of people thinking I was a loser just because you are one. Standing next to you made me look pathetic."

That one lands hard.

"Face it, bug. You’re strange. You always have been. You don’t fit anywhere, people don’t just ignore you for no reason."

Your hands curl into fists and you take a breath.

"I’m strange?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don’t do this."

"No." you say, louder now. "I’m strange?"

The room feels too small. You laugh and it's short, broken, almost hysterical. "That’s crazy, coming from you."

Her smile falters a bit. "You wanna talk about strange?" you continue. "You mean like trying to fuck your mom’s boyfriend, asking him to get you pregnant?"

A sharp inhale ripples through the crowd. Someone gasps, someone else says "Oh my god."

Her face drains of color. "Or his brother?" you add. "Because that’s what got you kicked out, right? Or are we pretending that never happened?"

"Shut the fuck up." she hisses, eyes wild.

"No." you say. "You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to humiliate me for fun and then pretend I’m the fucked up one."

People are staring openly now, phones raised, filming, whispers everywhere.

"You made a fake account." you say, voice breaking at last. "You watched me spiral— You let me think someone cared! You let me think he saw me."

Her mouth opens then closes.

"I just wanted to feel normal!" she snaps desperately. "I wanted people to stop looking at me like I was trash."

"And you thought ruining me would fix that?" you yell back. Tears finally spill, hot and humiliating, but you don’t wipe them away. "Fuck you." you say, barely audible.

You turn and push through the crowd before she can say another word, before she can explain, before she can hurt you more.

Behind you, someone calls out your name.

juniᧉsㅤ⁔ㅤ˚ㅤtagl𝒾stㅤׅㅤʚɞ → @mar-lo-pap @oopscoop @magicalnachocreator @lachimolalajeon @mniys @bjoriis @dotheharakiri @rabbittedd @ellushic @justanarchiveforfics @azxher @emmie2308 @yeongjii @tatamicc @songbyeonkim @magicshop96 @sadiayn @thebaratheonlion @nomadclairo @judesbitch

[junqive]

CHAT IM SO INVESTED IN THIS

[juunieez]

thank you so much for reading ! ♡

[juunieez]

SUℳMARY ╋━ You hated the fact you were invisible. Until you weren’t. He’s everywhere around you : on campus, online, in your head. You try to ignore him, try to be normal, try to pretend that the past doesn’t still sting. But he knows the effect he has on you. This is about watching, wanting and losing control. About a boy who doesn’t play fair, and you, who can’t help yourself.

PAIℛING ˖˙ ᰋ ── Campus BadBoy/Streamer ! Jungkook x F ! Reader

JJK MASTER LIST | W.C 3.2K | 𓊈 PART THRℰE𓊉 As more secrets unfold you start to question if change was what brought it all to fruition. Or maybe it was all just how your life is supposed to go, maybe this limbo between want and hate is destiny to you.

TAGS / WARNINGS ╋━ COLLEGE AU, mentions of bullying, drinking, some angst, toxic relationships, suggestive content, sexual tension, slow burn, enemies to lovers ( ? ), jungkook is a jerk again, themes of obsession, humiliation, reader is mentally unstable pretty much, mentions of masturbation. ( let me know if i missed anything )

BEG𝕴NNING ❤︎ 𝕹OTE : hello hello everynyan and welcome to the second last part of this mini series !! yaaay !! its was short, but a roller coaster and i am excited but also kind of bummed that its almost over. all of that being said, i hope you enjoy this part and again, sorry for any mistakes !! part 4 is coming soon and until then my REQUEST ARE OPEN !! Oh the other parts of this series you can find in the jjk masterlist. And if u guys asked me to tag u pls pls dont change your user name and everything right after please, its really hard for me to fund you otherwise. okay thats all ly buhbye ✨️✨️✨️✨️

A wave of heat rises through you. Anger, jealousy, and maybe something else, something that's worse. You step into a changing booth, letting the door close behind you. Your hands are shaking before you even get the dress off the hanger.

You’re running late, bag slung too low, skirt riding up just enough to make you aware of every eye on you.

"Careful, bug." a voice says behind you. Of course it’s Jungkook. The corner of his mouth quirks, amused.

"What do you want?" you snap, hating the way your tummy flutters just by the sound of his voice.

"Nothing." he says easily. "Just enjoying the view." He points to your clearly too short skirt.

You glare. "Funny."

He smirks "Mhm. Very funny."

You keep walking and he falls into step beside you. "You headed to class?"

"Maybe." you mutter, vague.

"Right."

You grip your bag strap tighter, trying your best to cover how enormously affected you are by his presence.

At the lecture hall, he wait for you to take a seat then immediately takes the one behind you. He didn't even say anything else after that, not a word, which made it all the more strange, because, if he didn't sit this close to belittle you some more why did he do it.

Your friend nudges you. "Looks like we found your secret admirer."

"Fuck no." you hiss, clutching your pen.

"Sure." she whispers. "Hoping you'll wake up soon."

After class, you sit with your friend on the steps outside the arts building because there’s nowhere else to go between classes that have only 20 minutes between them. The concrete is cold through your skirt, and you keep tugging it down, remembering the way Jungkook looked at your legs earlier.

Your friend eyes you over the rim of her iced coffee. "Why're wearing that again?"

"It’s just a skirt."

"Yeah, but— It’s tight."

You shrug as if you don’t care. "So?"

She hums noncommittal. "Just saying. People notice when you change stuff all of a sudden, babe."

You know what she means.

You see Jungkook cut through the crowd with his headphones on, jaw set, and he's walking with that annoying sway you so totally hate.

"There he is." She sing-songs.

"Don’t.." you say quietly.

"What? I didn’t say anything." She asks, smiling.

Jungkook passes close enough that you catch his cologne, but he doesn’t look at you, not even accidentally, like you’re part of the scenery.

You tell yourself that’s good, that’s what you want. Right?

When he’s a few steps past, he stops, turns his head slightly, like something irritated him. His eyes flick to you, then away again. He pulls one headphone off. "You staring, bug?"

Your heart jumps so hard it’s embarrassing. "As if." you say too quickly.

He looks at you up and down. "Uh-huh."

Your friend snorts beside you. "She just started dressing like a person. Give her a break."

You whine. "What does that mean?"

Jungkook’s mouth twitches into a smile. "That explains it."

"Explains what?" you snap.

"Why you look so fucking uncomfortable." he laughs easily. "Like you’re wearing someone else’s skin."

Your face burns. "Why do you even care?"

He shrugs, slipping the headphone back on. "I don’t."

Then he walks off like he didn’t just gut you on the steps. You stare after him with your throat tight.

Your friend laughs softly. "See? Told you he noticed."

You don’t answer.

The worst part isn’t what he said. It’s that when his eyes dragged over you, you felt as if he saw what you wanted, saw right through you. And you hate yourself for wanting it again.

──────────────

You didn’t want to go shopping, but your friend had insisted. "You need something cute for the party!"

So here you are, dragging your feet through the mall, arms crossed, trying not to think about how stupidly out of place you feel. Every mirror you pass reflects someone else’s confidence.

You round the corner to the women’s clothing section and freeze when you see Jungkook next to a display, laughing with his arm wrapped around some girl. She’s looking at him like he's the only person in the world. Her hand brushes his, and he doesn’t even notice but he’s smiling, his attention all hers.

You try to convince yourself it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t see you, that he couldn’t possibly care about anything. But your legs feel weak and your hands cold. You step behind a rack of dresses, taking one out and peeking through the gap it left. You watch them laugh at something and you feel like you could vomit your heart out.

──────────────

You sit on the small bench, clutching the fabric against your chest.

Tears prick your eyes and you feel pathetic. You whisper his name under your breath, and it comes out in broken cries. Your hand drifts under your skirt, brushing over your already wet underwear. You press harder, your body reacting before your brain can stop it. You cry quietly into the fabric of the dress, imagining him, imagining it’s him in the mall with you, imagining that he’s yours, even though he isn’t and he will never be.

"Oh, please—"

Your chest heaves, your fingers move faster, and the shame twists through you like a knife. You’re crying and shaking, and yet the heat in your belly refuses to go away. You’re a mess, a stupid, desperate mess, and you can’t stop.

When you finally come down, your hands are sticky, your clothes slightly rumpled, mascara streaked. You breathe through it, trying to calm down, smooth your dress against your legs, and force yourself to stand.

You step out of the booth slowly, forcing a calm you don’t feel.

And then the lightning flashes blinding, and the thunder follows immediately. You curse under your breath and quicken your pace, only to realize the awning you were aiming for is blocked. The wind throws rain into your face, drenching you instantly.

The rain hits like a drum against the pavement, cold and hard. You grip your jacket tighter, the hood doing nothing against the sideways gusts. Your hair sticks to your face, and your boots slip slightly in puddles.

You look back and see Jungkook as he lags a step behind you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, hoodie drenched and sticking to his back. His usual smirk is gone, now replaced by him scowling, just looking annoyed, like you’re annoying him personally, which, well, maybe you are.

"Are you seriously just gonna stand there?" you snap over the rain.

"Yeah, and what? You’re walking like a stormtrooper." he mutters, voice low and sharp. "Relax."

You roll your eyes, pulling the straps of your bag tighter. You hate him. Hate that he’s here. Hate that he’s so calm. Hate that you can’t stop thinking about him.

Of course he’d look at you like you’re crazy. Why would he, basically a star, want you, a weirdo who watches him constantly, who has only disgusting thoughts about him?

Jungkook finally catches up, grabbing your arm before you slip again. "Hey. Watch it!"

You yank your arm free. "I don’t need your help."

He tilts his head amused, but there’s a flash of irritation in his eyes. The storm drowns out the sound of his voice when he says. "Yeah? You sure about that, bug?"

You don’t answer. Instead, you spot a narrow doorway between two closed shops. You dash for it, hoping it’s covered and Jungkook follows silently. By the time you’re inside, the rain has become a curtain of white noise behind the glass. You’re soaked, your hair sticks to your cheeks and your chest heaves.

"Great." you mutter, tugging at your jacket. "Just great. Stuck with you in a storm."

He doesn’t respond. He leans against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes trained on. You can feel the tension like static between you, much like the storm outside.

"Don’t. Look. At me." you snap finally.

"Or what?" he asks quietly, taking a step closer. His voice is lower than usual, like the storm made everything within him meaner.

Your heart hammers in your chest and you want to run, you want to tell him to go, but something about the rain, the closeness, the way his hoodie is soaked and clings to his body, it’s suffocating.

"Stop being a pain." you breathe out.

He tilts his head, a smirk tugging at his lips despite the clear shiver running through him. "I could say the same to you."

You groan, dragging your hands down your face. "You’re impossible."

"Yeah." His voice is quiet. But then he gets closer and steps into your space. You can feel his breath now, see his wet hair sticking to his forehead better, eyes darker than usual. "You’re weird today."

"Thanks?" You can’t stop your hands from shaking. Your face is hot.

Before you can brace yourself he leans in close. Zo close that your pulse spikes and his lips are nearly on yours.

"I know the burner account is you." you blurt out.

The effect is immediate. He freezes, pulling back slightly, eyes wide, confused. "What? What the fuck are you talking about?" He laughs.

"You don’t think I’ve noticed?" you whisper, voice shaking. "All those times you watched, all that.. attention. It’s you. You’ve been watching. You’ve been— messing with me." You swallow hard.

"No. I— What? Bug, I swear it’s not me." he says, voice harsh now, defensive.

You stumble back a step, rain dripping from your hair. "Don’t lie! I know it’s you."

He throws his hands up, frustrated. "I didn’t— look, I don’t even know what to say. It’s not me, alright? I wouldn’t—"

"You wouldn't?"

The storm rages outside, drowning out the world. You’re soaked, trembling with your heart pounding out on a platter, chest tight with humiliation, lust, anger, everything.

You want to believe him and you want to push him away, and you want to collapse against him all at the same time.

"Then who is it?" you hiss, barely able to keep your voice steady.

He stares at you, jaw tight, trying to process the venom and the vulnerability in your eyes. "I.. I don’t know."

You glare at him, furious, wet, desperate. "You better hope I never find out."

The storm didn't stop, the rain still drumming against the glass, knowing nothing is as simple, and nothing will be ever again.

You don’t wait for him to say anything else. You push past him, shoulder clipping his arm and step straight back into the rain.

It’s colder than before. The storm feels personal now, the rain soaking through your clothes instantly, wind slapping wet hair against your face, thunder cracking like it’s laughing at how stupid you are. You walk fast, almost reckless, shoes splashing through deep puddles.

"Bug!"

You don’t stop.

"Bug, get the fuck back in here!"

His voice cuts through the rain, and he sounds angry, almost desperate. You keep walking. Faster. Faster.

Whatever.

If he can’t just say it, if he has to hide behind a burner account, watching you, poking at you, feeding you attention in secret and then pretending none of it exists then he can fuck right off.

By the time you reach your place, you’re far drenched, shaking, fingers numb as you fumble with your keys. You slam the door behind you harder than necessary and lean back against it.

Silence.

You peel off your jacket, drop your bag on the floor, kick your shoes off. Water drips onto the tile, little dark spots spreading like evidence. You run a hand through your hair and just laugh, breathless and bitter.

Of course he’d deny it.

You sink onto the edge of your bed, water staining the sheets.

He almost kissed you. Oh.

The thought hits harder than the accusation. You press your palms into your face, groaning softly.

You’re so tired of wanting someone who won’t claim you out loud, tired of feeling watched but never chosen, tired of pretending you don’t care when it’s obvious you do, when your whole body reacts to him like a bruise being pressed.

You curl up on the bed, still in damp clothes, staring at the ceiling as thunder rolls outside.

If he likes you, he should say it. If it’s him, he should own up to it. If it’s not then why does it feel like he’s everywhere?

──────────────

The party is a mess of red and pink. Streamers hang crookedly from the ceiling, the bass of the music obscuring the actual melody, the smell of overly sweet perfume, alcohol, and fried food.

You duck through a cluster of people, your heels clicking against the hardwood floor, and slide into a seat in the corner, near the snack table. Alone. Safe.

You sip your drink, trying not to think about the storm yesterday, trying not to think about him.

"Wow."

You glance up. Jungkook. He looks perfect. His gaze lands on you, assessing. "Second party in a month," he says amused. "Crazy. It’s like you’re actually trying to be a normal college student."

You bite your lip and don’t answer. He smirks, steps closer. The smell of him makes your stomach knot. You try to look elsewhere, fix your hair, anything to avoid making eye contact.

"You okay?" he asks voice softer now, almost genuine.

You shrug, sip your drink. The silence stretches.

He leans a little closer, lowering his voice so only you can hear. "I mean you don’t speak to anyone. And somehow, you show up again."

"Yeah." you mutter. "I like parties."

He laughs softly. "Right." he says. "Parties."

For a moment, it feels like he’s different. Not teasing or challenging. Just present. Maybe last night really did change something.

Then the beautiful girl from the mall appears, the one he was with that day. She slides her arms around him, laughing, pressing her cheek to his.

"Hey, handsome!"

He smiles at her, relaxed, easy, like he's forgotten you even exist.

You stand abruptly, drink forgotten, half full.

The air feels harder to breathe in so you step outside. Rain hits your face almost immediately, but it doesn’t matter. You can feel the heat rising in your chest, the bitterness of humiliation.

You wander toward the quieter side of the building, letting the night air hit your soaked hair, pressing the jacket tighter around yourself.

A few minutes pass before your friend finds you.

"Oh my god." She slips an arm around your shoulders, pulling you toward the restroom. "You look like a drowned rat." she says, half laughing. "Come on."

Inside, she fusses with the hand towels, muttering something about asking the host for more. She leaves the door slightly ajar, her phone left on the counter.

It buzzes once, twice. Three more times. Curiosity pricks at you. You know you shouldn’t, but your hands reach for it anyway.

What is this? Messages. Messages upon messages

Between your friend and Sidney.

Plans. Mentions of posts she'll tell you to make, stories to like, reactions. Everything. All for that one account : @heart_still_yours.

The flood hits all at once. Every moment, every view, every nudge of attention you’d thought came from him, it was them. They’d been watching. They’d been planning.

Made you build this insane fantasy only to make it all hurt more when they tear you down piece by piece.

You sink to the floor, knees pulled to your chest, phone clutched tight. The truth tastes bitter in your mouth.

And in that moment, you realize he never watched you at all— never wanted you. Was he in on it too?

You stare at the messages on the phone, frozen.

Your stomach twists and you want to vomit. Everything you thought, everything you felt, every glance, every moment where you convinced yourself he was watching.

The alcohol fades a little. Betrayal, anger, shame. You feel almost sober, and painfully clear.

Your friend’s footsteps echo in the hallway. She comes back, smiling. "Hey, you okay?" she asks, voice friendly.

You glance up. Nothing. Nothing but fury and disbelief. "Fuck off." you mutter. You push past her, storming out of the restroom, sloshing through the crowd, ignoring the music, ignoring the people.

She stops at the door for a second, notices the phone on the floor and her eyes widen. "Fuck."

You don’t wait. You barrel through the hallway, hoping the noise will shield you from her.

"Wait up!" she calls out, as she tries her best to grab you.

You yank your arm free and keep pushing through people, shoulders bumping, music blaring loudly, your ears are ringing and your head is empty.

"Oh my— Seriously, stop!" she snaps, louder now. You spin around.

The crowd seems to hear too and people are already watching. A couple of girls near the couch go silent, aomeone pretend not to stare and fail miserably. Eventually the music dies down.

"What?" you say. Your voice doesn’t shake like you expect it to. "You done yet?"

Her face hardens. The nice girl mask slips, just a little. "God, you’re so fucking dramatic." she scoffs. "You really thought someone like Jungkook would like you?"

Your chest aches. She keeps going, getting louder, crueler, like she wants witnesses, like this was her grand finale. "It didn’t work last year, remember? You think some lip gloss and a dress was gonna fix your fuckass weirdo personality? Be serious."

Someone behind her mutters "Jesus."

You feel heat crawl up your neck. Your eyes burn, but you don’t cry. "Why?" You look straight at her and ask. "Just why?"

She laughs. "Because I was tired of people thinking I was a loser just because you are one. Standing next to you made me look pathetic."

That one lands hard.

"Face it, bug. You’re strange. You always have been. You don’t fit anywhere, people don’t just ignore you for no reason."

Your hands curl into fists and you take a breath.

"I’m strange?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don’t do this."

"No." you say, louder now. "I’m strange?"

The room feels too small. You laugh and it's short, broken, almost hysterical. "That’s crazy, coming from you."

Her smile falters a bit. "You wanna talk about strange?" you continue. "You mean like trying to fuck your mom’s boyfriend, asking him to get you pregnant?"

A sharp inhale ripples through the crowd. Someone gasps, someone else says "Oh my god."

Her face drains of color. "Or his brother?" you add. "Because that’s what got you kicked out, right? Or are we pretending that never happened?"

"Shut the fuck up." she hisses, eyes wild.

"No." you say. "You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to humiliate me for fun and then pretend I’m the fucked up one."

People are staring openly now, phones raised, filming, whispers everywhere.

"You made a fake account." you say, voice breaking at last. "You watched me spiral— You let me think someone cared! You let me think he saw me."

Her mouth opens then closes.

"I just wanted to feel normal!" she snaps desperately. "I wanted people to stop looking at me like I was trash."

"And you thought ruining me would fix that?" you yell back. Tears finally spill, hot and humiliating, but you don’t wipe them away. "Fuck you." you say, barely audible.

You turn and push through the crowd before she can say another word, before she can explain, before she can hurt you more.

Behind you, someone calls out your name.

juniᧉsㅤ⁔ㅤ˚ㅤtagl𝒾stㅤׅㅤʚɞ → @mar-lo-pap @oopscoop @magicalnachocreator @lachimolalajeon @mniys @bjoriis @dotheharakiri @rabbittedd @ellushic @justanarchiveforfics @azxher @emmie2308 @yeongjii @tatamicc @songbyeonkim @magicshop96 @sadiayn @thebaratheonlion @nomadclairo @judesbitch

[dotheharakiri]

That gets steamy! Very interesting plot, thank you for your writing

[juunieez]

thank you so much for reading !! ♡