in which your boyfriend, jungkook, has always had a massive fuckin’ size kink. but today, something snaps in him when he watches as your stomach creates a huge bulge as he’s fucking so deeply, into you. and let’s just say, that was the moment that led to the decision of him impregnating you right there and then.
You slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, both of you moaning loudly as he stretched you open again, for the 3rd time tonight.
His hands gripped your hips tightly, helping you take him inch by inch. “That's it... fuck... take it all baby.” He hit bottom inside of you, making your stomach bulge again.
“Fuuuck, look at that..” He groaned, watching you take his entire length. He started guiding your hips up and down, maintaining a rhythm.
Jungkook had two obsessions in this world. The first one being the obvious, you.
And the second? The time during sex when he watches as his 9 inch cock penetrates into you, having you crying before his cock is even fully plunged into your cunt.
“Bounce on my cock baby, let me see you use me.” He slapped your ass lightly. “You wanted to ride me, yeah? Fuck, you're so pretty bouncing on my dick like this.” His stomach pressed against yours.
Jungkook's eyes dropped immediately to your bouncing breasts as you rode him, his mouth watering. The sight of your nipples swaying with each bounce made his cock throb violently inside you. “Fuck... look at these fuckin’ tits,” he growled, reaching up to pinch and roll your nipples between his fingers. “So pretty... fucking hypnotic.”
“Nghh—hm! Koo!— please. Wan’ your m-mouth.” You cry out, tears falling from your eyes as the immense pleasure was becoming too intense to handle.
“So fuckin’ greedy. But anything for my princess..” He leaned forward, wrapping his lips around your bouncing nipple just as he slammed his hips up into you, hitting your deepest spot.
“Mmmff..” He sucked hard, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bead while his cock wrecked your pussy, “Gonna ruin this beautiful fuckin’ body. Every part of you is mine. Fuckin’ mine.” He slapped your ass hard, resulting in a wince.
“Mmh!— wait! T-too big, please—!” You try to cry out, but it’s useless.
He’s a fucking goner.
“N-no— You can take it, princess... you were made for my massive dick,” he groaned, releasing your nipple with a wet pop.
He thrusted up harder, making you scream as the huge bulge in your stomach grew deeper. “Shhh... don't fight it, hm? Let kookie stretch this little pussy out.” He gripped your hips, forcing you all the way down.
“How is it— fuckin’ possible that I fuck this pussy every, fuck, day. A-and yet, you’re still s’fucking tight.” He barely lets out, his head lolls back as he starts seeing stars.
“K-kookie!— gonna cum! wanna— t-together.” You manage to stutter.
“Yeah? Where’d you want me, pretty girl?”
“I-inside— please!”
His eyes darkened instantly at your desperate plea. "Fuck. Want me to breed you? Yeah? Is that it?” He repeated, thrusting up savagely, intensely. Almost as if he’s fuckin’ angry.
"Gonna fill this pretty pink pussy until you're dripping with my cum? Want daddy's baby inside this tight cunt?" He slapped your ass hard, pulling your hips down to meet his thrusts. “P-please say yes, angel. Say yes and l'Il bury my cum s’deep inside of you. so deep inside..”
You could barely let out a word, your head barely nodding yes as you could feel his cock repeatedly abuse your sensitive spot inside you.
“Fuuuck yes...” He flipped you both over suddenly, pinning you beneath him, his cock buried even deeper now. “Hold onto kookie, yeah?... gonna breed this pussy so good.” He started pounding relentlessly, his stomach smacking against yours.
“Feel that? That's my dick, baby.... needa fill this empty womb.”
“Gonna pump you so full of my fat cock and my cum.... gonna make you so fucking pregnant,” he snarled, his hips moving rapidly. His massive length slamming into you over and over, the sound of his skin slapping against yours was filling the room, “This pussy is mine... gonna lock my baby inside it.”
“Please!— can’t hold it any l-longer! N-need you to cum r-right now!”
Nails digging into your thighs, he lifted your legs over his shoulders. The new angle allowed him to pound even deeper, making your stomach bulge obscenely with his dick. “Such a good girl... begging so nicely to be fuckin’ bred.”
"Not stopping... never gonna fuckin'stopp... milk my cock, princess." His hips pounded into you relentlessly, the head of his cock grinding against your g-spot, “Cum for me... make a mess on this fat cock while I breed you.”
Finally, he buried himself balls deep inside your already sensitive pussy, his hot, thick cum leaking out of you continuously.
“T-take it, fuvck... C-can’t let it leak—” His eyes scan the porn scene beneath him, immediately pushing back his cum into you.
His hips jerked with each spurt, making your stomach bulge even more visible.
“Shit. You’re definitely getting pregnant after that.”
so… I had a dream, woke up and am ovulating.. okay? let a girl live 🥹 also FIRST and FUCKING LAST time am I ever editing the whole drabble into smaller font because holy fuck does it take time. Also I did not proof read.. wrote this literally 45 minutes ago so any grammar mistakes will not be mentioned 💗 lmk ur thoughts bcs this is the first ever smut drabble I’ve made!! i tried to be as detailed as possible and that’s not really something I usually do!! so lmkkkk!!!!!! ;))
the one where you convince your boyfriend to try that stupid tiktok trend - eating sushi off his bicep - only for the sushi not to be the rawest thing caught on camera that night.
pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
genre: established relationship au, porn with plot, smut, fluff (mdni!)
word count: 8,089
warnings/tags: 18+, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampie!, multiple orgasms (like... three), dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, recording/filming (the phone is basically a third character), food play (sushi on nipples, sushi on biceps, sushi everywhere), oral sex (f. and m. receiving), breast play (he fucks her tits and it's messy), clit stimulation (so much blowing on it, rubbing, tonguing), fingering, grinding and dry humping, squirting (she literally gushes everywhere), cum play (eating sushi mixed with cum, sucking her own fluids off him), hair pulling/fisting, lip biting, hickies/marking, second person pov, rich miami aesthetic, tiktok trends gone wrong (or right), that lip ring doing damage, "i fucking love you" ending, soft aftercare
a/n: I was in the process of writing chapter 3 for my jungkook series "purple tears I cry," and a certain sushi scene made me think of this that I just had to write a whole separate oneshot smut for it. this is genuinely nasty, please read at your own risk! hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think of it... don't forget to reblog <3
The Miami humidity clings to your skin the moment you step out of the Uber, but the restaurant's AC hits like a wall of relief, crisp and expensive-smelling, all yuzu and polished wood and money. Nobu. Of course he chose Nobu. You catch your reflection in the dark glass doors, your teal dress catching the neon glow from the street, the silk clinging to the curve of your hips in a way that makes Jungkook's hand tighten at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you who you belong to tonight.
Your hair is up, mostly, a messy twist that took you forty minutes to make look effortless, two strands curling against your collarbones like they have a mind of their own. Your skin glows, sun-kissed and dewy, and you feel his eyes on you, always on you, as the hostess leads you to the corner booth. You make sure to sway your hips a little more than necessary because you know he's watching, know his gaze is fixed on the way the silk shifts over your ass.
He's wearing a white button-up - one that should look innocent, corporate, boring, except he's left the first five buttons undone, and the fabric gapes open to reveal the hard plane of his chest, the ink that spills over his shoulder and disappears beneath the cotton. His lip ring catches the low light when he smiles at you, silver glinting against his mouth, and something low in your stomach tightens because you know exactly how that metal feels against your throat, your breastbone, the inside of your thigh. You know how it feels when he drags it down your stomach, when he looks up at you with those dark eyes while he tongues you open.
You slide into the booth and immediately pull out your phone, propping it against your water glass, angling it just so. The red recording light blinks to life. Jungkook raises an eyebrow but says nothing, just settles across from you, his knee brushing yours under the table, his foot hooking around your ankle to pull you closer.
"Documenting the experience?" he asks, his voice low, rough, the kind of voice that makes you think of hotel sheets and sweat and the way he sounds when he's inside you.
"Memories," you say, but your eyes drop to his mouth, to the silver ring there, and you know he sees it, knows exactly what you're thinking. You adjust the phone slightly, making sure the frame catches both of you, the candlelight, the way his shirt falls open when he leans back.
The server arrives with menus you don't need because you already know what you want, what you always want here. But Jungkook takes his time, asks questions about the omakase, the wine pairings, his voice smooth and deliberate while his shoe slides up your calf beneath the table, pushing the silk of your dress higher, higher, until it brushes the back of your knee and you have to bite your lip to keep from making a sound.
"Spicy tuna," you manage, your voice breathier than you intended, and Jungkook's eyes darken because he knows, he always knows what he's doing to you.
"Two orders," he says to the server, not looking away from you. "And sake. The good stuff."
The sake arrives in a ceramic flask, and he pours for you, his fingers brushing yours as you take the cup, and you make sure to let your tongue linger on the rim when you drink, watching his jaw tighten, watching his gaze drop to your mouth. You set the cup down and lean forward, the neckline of your dress gaping just enough, and you see his eyes flick down, see his throat work as he swallows.
"You're playing with me," he murmurs, and his shoe presses harder against your leg, insistent.
"Maybe you're playing with me," you counter, and you kick off your heel under the table, let your bare foot find his thigh, slide up, up, until you're pressing against the hard outline of him through his trousers, and he hisses, his hand gripping the edge of the table, knuckles white.
"Careful," he warns, but his hips shift, pressing into your touch, and you smile, sweet and dangerous.
"Or what?"
The spicy tuna arrives like art, ruby-red and glistening, arranged on black slate with edible flowers you won't eat. You take the first piece with your fingers because fuck the chopsticks, and Jungkook's gaze tracks the movement, watches your lips close around the fish, the rice, the wasabi that burns just enough. You moan, deliberately, because you know what it does to him, and his jaw tightens, that muscle jumping beneath the skin, his hand disappearing beneath the table where you know he's adjusting himself.
"Good?" he asks, voice wrecked already, ruined, and you haven't even started.
"So good," you say, and you take another, and another, each time making sure to lick your fingers after, slow, obscene, your eyes locked on his. You can see the flush spreading up his neck, can see the way his chest rises and falls faster than it should, the open shirt showing too much skin, the tattoo peeking out, and you want to trace it with your tongue, want to mess up his hair and ruin his composure right here in this restaurant full of people who think they're being subtle about watching you.
You lean back, your foot still working him beneath the table, and you reach for your phone, checking the angle, making sure it's still recording. You tilt it slightly to catch more of him, the candlelight catching the silver in his lip, the way his eyes look black with want.
"Say hi to the camera," you tease, and he does, his voice rough, his smile sharp and predatory.
"Hi, camera," he says, and then, lower, just for you, "Can't wait to see what you do with this footage later."
You take another piece of tuna and hold it out across the table, an offering, a test. He leans forward, never breaking eye contact, and takes it from your fingers with his teeth, his tongue brushing your fingertips, hot and wet, and you feel it everywhere, feel it between your legs where you're already aching, already soaked through your underwear.
"Jungkook," you breathe, and he catches your wrist, holds it, sucks your fingers into his mouth one by one, cleaning them, his tongue swirling around each digit while the restaurant noise fades to nothing and there's only him, only this, only the wet heat of his mouth and the promise of what comes after.
"You're killing me," he murmurs against your palm, his lips brushing the sensitive skin at your wrist, and you shiver, your foot still pressed against his hard length, feeling him throb even through the fabric.
"Good," you whisper. "Suffer."
You eat slowly, deliberately, drawing out every bite, every sip of sake, every moment of his foot tracing patterns on your calf, his knee pressing between your thighs under the table. You talk about nothing, everything, your voice light while your body screams for him, while you watch the sweat bead at his hairline, watch him shift in his seat, uncomfortable and hard and yours.
By the time you're full, stuffed, the silk of your dress feels tighter across your ribs, and you lean back with a groan, hand on your stomach, your foot finally retreating from his lap. He exhales, shaky, and adjusts himself again, not subtle, not caring who sees, and you love him like this, undone, desperate, ready to drag you out of here and fuck you in the Uber if he has to.
"I can't," you say, patting your stomach. "I'm gonna burst."
Jungkook smirks, that dangerous smirk that means trouble, that means you're in for it the second you get back to the hotel. "Shame. I like watching you eat."
"Pervert."
"Your pervert."
You flag down the server, ask for a takeout box, and Jungkook pays without looking at the check, just slides his card across the table like the amount doesn't matter, because it doesn't, not to him, not to either of you tonight. You pocket your phone, the recording still running, capturing everything, capturing the way he stands and offers you his hand, the way he pulls you against him in the elevator, his mouth at your ear.
"You're going to pay for that," he whispers, and you shiver, feel his hand slide down to grip your ass, squeezing hard.
"Promise?"
The hotel suite is all white and marble and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, dark now, just a black expanse beyond the glass. You kick off your heels, your feet sinking into carpet that probably costs more than your first car, and you collapse onto the sectional, pulling out your phone, scrolling through the footage while he pours himself a drink at the mini bar, his back to you, the white shirt pulling across his shoulders, the tattoo peeking out from beneath the sleeve.
TikTok. Endless, brainless TikTok to wind down.
A couple on a beach. A dance trend you don't care about. A recipe for something with feta cheese.
Then: a girl, pretty, blonde, sitting cross-legged on a bed in what looks like a generic hotel room. Her boyfriend beside her, shirtless, flexing his bicep. The girl grins at the camera, then at him, and unwraps a sushi roll, places it on the hard curve of his muscle, and leans down to take it with her teeth. The comments are screaming. The views are in the millions.
You stare at the screen.
You stare at the takeout box on the coffee table.
You stare at Jungkook, who's pouring himself a drink, his back to you, the white shirt still open, showing too much skin, the lip ring catching the light when he turns his head.
Enlightenment.
You set your phone down. Stand. Cross the room on bare feet, silent, predatory. He hears you, turns, glass halfway to his lips, and you pluck it from his hand, set it on the marble counter with a clink that sounds like a promise.
"Take your shirt off," you say.
His eyebrow arches, that lip ring catching the light again. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." You reach for the takeout box, open it, the spicy tuna still perfect, still glistening, and you can feel him watching you, confused and curious and already getting hard because he always gets hard when you use that tone, that minx tone, the one that means you're about to ruin him.
He sets the glass down. Undoes the remaining buttons slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving yours. The shirt falls open, then off, and he's bare in front of you, all golden skin and ink and muscle that makes your mouth water. You step closer, close enough to feel the heat coming off him, and you press your palm to his chest, right over his heart, feeling it thud against your hand.
You set your phone down on the marble counter, angling it just so, the red recording light blinking like a heartbeat in the dim room. You want this captured, want the lens to swallow every moment of what comes next, want to watch it later and feel the heat crawl up your neck all over again. Jungkook's eyes flick to the device, understanding dawning dark and dangerous in his gaze, and when he looks back at you, something has shifted. The playful tension from the restaurant has evaporated, replaced by something heavier, hungrier, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.
You lean in, your hair falling forward, those two dark strands brushing his shoulder like silk curtains framing the moment. You don't go for the sushi yet. You press your mouth to his throat first, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, hard enough to make him groan deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your lips. His hand comes up to tangle in your updo, disheveling it further, fingers tightening in your hair until your scalp sings with the sting of it. You lick the salt from his skin, taste the cologne at his pulse point, the musk of him underneath, and you feel him shudder beneath your mouth, feel the sushi roll shift against your cheek as he breathes ragged and wrecked.
"You're insane," he murmurs, but his voice is already ruined, gravel and velvet, and you smile against his neck, teeth grazing his tendon, feeling his cock twitch against your hip through his trousers.
"Wait until you see what comes after the appetizer," you whisper, and finally, finally, you turn your head and take the sushi between your teeth, your eyes locked on his, watching him watch you, watching the way your lips close around the rice and fish, the way your throat works as you swallow, and the sound he makes is animal, guttural, something torn from deep in his chest that makes your thighs clench together with nothing but air between them.
He moves before you can even taste the wasabi. His hands find your waist and he's lifting you, setting you down on the cool marble counter like you weigh nothing, like you're something to be arranged, positioned, consumed. The stone bites against your bare thighs where your dress rides up, and you gasp, but the sound is swallowed by his mouth crashing against yours, the metal of his lip ring pressing hard into your flesh, cold and burning all at once. He tastes like sake and want and the promise of destruction, and you open for him, let him take, let him plunder your mouth with a desperation that makes your head spin.
"Look at you," he breathes against your jaw, his teeth dragging down your throat, sharp and claiming. "Look at you, playing with fire, recording this, thinking you're in control."
His hands find the thin straps of your teal dress, silk whispering against your skin like a secret. He doesn't rush. He takes his time, sliding the straps down your shoulders with agonizing slowness, his eyes tracking every inch of exposed flesh, his pupils blown wide and black with desire. The silk catches on your nipples for a heartbeat, clinging, teasing, and then it falls, smooth as water, pooling at your waist, and you're bare for him, your breasts heavy and full, nipples tight and aching in the cool hotel air, no barrier between his gaze and your skin.
He stares. The silence stretches, thick and electric, and you feel beautiful, powerful, laid out like a feast on this marble altar. His throat works, his hand coming up to cup you, weigh you, his thumb dragging across your nipple so slowly you whimper, arching into his touch.
"No bra," he observes, his voice rough, almost reverent. "You were planning this. Walking around that restaurant with nothing under this dress, teasing me, letting me wonder."
"I wanted you to wonder," you admit, your voice breathless, broken. "I wanted you to think about it all night."
"Evil," he murmurs, and then he's bending his head, his mouth closing over your nipple, hot and wet and devastating, and you cry out, your hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as he sucks, as his tongue circles and flicks and drives you mindless. He moves to the other breast, giving it the same worship, the same relentless attention, and you're squirming on the counter, your hips rolling, seeking friction, seeking him.
He pulls back with a wet sound that makes you blush even as you moan for more. His eyes are dark, predatory, the playful boyfriend from the restaurant gone, replaced by something that looks at you like you're prey, like you're his to ruin.
"Bed," he commands, his voice leaving no room for negotiation, no room for anything but obedience. "Now. On your back."
You slide off the counter, your legs shaky, the silk of your dress catching on your hips as you move. You cross to the bed, each step feeling like you're walking through honey, through heat, your body thrumming with anticipation. You climb onto the white sheets, the fabric cool against your heated skin, and you lie back, your breasts falling to the sides, heavy and aching, your hair spilling across the pillows in waves.
He follows you, stalking across the room with a predator's grace, all bare chest and ink and the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. He stops at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking over you, devouring you, and then he reaches for your phone still sitting on the counter, brings it with him, sets it on the nightstand angled perfectly to capture everything, the red light blinking like a third heartbeat in the room.
"Keep it recording," he says, not a request but a decree. "I want you to watch this later. I want you to see what you look like when you're being fucked properly."
He undoes his belt with slow, deliberate movements, the leather hissing as he pulls it free, the metal clinking as he drops it to the floor. His trousers follow, and his underwear, and then he's naked, glorious, his cock thick and heavy and curving up toward his stomach, the tip already wet with arousal, the veins along the shaft prominent and pulsing. You can't help but stare, can't help but lick your lips at the sight of him, at the thought of taking him inside you, anywhere, everywhere.
He climbs onto the bed, crawling up your body like a storm rolling in, all dark intent and coiled power. He doesn't touch you where you want him most, not yet. Instead, he straddles your chest, his knees settling on either side of your ribs, his hands bracing on the headboard above you, caging you in, trapping you beneath him. You can smell him, musk and sweat and something uniquely Jungkook, can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the weight of him hovering above you.
"Look at you," he breathes, his hand coming down to grip himself, to stroke once, twice, the sight obscene and mesmerizing. "Look at these perfect tits. Do you know how many times I've thought about this? About fucking them? About painting you with my cum?"
You whimper, arching up, and he takes that as invitation, as permission. He leans forward, guiding himself down, the hot, heavy weight of his cock settling into the valley between your breasts, skin against skin, velvet over steel. He groans, long and low, his head falling back, the column of his throat working as he begins to move.
He starts slow, rocking his hips, sliding himself through your cleavage, the friction making him hiss, making his abs tighten and flex with each thrust. You press your breasts together, creating a tighter channel for him, and he groans your name like a prayer, like a curse, his pace quickening, his hips snapping faster, harder. The head of his cock peeks out from between your breasts with each forward thrust, glistening and flushed, and you crane your neck, wanting to taste, wanting to lick the salt from his skin, but he pulls back just enough to deny you, a wicked smile playing at his lips.
"Greedy," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm, his control fraying at the edges. "So fucking greedy for it. You want this? Want me to cum all over you? Mark you?"
"Yes," you gasp, your own arousal spiraling tight and hot between your legs, the sight of him using you, losing himself in your body, driving you wild. "Yes, please, Jungkook, please-"
He breaks. His hips stutter, his hand gripping the headboard so tight his knuckles go white, and he comes with a shout that sounds torn from his soul, thick ropes of cum spilling across your chest, your throat, marking you, claiming you in the most primal way. He keeps thrusting through it, milking himself, his cock twitching against your skin, until he's spent, until he's trembling above you, his chest heaving, sweat gleaming on his inked shoulders.
The silence that follows is broken only by your ragged breathing, by the wet sounds of him still sliding against your cum-slicked skin. He looks down at you, at the mess he's made of you, and his eyes flash with something dark and satisfied, something possessive.
"Beautiful," he whispers, his hand coming down to smear the evidence of his pleasure across your breasts, your nipples, making you glisten with him. "So fucking beautiful."
He reaches over to the takeout box still sitting on the counter, forgotten until now, and retrieves another piece of spicy tuna, the fish still cool, still perfect. He brings it to your chest, and you watch, breathless, as he places it carefully on top of your nipple, the sushi resting there like an offering, like sacrilege.
He bends his head, his eyes locked on yours, and takes the sushi between his teeth, his tongue dragging across your nipple as he does, hot and wet and filthy, sucking the fish and your flesh together, the combination of sensations making you cry out, making your back arch off the bed. He chews slowly, savoring, his hand coming up to palm your other breast, his thumb circling your nipple, spreading his own release across your skin in obscene patterns.
When he swallows, he surges up, his mouth crashing against yours with a ferocity that steals your breath, his tongue thrusting deep, sharing the taste of tuna and salt and him, his teeth catching your lower lip, the metal of his piercing dragging against your sensitive flesh. He kisses you like he's starving, like he wants to consume you whole, like the camera isn't even there, like the world has narrowed down to just this, just you, just the wet heat of his mouth and the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.
"Mine," he growls against your lips, the word vibrating through your chest, through your bones. "Say it."
"Yours," you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging crescents into his inked skin. "I'm yours, Jungkook, I'm-"
He cuts you off with another kiss, deeper, harder, his hand sliding down your body, beneath the silk of your dress still pooled at your waist, finding where you're wet and aching and ready, and you know this is only the beginning, know that the night is long and the camera is still rolling and he's nowhere near finished with you.
He pulls back from the kiss with a wet, filthy sound that echoes in the quiet room, his eyes dark and glittering with intent. His hand is still between your legs, his fingers spreading your wetness in slow, teasing circles, and you arch into his touch, desperate, needy, your hips rolling to chase more friction.
"Give me the phone," he commands, his voice rough as gravel, as velvet, as something dangerous wrapped in silk.
You reach for it with trembling fingers, the device still warm from where it sat recording, and you hand it to him, your breath catching as he takes it, as he adjusts the angle, as he points the lens down at you like he's directing a film where you're the only star.
"Look at you," he murmurs, the camera capturing everything, capturing the flush spreading down your chest, the way your breasts rise and fall with each ragged breath, the sheen of sweat and his release still glistening on your skin. "Look at this fucking body. Do you see what I see? Do you see how perfect you are?"
He shifts back on his knees, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, and he hooks his fingers in the silk of your dress still pooled at your waist. He pulls slowly, agonizingly slowly, the fabric sliding down your hips, your thighs, leaving you completely bare, completely exposed to the lens, to his gaze, to the hungry darkness in his eyes.
"Spread your legs," he orders, and you do, your knees falling open, your thighs trembling as the cool hotel air hits your heated core. You feel exposed, vulnerable, the camera recording every inch of you, the way your pussy glistens with arousal, swollen and pink and aching for him. He zooms in, the lens close enough to capture the details, the way you pulse with need, the way your thighs are already shaking with anticipation.
"Beautiful," he breathes, the word almost reverent, almost profane. "Look at this pretty pussy. So wet for me. So fucking ready."
He sets the phone down on the mattress, angled up at you both, the red light blinking steady and watchful. But then he's reaching for your hand, pulling you up, placing the device in your trembling grip.
"Hold it," he instructs, his voice dropping lower, filthier, his eyes locked on yours with a command that brooks no argument. "Record me. Don't you dare stop filming, understand? I want you to capture every second of this. I want you to watch later and see exactly what you do to me."
You nod, your throat too tight to speak, and you angle the camera down, your fingers shaking as you focus the lens on him, on where he's settling between your thighs like he belongs there, like he's coming home.
He looks up at you through his lashes, that silver lip ring catching the light, and he knows, he always knows what that piece of metal does to you. He runs his tongue over it slowly, deliberately, letting you watch the way it moves, the way it glints, and your breath hitches because you can feel it already, can imagine the cool metal against your overheated flesh.
"You like this?" he asks, his voice a purr, a promise, a threat. "You like watching me? Like knowing I'm about to wreck you with this mouth?"
"Yes," you whimper, the camera trembling in your grip as you hold it steady, as you capture every moment.
He starts at your knee, his mouth hovering, his breath hot against your skin. He blows, a gentle stream of air that makes you gasp, makes your leg jerk in his grip. He holds you steady, his fingers digging into your thigh, and he drags his lips up, up, not touching, just breathing, just letting you feel the ghost of him, the promise of him.
He reaches the crease where your thigh meets your hip and he pauses, his eyes flicking up to the camera, to you, holding your gaze as he blows again, right there, right where you're throbbing, where you're aching, where you're dripping for him.
"Please," you beg, your voice breaking, the camera shaking in your hand. "Please, Jungkook, please touch me-"
"Shh," he soothes, his breath washing over your clit, hot and cool and devastating. "I've got you. Be patient, pretty girl. Be good."
He blows again, directly on your clit this time, the sensation shocking, electric, making you cry out, your hips bucking off the mattress. He holds you down with one hand on your stomach, pinning you, controlling you, and he leans closer, closer, until you can feel his breath fluttering against your most sensitive flesh, until you're trembling, until you're sobbing with need.
"Look at the camera," he commands, his voice vibrating against your thigh. "Don't look at me. Look at the lens. Show them how pretty you are when you're desperate."
You force your eyes up, staring into the small black circle of the phone's camera, your vision blurred with tears, your mouth open, your chest heaving. You look wrecked, you know you do, you can see your reflection in the dark screen, can see the way your hair is tangled and wild, the way your lips are swollen and red, the way your body is flushed pink with arousal.
"Good girl," he praises, and then he finally, finally, touches you.
His tongue drags through your folds in one long, slow stroke, hot and wet and perfect, and you scream, the sound tearing from your throat, your hips bucking against his mouth. He groans against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine, and he does it again, and again, lapping at you like he's starving, like he wants to taste every drop of your arousal, like he could spend hours here, drowning in you.
He focuses on your clit, circling it with the flat of his tongue, then the tip, then flicking it, relentless, merciless, driving you higher and higher until you're panting, until you're chanting his name like a prayer, like a curse, until your thighs are trembling on either side of his head.
"So fucking loud," he murmurs against you, the words muffled, filthy. "Let them hear you. Let the whole fucking hotel hear what I'm doing to you."
He pulls back just enough to speak, his chin glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark and wild. "Keep recording. Don't you dare stop."
You nod frantically, your hand cramping around the phone, but you hold it steady, you keep the lens focused on him, on where he's watching you with predatory intensity.
He slides one finger inside you, slow and deliberate, curling it to find that spot that makes your vision white out, and you moan, long and loud, unable to help yourself. He adds a second finger, stretching you, filling you, and he starts to pump them in and out, his wrist twisting, his knuckles dragging against your walls in a way that makes you see stars.
"More," you gasp, your head falling back, but he clicks his tongue, sharp and reprimanding.
"Eyes on the camera," he reminds you, his voice stern, commanding. "Look at me through the lens. Show me that pretty face."
You force your head up, your neck trembling with the effort, and you stare into the camera, your eyes wide and glassy, your mouth open as you pant. He adds a third finger, the stretch burning so perfectly you sob, your hips rolling to meet his thrusts, and he starts rubbing your clit with his other hand, circling it in tight, relentless patterns while his fingers work inside you, while he crooks them to hit that spot, that perfect spot, over and over and over.
"You're taking three fingers so well," he praises, his voice dripping with filth, with pride. "Look at you, stuffed full, dripping down my hand. You love this, don't you? Love being watched, love being used, love being my little porn star."
"Yes," you cry out, the camera shaking as your orgasm builds, coiling tight and hot in your belly. "Yes, yes, Jungkook, please, I'm gonna-"
"Not yet," he cuts you off, his fingers stilling, his hand pulling away from your clit, leaving you hovering on the edge, desperate and whining. "Not until I say. Keep holding that camera. Keep recording. I want to see your face when you cum all over my tongue."
He dives back in, his mouth replacing his fingers, his tongue thrusting inside you, fucking you with wet heat while his thumb presses hard against your clit, rubbing in furious circles. The dual sensation is too much, overwhelming, devastating, and you're screaming now, loud and unrestrained, your voice raw as you chant his name, as you beg, as you plead for release.
"Jungkook, please, please, I can't, I need to-"
"Cum," he commands, the word vibrating against your core. "Cum for me now. Let me taste it. Let me drink you down."
He sucks your clit into his mouth, the metal of his lip ring pressing hard against the sensitive bud, and you break. Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, like a storm, like something violent and beautiful and earth-shattering. Your back arches off the bed, your thighs clamping around his head, your hand spasming around the phone as you cry out, loud and broken and his, completely his.
He doesn't stop. He keeps licking, keeps sucking, drawing out your pleasure until you're shaking, until you're sobbing, until you're pushing at his shoulders because it's too much, too sensitive, too everything.
He finally pulls back with a wet, obscene sound, his chin dripping with your release, his eyes dark and satisfied and wild. He looks at the camera, looks directly into the lens where you're still recording, still capturing every filthy moment, and he licks his lips, slow and deliberate, savoring your taste.
"Delicious," he murmurs, the word dripping with innuendo, with promise. "My favorite meal."
He crawls up your body, his skin hot against yours, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that tastes like you, like him, like everything dirty and perfect and yours. The camera is still recording, still capturing, still blinking its red light in the dark room, and you know, you know this is a night you'll be watching back for years, a night that will never stop making you blush, making you ache, making you want.
"Good girl," he whispers against your lips, his hand tangling in your hair, his body heavy and warm above you. "You did so well. You held it the whole time."
He takes the phone from your trembling grip, checks the recording, a smug, satisfied smile playing at his lips. "Perfect angle. Look at you, pretty thing. Look how beautiful you are when you cum."
He shows you the screen, and you watch yourself, watch your face contort with pleasure, watch your body arch and shake, and you feel the heat crawl up your neck even as you feel yourself getting wet again, already wanting more, already wanting everything he has to give.
He pulls you up, his hands rough at your waist, flipping you until you're straddling him, your knees bracketing his hips, your hands braced on his inked chest. The sweat-slick slide of your skin against his is electric, devastating, and you can feel him hard and thick beneath you, pressing against your thigh, leaving wet trails of pre-cum against your skin.
"Come here," he growls, his hand fisting in your hair, pulling you down until your mouths crash together, teeth clicking, tongues tangling in a messy, desperate dance. He tastes like you, like sake, like the lingering spice of tuna and salt and sex, and you moan into his mouth, your hips rolling instinctively, grinding your soaked core against his rigid length.
"Fuck," he breathes against your lips, his hips bucking up to meet you, the friction making you both gasp. "Fuck, baby, you feel so good."
You reach for the takeout box still within arm's reach, your fingers trembling as you unwrap another piece of spicy tuna, the fish cool and glistening in the dim light. You break the kiss, sitting back on your heels, and his eyes track your movements, dark and questioning, until you lean forward and place the sushi directly on his nipple, the pink flesh peeking through the dark ink of his chest tattoo.
"Christ," he hisses, his head falling back against the pillows, his throat working as you bend down, your hair creating a curtain around you both.
You take the sushi between your teeth first, biting down, the flavor bursting across your tongue, but then you keep going, your mouth closing over his nipple, sucking hard, laving it with your tongue, the combination of cool fish and hot skin making him arch off the bed, his hand flying to your head, gripping tight.
"Oh fuck," he groans, long and low, the sound vibrating through his chest into your mouth. "Oh fuck, baby, fuck-"
You suck harder, your teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, and he cries out, his hips jerking up, his cock sliding through your folds, bumping against your clit with each thrust of his hips. You release his nipple with a wet pop, looking up at him through your lashes, your lips swollen and glistening.
"You like that?" you purr, your voice dripping with filth, with power. "Like me eating off you? Like being my plate, my meal?"
"Yes," he pants, his eyes blown wide, his chest heaving. "Fuck yes, anything, everything-"
You start grinding in earnest, rolling your hips, sliding your soaked pussy along the length of his cock without letting him inside, teasing, torturing, your clit dragging against his rigid shaft with every movement. The friction is delicious, maddening, and you're both moaning, the sounds filling the room, raw and unfiltered.
"Oh fuck, baby," he chants, his hands gripping your waist, your hips, guiding your movements, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "Oh fuck, just like that, just like that-"
You lean down, your breasts pressing against his chest, your mouth at his ear. "Feel how wet I am?" you whisper, your voice a dirty secret. "Feel how much I need you? I've been dripping for you all night, Jungkook. All fucking night."
"Shit," he groans, his hips stuttering, losing their rhythm. "Shit, you're gonna make me cum like this, make me-"
He reaches for the phone, his hand trembling as he angles it up at you, capturing the way you move above him, the way your body undulates like a wave, like something primal and ancient and devastatingly beautiful.
"Look at this," he murmurs, his voice wrecked, his eyes flicking between the screen and your face. "Look at you, grinding on me like a little slut, so desperate for it. You want this cock, baby? Want me to fill you up?"
"Yes," you whine, your movements becoming erratic, desperate. "Please, please, I need it, need you inside-"
He drops the phone to the mattress, the camera still recording, still capturing everything, and he grips your hips hard, lifting you, positioning you above him. You reach between your bodies, your hand wrapping around his thick length, guiding him to your entrance, and you sink down slowly, inch by inch, your head falling back, your mouth open in a silent scream as he stretches you, fills you, completes you.
"Fuck," you gasp, your hands braced on his chest, your nails digging crescents into his skin. "Oh fuck, Jungkook, you're so big, so-"
"Move," he commands, his voice guttural, his hands guiding your hips. "Ride me, baby. Show me how good you are."
You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles, feeling every inch of him drag against your walls, hitting places that make your vision blur. He keeps one hand on your hip, guiding you, controlling the pace, while the other reaches for your breast, palming the heavy weight, his thumb dragging across your nipple.
"The sushi wasn't the rawest thing tonight," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours, dark and possessive. "This is. You and me, like this, nothing between us. Just raw, filthy fucking."
You moan, your movements speeding up, your hips snapping down harder, taking him deeper, until he's hitting your cervix with each thrust, the stretch bordering on pain but feeling so perfect you can't stop. He grabs the phone again, angling it up at you, capturing your face contorted with pleasure, your breasts bouncing with each movement, the place where your bodies join, wet and obscene.
"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his voice reverent and filthy all at once. "Look at you, taking me so well. My perfect girl."
He flips you suddenly, his strength shocking, his movements fluid and predatory. You're on your back before you can process the shift, him settling between your thighs, his cock still buried deep inside you, his hands bracing on either side of your head.
"Recording," he commands, pressing the phone into your trembling hand. "Don't stop. I want you to see this. Want you to watch later and see exactly how I fuck you."
You hold it up, the lens focused on where your bodies meet, and he pulls out slowly, agonizingly slowly, until just the tip remains inside you, glistening with your combined arousal. He hovers there, teasing, and you whimper, your hips bucking up, seeking more.
"Quiet," he orders, his voice sharp. "Be quiet and listen. Listen to how wet you are for me."
He thrusts back in, hard and deep, and the sound is obscene, wet and filthy, your arousal squelching around him, the slap of skin against skin filling the room. You bite your lip to keep from screaming, your hand shaking as you hold the camera steady, capturing the way he pulls out and thrusts back in, over and over, the rhythm building, the sounds growing louder, wetter, more desperate.
He pulls out completely, his cock slapping against your stomach, wet and heavy, and he drags the head through your folds, bumping against your clit, circling it, teasing it with short, sharp jabs that make you cry out despite your best efforts to stay quiet.
"Please," you beg, your voice breaking. "Please, Jungkook, please fuck me, please-"
He lines himself up and thrusts back in, but this time he doesn't stop, doesn't slow, doesn't tease. He starts pounding into you, hard and fast and merciless, his hips snapping forward with a force that moves you up the bed, your head hitting the headboard with each thrust. He's fucking you like he hates you, like he loves you, like he wants to crawl inside your skin and never leave.
"Scream," he commands, his voice ragged, his hand wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, just reminding you who you belong to. "Let me hear you. Let the fucking city hear what I'm doing to you."
You scream. You can't help it, the pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming, building and coiling tight in your belly, your orgasm approaching like a freight train. He's recording your face, the camera capturing your mouth open in a silent scream, your eyes rolled back, tears streaming down your temples into your hair.
"That's it," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm as he chases his own release. "That's it, baby, cum for me, cum on my cock, let me feel you-"
You break. Your orgasm crashes through you, violent and beautiful, your pussy clamping down on him, milking him, and he groans, long and loud, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and thick and endless. But as you come, as your body convulses around him, something else happens, something wet and shocking, and you're squirting, actually squirting, your release gushing out around his cock, mixing with his cum, creating a mess of fluids that soaks the sheets, his thighs, drips down your ass.
"Holy shit," he breathes, his eyes wide and wild, the camera still recording, capturing the obscene flood of liquid, the way it glistens on his skin, the way your body continues to shake and convulse. "Holy fucking shit, baby, look at you, look at this-"
He pulls out slowly, his cock still half-hard, dripping with your combined release, and he holds it up, angling the camera to capture the mess, the way his cum mixed with your arousal drips from his shaft, thick and white and obscene.
"Suck it," he commands, his voice rough, his hand tangling in your hair. "Suck your cum off my cock. Clean me up, kitten."
You scramble down, your body still trembling from aftershocks, and you take him into your mouth, tasting yourself, tasting him, the mixture salty and musky and filthy. You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head, and he groans, his hand tightening in your hair.
"Fuck, yes," he pants. "My balls, kitten, suck my balls."
You pull back, your hand wrapping around his shaft, and you duck down, taking one testicle into your mouth, then the other, rolling them on your tongue, sucking gently while your hand works his length. He pulls your hair, guiding you, his hips bucking slightly, and then you pull back, kitten licking him, small, teasing laps at the head of his cock, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes, innocent and filthy all at once.
"Perfect kitten," he breathes, his voice wrecked, his eyes dark with renewed desire. "My perfect little kitten. Look at you, so eager, so good for me."
He starts fucking into your mouth, his hand guiding your head, his hips snapping forward, pushing his cock deep into your throat, and you relax, let him use you, let him take what he needs. He's relentless, his stamina shocking, and you can feel him swelling, feel him getting close again.
"I'm gonna cum," he warns, his voice strained. "Gonna cum again, baby, gonna-"
He thrusts deep and holds there, his cock pulsing, and he spills down your throat, hot and thick, more than you thought possible, more than should be human. You swallow, your throat working, your eyes watering, and when he finally pulls out, spent and trembling, you collapse back onto the pillows, laughing, the sound breathless and beautiful and disbelieving.
"I can't believe you had all that cum inside you," you marvel, your voice hoarse, your lips swollen and glistening. "That was... that was the third time?"
He collapses beside you, his chest heaving, his skin flushed and sweaty and marked by your nails, your teeth, your possession. He pulls you into his arms, his hand cradling your head against his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering, feel the rumble of his laughter.
"For you," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your hair. "Only for you, pretty girl. You drain me completely. You ruin me."
The phone is still recording somewhere on the bed, still capturing the aftermath, the sweat-slick mess of your bodies, the way you curl into each other like survivors of some beautiful storm. But for now, you just breathe, just exist in this moment of shattered, perfect aftermath, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest, his hand stroking lazy circles on your back.
He doesn't ask. He just moves, shifting off the bed with a grace that seems impossible for someone who just spent himself three times over. You hear water running in the bathroom, the sound of a cloth being wrung out, and then he's back, kneeling between your thighs with a warm, wet towel in his hand.
He cleans you slowly, carefully, his touch reverent where it had been ruthless before. He wipes away the mess of your combined release, the sweat, the evidence of everything you did together, and his eyes follow the path of the cloth with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. He presses kisses to your inner thigh, your hip, your stomach, each one soft and lingering, worshipping you in a different language than the one he used when he was inside you.
When he's finished, he tosses the cloth aside and crawls up your body, his weight settling over you again, but different now, protective, cocooning. He finds your mouth, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that tastes like salt and love and exhaustion. He bites your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth, pulling slightly until you whimper, and then he releases you with a laugh, low and warm and vibrating against your skin.
"Beautiful," he whispers, his forehead resting against yours, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw like he's memorizing you, like he's trying to commit every inch to memory. "You're so fucking beautiful. Do you know that? Do you know what you do to me?"
You smile, your hand coming up to tangle in his hair, still damp with sweat. "Show me," you whisper back.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, really look at you, his eyes dark and endless and full of something that makes your breath catch. He cups your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing over your swollen lips, and when he speaks, his voice is rough, stripped bare, nothing but truth.
"I fucking love you," he says. "I love you so much it scares me."
The words hang in the air between you, heavy and real and perfect, and you pull him down, kiss him deep and slow, pouring everything you can't say into the movement of your lips against his.
The camera is still recording somewhere, still blinking its red light in the dark, but neither of you reach for it. Some moments are just for you. Just for this. Just for the two of you, tangled in white sheets in a Miami hotel room, sweating and spent and in love, the rawest thing either of you have ever known.
▽ Summary: It’s Friday night and everyone you know in a 12 miles radius seems to be out and about dancing or drinking their lives away. Bored out of your mind you decide to call out the Genie that happened to fell in your hands a month prior to this very night. You just want some company, somebody to talk to and entertain you but things take a spicy turn when you accidentally make your very first wish and it’s a rather impious one.
▽ Word Count: 13.690 words
▽ WARNINGS: Graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, slight sub/dom dynamics, very light breathplay, rough sex, oral sex, thigh riding, tit fucking, swear words.
▽ AN: I’m going to take a moment to thank all the writers that participated in this collab, you guys are amazing and I love every single one of you! ♥ You were so supportive of each other, understanding when we ran into a few problems and honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better bunch to share my very first collab experience with. Thank you, for everything ♥
@hobiwonder - @couture-kookie - @btsflufflysmut - @jimintykookies - @btssmutflufflove - @whichwaytowonderlandep
u take requests? cause seeing taekook earlier in jks live has me thinking about morning after a two man mission
oh you fucking HARLOT.
I’m sitting down and writing this in one session because this is a gorgeous request and I was daydreaming about the exact same thing during JK's live this morning, great minds think alike <𝟑 .ᐟ
i love you bad for making me write this
Body to Body — Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook
summary: after signing two very extensive and detailed NDAs, you wake up after the wildest night of your life. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?
pairing: kim taehyung x fem!reader x jeon jungkook
wc: 5.3k, 24 min
themes: ugh this is SO horny I'm shaking in my seat, a bit of fluff, sweet gentle after(and technically before)care, lots of praise, a little bit of humiliation, big dick tete agenda, even bigger dick jk agenda, voyeurism!tae, BUSAN AND DAEGU SATOORI BOYS, headpusher tae, my dream fuckin eiffel tower, Jungkook films you (asldfjsdlf imagine being in his private folder), morning sex, squirting, showering together!!!! I pay attention to details to try to make this as head cannon as I could make it, enjoy my beautiful freaky readers ₊˚⊹♡
All of your body beside me ♪
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚
The sun cut through the gap in the blackout curtains, the blade of golden light stirring you from your slumber. You rose from your sleep slowly, first with a twitch of your eyelids, then a furrow of your brow, until your eyes cracked open, letting the blurry shapes of the room come into focus.
And for a moment, you completely forgot where you were.
You lifted your head off your pillow slightly, the room still spinning a little from the liquor being served to you nonstop last night. You looked around in the still very dim room, with just a slice of sunlight cutting across the edge of the bed and floor. You squinted, taking in your surroundings in the darkness. You were in a hotel room, a large one. The little thump in the back of your head came almost immediately, and you blinked slowly.
Someone shuffled beside you in bed, and a large arm came up around you, trapping you in the pillowy white blanket underneath its weight. You glanced down, a familiar pattern of tattoos inked into the skin of the bicep currently pinning you to the mattress.
Oh right.
You turned your head, coming face to face with a very much still asleep Jungkook. You froze in place, all the memories from last night rushing back to you all at once.
The after-party, the black-suited security guard instructing you to stay put and asking you to wait a little longer, the two heavy stacks of documents you were suddenly handed, and, through shaky eyes, you scribbled and signed before being escorted to a large van with tinted windows.
You blinked a few times, as if to try to prove to yourself that this wasn't a dream. Jungkook's lips were parted slightly, his face soft and relaxed, his stage makeup from the night before still around his eyes and ever so slightly smudged. His hair fell over his face, bangs stuck oddly in different places, his lips full and pouty.
Even when sleeping, this man was devastatingly gorgeous.
You studied his face for a little while, in silent awe of being in his bed. You shuffled a little and rolled onto your side, turning your back to him as his little spoon. You slid yourself back towards him until you were met with his warm, bare chest. Jungkook subconsciously slid his arm down, landing his arm comfortably on the smallest part of your waist. Your heart was pounding at the touch; the only separation between his arm and your very naked body was the duvet that was draped lazily over your torso.
You settled into your new position, still half asleep and comfy, and saw a mess of black and blonde hair from over the little hill in the blanket. You couldn't help but smile to yourself, the giddiness returning in full swing.
The other wildly exciting part of your night.
Taehyung was facing away from you, lying on his stomach, his hair peeking out from above the blanket. His arms were tucked neatly under his pillow, the flex of his biceps so close to you sending a stir to your stomach again.
Maybe if you stayed completely still, they would keep sleeping, and you could stay here forever.
You let yourself drift back to sleep, but your heart was already awake and racing. There was no way you could fall asleep again now. You shuffled a little under the blanket again, curling yourself up into a little ball as you tried to get extra comfy. Then there was some movement on the mattress. Taehyung lifted his head off his pillow, staring off at the wall for a few seconds before turning his head to finally face you.
"Oh, you're awake." He spoke in a low whisper in the dark bedroom; his morning voice was rough and gravelly, but the same silkiness like honey poured through.
You nodded with a soft smile, and he smiled back, reaching his arm over the blanket to pet your chin. You felt yourself flush, the shyness hitting you at full force. You flustered at his touch, and he let out a soft chuckle.
"Does your head hurt?" he whispered, hand still resting gently on your face.
"Not really, I'm a little dizzy," you replied.
"Sit tight. Let me get you some water."
Taehyung sat up in bed, his bare back facing you as he sat on the edge of his side of the bed, stretching his neck side to side before standing up. Your eyes drifted to the tattoo on his lower back, something you never thought you'd be able to see so detailed and up close. You couldn't do anything but stare, still in such shock about how you ended up here.
He walked over to the mini fridge and pulled out a chilled bottle of water before cracking it open and returning to the bed.
"Here."
You nodded your head and thanked him, propping yourself up on your arm so you could take a sip. The icy, cool water was an immediate relief to your dry throat. Taehyung watched you as you took a few sips from the bottle, the water feeling like God's gift to your hungover body right now.
Jungkook stirred behind you, his arm still heavy on your waist. You heard a few quiet, sleepy hums behind you, and you turned your head back to face him, his eyes cracking open slowly.
"Mm," he hummed, eyes blinking slowly as he woke up in phases. His eyes landed on you, tucked safely under his arm and pressed against his warm, bare chest.
"Morning," he said with a lazy smile, before his eyes closed again. He pulled you in a little closer, the comfort of cuddling you lulling him back to sleep.
"Jungkook-ah," Taehyung climbed back into bed, reaching over you to nudge his friend on the shoulder. Jungkook furrowed his brows and lifted his head, eyes open again.
"It's almost nine. Get up."
Jungkook let out a grunt in protest before looking down at you, still cradled in his arms.
"Have fun last night?" he said with a small, sleepy smirk.
You crinkled your nose, turning your face into your pillow to hide your embarrassed smile. Jungkook laughed before planting a kiss on the back of your shoulder.
"I'll take that as a yes."
He sat up and rolled his neck a few times, his broad bare back perfectly chiselled, even in the dark room. You felt your mouth water, your head still resting on the pillow.
Jungkook shuffled down the hall, and a few moments later, the bathroom light flicked on, the door swinging half-closed.
Taehyung was back in bed with you, now lying on his back, still shirtless and only in his sleep shorts. He looked at you with quiet curiosity before opening his arm towards you, patting his chest with his other hand.
You scooted closer to him and rested your head on his chest, his warm, strong arm wrapping around you safely. You nestled yourself deeper into him; the smell of his sweat mixed with the leathery notes of his cologne was enough to drive you crazy.
"Sleep well?" Taehyung mumbled as he traced soft circles on your arm.
"Mhm," you hummed, your hand resting on his chest next to your cheek.
"Good," he replied, giving your arm a quick squeeze.
He tilted you up by the chin, your eyes locking with his, only inches away from each other. You felt everything inside you turn into a puddle at his touch.
"I had a lot of fun last night," he said with a lazy smile. "I hope it wasn't too much for you."
"No, I had fun—it was fun," you said with a smile, fighting the blush from rising to your cheeks.
Taehyung leaned in and brought his lips down on yours, his full, pouting lips electrifying you as he kissed you. You parted your lips involuntarily, and he let out a soft laugh as he deepened the kiss, delicately, sweetly, and not aggressively and dominating like it was last night.
"Mm," you hummed into his mouth, and he smiled into the kiss for a moment before he pushed himself deeper against you, his tongue swiping your lower lip for entry. You let your mouth fall open, granting him access to the inside of your mouth. Taehyung wasn't rushed; he licked your tongue softly first, before darting his tongue in a little deeper, sweeping the inside of your mouth like he was trying to map out the inside of your mouth before you had to leave.
"Tae," you moaned, the sensation of his wet tongue against yours so early in the morning sending a fire directly to your lower core.
"Gonna miss this pretty mouth when we fly out tonight," he murmured into your mouth.
Taehyung lifted you up so that you were practically lying on top of him now, and he pulled away from your lips for a moment, propping his pillow up behind him so he was sitting up a little more, watching you with those hypnotizing eyes.
"Why don't you leave us with one more memory before you have to go?" His tone was lower, dripping with his want for you, his eyes the same as they were last night: dark and commanding.
You bit your lower lip as you slid yourself down his bare torso, landing yourself right at his waist. Taehyung was already hard beneath the fabric of his pyjama shorts, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you intently.
With one hand, you slipped his waistband down, his waiting cock peeking out from the waistband, flushed and already a little glistened from precum.
You were the luckiest girl on earth.
You took him in your mouth, the familiar salty sweetness of his arousal coating your tongue. Taehyung's mouth fell open, his eyes trained on you as you swirled your tongue expertly over the head of his needy cock.
"Mmm, so gorgeous," he moaned as he watched you.
Your head was still spinning a little from the alcohol, but you blinked hard to maintain your focus. Your wet, pouty lips worked his tip as you licked at the soft tendon at the underside of his cock.
Taehyung bucked his hips a little at the sensation you were giving him, his one arm coming up to hold up the back of his head.
"Yeah, just like that."
You dipped your head lower, his cock sinking deeper into your mouth, nudging on the back of your throat. Taehyung let out a deep, breathy moan, his eyes fluttering closed as you slid your mouth up and down his length.
"Fuck," he grunted, before his other hand flew to the back of your head, pushing you further down onto his long, thick cock. "Obsessed with you."
You felt yourself gag a little at the force of his hand on the top of your head, guiding you further and further down his length. He was deep down your throat now, his thickness filling your mouth entirely, knocking your uvula with every bounce. You closed your eyes, focused on pleasing the superstar sprawled out in front of you. You closed your hand into a fist, fighting the tears that threatened to escape your eyes from the intensity of his fullness in your mouth.
Taehyung bobbed you up and down with his guided hand, his hips bucking upwards to let himself feel even more of you, the stretch of your mouth around him driving him crazy.
"So fucking good, hm? Fucking love this mouth," he hissed as he continued fucking your mouth, his satoori bleeding through every anunciation of his words. "Fuck."
"I still feel fucking drunk," Jungkook suddenly turned the corner, reappearing from the bathroom, toothbrush dangling from his mouth.
He stopped in his tracks at the sight of you, naked and on your knees in front of Taehyung, your head being pinned down by his hand as he fucked your mouth like you were his personal little pornstar.
"Huh, so this is what you were doing while I was washing my face," Jungkook scoffed, taking a step closer towards the foot of the bed.
You let out a muffled moan, and Taehyung released his hand from your head, letting you finally catch some air. You pulled off of him with a desperate wet pop, your eyes and lashes wet, your chin already dribbling with saliva. You were panting as you brought your hand up to Taehyung's cock, still determined to please him. You pumped your hand up and down his length firmly, milking him as you caught your breath.
"Hyung, you're so fucking greedy," Jungkook murmured, taking another step towards the bed so that he was only a couple of feet behind you at the foot of the bed.
Jungkook was still shirtless in his gym shorts, and he watched quietly as you continued to please his bandmate, your hand pumping Taehyung's cock with a steady pace, dipping your head back onto the first few inches of his length.
"Ugh, fuck, you're so pretty," Jungkook groaned, palming himself over his shorts now. "Even in the early morning, you're just as much of a giver as you were last night."
"Isn't she such a good girl?" Taehyung looked up at his dongsaeng with a cocky smirk. "Sucking me off for breakfast."
"Mhm," Jungkook replied, his voice low and hungry.
Jungkook pulled the toothbrush from his mouth, wiping his mouth on the abandoned towel on the bench at the foot of the bed.
"Can you handle some more, love?" Jungkook's words were sweet, but the way they came out of his mouth was mean, like he was teasing you.
You popped your mouth off of Taehyung and tossed your hair over your shoulder to look back at Jungkook. You didn't say anything, just gave him a look, that look that got you into this mess in the first place.
He let out half a cocky laugh before he slid his shorts down, undressing himself behind you.
You felt your core burning already, your pussy clenching around the painful nothingness. The cool air of the hotel room felt extra sensitive against your exposed cunt, your ass up in the air from pleasing Taehyung.
"C'mere," Jungkook said with a growl as he reached forward, gripping your hips and yanking you backwards towards him. You let out a giggly yelp at the way he manhandled you.
Jungkook slid his thumb against your pussy, the pad of his thumb parting your folds so easily. You shivered at the sensation, the glide of his finger sending little sparks throughout your whole body.
"Already dripping," he murmured to himself. "Tae, you got her so wet already."
Taehyung let out a laugh, giving Jungkook a cocky half-shrug as he took his own cock into his left hand, pumping himself lazily.
"She has good taste."
Jungkook dipped a finger into you first, the feeling of something, anything inside of you making you gasp. He hummed as he slid another finger into you, before he began to scissor his fingers inside of you, stretching you out.
"Hnng, JK," you hissed, your head dropping forward against the blanket.
"Shh shh," Jungkook said with a smirk. "Just getting you ready for me, baby."
"I think she can handle it already, Koo." Taehyung was watching you, face pressed into the blanket to muffle your moans as he jerked himself off to the view.
The sensation of Jungkook's fingers suddenly went away, before being replaced by the burning, splitting sensation of his cock pressing into you, slowly, inch by inch.
"Ah!" You wailed into the blanket, the soft pillow duvet swallowing any of your cries. "Too-too much."
"You can take it," Taehyung growled, still fucking his hand in front of your face. "You took it so well last night, didn't you, baby?"
You nodded and propped yourself back up properly before arching your back, giving yourself fully to Jungkook as he sank deeper into you, until he was completely sheathed inside of your pussy. The feeling of him filling you completely was shattering your sanity; Jungkook was hung, bigger than any of the boyfriends from your past, and he knew exactly how to use all nine inches of his pretty cock.
"That's it," Jungkook groaned, staying still for a moment as you quaked and clenched around him desperately, trying to get used to the feeling of him again. "Take it. Take all of me, pretty girl."
"F-fuck," you moaned, lifting your head off the bed finally. "God, you feel so good inside of me."
"Love my cock, huh? Wanna take it all for me like a good girl, ah?" Jugnkook's voice was gravelly and low, his Busan accent thick and evident in every sentence as he got lost in the feeling of you, still drunk and sleepy.
"Yes, JK," you whimpered.
He began to set a rhythm, rocking his hips against your ass at a pace that knocked the wind out of your lungs. You let out a cry at the intensity, his length splitting you in half as he fucked you from behind.
Taehyung groaned at the sight of you, falling apart already on Jungkook's cock. You looked up at Taehyung through needy eyes, your brows furrowed and lips pouting as your breath matched the pace of every slam of Jungkook's hips into you.
"Think you can take us both, hm?" Taehyung's accent was thick, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you like a jaguar. "Come here, take this cock too."
You swallowed between gasps before reaching forward, wrapping your hand around Taehyung's girthy size again. He cocked his head to the side as he watched you, his other hand coming up to fluff the back of his hair.
"Come on, princess, don't be shy," Jungkook growled from behind you, still fucking you expertly. "Show us what you can do."
You could barely think straight with how well Jungkook's cock was hitting your g-spot, knocking stars into your vision with every thrust. You shook your head a little before poking your tongue out of your mouth again, enveloping Taehyung in your mouth once more.
"Fuuuck," Taehyung moaned, dropping his head back against his pillow. "You're a gorgeous little cumslut, aren't you?"
You nodded a little as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock again, swallowing every inch of him that you could possibly take. Taehyung's length stretched your mouth out so crudely, and he sneered at you as he watched you struggle to take him all in your mouth.
"Too fucking big for you?" Taehyung groaned, his dialect itching your ears in just the right way. "Dirty girl, you can do it."
You felt like your body was on fire; every part of you felt full, spent, but your head was spinning with how much pleasure you were experiencing. Jungkook was fucking you so well from behind, every thrust of his hips pushing you deeper onto Taehyung's cock.
"Wanna see you fall apart like this on the both of us, honey," Jungkook groaned before dropping his hand down to your pussy, rubbing slow, controlled, firm circles on your clit.
You let out a muffled cry, the sounds dampened against Taehyung's length stuffed in your mouth. He grinned down at you, your mouth so full of him, and his other hand came back down to hold you steady.
You felt like you were going to die, but you already were in heaven.
Your core burned hotter and hotter, the cord inside of you beginning to stretch impossibly tight. Jungkook's tip was knocking against your sensitive spot so perfectly, and you thought you could pass out from the pleasure.
The rhythm of his hips suddenly faltered for a moment, and Jungkook leaned down, fishing his phone out of his shorts that were left abandoned on the floor.
The blanket around you was suddenly illuminated by a phone light, and your eyes widened as you realized Jungkook was filming you, spread open, bent over, and taking him like a pornstar. Humiliation immediately washed over your whole body, and you were sure that if you weren't red in the face before, you definitely were now.
"Jungkook—" you gasped, popping your mouth off of Taehyung for a moment.
"Don't worry, angel, nobody's ever going to see this except me. And Hyung."
Taehyung chuckled, his hand pushing your head back down along him. He gave you a wink, the small gesture sending a surge of adrenaline through your body, and you picked up the pace.
"Ugh fuck, look at her. Performing for the camera."
Jungkook held the camera at arm's length so that he was filming himself fucking you, selfie-style, as you sucked Taehyung off. He threw his head back into the pillow again, his lower lip pinched between his teeth as his abdomen was flexed, his pleasure taking over his whole demeanour.
"Gonna fucking cum in this pretty mouth," Taehyung hissed, brows furrowed as he sat up a little further, his V-line and abdomen on perfect display, glistening with sweat and flexed.
"Sin fucking city," Jungkook said to the camera with a cocky laugh. "Look at her."
Your face burned with embarrassment, but you persisted. Jungkook's fingers were still working your clit, and you were desperately trying not to explode, not to scream out in pleasure.
Taehyung let out a long, pornographic moan as he reached his climax, his warm, desperate spurts hitting you in the back of your throat. Your mouth was suddenly flooded with the salty-sweet taste of him, thick and creamy on your tongue.
"Fuuck-God," Taehyung hissed, his hand pushing you down along his length impossibly deep as he rode out his high. "Horny little slut, taking my load in her pretty mouth."
You dragged your tongue along the underside of his length, all the way up to the top, cleaning him up with your mouth before you drank all of him down. You swallowed with a gasp, your mouth falling open to show Taehyung that you had taken all of him so well, just like he wanted.
Taehyung's hand released from your head to tilt you up to look at him by the chin. You held eye contact with him through teary eyes, still rocking forward on your knees as Jungkook fucked you. Taehyung's eyes were still dark, but his gestures were a little sweeter now, his thumb dragging along your lower lip, wiping up the residual cum dripping from your mouth.
"Pretty girl," he hummed. "Getting me off so well while Koo fucks you from the back."
You let out a whine at Taehyung's gentle hands as Jungkook wrecked you, the two opposite sensations making your head spin.
"Please, please," you begged, your eyes needy and wet as you held Taehyung's gaze. "Feels so-so good, Tae. Gonna—"
"Fuck, she feels so tight around me," Jungkook hissed, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought his own pleasure, his camera still on you.
You were teetering on the edge now, your climax dangerously close. You squeezed your eyes shut, the pleasure manifesting itself in the faces you were making, desperate, vulnerable, and so erotic.
Taehyung's voice broke through your trance.
"Look at me."
Your eyes flew open, Taehyung's hand returning to your chin as he held you up, forcing you to look at him. He was smiling at you, not sweet, but cocky.
"Just wanna remember what you look like as you cum, hm?" Taehyung said with a grin.
That was it.
Your climax ripped through your body, the intensity so strong that your vision went blurry, and you dropped your head to the blanket, as you wailed into the covers. Taehyung lifted your head back up with ease, your eyes rolled back into your head, eyes fluttering, knuckles white as you gripped the bedsheets. You felt a warm rush of liquid escape you, dripping down your thighs and trickling onto the bed with an audible drip.
"Fuck, so sexy," Jungkook hissed, maintaining his mean pace. "Squirting all over me like a dirty whore."
"Tae, too much, he's too much," you sobbed, the pleasure mixing with pain as Jungkook knocked his cock into you, his pace picking up as he neared his climax.
"Shh, you can take it," Taehyung murmured, stroking your cheek. "Take it, doll."
Jungkook let out a low groan through gritted teeth, his phone abandoned on the bed, both his hands gripping you by the hips as he pounded into you continuously.
"Fuck, you squeeze around me so well, gonna fucking cum in this slutty cunt, huh?"
You felt your body go limp, but you stayed on your knees so obediently, letting Jungkook climb to his peak as he fucked you feverishly.
A large hand came down on your ass, giving you a stinging slap. You wailed out, your fingers coming up to intertwine with Taehyung's.
"Fucking perfect girl," Jungkook growled. "Letting me fuck her while Hyung watches. Gonna fucking wreck you, baby."
"Let Jungkook cum in your pretty pussy, baby," Taehyung cooed.
"Fuck-yes, Jung-kook-please," you stuttered, far too drunk off his cock to even think straight. "Please, finish in my tight little pussy, it's all yours, my pussy is yours."
Jungkook let out a low guttural groan as he pressed himself deep into you, up to the hilt. His head dropped forward as he reached his climax.
"Fucking shit," he moaned as you felt his ropes shoot inside of you, jagged and pulsing. Jungkook painted your walls with his pleasure, his breath releasing in short pants and hisses as he fucked himself through his high.
You were entirely spent now, your body was limp and boneless, and you collapsed onto the bed by Taehyung's legs. Jungkook collapsed beside you at the foot of the bed, his length still buried inside of you.
The three of you lay on the bed, sprawled in every direction in silence, the only sound in the room was the panting and heavy breathing from both you and Jungkook. Taehyung's hand came up to pet your hair gently, stroking your head with a soft rub of his thumb.
He reached over for the water bottle he had brought you earlier on the nightstand and uncapped it again, bringing it to your lips. Your eyes fluttered open at the contact with the plastic bottle, and you opened your mouth slightly, allowing Taehyung to bottle feed you sips of water through heavy breaths.
"Good girl," he cooed. "Such a good girl."
Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist again, holding you in close as his breathing returned to normal. He pressed sweet kisses along your shoulder, your back, your spine.
"Let's get you cleaned up, hm?"
Jungkook gently pulled himself out of you, the mix of your fluids dripping out onto the bedsheets. You covered your face in embarrassment, but Jungkook's hand came up to pull your wrist off.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
The shower turned on with a roar, the water pressure strong and thumping against the glass door already. Steam slowly began to fill the chamber, and Jungkook reached into the shower to test the temperature.
Taehyung was standing behind you, his hands rubbing up and down your arms possessively as he waited for the shower to warm up.
"It's good," Jungkook mumbled as he stepped in, and then turned to face you, his hand reaching out to help you in.
You stepped over the little step of the shower floor, joining Jungkook in the steamy chamber. The scent of eucalyptus and citrus filled your senses, the steam soothing your whole body almost instantly.
Taehyung stepped in behind you before he closed the door, the three of you standing impossibly close together. You were pinched between the two tall, muscular men, both of them facing you as their hands lazily explored your wet body.
"Sweet girl," Taehyung murmured into your ear, planting a kiss on the back of your neck. "Thanks for spending the night."
You nodded, and Jungkook tilted you up to face him with a finger on your chin. He grinned at you, lip ring twinkling under the potlight, before leaning in to press a sweet, soft kiss on your lips.
The two of them reached for the body wash that was mounted on the wall, each pumping twice, before lathering the soap in their hands. Jungkook then opened his hands towards you, his hands immediately gently gripping your breasts in his hand, giving them a soft squeeze as he began to spread the bubbly body wash across your body, massaging you as he cleaned you.
Taehyung followed suit, his hands firmly on your shoulders, massaging the tension out with his soapy hands before spreading the lather across your back, scrubbing gently and thoroughly down the length of your spine. You felt yourself melt at their touch, so intimate and loving.
"Mm, feels good," you sighed, your head dropping back onto Taehyung's shoulder.
"Yeah, she's sleepy," Jungkook said with a chuckle. "I'd be too."
You stood between them as they washed themselves, the scent of the bodywash making your head spin.
When all three of you were perfectly clean again, Taehyung reached around you and turned off the water before reaching out of the shower door to grab a towel. He stepped out first, wrapping the towel around his waist, before grabbing a second and third one, motioning for you to step out of the shower towards him. You did.
Jungkook stepped out of the shower behind you, and Taehyung handed him one of the towels. He wrapped it around his waist tightly before they both turned their focus back to you.
"Arms up," Taehyung said softly, and you lifted your arms over your head.
He wrapped the towel around your torso, tucking it in at the edge so it hung like a dress. Jungkook pressed the towel against your body, helping you dry yourself. Once you were comfortably wrapped up, Jungkook stepped towards the mirror, shaking his wet tendrils of hair around like a puppy dog. He collected another towel from the shelf to dry his hair.
You returned to the bed, sitting on the edge as Taehyung got dressed in front of you. He glanced at the clock on the wall.
10:04am.
"Jungkookie-ah, we gotta go soon."
"Yah," Jungkook called from inside the bathroom.
Taehyung turned back to look at you.
"We have late check out. You can nap here until we come back, if you want."
You were so sleepy, too blissed out to move. You nodded, giving him a weak smile as you let yourself lie back in bed.
Taehyung looked at you with a laugh before coming around the bed again, petting your head gently.
"Sleep well. We'll try to get ready quietly."
You nodded, already feeling half-asleep as you melted back into the pillows and blanket, the cool Egyptian cotton bundling you up so addictively.
You didn't realize you had drifted off to sleep until your eyes snapped open to the sound of a knock at the door.
"That's probably Hobi-hyung," Taehyung murmured, now fully dressed, with a pair of sunglasses sitting on his head, and his backpack over his shoulder.
"Yeah, I'm ready to go," Jungkook hummed, his hair fluffy and blow-dried, bare-faced and zipped up in a black hoodie.
"It was nice meeting you," Jungkook said, giving you a nod, his hands in his pockets. "Maybe when we're back in Vegas?" He gave you a wink.
You buried your face a little deeper into the blanket, the shyness returning.
"Yeah," you murmured, your mouth breaking into a wide smile.
Jungkook laughed, watching you fumble in your own shyness for a moment, before Taehyung nudged him by the shoulder.
"Come on, let's go," Taehyung urged. "They're all waiting for us."
Taehyung turned back to you with a little smirk.
"See you in a few hours."
And then the door opened and closed with a dull squeak and then a soft click, sealing you into this bubble of them, the twelve-hour whirlwind that you had found yourself in. You let your eyes flutter shut, the lingering smell of sweat and eucalyptus lulling you into what was going to be, possibly, the best sleep of your fucking life.
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚
i just blacked out and wrote this im missing out on precious sleep and i'm not proofreading it
synopsis: your skills as a videographer gets put to the test when your friend, who happens to be in the same profession, falls victim to double-booking. problem is, you only specialized in weddings, not adult films. despite your initial reluctance, you take the job. cue the lights … you meet jeon jungkook, a pornstar, on set — in his world. you just never expected him to play a part in yours.
pairing: pornstar!jungkook x wedding videographer!fem reader
wc: 21.1k
genre: s2l, pornstar au, smut, angst, fluff
cw: slice of life, miscommunication, anxiety, fear of future, inaccurate adult filming industry discourse/depiction, jk had a tough time at work, mentions of injuries, tension, yearning, angsty confrontation, alcohol consumption, confessions, fluffy moments, 18+ ONLY, oral (f&m), rimming (f receiving), nipple play, fingering, cum eating, jk watches pix, protected sex, accidental orgasm delay, multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes, aftercare
a/n: finally here!! 😛🎉 as always, enjoy~
masterlist | prologue | act i. | act ii. | act iii.
Is a glass of water half-full or half-empty?
You observe the glass, hoping for a revelation or answer — a good distraction from your miscalculations all evening; well, miscalculations in the duration of meeting Jeon Jungkook. Tucking yourself further into your small couch, the corners of your lips tug at the reminder of the boy. The icy glass cools your hot skin, which still remembers the flames he left you surrounded in on the dancefloor.
And those eyes — his always spoke to you without words.
Eyes smitten and playful all evening, you can’t forget how they morphed into fear and panic when you finally moved on the pathway he laid out for you. Were you wrong to assume he wanted more with you?
“Ah, so stupid.” You slam your eyes shut at the memory, shame heats your cheeks at his rejection — at another loss you’ll need to process on your own. Loss, after loss, after loss. It wears on your bones, empties your soul just like how you empty the glass of water clutched in your hand.
Didn’t matter whether your glass was ‘half-full or half-empty,’ the water will eventually be consumed. Jungkook had a way of overfilling your glass with an abundance of hope; however, you later found out the glass you shared with Jungkook contained holes and eventually left you empty.
No one leaves you empty like Jungkook does.
Sitting up higher on your couch, you dig your lower back into your armrest, wanting to feel some form of support.
Maybe you should’ve stayed and taken the water Jungkook offered. Wake you up from that drunken state and snap you out of your innermost desires for your friend. You’d probably go as far as blaming the alcohol and the night would’ve just ended from there.
Probably would’ve been a better alternative than pathetically running away. Then again, there was no way you were going to last another second in the venue — not after the way he pulled away.
You know it’s rude to leave in the middle of the party. Can’t even bear looking at your phone since ordering a cab outside the club, opting to place it on silent afterwards. Now, the phone rests heavily on your kitchen counter, begging to be checked on.
You should text him. Tell him you’re safe and use indigestion as an excuse for your abrupt departure — no one would ever find fault in that reason. Another pang of anxiety holds you back from touching your phone. What if he didn’t bother checking on you? Upset with your bad habit of leaving?
He has all the rights to.
Setting your feet into your house slippers, you’re thankful for the flat cushion after a night of dancing in heels. Bathroom first, then you’ll text Jungkook. The order of events seemed the most logical and definitely not your way of avoiding the inevitable. It’s a solid plan—
You jolt at the series of knocks against your door. Although your building was relatively safe, living alone had its downsides, especially at this hour. The grip on your glass changes and you ready yourself for self-defense.
Best case scenario? A ding-dong ditcher. Worst? Nope. You don’t want your mind wandering there.
One eye closed, you peer through the peephole.
The fisheye effect warps your vision, but you could easily make out the person standing facing away from your doorway. The dangly, silver five-hooped earrings were a dead giveaway to your visitor. Felt them graze the top of your hand every time he tilted his head in your touch. Felt them when you wrapped your hands at the base of his nape. They glimmered prettily under the club lights, but they look nearly dull now under your complex’s standard lightbulbs.
He’s a few steps away, pacing, looking anywhere but your door as if it was the most offensive piece of object … as if your home was the most deplorable place he could be at right now.
And it should be. He should be at his party celebrating his wins and accomplishments, surrounded by people who love and care for him — not on shame’s breeding grounds. Shame nearly has you running to hide underneath your covers, hoping he’d leave if you refused to answer. Rather than give into shame’s call for isolation, your fingers flick the locks and wrap around the doorknob.
“Jungkook?”
He’s still turned away from you, pacing back and forth in your building’s hallway. No longer styled how it was in the beginning of the night, his hair looks to be run through … whether it be by him or a stranger.
Couldn’t be you.
Your mouth parts, words lodged in your throat, but you manage to utter, “What are you doing here?”
He lets out a breath. So unstable, you could feel the restraint in his action but he stops in his tracks, head tilting up at the ceiling to will the words.
“Why do you keep doing that?” His voice raises, back still turned to you.
You frown, looking around to see if there was anyone in the vicinity. Definitely not at this hour. Your neighbors should be asleep, which is why you don’t want to make a scene outside your home.
“Jungkook—”
Suddenly, harshly, his back shifts and his body whips around, “Why do you keep leaving me? Is that all you know how to do?”
You’re standing face to face with his wide eyes and desperate furrowed brows. The hand raking through his hair only showcasing more of the distress forming on his forehead.
Your mind flashes back to your meeting at the milestone party. There was nothing wrong with your departure at that time. A small, but selfish part of you, doesn’t think you were at total fault for tonight’s departure either.
“Jungkook … please,” you stammer, eyes drifting down to your feet.
“I-I don’t fucking get it, Pix. I just–”
“Can you come inside?” You ask, looking around once more. And although Jungkook hasn’t made far enough noises to warrant a complaint, you’d rather talk inside the privacy of your home. “We can talk in here. Please?” You plead in a small whisper.
Jaw clenched as he looks at you and over the threshold of your home, he nods.
Citrus, with no more lingering scent of cigarettes, wafts past you. Even if he was upset with you, he’s still respectful in your home as he toes off his shoes at the entryway. He exhales through his nose, finally turning to face you. His jaw ticks, eyes bloodshot for multiple reasons but he’ll blame the alcohol and not the exhaustion of looking for you.
You can’t meet his eyes, can’t even bring yourself to speak in the comforts of your home.
“You keep doing this.” His voice cracks.
“I-I,” Your own voice wavers at his statement, you fight the lump in your throat as you lie, “wasn’t feeling well—”
“Cut the bullshit.”
You frown, having never seen Jungkook speak nor act this way towards you. He extends patience and understanding towards you like an additional limb on his body; perhaps, you’ve tested them enough tonight. Still, your own emotions come out just as unsteady and unreasonable.
“You’re being unfair.” You croak.
“I’ve been anything but that, Pix.” He retracts his head, brows furrowed. “You’re the one that left. Like you always do when things don’t go your way.”
Your brows pull together, unable to mask the hurt at the accusation. “What did you expect me to do? You—” Your bottom lip trembles.
“What?” He takes a step forward and you’re once again engulfed in his overbearing scent. The action stunts your train of thoughts, and for a split second, you think he’s almost just as affected.
You’re tired of going in circles, chasing but also running away from what appears to be your own desires.
“You led me on all night.” Voice small, Jungkook nearly misses what you say.
His frustration morphs into surprise, then guilt at the sudden forwardness of your words.
“I …” His eyes widen at the realization as he chews on the inside of his cheeks. He shakes his head, denying the allegations. “I didn’t.”
“But you did.” You walk past him, lower back leaning against the kitchen island. Arms crossed, you don’t miss how Jungkook’s eyes drop to your breasts pushed together. His throat bobs, hands twitching on his sides as he tries to rack up an appropriate response.
“We were dancing. Having fun.” He reasons. “That’s all.”
Friends don’t dance the way you both did tonight; their touches don’t burn. They don’t leave the party after being deserted from a dodged kiss on the dance floor. They sure as hell don’t stare at you like you’re made of stardust.
“Okay.” As if whatever happened in the last couple of hours could be reduced to ‘just dancing.’
His throat emits a low growl, patience once again tested. “Why’d you leave?”
Truthfully? There was no alternate reality where you’d stay after his rejection.
Your crossed arms drop to your sides, throat tightening to keep the contents in your stomach from hurling out. You can’t bear the truth, which seems to point at the fact Jungkook has moved on and there’s no more room for you in his life and heart.
He’s left you behind.
Jungkook fills in the silence with the same words circling in your head, slipping from his mouth now directed at you with an ache you’ve done your best to forget. “You’ve moved on.”
Your face falls, having spent months trying to forget him through hobbies, friends, and even another person, only to find out … nothing’s worked.
Unable to meet his eyes, you mutter, “I had to.”
“I know.” He says, “I know that.”
The filter on your fish tank acts as a buffer for the silence stretched in the small distance.
“You’ve moved on, too.” You don’t mention the woman you saw in his apartment lobby, too afraid of the confirmation that he has indeed moved on.
He lets out a shuddering breath, head hung low. “I tried, okay? I really did.”
Something within you shatters at his revelation. It hurts to be right, and it hurts more knowing no one was at fault in the aftermath of a heartbreak.
He drags his hand down his face, fighting the drunken exhaustion and confusion. “Things got better, I swear. But then I see you and I’m just reminded …”
“Of what?” You ask.
He stays quiet. So different than the man who was just outside your door ready to scorn the world. You wonder how he has kept his composure during the times of your silence when all you want to do right now is shout for an answer, resolution … or ending. What was left after this? Was there another title after being demoted to friends?
… Strangers?
You don’t wait for his answer, choosing to fill the gaps of the conversation with your reality. “You don’t tell me about your life anymore. Like … like, I’m some sort of afterthought learning all these things about you after the fact.” Tears falling freely, you sniff and palm away the moisture on your cheeks.
“Pix–”
“Why did you push me away?” From his life, from the kiss … no clarification needed — it all bleeds together anyway. “Did I misunderstand?”
“Pix.” He repeats, eyes crestfallen and exhausted. “You’re with someone, there’s no way I would do that to you–”
“I’m not with him anymore.”
He pauses, drawing in a sharp breath. “Still doesn’t make it right.” Despite his words, you recognize a faint glint in his eyes.
Of course he becomes the voice of reason when this conversation shouldn’t exist among supposed friends. Now it’s your turn to stay quiet, too ashamed for further humiliation and rejection.
“All I do is remember you, Pix. All I find myself doing is thinking of you. Could never stop even if I wanted to.” He shakes his head. Your stomach sinks, an uncomfortable mass lodged in your throat as you process his words. “And I’m so tired of having to remember you.” He looks at you with so much anguish, wishing and begging for you to end this turmoil.
“Jungkook …”
“I still think about the night at the hotel.” He continues, jaw clenched to stop the trembles. “And I feel so guilty.”
You shake your head vehemently. “You never once did anything I didn’t want to do.”
“I knew you couldn’t be with me, but I still pushed for more. It was selfish of me and I—”
“I’ve always wanted you, Jungkook,” you sob. “You never gave me the chance to make things work.”
Your hands cover your face as you heave into your palms, moist from your tears and breath. Jungkook tilts his head up at the ceiling, furiously blinking away the stray tears he thought he had swore away on the cab ride over to your place.
The buzzing travels up from your fingers to the back of your head. Your body convulses from your silent sobs, mind numbing from all the fog and confusion. Like a bee, refusing to leave you alone, you want to cower away from the source of noise. The buzzing continues for another fifteen seconds, too loud even when neither of you utter a word. It’s impossible to avoid when the buzzing happens from within. How do you remedy this? How do you run away? How, how, how—
The buzzing stops.
Zapped away by a strong pair of arms, the bees stop swarming in your mind, all honeyed scent — all citrus consuming your senses.
Jungkook holds you and it’s the closest thing to the security of your home. Possibly better. Home shelters you from the brewing storm, and as you cry into the expanse of Jungkook’s chest, he holds you tighter, chin resting on the top of your head.
“What are we even doing?” Jungkook mumbles against your hair, voice hoarse and tired.
You inhale into your hands and answer honestly, “I don’t know.”
He swallows, breathing you in, “I hate this.”
Your heart crumbles again. Was this it? Has to be. He’s finally done and wants nothing to do with you anymore.
Instead of his warmth departing from your body like you’ve grown used to, he holds you tighter.
“I fucked everything up.” He says. “I messed you up, and I’m trying to do right by you, I swear, but I–”
His words are cut off with your arms around his waist. Face pressed into his chest, your tears became another source of darkness on his grey shirt, but neither of you cared.
“You didn’t mess anything up.” You heave. Months passed, things changed. Time was a marker for healing and forgetting old wounds; though, there were just some things — some people — you can’t and don’t want to forget.
“I missed you so much, Pix.”
You pull back a little to look at his face. Hurt and longing never needed a competition and there’s no winner when both of you were wounded in the process. The frame had always been a little unfocused and hard to decipher, but you’re both in view now.
“I never stopped thinking about you.” You confess.
He blinks twice, hand now coming to cup your wet cheek. Ache and remorse stretches over his face at the time lost in the absence of one another. He needs to be honest, barring out the truth if there was even a possibility to start anew.
“I can’t promise perfection, P.” He admits, scared and worried for this potential dealbreaker.
“I never asked for perfection.” You shake your head, breath finally coming out even. Pausing, you let the reality of your recent failures sink in, “I just got out of something and I don’t know if I’m any good, but I wanna figure things out with you — do things properly. Please give me time.” Please give us time.
You both loosen your hold on one another, but maintain your gazes as your hands finally intertwine. The hold is weak, full of uncertainty of the future, but you push forward, “Please?” You ask again, heart in your hands — no, heart in his hands. You pray and hope he handles it with care. He has all the power to do the opposite, turning your heart to cold steel for the next poor soul.
He doesn’t, though — can’t imagine anyone but him holding your heart with delicate hands if you allow him to.
Jungkook’s always wondered when the world would bend for him; yet, he’s got the world in his arms right now willing to bend for his sake.
He nods and the night bleeds into the morning as you and Jungkook sit on your small couch to catch up, mending lost time with one another. The hours of bitterness leading up to this moment was well worth it after you finally taste the hint of sweetness lodged behind his growing smiles. The catch up bounces back between idle chatters to late night secrets until you both settle into the mundane and content.
“Group work is the worst, P. Avoid it at all costs.” He recounts the number of times his classmates let him down on a project this past semester.
You laugh wholeheartedly. “Why’d you think I run this business alone?”
“Smart girl.” He grins, and your body warms from the small compliment.
A natural silence fills you both at this time, between the chuckles and stares. You think you could get used to this. A new norm knowing you both want to start over with an agreed upon future. The two glasses of water on your coffee table gets refilled throughout the night, but sits empty now.
Yet, you’re both so full.
And you realize no one’s replenishing the glass the way Jungkook does. Around your imaginary glass filled with holes, Jungkook always does his best to cover and mend them.
“I’m sorry for not keeping you posted on my life.” Jungkook says, knees brushing against yours. “I was trying to figure things out on my own.” He leaves out the part where he wanted to reach out for your opinion, opting to struggle by himself.
“Could’ve reached out to me. I wouldn’t have minded.”
He nods, lips pursed debating his next words.
“What?” You ask, eyes heavy from exhaustion, but you don’t want to miss a single second with your special boy.
“Mm, nothing.” His trademark dimples make an appearance when he hides away a playful smile.
“Come on,” you push, “Tell me.”
He laughs softly, lips pulling to an embarrassed smile, “Wanted you to notice me, so I …”
Your eyes narrow, doing your best to piece together the meaning of his words. Something finally clicks as you lean back against your couch. You’d never peg someone like Jeon Jungkook to do things out of spite or attention, but you suppose love has a way of making people do stupid things.
This was love, right?
“I know. Stupid and immature.” He shakes his head.
“It worked.” You shrug, returning his sheepish smile. He interlaces his fingers with you, relaxed knowing you had been trying to keep up with his life in secret.
He smiles, but shortly after dips a little at his next musing, “Classes have really taken up a lot of my time. I haven’t been able to work as much, but I still take on projects every month or so.”
Your expression falters a little, guilt filling your system as he relays this information. You nod, head leaning to rest on his shoulder.
“Does it bother you?” He asks another forward question. He doesn’t sound as uncertain as he did months ago in the hotel, courage coming as he knows your inevitable answer.
“A little.” You admit.
You’ll get used to this just as Jungkook needs to get used to this too — that sometimes he will disappoint and hurt. Your acceptance isn’t a form of a bandaid over a reopened wound; instead, allowing the healing process to take on whatever form is needed. Eventually a scar tissue will rise over the persistent lesion, granting you the chance to perform better this time around.
Around 5 a.m. your sleepy eyes fight to stay open as you watch Jungkook put on his shoes. He stands up, eyes heavy but with so much anticipation. Realizes the moment the door shuts behind him, he’ll be left anticipating the next time he’ll be graced with your company again.
He comes close, and with a soft exhale through his nose, he presses his lips to your forehead. Breath fanning over, his voice is low and gravelly on your skin, “See ya, Pix.”
Life with Jungkook, again, is ever soft and changing. The effort is there, the pace of the relationship slow as it should be. Jungkook’s main focus is school now and you’re there to support him along the way. You come over to work while he’s studying or in virtual lectures.
He wants you close. Giving you access to his apartment by creating your personalized finger scan into his home. You also give him a spare key to your place, prompted by a recent out of the city wedding you had to attend and no one else was available to feed Gum and Bubba.
On his large couch, you sit on the opposite end as you answer email inquiries. Wedding season’s peaking again and no matter how busy you may get, you’re never too busy for Jungkook. Nothing stops Jungkook from remaining close to you — not even his overly large couch. He’s never too far, wanting your legs slung over his lap as he listens to his lecture through his headphones. His hands mindlessly massage the bottom of your soles, knowing exactly where you’re most sensitive and tired after a long weekend of being on your feet.
You aren’t quite lovers, but you definitely are not just friends. What you’re building with Jungkook takes time. Lots of failing and hard days, but there are just as many and if more, softer and gentler days where you’re reminded this was all worth it.
Things move as they intend to. Like your slow evening walks, shared hot meals, and camera shutters when Jungkook needs to work on his portfolio or an assignment for class. He tags along with you on a couple of weddings to keep you company, inevitably revealing to you that weddings aren’t his thing. It’s good to be honest with these truths — one less field he’d find himself dipping with in the world of photography. But no matter his contempt, he likes being where you’re at.
His lecture finishes and he closes his laptop on his table, leaning back as he rests his eyes after realizing how long he’s been on the computer. Sure, school was difficult, but it was structured — no surprises. Just an obligation he willingly signed up for.
You don’t look up from your laptop, speaking as you type up a response to an inquiry, “What’s on your mind?”
He debates sharing his predicament, hands haven’t stopped his ministrations on your feet as if you were his version of a stress-ball. You breathe through your nose when he hits a particular pressure point.
“I have to go to work next weekend.” He sighs, working on your other foot now. “I’m tired.”
“Can you decline or postpone?” You look up, blue light from your screen bouncing back to your face.
He shakes his head. “Can’t. I signed a two-parter contract a while back and this is the last installment.”
You close your laptop, feet swinging down to touch his fluffy carpet rug as you scoot closer to him. You were aware contracts and waiver forms existed to protect a business and their clients. In Jungkook’s case, the production he signed with was protecting their assets and securing their future projects. It’s a little demoralizing to view Jungkook as an asset, but that’s how business worked. He had to fulfill his duties to avoid legal penalties.
You lean in and it’s a familiar sight Jungkook’s grown fond of these couple of weeks: cheek squished on his shoulder, you look up with reassuring eyes. ‘It’ll be okay.’
Slowly, you’ve grown to manage the unease of his work, ache returning similar to tides crashing onto land. Sometimes the waves hit stronger than anticipated, but smaller and more manageable tides come ashore.
“Just one day, and it’ll be over soon. Then you’ll be free to focus on your exams afterwards, hm?” You soothe, setting the scenario to make the finish line easier to visualize.
“Yeah.” He grunts, not completely relaxed at the idea of having to do something he doesn’t particularly want to, but a job was a job.
“Hey,” you sit up higher, “is there anything I can do to make it better?”
Shouldn’t have offered that because there’s probably a number of things Jungkook can list off the top of his head. His tongue grows heavy in his mouth at the mere idea of having anything he wanted from you.
“Something sweet?” You suggest, brows wiggling up and down.
“Right now?” Declining was never in the books when it came to desserts.
You shake your head with a small laugh, “Whenever you’re done with the project. I can bring something after.”
“Okay, Pix. I’d love that.” His hand holds yours. “Surprise me.”
Nights were always spent like this until it was time for one of you to leave. He walks you to your car, waving at the kind receptionist on the way out to the guest parking lot. No longer embraced in summer’s sweltering heat, fall’s brisk air hits your cheeks when you both step out the complex. You never needed an excuse to press your body closer to Jungkook’s side, hand lodged deep in his coat pocket.
“Bye.” You whisper, tippy-toeing as you press a kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger on his cold skin just a little longer.
The grip around your hands tighten as he fights off the intrusive thoughts of wishing for your lips to move over any expanse of his skin. There’s no need to deny the fact of having impure thoughts of you … had always been the case whether or not you were with him. It doesn’t help when you press your body closer to his, testing the boundaries of your new relationship with each other. Though, the test always stops where it is needed.
Passing the test, he gulps, “Text me when you get home, ‘kay?”
“I will.”
Five hours of work and he’ll be free. Considering the masses need to work on average an eight hour shift and sometimes more, Jungkook is fortunate for his work hours to salary ratio. Still not easy doing what he does especially since he isn’t in the right headspace at the moment and school’s been eating up his time — a love-hate relationship when it comes to being in a new learning environment.
He’s been reevaluating a lot these days, wondering how he’ll juggle his profession with school. And when he finds himself thinking too much of the possibilities, he forces himself to run from those thoughts of quitting everything all together.
In those difficult moments, thinking about you helps calm his nerves about the future and he feels himself landing back on reality. Not everything needs an immediate answer or decision; moreover, he’s allowed to make mistakes. Much like your relationship with him, the ambiguity doesn’t make him run for the hills anymore. Although you and Jungkook don’t currently have any labels for what you are now, there isn't any uncertainty in his devotion towards you.
He checks his bathroom mirror one more time, piercings taken out because today’s shoot may be a little more physically demanding and he isn’t keen on risking any additional injuries like he had sustained in the first shoot. He signed up for the project on a whim because … well, at the time the money and deal seemed decent. BDSM isn’t something he dabbled a lot in on both the receiving or giving end. However, around the same time he signed the contract, he was still grieving the relationship with you and in need of a distraction — something to make him feel again no matter how painful or rigorous to the body.
After the first shoot, he needed at least two weeks of rest … both mentally and physically. He isn’t fond of his co-star — Jungkook still remembers the numbers the man did to his body despite signaling his discomfort.
Locking his door, he makes his way to the elevator. The doors open to reveal a familiar face: Yoona.
She smiles at him, the lines around her eyes crease from the action. Jungkook nods and steps into the elevator next to her. Her strong perfume permeates his senses; a little too floral for his liking in comparison to the subtle cucumber and jasmine scent on your skin he’s grown attached to.
“Work?” He asks, looking at his phone. It’s nearly noon, a little late to be going into the office. Then again, what does he know about the corporate life?
“Hyunbin wanted me to visit.” Ah, her ex-husband — explains her appearance and unusual demeanor. He assumes a revenge outfit underneath her long fur coat. “You working?”
“Yup.” He exhales through his nose.
Even without his explanation of his reluctance, Yoona reads him easily … just like how she read him the first two weeks after his split with you, choosing to end things with him because she wasn’t fond of messing with someone who was in emotional distress. She’s already got a lot going on and the last thing she wants is a fuckbuddy using her as an emotional crutch.
She’d rather be a friend or a … mentor? Maybe just a friendly neighbor until he got his shit together.
Be it her years of wisdom or her innate ability to read the younger man, she catches wind of his unwillingness to go to work.
“Hang in there.” She offers, just as her friends regurgitated on multiple venting sessions during the nasty divorce process. It’s the bare minimum as a friend if they aren’t able to do more for you.
“Thanks, you too.” He returns the encouragement with a toothy grin. One of the advantages of being taller than most is his ability to spy over people’s phones. Yoona types away in her phone, the prior messages included a clear image of a male’s lower half and her own response with an image of her freshly showered body in a towel.
Even with her sunglasses on (which, by the way, are totally unneeded with this gloomy weather), she rolls her eyes under the elevator’s fluorescent lights.
“He’s been begging to make things work again.” She places her phone in her purse.
“You gonna let him back in?” Surely would lessen the alimony she has to pay him.
Yoona scowls, “I may be single, but I am not lonely.” The elevator dings and signals their arrival on the ground floor. “I can have my cake and eat it.” She smiles, red blooming with her pearly white teeth.
Jungkook laughs under his breath, a surge of sweetness also embraces him now after realizing he also has his ‘cake’ too. Hasn’t quite eaten you the way he wants to, but he’s content. Loves where you are both at and is willing to wait till things settle more in life for the both of you.
Yoona clears her throat, strong floral scent leaving along with her as she steps out of the elevators first. “Take care, Jungkook.” Her heels click on the marble floors as she runs out to the cab waiting for her.
Jungkook sighs again, making his way to his car and already programming the job site’s address into his Maps app.
Five hours and he’ll be done.
As promised, you have a sweet treat ready to reward Jungkook after his shift.
It’s uncharacteristic of Jungkook to not answer your texts after a couple of hours. You push away the worry as you make your way up the elevators, tiny brown bag containing something rich and icy you’d typically save for the summer.
Though, there were no rules on when to consume ice cream, especially if it was made by scratch — especially when you made it with your own spin. Anticipation brews as your steps near the front entrance of his home.
Your fingers press on the knob’s scanner and the latch clicks, ready for you to turn and enter into his home.
The living room’s dark, save for the small light Jungkook programmed to turn on at a specific time. There’s no greeting like you’re used to. Hanging your coat and scarf on the stand, you peer past the entryway as you toe off your shoes.
“Jungkook?” You call out with an air of uncertainty.
Still no answer. Your eyes adjust to the dim surroundings, eyes eventually falling onto a figure you’d recognize in any condition.
Jungkook’s laid down on his couch, one arm over his eyes. He’s in his sweats, showered and asleep. Your shoulders drop, tip-toeing past him to put the sweet treat into the freezer. You come back to the living room, not without picking up the fallen throw blanket on the ground, placing it on his body.
You could crack open your laptop to do some work in his kitchen until he stirs awake or just leave and let him rest. Straightening up from your bent position, a sharp inhale comes from below as Jungkook removes his forearm from his face and lifts his head up to peer around his surroundings. He sees you and drops his head in relief, breathing patterns stabilizing with a drag of his hand down his face.
“What time is it?”
“A little past 8.” You reply, sitting near his knees.
“Sorry, Pix. I crashed.” His throat cracks from sleep, “Time slipped.”
“‘S okay.” You reply, pinkie hooking onto his. “Would you like to rest some more? I won’t bother you.”
He swallows, unsure if he would rather be left alone or if he needed your company. He’s not sure he would be good company.
“I don’t know.” His other arm comes up again to cover his eyes. Misery also needed company too, and he doesn’t want to be away from you.
You seem to get the hint. Couch, stiff and hard as ever, seems to bend at the weight of you both for this moment of tenderness.
“Hard day?” You ask.
His throat bobs, and that’s when you notice the red marks near his Adam’s apple and his wrist. Your lips tug down, fingers itching to soothe the pain over his skin. You curl closer to him, hoping your presence would be enough to redirect his thoughts.
“Yeah. Was difficult.” He replies, voice shaky. His breath comes out uneven as he sniffles into his arm. “Ah, sorry, maybe it’s better if I’m alone.”
He hadn’t realized a couple tears had slipped out from the corners of his eyes until one of your hands cups his jaw, thumb rubbing away some of the moisture in your touch. He sucks in another breath, chest stuttering as a small sob tumbles out. He turns, burying his face into your chest as his arms come from underneath to hold you.
“I’m sorry.” He apologizes repeatedly. You repeatedly tell him you’re not leaving — that you’re here to stay. Fingers running through his dark locks, your touches force his eyes shut, a relieved sigh exiting as he regulates his breathing.
“I’m here, you’re okay.” You promise, your nails scratching his head produces a soft whimper as he buries his bigger frame deeper into your body. When you try to pull away to assess his face, he only tugs you in tighter. You chuckle, hand patting and soothing the expanse of his back.
“Kook?”
He grunts, too exhausted to verbalize a reply.
“I’m gonna go make something, okay? You stay here and rest.”
He reluctantly loosens his grip on you, and holds onto the fact you were staying. Accepting your proposal, he goes back into a more dignified position with his arm slung over his eyes.
You move with precision; kitchen layout memorized of where all the seasonings and cooking utensils were located, you come back into the living room with a small pot of ramen in under ten minutes. The wooden heat protector clanks onto his coffee table in your descent to the ground. You wince, apologetic for startling him again.
“Didn’t have to make me food, Pix.” He pushes himself up slowly, face contorting in discomfort as he sits upright.
“Wanted to. Come on, have a bite, please?” You had already started rolling the noodles into the spoon, creating a perfect single bite. You blow on the food a little before Jungkook dips his head halfway to receive the food.
Unlike the painful expression he previously sported, his brows furrow as he chews on the food — a good sign. Nothing’s more healing than a warm meal; a warm meal made with love.
“Thanks, P.” He smiles, and the parts of him lost during the hours of the shoot are slowly coming back.
“I’m glad.” Your eyes land on his neck first, then over his wrists where the red rings were most prominent. “Did you want to put on ointment? Tell me where you keep your medicine and I can—”
“It’ll heal on its own.” He declines, ready and rehearsed for your concerns. And because he knows there were a billion other questions in that pretty head of yours, he comes clean on his reasons for tonight’s exhaustion. “Co-star went off script towards the end and it threw me for a loop.” He explains, head rested on the back of the couch.
You nod, arms tightening around him. “That sounds awful. I’m sorry …”
He releases another heavy breath. “I-I don’t know, Pix. It’s usually not this bad.”
“What do you mean?” Frowning, you didn’t think you’d ever witness Jungkook in this state: defeated over the profession he willingly chose and stayed for.
His blank eyes stare off into the distance, zeroing on the corner of his flat screen television. The corners of his mouth twitch, exhaling a shaky breath before murmuring, “I’m scared to quit.”
And despite his discomfort with the subject, he continues, “I … I’ve been thinking about it and it feels like I can’t focus on other things when I have to think about work.” He also doesn’t want to mention the shame he has in quitting, inevitably proving people right that his line of work was not sustainable in the long-run. He doesn’t want to admit he’s outgrown the field that’s built everything around him: his friends, home, experiences, and … you. If it weren’t for his job, he wouldn’t have found you.
But was gratitude and loyalty needed for a profession that brings him more stress and worries?
Though rare, he’s wrestled with these difficult moments in this field, often wondering how life would be if he didn’t need to endure. What version of him exists outside of the industry? He knows what happiness is, but he’s also familiar with the deep dread and disappointment in staying.
“It’s scary.” You concede, staring off into the same space Jungkook had fixated. “But I know you’ll figure it out. You’re not alone. I’m here with you no matter what you decide on.”
His eyes well up again. He used to think people were crazy for suffering, crying during and off work hours. Now? He’s no different. Change is scary, but remaining the same is scarier. And he’s remained the same for so long, fighting the norms and societal expectations of him.
All this to realize … he’s also just a boy with dreams and aspirations, hope cupped in his hands waiting to be discovered. The industry may be a part of him, but it was never all he was. While he doesn’t know what the future entails, he knows he needs to do something different — his profession does not define his identity.
“Yes, I know.” He lets you rub gentle circles on his bruised wrist, lets you bring up his wrist and blow a cooling breath over his skin before you lay a gentle kiss. “Thank you.”
You and Jungkook remain like this for a while, just sharing each other’s warmth and company until you perk up about the dessert you brought over. He chuckles as you pry open the container and a peek of light orange reaches his vision. Jungkook relishes in the small notes of cinnamon and persimmons hitting his taste buds.
The container of ice cream gets annihilated within fifteen minutes, cold running down your esophagus and tummy, but there’s always a source of heat in your stomach as you sit close to your biggest source of warmth.
Refusing his offer to walk you to your car, you only allow Jungkook to see you out his door in favor of him resting more.
“Thanks for tonight, P. I really needed this.” He needs you more than ever. Holding your hands, he lets his gaze trail down to your lips before he brings them back up to your eyes. He’s been through this route many times, showing restraint because he knows better than to do something too rushed despite his mind and body screaming at him to disobey the boundary you both set.
As always, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.
It’s enough. Because he feels you through the food you make for him, your touch, and your unwavering care.
As you stare up at him with starry eyes, he also realizes:
Intimacy doesn’t have to be perfect, but it is with you.
Jungkook completed his first semester of courses with flying marks. With a heavy heart, he decided to stop working in adult filming after another week of mulling through his options. In his resolve he tells himself the decision’s indefinite … subject to change. But ever since he let his agent know of his career change, he has not looked back.
Though the weather remains chilly, spring’s around the corner. The season brings the birds in the early mornings, flowers blossoming around his apartment complex, and the love blooming in his chest whenever he sees you.
Tonight’s a special night for you. Your cohort wanted to do a little social gathering at a club and you invited Jungkook as your plus-one. He wasn’t planning on drinking, opting to be your designated driver for the night. He looks over at you, eyes sparkly with glitter … or perhaps, you glow more under his stares.
Weather’s still cold, but he knows it will warm up at the venue as the night progresses. He lays his brown jacket on your lap as he drives you both to the venue. You’re so pretty in your skin-tight black turtleneck and gold chain necklace. Upon final inspection in your body length mirror, you made a remark how you looked like The Rock minus the fannypack. Jungkook laughed and tugged you along, mumbling how you looked beautiful and how you were going to be late if you did another outfit change. And while the weather is ever turbulent, jumping between hot and cold days, there’s nothing turbulent between you and Jungkook.
Even though you abstained from changing out of your ‘Pre-2012 The Rock’ fit, you were late with how the parking situation worked out. Too many cars, too little parking options when you were deep into the nightlife district of the city. Jungkook parked at an open lot about a twenty minute walking distance. Terrible, you know. But the trip was well worth it with his company. Had you been alone, you probably would have chosen to order a cab, but you’ve never felt safer in Jungkook’s hand as you both walk down the busy streets on a Saturday night.
“Thanks again for coming with me.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Plus,” He squeezes your hand. “You’re coming with me to my friend’s wedding next weekend. So we’re even.”
“Oh no … weddings are so, so, so awful,” you chide with batted lashes.
He grins, “It is when you gotta be in dress pants.”
You giggle, staring up at the illuminated neon lights around town. “My classmates are excited to meet you, Mr. 9th-Annual-Shutter-Winner.” You grin, the side of your body presses close to him. You look down at his phone where it navigates the leftover walking distance to the club: estimated time of arrival – five minutes.
Jungkook was nervous. Not as a result of meeting your classmates, but he knew a certain someone was going to be there. Kim Taehyung, your best friend and confidant, will also be in attendance. He’s gotten along with him in the past on set. Eccentric guy, a bit of a Namjoon fanatic, but birds of a feather flock together. Namjoon’s creative, kind, and visionary. It’s only natural Taehyung gravitates towards him in this industry.
Regardless, Jungkook’s nervous. He doesn’t voice his concern when you had disclosed that Taehyung was aware of your relationship history with Jungkook. He would never hold you back on talking about your troubles to your friends because it’s important to build that trust and rapport. He hopes his entire persona isn’t completely irreconcilable just yet with the time he’s spent trying to grow and cultivate a healthy relationship with you.
Once in the club, you make your rounds with Jungkook by your side. Lots of new faces, and maybe a select few that were recognizable as a result of the photography competition.
“Hey Jungkook, heard you were in the photography program,” one of the judges for the past photography competition, Rowoon, smiles, “I know at the end of your photography program they’re going to request for an internship. Let me know if you need help connecting with a photographer.”
“That’d be awesome.” Jungkook smiles.
Jungkook’s appreciative for moments like these, easy conversations blending in with your life. You’ve been surrounded with good people. Well, good enough for you to want to rekindle and meet up every so once in a while.
He watches you from afar now, a mocktail in hand as he lets the ice melt and lessen the syrupy taste of the drink.
You smile into your cup as one of your classmates animate a pose of some sort — probably from a recent project or client. Regardless, he finds himself smiling too, eyes focused on your figure. It’s all tunnel vision, really, how everything around you blurs and this gooey feeling swirls and pools in the pit of his stomach.
He recognizes this, having experienced this similar breakthrough in the past with previous partners. While the hard impact of the realization came far less than this moment, his feelings were undeniable.
He loves you.
An awful realization to have when you guys are out in public and not in privacy, where he can bare his emotions to you freely. His palms sweat, heart accelerating at the welcomed epiphany and rush.
He has been patient and gentle in these last couple of months. That, he’ll give himself credit for. But all the self work he’s done is about to leave as he’s one mocktail sip away from walking over to you and declaring his feelings.
Not the right place nor time. Certainly worse when he can’t drink to distract himself.
“Mind if I join ya?”
Jungkook startles out his thoughts, craning his neck to the side to find Kim Taehyung smiling lazily at him. He simply gestures for the empty stool, all while trying to relocate you after the minor detractor.
Even with the heavy bass of the club music, Jungkook’s eyes still remain on your figure, making sure you’re safe and having fun — as you should always be.
Taehyung grunts in his descent onto the barstool, gaze following where Jungkook looks at.
“You all socialed out?” Jungkook mindlessly asks — a miracle he’s strung up a coherent sentence.
Taehyung scoffs at the lack of focus, but replies, “Gets a little tiring explaining my gigs and seeing them react the same way.”
This time, Jungkook stares back at the seated man, completely understanding his sentiment. He knows exactly what Taehyung has experienced being in the industry — their little common ground.
“You know,” Taehyung begins, “I still don’t get the whole thing with you and her.”
Lips pursed, he drums his fingers on the bar counter, “How so?”
“Friends, but not. Lovers, but not.” Taehyung tips his drink back. “What are you guys even waiting for?”
What was Jungkook waiting for?
“Just want to take our time.” He replies. “Not trying to rush things.”
“Kind of backwards, don’t you think?” He shrugs his shoulders before continuing, “Look man, I’ll be upfront. I’m still on the fence about you.”
“I know.” Jungkook’s aware he’s far from perfect, knowing his hesitancy in moving forward stems from his insecurities and his fears of hurting you in the process.
“She likes you a lot. And I trust my best friend. If things go sour, well … at least we’ll know how to pick up the pieces this time around.”
Taehyung waves down the bartender for a refill. “I give her a lot of shit for putting herself in a box, but all she does is try. So why don’t you guys try?”
Jungkook’s been so afraid of hurting. In turn, he’s robbing you both of the possibility for something so much more. He loves what he has with you, but was this enough?
You turn, also finding him, and smile.
It’s not enough. He wants more — he needs more.
Taehyung settles back as he watches the scene unfold in front of him with a smug smile.
Finally.
Jungkook’s on autopilot as he weaves through the crowd. The back of his neck grows sweaty, less from the stuffy venue and more from his nerves and this final act of trying to do the right thing for once. He wants to do right by you, and right now all he wants is to be near you.
He needs to be near you.
You seem to think the same too, placing your empty glass onto the edge of the bar top. There aren’t any remnants of green or cherries, only a sliver of yellow on the bottom he recognizes as his trademark drink.
His heart drums against his chest as you do a quick side hug with the classmate, so eager to get to him in the midst of the hazy, man-made smoke and crowded dance floor.
The path to you was damn near impossible to get to, packed like sardines and people unwilling to move. Though, you both will always find a way to each other. Head tilted, you motion Jungkook to the side of the dance floor. It’s dimly lit, some of the club’s strobing lights don’t touch. Light’s not needed because you’re forever drawn to each other.
“Hi.” You smile up at him, eyes slightly droopy as your hand finds his. “Sorry. Haven’t been able to hang out with you that much tonight.”
He shakes his head, placing your hand behind his neck. Your fingers search for the longer locks he sported in the winter months, but you’ve always preferred his shorter cut. The prickle of the undercut was something you’ve longed for all night long. His silver hooped earrings graze your exposed wrist, the cold metal offering a nice touch on your hot skin.
He shakes his head, “‘S okay, Pix.” You both sway, neither of you really know what song is playing. It all blurs to white noise when you’re with each other. “Did you catch up with everyone?”
“Mhm.” You hum, leaning in to press your face against his chest. There’s a slight drop to your shoulders signifying your exhaustion, but Jungkook reads your demeanor like the back of his hands.
With a hum, he murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”
“Everyone’s in production companies.” You sulk, frown felt on his strong front.
Your words hold a little bitterness, a hint of dejection at the idea you weren’t exactly doing what everyone was doing. But that’s what made you special. You’re doing what you want to do and you’ve stuck by it.
“You ever think about joining one?” He asks into your hair.
You lift your head from his chest, chin digging into his sternum. “It’s not for me, but sometimes, I feel like I’m missing out.”
Just like how he thinks he might miss out on something wonderful if he continues as things are, but a club where you’re having a reunion with old classmates isn’t the right time or place for a confession.
Jungkook nods. “Can do whatever you want. The world’s your oyster.”
He doesn’t need any of the strobing lights or a spotlight in the tiny nook you’ve both claimed with the way you smile at him. Not when you stare up at him like he’s the world, ready to be claimed by you. Before he does anything too impulsive, he leads you both closer to the center of the dance floor. Back turned to him, his hands rest on the dips of your hips. Chin tucked in the crook of your neck, he takes in your jasmine and cucumber scent, wondering if you’re just as addicted to his scent.
“Did you have your usual?” He mumbles into your ear.
You shake your head, shivering from his voice. “Midori sour’s not always on the menu.”
He hums in agreement, thinking back to the arrangements he made at the club he hosted his celebratory party at. Honestly, there was no major issue requesting the addition of the drink; the manager was happy to accommodate.
“What’d you have earlier?” His voice comes out low, rumbling against you.
You nearly whimper your answer as he circles his arms around your midsection, not wanting to lose any physical contact from you. “Highball.”
His grin stretches across his face, muscle memory as his mouth salivates for the drink. “Did you like it?”
You turn around now, and Jungkook does little to reposition his forehead on yours. This time, another type of restraint courses through his body as his eyes bounce between your hooded stare and pouty lips.
“Mm, I wanted to try what you liked. Not my thing,” you conclude. “Wasn’t sweet at all.”
Jungkook doesn’t need the additional sweetness in his drinks when he’s surrounded by sweetness in his life. Can do away with sugar because you’re here.
“What did you have tonight?” You ask back.
“Wild night with some sort of wild berry mocktail.” He teases.
“Lucky, I wish I had that.” Your eyes drop to his lips — he follows your line of vision as you look back up at him.
“Was nice.” He concedes, voice dropping an octave. “Better if it was a highball.”
The music’s loud, but nothing’s louder than the drumming in his ears — the voice in his head yelling at him to close the gap between you two. The same gap you both maintained in these last couple of months. It’s been working so well for you two, reworking your foundation and taking things slow all while hoping it would lead to your desired goal: each other.
Jungkook’s forehead remains on yours, lips parted slightly at your delayed blinks. And although the label had always blurred between the two of you, he had always been yours. Yours, when he entered the establishment with his hand on your hips, guiding you away from rowdy groups at the main point of entrance. Yours, when all you’ve done tonight was match his stares, wanting so badly to be in his company instead of folks you haven’t spoken to in years face to face.
All yours.
“Want a taste?” You ask, making no move to go to the bar. He stays rooted there too, knowing full well he’s not allowed a single drop of alcohol in his system. The entrancement lasts all but a second before a flicker of fear flashes across your features.
Deja vu.
Was this all a figment of your imagination and it could get ripped from you any moment? If you lean in like you did months ago, would you be punished by rejection again?
Your brows furrow, eyes pleading up at Jungkook to answer your unspoken questions.
And he reads you so easily — remembers you and knows your insecurities before you do sometimes.
He breathes you in, nose now nestled against your own with no intentions of ever leaving.
“Please?” Your warmth fans over to him, a soft plea worthy of ending wars Jungkook would only qualify as his own battles.
He thinks about that night at the club where you had left him, foolishly clutching onto the flimsy cone-shaped cups while the world spun with you nowhere in sight. Thinks about the prospect of you leaving again and how ruined he’d be without you.
Jungkook pleads with you too now, “Please don’t leave me.”
You shake your head. “I’m right here.”
He thinks he deserves a little bit of heaven. Funny, how he thinks the universe could grant him kisses from a million angels, but he’d only want a lifetime of yours. The last thing he sees are two slow blinks from your sparkly-glittered lids, pulling and signaling him into a soft landing: to home — he finally finds his way back home.
He cups your face, delicate in how he holds you because there’s nothing more he’d like to do than to handle you with all the care and tenderness in the world. He sighs into your lips, relieved to finally have you like this. Where you both meet in the middle now.
Highball, in the simplest terms, was bland whiskey. The taste of the drink was probably the furthest thing you can get to the sweetness of your typical midori sour. And yet, you still tried for him. He knows how much you try for him and you’ve done your best to accept him — the work and effort you put into adoring Jungkook never goes unnoticed.
He doesn’t taste the highball, none of the usual remnants of the drink he’s grown to like as he runs his tongue over your plump lips. Perhaps it’s also that he no longer searches for that familiar aftertaste; instead, welcoming something he’s longed for and missed these months. His tongue moves over your lips again, slow and deliberate to savor the sweetness.
Your mouth parts for him, a tentative push of his tongue and you’re reduced to putty. He trails one hand down your hip, pulling you flush against him.
It’s all muscle memory, how puzzle pieces fit just for you and Jungkook. He groans against your mouth, the low sound vibrates through your body, sending a shock through your body and heat building in your middle.
Your name is all but a rasp as Jungkook goes straight to your lips again after your small whine. He can’t get enough of you, the background noise and people blurring in his pursuit of you. You kiss him back. Months after months of waiting, slowly rebuilding, knowing exactly where the finish line is … and the kiss now was just one of your many monumental milestones with Jungkook.
He needs to pull away for air, mindful of your own state too despite his unwillingness to stray away. It’s everything he’d expect a kiss from you to be after all this time: sweet, with no hint of the drink he fancied.
Nose nestled to yours and brazen smiles exchanged, Jungkook does his best to regulate his breathing.
“You’d ever give highball another try, Pix?” He breathes, peppering tinier kisses on your lips, rendering it nearly impossible to properly respond.
“Yeah.” You reply in between kisses. “I’d try it again. It’s worth another chance.”
When he finally pulls away with much reluctance, his heart drums against his chest at your response — at your implication.
You wanted this with him.
“You’ll teach me how to properly drink it?” You look at him with the softest gaze.
He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Will drink it with you.”
No one was talking about the drink. Though, much like the drink, love and affection was always better shared and experienced together.
And it’s so much better savoring those moments with you.
You and Jungkook eventually leave the dance floor to socialize with your other classmates, catching Taehyung with a content smile as he peers down at your interlinked hands. Jungkook’s hand involuntarily tightens around yours and you look up, eyes holding a playful curiosity as to what he wants.
You mouth, ‘You tired?’
He shakes his head no, though, his droopy eyelids and slight sway to his body tells you otherwise. You’re also tired too, wanting nothing more than to be with your desired source of warmth.
You quickly make your rounds, bidding your farewells and blaming your age for not being able to stay longer. Thankfully, a couple of your other classmates left before you, so your attempt to leave didn’t look out of the blue. Your goodbye with Taehyung takes a little longer as he whispers something in your ear, eyes playful as you pull away and lightly smack his arm.
Jungkook smiles once you’re back by his side, the cold night air hitting you both outside the club. He offered to run to the car while you wait back, but you insisted on coming with him. “Ready for the walk, Miss Rock?”
With narrowed eyes, you huddle closer, pretty pout on your lips he so wants to kiss.
“You said I looked great.” You huff, beginning the long trek back to the car.
“The Rock looked great, and so do you, Pix.” He teases.
Three minutes into your walk, a random downpour starts out of nowhere.
Jungkook takes off his brown jacket, slinging it over both your bodies as you do your best to run from the rain. Shared incredulous giggles and glances with each other made the trip back even better. Unable to fully avoid the downpour, Jungkook opts to just cover you with his jacket. The theatrics continue once a car passes, wheels producing a splash over your bodies.
Unneeding of the jacket now, you lower the jacket around your shoulder, tugging Jungkook through the rain as you both near the car. He looks at you from behind, catching your stare back while urging him to move quicker.
But he’s in no rush.
He’s never been in a rush with you.
Steps coming to a halt, you look back again with a questioning expression. His hair’s matted on his forehead, eyes squinting from the rain water, but he can see you so clearly under the yellow of the streetlights.
He says your name, your steps stumble as you land in his embrace. Cold fingers run on your cheek before he admits, “I don’t think I can just be what we’ve been. I want this with you — I want to be with you.”
He doesn’t ask you if you want the same. Didn’t have the chance as his eyes widened the same moment your lips met his.
Rain beats down on your bodies, hard and punishing. The cold water seeping through your clothing is nothing compared to the heat searing from your bodies. Your fingers run through his hair from behind, urging him closer if it were possible. His hold on you tightens and you unconsciously arch into him, no longer caring how the rain water runs down your face.
Jungkook breaks apart from the kiss, “It’s always been you, P.” Warm breath on your lips as he utters words he's long realized and wanted to tell you, “I … I’m in love with you.”
It’s freeing. Not just his confession, but how the rain continues washing out everything around you both. The good, the bad. The aftermath of a storm allows for rebuilding — for flowers to blossom, for growth and to start anew.
He thinks about all the time spent together and apart — the happiness, trust, and fears … it all inevitably brings him back to you. And as the rain waters continue to fall, he finds himself free falling into your embrace — the easy love.
“I love you,” You profess, brows pulling together tears mixing in with the rain, “So much. You know that, yeah?”
He does. But even so, he still asks, “Please be with me.” He chews on the inside of his mouth, so fearful of rejection as though you could choose any other route. “Please?”
You nod, leaning in for a kiss that could only seal your answer to him. “I’m yours. Always been yours.”
A relieved chuckle stutters from his chest, holding you close. “Home?”
“Home.” You reply.
Jungkook’s home was closer in proximity, so it would only be natural to head over there to change out of your soaked clothes. Even with the seat warmers turned onto the highest setting and his jacket slung over your lap like it was in the beginning of the night, you shiver and shudder in your seat.
“Can use my shower too, P.” He pushes his wet bangs back and reasons, “Don’t want you catching a cold.”
“Mmkay,” Your teeth involuntarily chatters, hands tucked in between your thighs underneath his jacket to retain your heat.
His hand naturally finds yours. “We’ll be home soon, ‘kay?”
Back at his home, he gives you a spare t-shirt with some sweatpants, letting you know that he’ll shower at the guest bathroom while you use the master bedroom’s. It’s not your first time in his bedroom, having been there a couple times when he was busy and needed you to retrieve something for him in there. The citrus scent embraces you as you walk in, fingers tightening around his clothes. He’s fumbling around his dresser to get his own clothing, hair dried to a damp mess and coarse at the ends from the washed away hair products. His shirt drags over his large frame, seemingly heavier around the shoulder area from the rainwater.
Back still turned away, he cranes his neck to you and catches your curious stare. “Go on and use the shower, P.”
You nod, clothes feeling unbearingly tight whether it be from the rain or the suffocating dilemma of not wanting to leave Jungkook’s side.
In the shower, he’s still with you through the shampoo and body wash. You run your hands around your body, knowing this is your way of keeping him close. Will you need to go home after this? Does the mirage end here with the suds of soap pooling at your toes?
Does it end with his scent on your body?
All dried and in his clothes, you stare at the mirror, a small smile playing at your lips at the visual of your body drowned in his oversized t-shirt. You roll the bottom of the sweatpants and tug at the drawstrings to secure around your waist.
You peer into his bedroom. “Jungkook?” No response.
Walking out to the living space, you notice a tuft of hair on the large couch’s armrest. Two glasses of water — all full — just like your heart, rests on the coffee table. Peering over the couch, your lover lays there, eyes closed with a rhythmic breathing pattern nowhere close to being asleep.
You come around and seat yourself on the edge of the couch. An unsuspecting force pulls you down, followed by a small ‘oomph,’ you attempt to sit back up.
“Can we rest a little before I take you home?” He mumbles, breathing into your hair.
Your ear is pressed against his chest, his heart thumping way too fast for rest. Working up your courage, you snuggle into his warmth as you murmur, “It’s late. Don’t want you driving at this hour.” Before he could ask if you’d want him to fetch a cab, you follow up with, “If it’s okay … can I stay over tonight?”
The drumming in his chest speeds up, but his words come out assertive. “Of course, P.”
The guest room sits empty as Jungkook leads you back to his bedroom, a sleepy smile on his face as he catches your yawn and places the glass of water onto the nightstand closest to where you’ll sleep. He hooks his index fingers in the collar of his shirt and yanks it over his head, tossing the article of clothing on the ottoman near the foot of his bed.
You swallow, eyes raking over his toned body you’ve grown so familiar with. His tattoo lines look darker under the warm hues of his nightlight. Underneath his covers, your eyes fight to stay open, only allowing them to blink shut when he encircles his arms around you.
“Night, P.” He mumbles.
“Good night, Kook.”
Around 5 a.m. you wake up with the worst case of dry mouth, having already drank the glass of water in the middle of the night, and another time Jungkook refilled without your knowledge. You pout at the glass sitting pretty and empty on the nightstand.
There’s an unfamiliar weight on your midsection causing you to suck in a breath as you look down. Intricate patterns and faded colors greet you before you turn your head to meet their owner.
Jungkook’s on his front, pouty mouth parted and lashes kissing the top of his cheeks. His rhythmic light snores tell you he’s still in deep slumber if not for the sleep-lines on the side of his face where he buries himself further into his fluffy pillows.
There’s a stillness in waking up next to Jungkook like this — at the realization there’s no need to run or leave. He’s here within a distance you can comfortably reach.
You think back to last night, between the kisses and confessions, everything seemed like a dream. You’re tempted to reach over to brush away the strand of his bangs. Want to see if he’d stir awake and look at you as he did before you both fell asleep last night.
That’s the funny thing about love — can’t bear the selfishness and greed of your own desires. So instead, you do your best to uncurl from his lazy hold, already missing his warmth as you grab the rims of your glass to fetch some water.
You’ve only been over in the afternoon and evening, never knowing the brisk morning air. Jungkook’s room was warm, temperature maintained by the heat of your bodies, but in the open living space, you shiver a little from cold and the absence of a familiar body.
Glass refilled, you make your way back to Jungkook, but something pulls you to an abrupt stop.
You’ve only seen this view at night, always curious how differing the morning view would be. Orange peeks and greets you on the horizon, begging for your presence even when there is another star you rather be with.
Just a couple more minutes and the sun will rise — a view you’ve never seen from here. Lips nursing on your glass, you smile as you hear another pair of feet shuffle in your direction. Not subtle at all. He makes his presence known with a small yawn, standing behind you, he presses his chest against you from behind and wraps his arms around your abdomen.
“Whatcha doing up so early?” Voice laced with sleep.
“Wanted to get water,” you bring the glass up to his view, “sun’s about to rise now.” You nod at the window.
His body vibrates against yours at a particularly low chuckle. “‘S nice, isn’t it? Can see everything from here.”
You hum in agreement. You love the view, love his touch, love him. And because you love him, you give him the remainder of your water. Glass now empty again, he sets the cup on a small stand. The surrounding air stifles as a strong pair of arms wrap around you tighter, cluing in a shift in the easy morning conversation.
“P, I meant everything I said last night.” He says, afraid you hadn’t retained any recollection of last night’s event — as though all the magic last night was all but a trick and illusion.
There’s no illusion in your adoration for him, turning away from the sun, you realize you have everything in front of you worth orbiting for.
“I meant everything too.” You reply, feeling the sun warm your back, but even that source of warmth wasn’t enough incentive to have you turning away from Jungkook again. “I love you. Wanna be with you.”
You tip-toe, lips pressing delicately against his only spurs on his tiny moan as he meets you in the middle. His teeth nibble on your bottom lip, causing you to part them with a small gasp. He takes this moment to lick into your mouth, tongue running against yours to savor you. He could blame the morning wood on … well, the morning, and not your soft lips, but he’s wanted you like this for so long and now you’re finally his.
He angles your chin, doing his best to distract you from the bulge pressed against your stomach, to which you also push against. Grunting, he huffs into your mouth, “Pix, please.”
You hum a small ‘what?’
So dangerous of you to push something he’s been suppressing for months. Aching for your touch, but he’s respectful of the change in dynamics. He wants to be respectful now, but was there a need?
“I’m trying to be good.” He mumbles, kissing along your jaw and making his way down your neck. His teeth rake against the expanse of your skin, reveling in your shivers and the way your nails dig into his back.
“You are good.” You sigh prettily. “So good to me.”
And because of this, Jungkook wants to show you other ways he could be good to you. It’s what you deserve — nothing makes him happier than making you feel good. Back pressed against the glass panes, the initial cold morphs and changes with the sun and your combined body heat.
His hand snakes up your shirt, large palm halting at your stomach until you nod for him to move. You moan at the contact of his thumb moving over your hardening bud.
“Feels good, pretty?” He mouths against your neck.
You swallow and nod, “J-Jungkook, can people,” another moan slips as he sucks on a particularly sensitive juncture of your neck, “see us from here?”
Being on the thirty-fourth floor had its perks and advantages. He doesn’t have next door neighbors except for the floor above and below him, which works in his favor.
“No one can see us, P.” He shakes his head, “You want them to?”
He grips your chest a little harder, urging for an answer before he continues. Head lifted to your face, his hooded eyes draw you in.
“No,” you place a soft kiss on his jaw, “Want this just between us.”
He also can’t imagine having another person watch you both. Can’t imagine sharing an experience like this with someone other than you.
“Yeah, it’s just you and me.”
The hand on your hip runs up your front, cupping your cheek first before he slips a soft request while looking at your lips, “Open, please.”
Your mouth parts, and his hand drags over your cheek, his middle and ring finger probing and sliding over your wet muscle. His cock twitches in his sweats at the thought of possibly feeling your mouth again. Those thoughts break the moment you close around his digits, warm and wet around him. Your cheeks hollow without command as you eagerly suck on his fingers. You look at him with determined eyes, fighting to stay open but loses the battle before fluttering shut when his thumb runs over your hard nipple again.
“Gonna make you feel good.” He promises, “‘s that okay?”
You nod, unable to verbalize a response with his fingers in your mouth. Soon his wet fingers slip out of your mouth and he slips them past the waistband of your folded sweats.
“Oh god,” Your hips buck back from the sudden contact of his fingers, ass pushed against the glass. “P-please.” You beg, unsure of what exactly but Jungkook takes it as a request to move. His middle finger slots perfectly between your wet folds, circling around the bundle of nerves.
“Wanna touch you, too.” You plead, “Can I?”
He tips his forehead against yours, hips pushed against your hand. “Uh-huh, want you to touch me.”
Your hand slips into his sweats, making contact with his bare length. The angle of your bodies makes it difficult to tug or squeeze as you like, but he shudders just by the mere contact of your soft hand.
“P, don’t—” He moves back slightly to peer down at your hand working over his length. “Don’t tease.”
Lip tucked between his teeth, his own hand speeds up over your clit, wet sounds growing by the second. He hopes you do the same too, but you keep your lazy strokes, watching him with hooded eyes. “Not,” you pause, eyes closing when he nears you, pressing a dainty kiss, “teasing.”
“Tell me what you need.” You murmur against his lips.
“Faster,” He whines, “need you to go faster—fuck—” He groans when you comply, hand picking up the pace.
And be it from the patience and time endured after months of dreaming of being with you … or he was just that easy, he finishes in his sweats in under a minute. Your hand slowly jerks over his length, hand coated in his cum.
“Koo, did you cum?” You breathe, unsure from the sudden liquidy warmth. He moans a small yes, angling his head for your kisses on his neck, teeth dragging over his collarbone as a reward for his confirmation. Your hand glides over the head of his sensitive cock. “Made a mess all for me.”
He kisses you, deft fingers on your clit as he touches away the embarrassment of cumming before he’s gotten to properly take care of you. It’s no give or take situation, but he wants to give back to you.
He removes his hand and you nearly cry out at the loss of his touch. Your cum covered hand gets tugged from his pants at the same time. Doesn’t care you’re unconsciously wiping away your hand on your shirt — everything was going into the wash anyway, ridding any evidence of the sinful acts you’ll both willingly partake in.
How sinful were they if they were embarked by two people in love?
Fingers hooked on the waistband of your sweats, he drags them down your hips, leaving both your soaked underwear and pants pool at your ankles. His eye contact never wavers as he drops down on his knees, only breaking at the long shirt length covering your bare cunt. With a knowing glance, you hold the bottom of the shirt, while the other one falls on the side of his head for support as nudges your legs apart.
“So perfect,” he praises, eyes peering up at you, “All mine.” His fingers form a ‘v’ as he spreads your glistening folds, mouth watering at the sight of your twitching clit. He moves in, placing a kiss on the side of your pussy, just shy of your nub. The action has you furrowing your brows, mouth dropping open as you involuntarily push your hips forward.
You mewl, thighs closing when he finally slots his tongue over the self-made opening between his fingers. He licks, sucks, and kisses the tiny nub. And you stand there, taking everything he’s willing to give you. He loves watching you struggle maintaining eye contact, loves the shy smile you give him when you had a moment of realization of how loud you were in the early hours of his home, and loves the small tug from your fingers in his hair when he repeatedly presses his lips to your clit.
You were already so close before this, but now he has you tipping on the edge again. Jungkook’s eyes close, tongue lapping your cunt.
Your thighs shake, breath caught in your throat as he continues the motions. And even though he’s not looking at you, he knows you’re about to let go as you rock your hips into his face. Using one hand, his fingers dig into the back of your thigh as he brings one of them over his shoulder.
“Baby–” You rasp.
“Hm?” He answers, muffled against your core. The vibrations against your cunt have your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your lids slam shut from the sensation.
You whimper, stomach clenching at the first signal of your orgasm. Your fingers clutch pathetically at the end of the shirt, mindful of the other hand interlocked with his locks. But you’re bolder now, know what you like and need … and what you like is Jeon Jungkook moaning against your core, encouraging you to cum. What you need is to extend this feeling for as long as you can, so you push his head closer as you grind your spasming cunt to his face.
“Cumming,” you manage to get out, “Oh fuck, I’m cumming.”
Jungkook can’t answer, wishes he could; though, all his wishes are being fulfilled as he’s head deep between your legs. He pulls away after your hips press back against the glass, signaling your sensitive state. Hooded gaze fixed, he takes in the visual of your cheek pressed onto your shoulder — a habit he’s noticed every time you’ve cummed. Your eyes blink open slowly, blinded by the light coming in from the rising sun.
“I’m sorry, P.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all with his mischievous grin as he kisses your inner thigh — the one he has thrown over his shoulder. “You missed the sunrise.”
You croon, a small playful pout on your lips. “I did.” You release his hair, hand cupping his jaw. You moan in surprise when he latches onto your clit again, lazy sucks as he peers up at you.
He places one last kiss to your nub and suggests, “Should turn around then, take in the current view.” He leaves out the fact that you’ll have plenty of more chances to see the view.
He places your leg down. While wobbly at first, you plant your feet sturdy before complying with his request. He’s right — the city’s beautiful.
Jungkook also has the best view in the city too.
You look back at him from your shoulder, eyes catching his, “You’re not watching with me?”
“Perfect view here.” He scoots back a little, ignoring the discomfort and numbness in his knees. You brace against the glass, fist clenched tightly at the anticipation of what your lover wants to do. No one cares about the prospect of a stained glass as you hinge your hips out to him, the underside of your wet pussy entrances him.
He pushes your shirt up over the curves of your hips and the sight before him has his cock hardening in his sweats again. A creamy white sheen trickles down your slit, begging to be licked up before it dribbles onto the floor.
And he does. With a cock to his head, he slots his mouth over your leaky cunt.
You wail, cheek pressed against the glass as you fog up a small section with your warm puffs of air. His tongue laps over your clenched hole, pleased you haven’t pulled away from him. He rewards you with a small probe of his tongue and you surprise him again by pushing back, tongue gliding into your warm cavern with little resistance.
You both moan, caught in the euphoric moment of this new experience.
He reels his head back, spreading you wide to look at your gaping pussy — all his doing.
“Please,” you beg, greedy for his mouth. Without warning, he dives back in, tongue thrusting in and out of your hole with a new profound hunger. One of his hands comes from under and rubs at your clit. The new feeling has your legs shaking again, your hand coming around to place on top of his to ground yourself.
He pulls away, placing wet kisses alongside your thighs. “You liked that, Pix?”
“Yeah, I loved it.” You reply, looking back at him through your lashes.
“Good.” He chuckles, stomach warm from your confession, “Keep looking at the view though. Sun’s pretty today.”
The sun’s pretty every day, you think to yourself as you look at your source of light. But you turn away, obedient as you look at the rays the rest of the world relies on.
“Gonna do something new, ‘kay?” He says, strained as he places a small kiss on one of your cheeks. He lets his teeth graze your skin, fingers digging into the meat of your ass to gain your confirmation. “Tell me if you don’t like it.”
You nod, can’t think of anything you won’t like aside from being away from Jeon Jungkook, but you’re sure to vocalize any discomfort for whatever journey he’s about to embark with you.
“Open wider for me.” He husks. You comply, feet shuffling apart as you hinge lower.
You couldn’t predict what he wanted to try with you, certainly not anything remotely close to how he parts your ass and you feel his breath on your skin before he leans in.
You nearly cry out at the first lick over the tight ring of your asshole. There was an adjusting period, one that involved your breasts pressed hard against the window, mouth hanging open as Jungkook goes in for another lick.
It’s not unpleasant. New, like he mentioned.
“You taking in everything, P?” His finger slips over your cunt, long index finger teasing the entrance. He takes his time running his fingers between your wet folds, watching your bleary eyes struggle to stay open. It’s fine. You’ll have plenty more opportunities to see the view in the future — he’ll make sure of it.
You moan at the feeling of his finger probing the entrance of your pussy, hole clenched around nothing as he continues teasing you.
“Hm? Answer me, pretty.” His tongue teases around your taint. This time, you relax into it, even going as far as pushing back.
“Mhm,” you try, “‘s pretty.”
You have your head turned again, watching him the best you could, completely unfocused from the view beyond the massive curtain wall. A wrecked moan escapes the moment his long digit pushes into your sensitive cunt — just up to the first knuckle, nothing more. At the same moment, his tongue guides itself past the tight ring of your hole.
You don’t know what to focus on: his tongue fucking into your ass or his finger coated in your arousal as he has you plugged up on both holes simultaneously.
Jungkook’s always been an ass man, and he honors the title as he continuously dives his head between your cheeks. The finger inside your other hole stays in place, never pushing another inch until you whine and reach between your legs. Your fingers touch the top of his, pushing at them to sink deeper into your pussy.
He pushes his digit into you, the full length wrapped around your wet walls. “Do what you need to make this feel good.” He says. “Want you to feel good.”
A content sigh leaves your lips as you rub slow circles, pleasure building again in your stomach as each minute slips by. You’ve never been one to cum multiple times … unfortunately, you’re no better than a man. One and done type of girl, but the eagerness to cum again from this new experience has you motivated and greedy for more. Especially when the experience is with someone you love and care for.
“I-I think I’m gonna cum again.” You announce, pushing your ass back to his face as he continues fucking his tongue into your ass. He groans and nods, picking up the pace from behind with fervor at the mention of your orgasm.
His finger gradually speeds up, curling a little before he decides to add another finger in.
Oh.
“This okay?” He asks as he senses a change in your demeanor at the sudden intrusion.
You whimper, body stiff and rigid during the adjustment period. The stretch has you halting before you’re rubbing feverishly against your clit, babbling and begging for him to move faster.
Jungkook’s lucky on the thirty-fourth floor. So lucky no one’s able to hear the the sounds you make both from your mouth and wet cunt as he fucks his digits faster as requested. He curls his fingers and your legs start shaking, your hand no longer able to move as you take everything Jungkook gives from behind.
You gasp, his name falls from your lips as you let go. There’s definitely an imprint of your mouth and cheek on his glass window now, memoirs of the acts you both committed.
The wetness grows between your legs, both holes pulsating as you finally cum around him again. Jungkook groans, letting you ride out your orgasm as you need.
He removes both his fingers and tongue from your holes and parts your ass to marvel at the mess you’ve made. The puffy ring of your ass shines with his spit, while your pussy quivers from the aftermath of your strong orgasm. He thinks about how it would be if you were stuffed full of him right now, but he’s in no rush with you. Knows there’s no time constraint to loving you right this time around. Your shirt drops from the curve of your hips and down to your knees as you stand upright, turning and pressing your back to the glass again. Jungkook stands up, fingers already in his mouth to lick up any remnants of cum.
His arms wrap around your waist to hold you up, forehead touching yours as it’s meant to. Doesn’t go for a kiss no matter how much he wants to because he’s not sure of your aversion after where his mouth has been. But you don’t care, looping your arms over his neck and slotting your lips over his for a messy kiss, eventually reduced to small pecks.
“You okay, P?” He asks with round eyes. You nod and ask the same in a hushed whisper.
Why wouldn’t he be when he’s got all he’s ever wanted in his arms? He rubs over your back in a soothing motion, “More than okay, P.”
More kisses are shared, until Jungkook murmurs how he’s still tired and wants to go back to bed. You look at the clock and as tempted you are, you hum and shake your head. His eyes widen at your response, about to offer a quick retort, but you beat him to it.
“You said you had registration for the upcoming semester in a couple hours. Didn’t you say you needed to work on a schedule?”
He tips his head back, both grateful and upset at your memory after he mentioned it to you in passing last week.
Still, these things can be done while in the comforts of his bed and your company. Hand enclosed in his, he tugs you back to his bedroom, no longer omitting the same warmth when you left.
But perhaps, the warmth was anywhere you were with Jungkook.
Saturn takes twenty-nine years to complete its cycle. When you turned twenty-nine, you thought your Saturn was still out there, taking their sweet time with the journey back home.
“Pixie?”
“Coming!” You call out, finishing the last touch of your dusty-pink blush. Smoothing out your sage-green dress, you do a small once-over in your mirror before properly greeting your boyfriend.
Your Saturn’s returned, watching you embark on your new adventure, cheering you on through your wins and losses. Jungkook smiles from the doorway, leather dress shoes placed neatly on the side. His hair is styled as he would for all the wedding events he’s gone to with you, but this was a new suit. Usually in black, the light grey suit brings out his dark features even more — boyish charms emulated with his suit jacket off and hooked on his fingers over a shoulder. The brooches on his vest glimmer on the side, adding a nice finishing touch to his wedding guest look for the evening.
He shines either way when his orbs land on your features, taking in your soft curls and dress you’ve chosen.
“Pretty.” He’s kind enough to not kiss you, seeing you’ve just freshly applied your lipstick, but you’ve never been opposed to reapplying. You tip-toe to plant a soft kiss, not enough to transfer any product, but enough to tempt him for further damage.
“You look very handsome.” You say, hands automatically coming up to fix the angle of his tie. Spring’s weather is ever unpredictable and today’s one of the more warmer days of the week, but the temperatures rise in the small nook of your home as he stares at you.
To avoid any potential deterrence, you move behind him to get to your shoe rack. He presses his back against the wall opposite to you, watching as you crouch down to pick out a strappy nude heel.
“What if we skipped the wedding, Pix?”
You pout, blowing at the random strands of hair in your peripheral. “Your friend would be disappointed. Plus, we both got all done up. Would be a waste if we didn’t go.”
“It’s not a waste,” he replies, “can just have a night in.”
“Also would give me an excuse to get out of these dress pants.” He adds with a scowl.
You lean away, doing a double take on the slacks he has on. You’ve always fancied a guy in dress pants and Jungkook was no exception. Loves how his thighs fill up the spaces and how his ass looks in them.
“Couple hours and we can have a night in.” You reassure with a soft smile. “I’ve got a watermelon in the fridge waiting for us.”
The wedding was standard, especially with it belonging to someone you don’t know. Technically most, if not all, weddings you’ve gone to have belonged to strangers. But there was something special about this wedding — it’s the first time you attended a wedding with Jungkook where you aren’t working.
Weddings have always felt magical; the usual string of fairy lights and flower arrangements appear even more enchanting tonight. And you realized, the enchantment started months ago at Yoongi and Hoseok’s union.
During cocktail hour, he made sure to get all your favorite finger foods without request. When the ring bearer and flower girl comes into view during the ceremony, he’s quick to move higher on his seat, letting you peer past him to get a better look at the little ones. And when he holds your waist during the reception’s dance, you know weddings are magical because the moment’s shared with him.
“This was nice. Thanks for having me as your plus-one.” You sigh in content, cheek rested on his chest as you both slow dance to When a Man Loves a Woman.
He snorts, lighthearted and warm. “I’m glad you enjoyed.” Meant as a sarcastic remark, he also agrees this evening was a lot nicer than he had anticipated in the month leading up to this day.
“I really love weddings.” You mumble to yourself.
He loves weddings with you. Jungkook presses his cheek on the top of your head, “I know.”
You and Jungkook stay like this for a while through a couple slow songs until the DJ changes up the genre of the music, signaling older couples to evacuate the dance floors for the younger crowd to reminisce on an era where their knees existed for the thrill of it all.
Your bodies move in tandem: his, warming your back, and your bottom pushed against his groin with your preferred pressure, knowing you’d never go overboard at a wedding but just enough for him to have him let out a shy chuckle.
His breath fans over the shell of your ear, “I really hate these dress pants, P.”
You turn your head to him, sultry expression matching his hooded lids. “Why’s that?”
“Shows everything.” He laughs through his nose, “Can’t leave here any time soon now.”
You ease up a little, facing him again while your fingers slide over the brooches resting on the left side of his chest — where his heart resides. He’d argue his heart is in his arms staring up at him.
“I’ve always loved you in dress pants.” You confess. “‘Cause that’s when we’re at weddings together.”
Considering how he leans down, pressing a small kiss to your lips where you reciprocate with another lingering kiss, maybe being in dress pants isn’t that bad.
“Have we met our quota yet, Pix?” He nudges his nose against yours.
For someone who loves weddings, you’re eager to go home, too. You want nothing more than to just spend time with Jungkook in the comforts of your home.
“Quota met.”
Sheltered by the indoor venue, you didn’t realize how humid it got outside in the time spent at the wedding. Your apartment was practically a sauna by the time you and Jungkook arrived back at your place. Opening up your windows, you have a fan running in the background to air out the space.
“Sorry,” You say sheepishly while cutting into the watermelon. Your eyes rake over Jungkook where he unbuttons his grey vest and rolls up his sleeves to reveal his tattooed arm.
He shakes his head, taking two spoons from your drawers, “It’ll cool down.”
Will it?
Air heavy with both the atmospheric moisture and tension brewing between you and Jungkook all evening, you’re not so sure if the temperatures will drop any time soon. The watermelon center caves as you both dig with the metal spoons. You favored the center; whereas, Jungkook aimed closer to the watermelon rind.
He peers over at you where you stand. Hair now put up by a claw clip, he counts the baby hairs sticking onto the back of your neck, momentarily forgetting to dig into the watermelon when it’s his turn.
“Why do you only pick at the sides?” Your brows twitch, digging into the middle again and turning to him with a center piece.
He shrugs, opening his mouth on cue for you to stick your spoon into his mouth. Sure, the middle pieces were sweet, but he thinks they might be sweeter coming from you. He chews and swallows, tilting his head a little to meet your equally sticky lips.
“Sweet either way, Pix.” He wonders if the salty moisture on your skin would pair well with the sweet watermelon.
Well, one way to find out.
No longer following a script, Jungkook moves on his own accord — loving and falling freely as he likes knowing you’ll be there to catch him. He shifts his body, head dipped in the crook of your neck as he licks a thick stripe over your neck. You gasp, spoon dropping onto the counter as your hands fly to grab onto his forearms for support.
He’s right; you do bring out more sweetness.
The half eaten watermelon sits on your counter, long forgotten in the pursuit of Jungkook’s body pressed to yours. His lips slot perfectly on you, a relieved sigh escapes as your bodies move as it’s desired all evening.
He trails kisses down the column of your throat, marking a pathway on your collarbone. Fingers in his hair, your grip on him tightens as you shyly ask, “Bed?”
Knees digging onto your bed, you sit up taller to kiss your still-standing boyfriend. He’s busy trying to unbutton his dress shirt while you race to unbuckle his belt — a race no one formally declared, but it was an unspoken need. And you both needed each other … badly.
You beat him, of course. The black Calvin Klein lettering on the banding greets you first as the front opening flaps of his pants fall to the side. He whimpers as you run your hand over his bulge.
“Can I …” Your sentence trails off as you kiss along his exposed neck.
He nods unsure of what you exactly want, but the godforsaken dress pants drop and pool at his ankles without a second thought. You kiss your way down his torso, paying extra attention to his chest. With a determined look, you stick your tongue out on his hard nipple for a tentative lick to glean at his response.
Oh, it’s good — so, so, so good.
He shivers, hand hitting your claw clip as it flies to the back of your neck to hold you in place. Your teeth grazes over the hardened bud, a sliver of pained pleasure courses through as you bite down with a gentle force. He hisses, mouth dropping open to bite back his moans. You remedy the pain with your tongue, silently apologizing without actually feeling sorry.
You slither lower on all fours as you take his hard cock out of its confinements. Round eyes look up at him for permission to proceed.
There’s a slight hesitance in your actions as the last time you wanted to give him a blowjob, he made it a goal to stay protected for both your sakes. He’s always for safe sex, but he knows he’s clean and wants to feel your bare lips around him as long as you’ll allow it. You seem to share the same sentiment as you tilt your head up, eyes burning with want and ownership of his bare skin.
Still, you ask, “Do we need a condom for this?” The thin straps of your pretty evening gown cascades loosely on your shoulders.
“No, but only if you want …” Jungkook pants, a harsh exhale when you give him a gentle squeeze. The small, pleased sound you make, paired with another harder tug confirms your answer.
He releases your hair from the clip, watching it cascade down your shoulders. Bunching your hair in a messy ponytail, he uses it as an anchor as you tug on his shaft.
“Spit on it.” He pleads, groaning when you comply. Your saliva lands on the tip, dripping over the small bead of precum on his slit. So messy how your thumb glides over his slit, mixing the fluids together. Even messier when you place a kiss on his tip, mixed fluids tainting your pretty lips. His stomach contracts, the dips and ridges of his abs are even more defined as a result.
“Missed this with you, Pix.” He melts. It’s even better than how he imagined over the course of time spent with and without you.
“I missed you, too.” You reply, tongue darting out and wetting your lips before moving in for a small lick over the head of his cock. “I wanna take care of you.” You mumble as you press messy kisses on the underside of his cock. “Is that okay?”
His stomach warms at your sentiment, knowing it’ll never be one-sided as he’ll always do the same for you. He nods, giving you the go ahead to do as you like. The grip on your hair increases and the hand cupped underneath your chin props you upright to take him fully.
He wonders how a place like heaven could ever beat this feeling with you.
Your eyes never stray from his, watching him through your lashes and how he struggles to maintain eye contact with you. It’s only when his cock begins hitting the back of your throat, your lids flutter shut. You gag from the action, pushing past the discomfort each time to hear more of his grunts and praises. Your skin prickles each time his thumb runs across your skin to soothe your aching jaw.
“Fuck, Pix, if we keep going like — god,” he hisses, “I’m not gonna last long.” He warns.
“Mmhp,” You try to answer even with your mouth fully stuffed. He pulls back and you whine, robbed at the opportunity of having him release all over your tongue.
“Please,” you breathe, hoarse and rough, “wanna taste you.”
Your mouth falls open again. Instead of sliding in again, Jungkook jerks over his length, fast as he needs with the visual of you on your knees so readily to be ruined.
“Baby–I, I’m gonna cum. Fuck,” He tilts his head up to the ceiling.
And when he finally cums, he does so with your name and a string of praises. The first rope of cum lands on the corner of your mouth. Without another thought, you enclose your lips around his tip. His strangled noises spurs you on in your mission to suck and milk him dry.
When he finally slips out of your mouth, the hand underneath your chin guides you up and your knees walk you close to his standing body again. You still haven’t swallowed, unsure what you want to do with the fluid resting on your tongue.
Reading your expression clearly, Jungkook bites down a smile. “You don’t have to swallow, P.” He chuckles, placing a quick peck to your tightly shut mouth, “Want me to get the waste bin?”
He runs his thumb on the corner of your mouth, catching the stray droplet before wrapping his lips around his digit. Honestly, he doesn’t care for the taste and gets your hesitancy, but you hold his gaze and shake your head no, pressing your lips to his. He groans and opens his mouth for you to slip your cum-coated tongue in.
You whimper at his large hands running up and down your backside, ultimately landing on the bottom of your swelled ass. Absolute sin and filth personified when you both exchange and swallow your mixed fluids.
Your body aches differently for Jungkook these days. Can’t believe he’s in front of you now in your home, surrounded by everything you love.
And you love him.
“I love you.” He says, as though all your internal thoughts and feelings are tethered to him. It’s no secret, and unworthy of hiding.
You kiss him again, pulling him down with you. He giggles and shrugs off the rest of his clothing as he hovers over you with starry eyes.
Cupping his jaw, you reply, “I love you. Want this with you.”
The relationship. The love. The experience.
His heart — it’s all yours.
The long dimples appear again, disappearing from view once he lowers his head to kiss your neck all while fumbling on the thin straps of your dress and tugging it to expose your bare breasts.
He's said this before and thinks there’s no greater truth than this, “You’re perfect.” Leaning down, he places a wet kiss on your sternum, mouthing, “so beautiful.”
You keen into his touch, back arching when he takes one nipple in his mouth. He does this for a few minutes, teasing your nipples and rotating between them with equal amounts of love and attention.
Again, the ache runs through your entire body, gathering right at your core when his teeth bites down on your sensitive nipple. Your hand detaches from his hair and makes its descent down to his crotch.
He’s only half-hard, still sensitive from his first orgasm.
Sensing your impatience, he chuckles against your skin. “Gimme some time, P.” Eyes closing as you squeeze around his length again.
You pout, but nod nonetheless, letting go of his shaft because the last thing you want is to do the opposite of keeping him hard.
“But,” he muses, “you could help me.”
And this is how you end up as equally naked as Jungkook on your bed. You’re supported by your numerous pillows as you lay there, watching his eyes jump between your face and closed legs.
His hands are on your knees, soft as he pries them apart to reveal your soaked core.
You instinctively move to cover your mound, suddenly feeling shy even though Jungkook has seen you bare from below multiple times. His bigger hand covers yours, pressing against it just enough for you to feel the relief it brings.
“‘S just me, pretty.” He says, eyes never leaving yours. His words and stare makes you sling your free arm over your eyes, blocking the visual of him: kiss-swollen lips, locks no longer in its styled state, red flush on his chest — a stark difference from the dark, solid ink on one of his arms … you can’t bear to look at him in this state.
Can’t bear him looking at you either.
“I know,” you reply, “I’m just … embarrassed.”
You can’t see him, but you’re sure he’s giving you one of those smiles. One that asks ‘What for? You’re amazing.’
You think about the sheer amount of people who have watched Jungkook — yourself included — and wonder how he isn’t shy. And because of that, you feel yourself growing braver at the thought of giving Jungkook something to watch and appreciate.
Still, you keep your forearm over your eyes, but the other hand covering your pussy nudges Jungkook’s warm hand away. You move up a little. All practiced precision in how your middle finger dips between your slit, rubbing slow circles on your swollen clit.
“Oh, fuck.” He lets out a breathy laugh. Your senses are heightened in this self-visually impaired state; his swallow is heard in the distance.
You think about whether he’s just looking at your hand on your pussy or if he’s watching your covered face — if his eyelids are hooded … if the visual of you playing with yourself is ‘helping’ him. Perhaps it’s these thoughts that also make you grow wetter in between your legs, the wet sounds reach your ears through your staggered breaths.
You feel his lips press on the top of your knee, his breathing also coming out haggard.
“Is this enough?” You whimper, wanting him to take rein of your pleasure.
“A little longer, please?” He begs. “For me?”
He moans at your compliance, noting the speed change in your fingers. The bed shifts too, he nears your body again and you feel his warm breath fanning over your fingers. Suddenly, a dribble of wetness slides on top of your digits and trickles down to the entrance of your pussy, mixing with the rest of your arousal.
The feeling has you removing your arm, finally looking down where he’s at in between your legs. A small playful smile on his lips as he sits back up in his kneeled position. He's more than ready — just wants to see more of you.
You take note of his hard cock in his hand, a slow stroke up before he thumbs at the slit like he likes to. A twinge of pleasure hits your core again and you’re forced to rub harder circles to relieve yourself of the heavy ache building up at the sight. He laughs again, a mixture of disbelief and horniness as the pace on his cock speeds up too.
“So much better seeing this in person.” His eyes involuntarily shut as he tilts his head to the side.
Huh?
The movement of your hand pauses and so does he with widened eyes. He clears his throat, trying to find the words before you ask, “W-what’s that supposed to mean?”
A sheepish smile stretches across his face and instead of explaining right away, he leans over your body now. Nose against yours, he places a tiny kiss on the corner of your mouth.
“Promise you won’t get mad?” He asks, his hand moves yours away from your pussy and slots his cock in between your soaked folds. Meant as a distraction or to ease your worries for his next words, he finds himself breathing heavier at the feel of your bare cunt with his shaft. The head of his cock slips over with ease onto your swollen clit, twitching as he moves his cock side to side now.
“I–fuck–Pix, you’re so wet.” He drops his head to your neck.
You nod, almost distracted as well, but you bring his head back to your eye level. He swallows nervously, wrist slowing the movement with his cock. Jungkook should’ve rephrased his question to ‘promise you won’t get embarrassed,’ because shortly after he slyly recounts the details of Your Video™ popping up in your living room, you lay there surrounded in the flames of humiliation.
“So embarrassing.” You mumble, unable to meet his eyes.
Jungkook giggles, kissing your cheek, “Hey, I liked it a lot.”
You turn your head, nose touching his now, “Did you?”
“Uh-huh, more than you’ll ever know.” His hips shift, resuming the grind on your cunt again. “But I like this more.”
His movements get you worked up again, forgetting about your mortification just moments ago. You whine, whimper, and mew into his shoulder; the ache comes and goes — reminding you need more than just this.
“Jungkook,” You gasp at the taps of his cock against your folds.
“Hm?” Eyes hooded, he watches you through his lashes, mouth dropped open when your hands run down his torso.
“Need you.” You plead, hip angled up so you can press harder against him.
“I know, I know, pretty. Just–” He shuts his eyes, “I gotta get you nice and ready for me.”
He senses your hesitancy again and he stops to stare down at you.
“I-I’ve had sex already,” You say, teeth worrying on the bottom lip and debating if you should say your next words. “With, um, Mingyu. So, we don’t have to prep.” While both unnecessary to tell him and unreasonable to feel this way, guilt courses through your body at the confession.
“Doesn’t matter to me if you’ve had sex.” Jungkook says, “I always want you to feel good and comfortable.” He kisses you, soft just like the fingers he trails at your entrance gathering your arousal.
You swallow, “Are you upset it happened with someone else?”
He blinks, head tilting in confusion, “Not something for me to get upset over, P.” Studying your face, his brows eventually relax as he asks you, “Are you upset?”
You shrug, looking to the side. “It was … whatever.” That’s all you’re willing to say about the experience and you’re sure Jungkook doesn’t want to hear about another man while he’s just about to get intimate with you. At this point, maybe he’d opt out to stopping in general, but he sighs a small hey to gain your attention.
“The experience will always be yours.” He kisses your forehead. “Nobody can take anything from you.”
You nod, eyes closing at the feel of his finger at your entrance. He keeps his lips at your forehead, feeling it furrow as he sinks one finger into your pussy. It’s a slow and leisure pump, easy to have you forgetting about the prior conversation and putting the focus back on him. Penetration has never been your thing; technically, it’s still not. But there’s some relief as Jungkook curls and massages his finger against your walls, stretching you out as he intended to. He refuses to take his eyes off yours, especially when he decides to add in another finger.
“That’s it, baby. Taking it so well.” He praises, voice cracking at the end of the sentence.
“You make me feel so good.” You sigh, eyes closing as he speeds his fingers inside you. “Always feel so safe with you.”
He curses, mentally prepared to hear your choked whine when he removes his fingers from your sopping hole. He says your name sternly, followed by a thick swallow. You hum in response, hips mindlessly chasing after any part of his body for friction. He slots his hard shaft against your wet folds again, giving you both some form of pleasure in the interim. He looks down, moaning at the sight of his cock coated with your arousal.
“Need you inside me.” Your hands hold his waist in place to stop him from grinding against your clit, head of his cock positioned at your entrance. You bubble with anticipation, wondering how he’d feel inside you.
And as much as he’d like nothing more than to finally sink inside, a small part of his lovesick brain still holds some form of logic and manages to utter, “Birth control?”
You blink, a slight falter in your response as you shake your head shamefully. There wasn’t a medical necessity for you to be on birth control before and you didn’t think far enough when it came to intimacy with Jungkook.
He chuckles, “That’s okay, P. I just wanted to check.” He hops off the bed and fishes for his wallet. Another ten seconds go before he drops his wallet onto the ground with a triumphed smile and brings up the small squared package between his fingers. The smile drops a little at the sight of your tiny pout.
Beating him to his question, you remark, “I wanted to feel you …”
He exhales hard through his nose. Keeping the condom in between his fingers, he makes his way back to you on your bed. You both seem to fall back into position again.
“Not sure if either of us are ready for kids, P.” The thought of having kids is scary, but weirdly … he finds the fear lessening at the thought of it with you. Seen how you reacted and smiled around children — he wonders if his future kids would have your smile. Either way, too early for these thoughts.
“Okay, okay,” You let his words simmer a little and he suddenly wants to do away with the little package in his hands when you look up at him. “You’re right.”
He’s right, knows he is when you blink away those irrational thoughts. The same thoughts get pushed to the side when the foil packaging tears and a sweet scent fills your nostrils. This time, hints of rich chocolate and confectioned goodness. You relax back onto your mattress, watching as he positions himself between your legs.
“Do you only have flavored condoms?” You ask, impish smile lifting the awkward conversation from before.
He grins, “Someone gifted a five hundred flavored pack for my birthday last year.” Hint: it was Hoseok. “So … we’re stuck with this for now. Do you hate it? I could stop using them–”
You shake your head and his eyes soften at your answer. There’s relief in knowing it’ll always remain sweet between you and Jungkook.
“I wanna feel you, too.” He admits as he lines himself at your entrance. He doesn’t push in just yet, watching how your hole clenches around nothing … for now. “We’ll figure something out.”
The defaulted option is to simply have you go on birth control, but that’s something to discuss and for you to decide. If need be, he isn’t too opposed to a vasectomy. You both have all the time in the world to discuss.
“Okay,” you stutter as he begins pushing the head of his covered cock in. That’s all he does for now, opting to drop onto his forearms to kiss you, praise you — love on you. You do little to hide the sting, face contorting before you let out a couple shallow breaths.
“Too much?” He asks, hips stalling and fingers brushing away your hair.
You shake your head, “Hurts a little, but,” you lift your hips a little, legs parting to accommodate Jungkook's body. “Wanna keep going.”
He doesn’t move.
Tattooed arm dropped in between your bodies, he rubs practiced circles on your clit. You sigh in content, wiggling your hips to push more of him into you. Eyes fluttering shut, similar to how your pussy flutters and gushes around his length after every little push inside as a reward for taking more of him. He shudders and grunts deeply, mentally counting backwards from a hundred to keep himself distracted by how snug your walls feel around him.
You moan, soft and saccharine at the stretch of his full length inside you.
“You feel so good.” He husks into the shell of your ear. “Feel that, Pix?”
“Yeah …” You keen, unable to verbalize a proper response.
“You gotta tell me how you feel, ‘kay?” He lifts his head up and connects his forehead on yours, but his heavy eyes observe how your lower halves connect.
“M-mhm,” You reply, eyes shutting at the fullness below. “Can we stay like this for a bit? I-It’s … it’s a lot.”
He nods. A part of him is thankful for this pause, allowing his mind to think of other things in the meantime so this experience can be better for you. The other part is worried you’re uncomfortable. He wants to make this good for you — wants you to feel good, so it doesn’t matter how long he needs to stay still inside you. Sex could end right now and he’d be okay with it.
“Kiss me, please?” Your request comes out small, but he feels the harsh drumming of your heart against his chest. Your hands are bunched up on his nape, not relaxed how they usually are when you’re with him.
What else could he do but comply with your wishes?
Kissing’s good — the belief he’ll die on a hill for. Kissing’s even better with you; he loves your lips, the way you lick the seam of his lips, how you sound when you’re being kissed as you deserve. Could stay like this forever with you. The heavy making out goes on for another two minutes, until he unconsciously bucks his hips which forces you to detach from his lips in a loud gasp.
He immediately searches for your face, eyes swelling with concern. “Sorry, I–”
You shake your head, thighs clamping around to hold him still before he pulls out. “‘s okay,” you reassure, “That felt good. Just, go slow.”
The pace he sets out is controlled — slow, as requested. And god, is it good. Your bed creaks with every movement, but the sounds are overshadowed by your shared breathy moans and praises only heard between each other. His fingers move swiftly over your pussy, so love drunk with your body, he feels his balls tightening — a sign of his forthcoming orgasm.
Call it selfish or greedy, he doesn’t want it to end, pulling out at the last second to delay his orgasm. Typically so well-versed in your body cues of an impending orgasm, his own dilemma clouded his judgment when you let out an involuntary frustrated cry at the loss of contact.
Your chest stutters, stomach clenching from your heavy breaths. And although you should question why he did that, you can’t think when he guides his cock into your warm cunt once more.
“You were gonna make me cum again, pretty.” He lets out a breathy laugh, hips resuming its pace.
You whine, “Was gonna cum, too.” You look down where he fucks his thick length into you. He makes up for the accidental edging by rocking his hips faster into you, fingers once again finding home on your clit forces a high pitched squeal from your kiss-swollen lips.
“Yeah? I’m sorry.” He truly is. Your pleasure’s always his top priority — you’re his priority.
“You deserve to cum.” His fingers flatten on your mound, and the wet squelching sounds increase with the fastened movements. “Give it to me, pretty.”
So sensitive and lost in the pleasure, you gasp and arch your body into his, eyes slamming shut at the onset waves of pleasure building below.
“Jung–” Couldn’t finish your sentence before you’re squeezing tightly around him. He doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers, but he stills himself in you, giving you a couple hard pumps while you ride out your sudden orgasm.
He doesn’t think he ever wants to forget this feeling.
Finally letting off your clit and pushing himself up again, Jungkook marvels at the thin sheen of sweat in between your chest and the white ring of cum coated at the base of his cock where the condom doesn’t fully reach.
“Please, need you to cum inside me.” You beg.
He can’t, not with the condom on, but the sentiment makes him act like he doesn’t have one on. Parting your thighs wider, he thrusts in slowly, mindful of your oversensitivity. The ring of cum builds and thickens at the base, transferring some of your arousal over his pubic bone in a messy haze. Alas, the visual combination of your chest moving in tandem with his thrusts, your scrunched brows, and hand on his stomach was enough for him to release once more.
Though, the final blow came from your soft declarations of love while you tell him how good he makes you feel.
“Baby,” He manages, hands dropping your thighs, his front also comes down onto your chest as he lazily pumps inside of you with his cum-filled condom. The pleasure continues in the form of your fingers raking up and down his back, drawing shapes and patterns of love.
You know things will always remain sweet between you and Jungkook — like the giggles, doting questions, and soothing hands as he brings you to the shower. It’s not the hot water you feel on your skin, but Jungkook’s tender kisses and embrace forever etched on your body.
“P, sit still, won’t you?” Jungkook stands behind the tripod, angling the camera.
“You ever consider modeling? You’re a natural.” You say as you sift through the album on the tablet. You’re doing everything to avoid Jungkook’s latest assignment in class. Sure, it’ll be a good headshot update for your business card and website, but you weren’t keen on having your picture taken. It was always better behind the camera.
He rolls his eyes, gentle smile on his lips as he walks over. “Flattery won’t get you out of helping me. You promised you’d be my model for this semester.”
“Camera shy.” You pout. “You know that.”
“I know.” Jungkook chuckles. “I’ll teach you.” Leaning down, he places a soft kiss on your lips.
The thing with teaching is that he inadvertently learns as well. Knows it’s also the same for you too. Skills refined, new ideologies unlocked, and discoveries waiting to be explored. He no longer follows a script anymore — no longer feels like he’s boxed in … life is forever limitless as long as he makes it to be.
A shutter goes off from behind capturing the two of you in the frame.
fin.
ending a/n: beta’d by @takeitawaykenny who sat thru my ridiculousness but also entertained it. prologue wouldn’t have existed without her, yall … she rly was brain behind rkivedshots' beginnings on god love u bookie ;__; and @lovieku who’s been nothing but supportive and rode thru my (many) moments of doubt. she was the angel i needed on my shoulder during the makings of my first series and helped shape so much of itf!! couldn't have done this without your guys unwavering love and support!! oceans of gratitude to my two champions 😭🫂
🧚🏻♀️࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
alas, thank YOU all for joining me on this fun ride. i hope you guys got something out of this whether it be a chuckle, life lesson, or soiled panties, i’m lucky yall stuck with me. to my lovelies who have been here since the beginning and cuties we picked up along the way: i appreciate your trust, patience, and overall enthusiasm for this series — you’re my dream!! i told yall i’d guide us to my desired ending with so much love and care. ain’t no way this couple wasn’t gonna be end game … i just had to make the journey difficult. oop. anyway call me #aftercarequeen 💅
with that said … epilogue? send your thanks to lovieku for convincing me bahaha it won’t come any time soon cuz i have other things i wanna work on, but do not fear … i have something planned!
in the meantime, feel free to send in your reaccs/thoughts for our lovely itf!couple. i’m here for ya just as you’ve been here with me xoxo ♡
synopsis: your skills as a videographer gets put to the test when your friend, who happens to be in the same profession, falls victim to double-booking. problem is, you only specialized in weddings, not adult films. despite your initial reluctance, you take the job. cue the lights … you meet jeon jungkook, a pornstar, on set — in his world. you just never expected him to play a part in yours.
pairing: pornstar!jungkook x wedding videographer!fem reader
wc: 17.8k
genre: s2l, pornstar au, smut, angst, fluff
cw: slice of life, inaccurate adult filming industry discourse/depiction, epipen usage, miscommunication, angsty confrontation, emotionally confused chars, grief, minor jealousy, tension, yearning, lollipop™, alcohol consumption, menstruation, anxiety, 18+ ONLY, heavy sexual guilt/shame, brief handjob, blowjob, face fucking, dry humping, brief fingering, multiple sex scenes, loss of virginity, protected sex
a/n: this one’s for my angst enthusiasts 🥂 happy readings!
masterlist | prologue | act i. | act ii. | final act.
According to Google, it takes an average of sixty-six days to form a habit. It’s taken you shorter to form a daily habit of talking to Jeon Jungkook; yet, the habit breaks in under a minute.
Your replies grow increasingly cold and delayed, and when some of his messages in your chat thread go entirely unanswered, his heart sends him back to square zero. He’s in no mood to address your avoidant behaviors over text, but after a week of letting feelings simmer, he’s ready to talk. He doesn’t know if you’re ready to talk and on the eighth day, he decides he doesn’t care.
His finger taps on the video call button in your contact information.
About four rings in, he has half a mind to end the call, but the dial tone ceases. His once blown out face minimizes to the top right corner, replaced by yours on the main screen instead.
He sucks in a breath, realizing how little he prepared for this call. No script — no notes to follow along. The improv classes he took years ago on a whim would’ve served him well for this moment if he kept at it. Maybe it would’ve helped him segue into such a difficult conversation … better than being rendered speechless at the sight of you since the day you called him in his dressing room.
Alas, his mind buzzes at the sight of the pretty shade of blush you picked out as well as the curl of your lashes. The camera freezes a little from the poor connection, which is unusual considering you should be home at this time. The lighting of your surroundings is different too. Much brighter, not like the usual soft hues in your home.
“Pixie? Can you hear me?”
“Hey, yes I can. What’s up? Everything okay?”
He frowns. Can’t believe you’re repeating the same shit he said to you a week ago. Unsure if it’s out of pure pettiness or vengeance, Jungkook decides it’s best for his sanity you’re asking out of concern and not spite.
“Yes, I think so–” He pauses as you adjust the angle of the camera and notices a pristine white bed behind you. He hasn’t seen your bed yet, but from the time spent with you, he concluded all-white wasn’t your style. From the side he notices a hotel logo — the only one within a five hour radius of the city.
You’re not home, meaning you’re farther from his reach.
You barely look at the camera, occasionally jumping in and out of the frame as you bend down to sort some items. Jungkook feels more like a bother now with your lack of acknowledgement.
Skipping over formalities and the usual patterns of a conversation, he states the obvious, “You’re out of town.”
“I am.” You confirm, voice unwavering at the fact.
“You didn’t mention you’d be gone.”
Your movements stop for a second before you resume gathering items in your reach. “Wasn’t aware we had to tell each other our whereabouts.”
Ouch.
He levels his breathing, ensuring the next words he utters don’t come out shaky. “When will you be back in town, Pix? I think we should talk—”
“We are talking now.” You avoid his first question. “I have about three minutes, so this has to be quick.”
Alright, Jungkook isn’t one to lose his temper easily, but this was just plain rude. Whatever he wanted to discuss with you cannot be under three minutes — you both know this.
Unable to hide his emotions, he groans. “P, don’t be unreasonable.”
Your expression falters. Staying mean and angry isn’t who you are, no matter if it was deserved.
“We can talk when I’m back in town … I just don’t have a lot of time right now.”
Jungkook deduces you’re at another booking. Though, he can’t predict when you’ll be back home. Was he going to have to wait until you’re ready to talk? He doesn’t know if he can do another week of silence without understanding what’s running through your mind.
He wants to press on, but he knows best what it’s like to work in a sour mood. He’ll spare you.
Still, his teeth worry at his bottom lip. “Okay, just let me know.”
The call ends with a tight-lipped smile and no questions answered. His back hits his couch, stiff and tense. Again, he bought the couch purely for aesthetics, but he wishes for some softness and reassurance — none of which were provided in the short video call.
Jaw ticking at the thoughts swarming in his head, all sources of comfort point at his need to see and talk to you in person. That can’t wait any longer. He’ll have to be rude and bulldoze whatever wall you’ve set up to keep him out.
He thinks back to the details of the short call. The logo in the background was unique to the city and even more unique because it’s the only hotel he’s ever filmed at in the past. Hotels don’t support such productions, but with the money the film company offered in their contract, even a high-end hotel such as the one you’re staying at would bend.
He opens up the Maps application and types in the hotel name. Estimated arrival time was about four hours and fifty-three minutes with minimal traffic if he left right now. He wouldn’t arrive until later in the evening and even so … he’s not so sure when you’d be back from your booking.
Hell, did he even have the right place? He could be wrong for all he knew.
His leg bobs in place, restless and anxious at every second spent thinking about his next move. He could wait. You will be back in town, but again, he’s just not sure when. Everything’s up in the air. Your location, feelings, and relationship status.
To hell with waiting around for answers. He’s got to take matters into his own hands.
Wasting no more time, Jungkook pushes himself off his couch, quickly grabbing his jacket and stuffing his keys in his pocket.
You can’t fucking focus.
The three-day wedding was booked months in advance and, while you’re not new to traveling overnight for work, you miss your home and bed. You can’t help but feel this foreboding dread at the thought of going home at this point, though. Because … something, no, someone is also waiting for you.
Your frustrations were misplaced and unfair — Jungkook didn’t deserve the attitude you displayed on that call simply because you thought you couldn't do it: separating your pleasure, feelings, and work.
Certainly, if he had gone back to work and acted as though everything was normal, you needed to as well, right?
Jungkook makes you feel good in all parts of your life. He’s a good friend — he listens, shows genuine interest, laughs at your jokes and makes you laugh even harder at his. He’s also been a great work partner, and a fast learner, causing pride to swell in your chest whenever he treats your every editing advice with care and pure curiosity.
Until you catch this bitterness on your tongue, fighting to swallow and coexist with it. Then, it doesn’t feel as good anymore.
Seeing him in that dressing room unlocked a foreign feeling you don’t know how to face. You couldn’t even properly face him through a screen, the acidity in your mouth making your own words taste sour. Whenever his profession comes in between you, it builds this unavoidable and stubborn nausea.
His belief resounds in your mind: Pleasure, feelings, and work can be separate.
You’re at work right now, knowing full well you should keep these feelings at bay. Adjusting your camera, you zoom into the lovely couple at the altar. This was their second ceremony, a bigger one in comparison to the first one they had with their family and close friends.
The couple covered your travel costs and lodging, as most newlyweds would. The only difference is you’re not staying at some motel like you’ve been subjected to in the past. A nice upgrade, regardless if it’s hard work; the side perks make up for the difficult nature of this booking. Thankfully, this is the final night and you’re at the midway point of the event.
Just a couple more hours and you’ll be back in your hotel room.
Suddenly, a man comes into your view, stumbling, and he mumbles a quick-whispered apology for lightly hitting your shoulder in the process.
He exits the room and, while you’ve mastered the art of minding your business, his demeanor piqued your interest. Just before the grand doors close, you witness his figure doubling over.
You immediately exit the same way he did, except with much haste and worry.
“Sir, are you okay?” You keep your voice collected, although your eyes widen at his fallen state.
Pale lips, he struggles to take in a breath, let alone speak. You stammer and panic, telling him you’ll go get help, but he shakes his head. He points down at his pocket and you see a sliver of orange before you reach into it.
Fuck, you’ve never administered an Epipen before. Don’t know one damn thing about being a first responder or dealing with someone having a severe allergic reaction. You stall for a second before you’re fumbling with your phone in your hands, quickly looking up the steps while the man wheezes on the ground.
Less than a minute later, you’re stabbing the pen down onto his thigh with a foreign force. He sighs, head dropped to the ground in relief.
You pant, placing a reassuring hand onto his shoulder. “Hold on, okay? Gonna call an ambulance—”
“No.” He breathes, staggered and forced. “Can’t ruin the wedding.”
“But—”
“Please.” He reaches for his phone in his pocket, quickly unlocks it and presses on one of his emergency contacts. You assist by pressing onto the speaker phone.
“Mr. Kim?” A gentleman answers after the second ring.
“Hi, um, the owner of this phone had an allergic reaction and needs to go to the hospital.” You look at your surroundings frantically. Your general sense of direction has always been terrible in new locations, but now it’s even more stunted in a state of emergency. Taking a moment, you remember the venue’s map from the itinerary and hurriedly speak into the phone. “We’re at the south wing of the estate.”
Within ten minutes, an older man appears, worried and flustered, but he hauls up the rather tall guy and slings his arm over his shoulders.
Unsure you should join them or go back into the wedding hall, you quickly stand up, wordlessly following behind.
“It’s okay, I got it from here. Thank you, Miss.” The older man assures.
The taller man lifts his head up momentarily, a weak and kind smile on his face before uttering, “Thank you.”
The gratitude settles all the prior buzzing nerves. You take a deep breath waiting for their figures to fully disappear before you rejoin the wedding.
You do your best to shift the crazy events to the back of your head in favor of refocusing on the couple as intended. A part of you is thankful for that particular moment of deterrence. For a brief time, the man and his wellbeing occupied your mind more than the boy at home.
In the last five hours since his arrival at the hotel, Jungkook lived off of cornchips and lobby coffee. Fine, he could’ve gotten a bite, but he was afraid of missing your arrival. Lord knows he’s tried his best to coax the front desk to give your room number. No charm or flirtatious skills worked. It almost did though, he was close, so sure the man nearly cracked and believed his story he was going to propose to his girlfriend as a surprise.
Almost. Part of him eases at the hotel reception’s resilience and inflexibility. Shows their integrity in keeping their guests safe.
He’s out of luck and spent his time loitering around the lobby. Pathetic as hell, though, he has to see through his attempt to right the relationship.
Part of him wonders if he even got the right hotel. The large logo at the main entrance only confirmed his theory, in addition to the sign at the front indicating a special congratulatory message to a newlywedded couple. It checks off all the imaginary boxes in his head, so he’ll chance it.
11:34 p.m.
He’s never been more excited and anxious for a lobby door opening. His jaw relaxes for the first time at a familiar sight — a familiar figure. You look exhausted, shoulders weighed down by the multiple bag straps, steps slightly thrown off as one of your bags hits the corner of a table.
Fuck. If he already felt like a bother through the phone, seeing you like this awakens a sudden and heightened need to hide, shame humming in his ears at the thought of being an added stressor to your long day. Though, he’s here already, so he must stand his ground.
You spot him before he greets you, steps coming to a halt with wide eyes.
“Jungkook?” Your strides speed up, heels clicking on the marble floor before you’re in front of him. “What are you doing here?”
“I–” He hesitates with his next words. What the hell was he doing here? He was eventually going to talk to you whenever you were back in town, except he wasn’t sure when you’d be. Jungkook was right to believe you needed someone gentle and patient — characteristics he clearly lacked in this exact moment, which led him to his impulsive actions.
“Pix, we have to talk.” His voice lifts with urgency. “Please?”
You turn your head to the side, noticing the front desk receptionists staring before looking back at their computer screens. There’s no way you’re going to have this conversation here. For starters, you can’t deny your heart seizing at Jungkook’s effort — the long distance he had to drive from home and the even longer wait in the lobby registering in your brain. But you’re also not going to put up a scene which could potentially become part of the desk clerks’ top 100 dramatic things to witness in their time working at the establishment. You were not about to be a part of a group-chat discussion.
Resolute, you nod up at him. “Okay, let’s go back to my room to talk.”
All muscle memory in how Jungkook reaches over to grab the majority of your bags and sling them over his shoulder. They look weightless on him in comparison to how you struggled to keep them leveled moments ago.
The ride up the elevator is quiet. He looks over at you and by some miracle, you’re also looking at him. You fake a cough, staring straight ahead at the lights on the elevator buttons ascending to your desired floor.
Jungkook’s glad he came. No matter the tension, he’s glad to finally be near you. Even the current silence is better than the other alternate reality where he’s waiting aimlessly, second guessing your thoughts from afar. Here? You both will eventually need to face the unsaid, festering emotions.
He follows you out the elevator, can’t help his eyes trailing down your backside. It’s instinctive, a habit he’s never broken for anyone. All biological and natural in his gaze at first, but it’s a little different this time around.
His stare starts at your exposed shoulders, down the curve of your spine, lingers a little longer at the swell of your ass before his lips tug down at the tiny steps you take, nearly waddling the last stretch down the hallway. He gulps, fingers itching to hold your waist knowing you’ve been on your feet all day.
Despite his wants, he’s aware of the shock value in his unexpected appearance. The last thing he wants is to test your limits with his touch.
You unlock your hotel room with your phone. Fancy shit and honestly a more eco-friendly route for the hotel to do without the old fashion key-card. The door beeps and locks unlatch before you push your way in.
Generic hotel room; nonetheless, similar to the one he previously filmed in. You don’t do your usual spiel of welcoming him. Your place of lodging was all temporary, just like how he hopes the current status of the relationship is.
Bags placed away, Jungkook leans against one of the drawers as you plop down on one of the stools with a disgruntled huff.
You meet the apprehension in his gaze. “We could’ve talked when I was back in town.”
“You didn’t mention when you’d be home.” He retorts, as though you left him with no other choice.
You look away, teeth biting the inside of your cheek. “So, what is it that couldn’t wait?”
“Us.” He begins. “Are we okay?”
You pause, brain racking up a possible answer. Then, sighing, you lift your shoulders. “Yeah, we are.”
Certainly doesn’t feel like it. He didn’t come all the way out here for a lie. He wants things to get exposed, bare out all the ugly so at least he knows where to start to fix things.
“Pix, come on,” a different kind of exhaustion filters through his voice, “Don’t do this.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say…” You can’t hold his stare, though you feel it heavy on the side of your face.
“You’re upset.” He deducts. “Tell me why.”
You look at the digital clock on the nightstand reading a little past midnight. Wordlessly, your steps carry you over to your small suitcase as you fumble through for some sleepwear.
How could anything else be more important than the person who traveled hours to talk to you? The lack of focus and urgency on the matter churns and leaves something unsettling in his stomach.
He stays quiet, hoping the silence eventually spurs your next words to fill the gaps.
Hands coming to a halt at the last piece of clothing, you let out a tiny breath. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going back to work?” Your voice cracks.
Jungkook’s breath hitches and a thick silence falls heavy between you, broken by the zip of your suitcase closing. Deep down, he knew this was the main reason for your sudden avoidance — couldn’t be a coincidence you began acting differently right after you abruptly ended your call when you found out he was back to work.
He also knew he should have told you, knew he’d be back on set eventually, precisely because that’s his job after all. He doesn’t know why he kept it to himself, but he knows your reaction sits sour in his mouth because, again, that’s his job.
He wishes he could say anything else, but a flimsy excuse flows past his lips.
“I… I didn’t think it was important to know.” Jungkook’s fingers curl on the hardwood panes of the dresser. He jolts at your sudden spring up, heels turning to face him.
“You asked me to tell you about my day and schedule all the time; yet, you can’t do the same?” Your brows lift. “How is that fair?”
Perhaps it’s been a long day for Jungkook, but he doesn’t feel like backing down. He’s tired of constantly bending for others and maybe for once, he just wants the world to bend for him.
“So you want my entire schedule? Itinerary breakdown of the different projects?” What he purposefully leaves out to spare you from the ugly truth: list of all the people he’s fucking at work.
Even at his mercy, your eyes fill with angry tears now, threatening to fall at any moment. “It’s not that. It’s the principle.”
“I forgot.” He lies, shrugging his shoulders. “You really gonna hold that against me?”
“You forgot.” You deadpan. “Really?”
His frown deepens. “Why would I hide that from you?”
“I don’t know, you tell me.” You look to the side to avoid his pointed stare.
“Well, I’m here trying to tell you, am I not?”
“Could’ve done this over a call. You didn’t have to drive all the way here … This is all so–” Your chin trembles — another expression he’s grown to dislike. Hates how his fingers twitch by his side, brain screaming at him to comfort even through your hurtful words.
They stung.
He exhales through his nose. Perhaps his impulsion and effort to resolve the issue with you was a mistake. He should’ve waited until you were ready to talk. Shouldn’t have gone out of his way to come here just to end on even worse terms.
His voice drops lower, oppressed by the ache spreading through his chest. “Then should I leave?”
Your face falls, eyes reading the digital clock. “It’s late. Where would you even go?”
“Home.” There’s nowhere else he’d like to be more at this moment, considering you seem to not want him here with you. Yes, it was late, but the three cups of hotel lobby coffee should hold him through the night.
“No.” You shake your head. No matter how awful the tension was, you’d never want to jeopardize a person’s safety, let alone someone you care for. “You’re not driving home this late.”
Fair, but he wasn’t about to stay in your room, especially since nothing’s been resolved.
This is how you both find yourselves at the front desk asking for a spare room.
“My apologies, sir. All our partnered hotels around the city are booked out for the night. There is a motel about a twenty minute drive from here.”
Jungkook wouldn’t qualify himself as high maintenance, but he can’t help the little grimace at the idea of finding odd sheet stains or waking up to potential bug bites. He could only assume the motel’s conditions if all the hotels within the vicinity were booked out and the receptionist defaulted to that recommendation as a last ditch effort. Kind, although, he wasn’t that desperate — he’d choose to sleep in his car at this point.
“Just stay with me tonight.” Though small, your voice carries the offer with command.
Well, between his car or the motel, staying with you is objectively the better option.
Back in your room again, you let him use the shower first, knowing you’ll be taking a longer one. He places his wallet and phone on the nightstand before walking into the bathroom.
He does the bare minimum in the shower, too aware of how late it is and how exhausted you must feel after what’s transpired tonight. Quickly drying off, the only thing he has on are his boxers underneath the towel around his waist. He drops his day-old clothes in a pile on a stool near the entryway.
His figure comes to your view again, noticing your visible swallow at the sight of his freshly showered state.
“All yours, P.”
Shower or him, he doesn’t care for how you interpret his words.
You scurry to the bathroom and Jungkook stares at the bed for another ten seconds before he plops down on the couch, the water at the ends of his hair dripping down his nape.
What a fuckin’ day.
You come out of the bathroom maybe about forty minutes later. Nothing charming about your old university t-shirt and mismatched sleep shorts, but Jungkook still thinks you’re the prettiest.
Despite the unresolved nature of your relationship, you scoff and snort at the sight of him: long legs well extended over the arm of the couch and his small towel covering his torso as a makeshift blanket. He cracks a smile too, followed by a small ‘what?’
You walk over to one side of the bed, tugging the tightly tucked sheets from the crevices. “Don’t be ridiculous, you can sleep here too.” You pat on the unoccupied space, signaling him to come.
He doesn’t protest, opting to hang the towel on the backrest of the couch and sliding underneath the covers with you. Wordless as you shut off the lamp on your nightstand, your back is turned away from him as you settle on your side of the bed.
He should follow suit like how he has done with his scripts.
But this wasn’t a play — all real life encompassing people he cares deeply for.
Jungkook moves closer, so sure the dip of the bed grows as he nears your warm body. His front touches your back, heat from his bare skin seeps through your thin cotton shirt. When you don’t move or push him away, he takes it as a sign to drape his arm over your torso.
“Didn’t know you’d care so much about my schedule.” He murmurs, taking in your scent — hotel body wash and shampoo. At least having the same scent, albeit just for tonight, was something you guys could be on the same page on.
Voice laced with exhaustion, you reply, “Why wouldn’t I care?”
Swallowing the forming lump down his throat, he holds you closer. “Isn’t it better you don’t know? It’s obvious you’re uncomfortable—”
“Still wanna know.” You turn to him, tucking your face in the crook of his neck. “I care about what’s going on in your life, too.”
This was no Gum and Bubba level of update, but he realizes withholding information from someone you care about is a terrible start to any relationship.
“Are we always gonna handle stuff like this?” Jungkook grumbles into your hair.
“I’ve never been like this with my friends.” You reply, the silent implications left hanging in the air.
Jungkook lets them sink in his chest, where your hand comes to rest on his beating heart. He doesn’t want to think of what a friendship exactly entails — thinks you two are building something entirely unique at this point, learning every step of the way.
Whatever your relationship could be classified as, he doesn’t want to lose it, wants to constantly strengthen it, and that comes with recognizing and owning up to both of your faults.
“I’ll update you from now on. But Pix, you gotta do better too.” Jungkook speaks with his mouth to your ear, honesty flowing out from his heart and right in your system. “This isn’t the first time you’ve iced me out.”
You nod, arms finally coming around to hold him. He moves away just enough to plant a kiss on your forehead, but that only makes you gravitate towards him more. You share a knowing glance, one so soft and full of ache, it only makes sense for you to press your lips against his.
If Jungkook were ten years younger, he’d tell you he never wants to fight like that again. Honestly, unrealistic. Having been through a couple toxic relationships in the past, what transpired between you two was a cake walk in comparison. Disagreements are bound to happen, just need to learn and grow from them.
“You’ll tell me if any of this gets too much, yeah?” He mumbles against your lips. Even through his physical and mental exhaustion, he’s never tired of you. You share the same sentiment, melting and molding into whatever is needed to squash the issue at hand.
It’s exhausting to stay upset and even more exhausting to stay away from each other.
Jungkook kisses you, weight of the world lifted off his chest and formed in the shape of you — your body pressed flush against his hard chest. He hides his neediness underneath his greed, wanting so badly to make you feel good. Thinks the only way to win back your favor again is through your pleasure.
“Wanna touch you.” He grunts, hand trailing down your side. He creates just enough room to push his hand between your thighs, palming your covered sex. “Please?”
You shudder, “Can’t.” Jungkook doesn’t hide his disappointment, hand lingering as he waits for your reason.
“On my period.” You explain, thighs clamping around his hand to keep him in place.
Nothing that a little soap and warm water can’t undo, but he understands your hesitance. Still, he wants you to feel good. Should always feel good when you’re with him.
Hands wiggling out of your hold, he rolls you onto his front while one of his knees part your legs. You tremble in his arms, settling lower on his thigh.
“Pad or tampon, P?”
His question throws you for a loop. “Um, pad.” You answer.
Suddenly you’re in his ear talking about the benefits of using pads, selling the point of Toxic Shock Syndrome being your biggest fear, which is why you don’t wear tampons. He sits up taller against the headboard, soaking in your musings. He smirks when you give him an embarrassed smile, realizing you’ve said more than necessary.
“You’re cute. Thanks for letting me know.” He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Was just curious.”
Your brows furrow. “Huh? Why?”
“So I know how much you’ll feel this.” His large hands grasp your waist, the pressure of his fingers digging into you as he drags you against his thigh. You lurch forward, hands holding onto his shoulders as you watch him maneuver your hips to his liking.
It’s a steady pace, not enough to have you cumming, but enough for you to look at him with pleading eyes to move faster, harder. He pulls and tugs your heat against his muscle, wanton moans leaving your lips as he moves you.
“Oh! Jungkook—” You shut your eyes, head dropped to the side as you try to focus on the growing sensation below.
He wets his lips, moving in to press them on yours. He’s not sure if it’s you getting better with every time you’ve kissed or his silly head playing up your kisses because he likes you so much. His moans vibrate against your mouth, though, not for long. Your head comes to rest at the crook of his neck, hips grinding slowly on his thigh.
“That’s it, use me. Make yourself feel good.” He husks.
You do your best, but with your pad as an extra barrier and your clumsy rolls, you can’t get the rhythm quite right.
“Need your help.” You whimper in his ears.
Again, he has no backbone when it comes to you. He’s so easily swayed — can’t bear making you work for your pleasure. “Okay, okay. I’ll help you, baby.”
His hand cups the bottom of your ass, guiding and rocking you faster. With the slight flexion of his thighs, the grind is delicious and damn near perfect. You seem to agree with your uneven breaths and nails forming small crescent moons at the back of his nape.
“Missed you, Pix. Fuck, please don’t shut me out like that again.” He pleads, hands slowing down his movements so he could hear you properly.
Your delayed response results in a lift to his thigh, warm palms keeping you in place. You mewl, breath ragged as you grind down on your own. “W-won’t do that again, promise.”
You seal your promise with a quick kiss, mouth parted at a small moan as Jungkook speeds up his movements again. The patterns of your breathing changes and there’s a shiver Jungkook recognizes all too well as you near your end. Head pressed into the crook of his neck, the bottom half of your body tenses and shakes, which only encourages Jungkook to keep dragging down your body the way it needs.
“You’re there, aren’t you?” He coos. “That’s it, pretty.” He wishes you were bare from below — brainsick desire to feel and see the mess you’d make, period and all.
You whimper, a wrecked sob as the orgasm washes over you. Head lifted, you press your lips to his in a searing kiss.
Pulling away for a needed inhale, your eyes trail down his body and gaze locks on his tented black briefs, a damp patch growing in the center. “Can I make it up to you?”
He swallows, “How?” He knows exactly how you could, but waits for your response with bated breath.
You pepper kisses down his body, just like how he did with you. He keens, back bowing off the headboard as your soft lips trail dangerously close to his middle. But you stop, tilt your head to the side, and plant a kiss on his hipbone.
Jungkook looks down … and perhaps, he shouldn’t have. The image of you staring up at him between his legs is all he’ll think of from now on. T-shirt risen up, he eyes your exposed backside and curves just for a bit, because the main attraction will always be your face — your eyes. So full of wonder and interest.
It’s everything he’s dreamed of since the day you filmed from your kneeled position. He blinks away the bleariness, excitement and hope taking over at the thought of his fantasies coming true.
“I wanna,” You look away, suddenly embarrassed.
“What, pretty?” He beams, cups your cheek with one of his hands. “You wanna suck me off?”
You nod in his hold, bashful from his forwardness. “I do.”
God, he nearly cums in his briefs at your admittance.
You continue, unaware of his internal state. “Need you to walk me through it though, that okay?” Fighting your nerves, your hand hovers and rubs his clothed length, stopping momentarily for his response.
“Yeah, Pix, that’s fine. I’ll show you.” He nods, his hand covers yours.
His large hand presses down your smaller one, groaning from the added pressure. He guides you down past the waistband of his briefs, and shudders from your touch, the bare contact sending an electric shock through his body. A quiet, surprised gasp leaves your lips at the new experience.
He cracks another smile, but the corners of his mouth dip from an invasive thought the moment you take his cock in your hand. “W-wait.” He stammers.
You release him almost immediately, afraid you did something wrong or hurt him. Not wanting to waste his time reassuring it had nothing to do with you, he reaches over to the nightstand to grab his wallet, fingers pinching in between the slot to pull out a small foil package.
“Haven’t had the chance to re-test after the recent project, so just to be safe.” He rips the edge of the package. Taking his length in his own hand, he rolls the condom down to the base with swift precision.
Lips tucked in, you look away after your quiet agreement.
Of course and again, nothing goes unnoticed by Jungkook. The same hand that rolled the condom down his length, now cups your cheek once more. There’s a sweet fruity scent, paired with the moist touch from the condom’s lubrication.
“You don’t have to. You know that, right?” He reassures.
You blink, and whatever nerves or insecurities you previously displayed, gets pushed away.
“I want to.” You turn your head, kissing his palm — strawberries with a hint of latex.
His cock stirs at the small action. Settling his back onto the headboard again, he tilts his head at you, waiting for you to touch him. There’s no need to tell you what to do so early on, wanting you to explore your own curiosity first.
Your fingers wrap around his length and Jungkook exhales a shaky breath, gaze fixed on your movement, or lack thereof. You’re warm to the touch, eyes jumping from his cock and back to his hazy stare. You begin moving up and down his length, slow and experimental to glean his reactions.
His small uh-huhs and yeahs, requests for a changed grip, faster or slower movements only encourages you to work harder for him. You grow bolder in your touches, focusing more on the head of his cock. You squeeze, thumb swiping over his covered tip.
“God, baby, you—” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, eyes shutting briefly to focus on the sensation before he peers down at you.
“I remember you doing this in the video.” You confess. “Was that okay?” You ask, swallowing before you lean down.
Hesitant at first, you place a small peck on the underside of his cock. With how soft your touch was, he thinks he might’ve hallucinated it. His doubt gets buried when you place another kiss, head tilted with your nose pressed flush to his shaft.
“Y-yeah, feels good.” He replies, hand raking through your hair and stopping at the base of your head to urge you closer.
His lips are well acquainted with yours, and now his cock will also gain the honor of getting to feel them. So lucky with how you pepper your way up and down his length, lashes kissing the top of your cheeks. Secretly, he wishes he didn’t have a condom on to feel your bare lips on him.
Sickly, he grows harder at the thought.
“Tell me what to do, please.” You mouth against his cock, hand lightly tugging at the base.
Using his other free hand, he replaces yours around his girth. The tip of his cock is pointed directly at your lips. With a knowing look, his words die on his tongue as you open your mouth. The small opening only pushes him to guide his length through the entrance of your lips, noticing how your jaw widens to accommodate for his size.
Jungkook’s going to die. Well, figuratively. He’s never felt more alive and excited. The hand on your head tightens its grasp, doing his best to break the instinctive habit of pushing your head down. At least, for now.
“Breathe, Pix.” A reminder to himself too. “And,” He moans, cutting off with a quick chuckle, “less teeth, please.”
You hum in compliance, mouth going slack to accommodate for his girth and to tuck your lips. It’s not perfect, but the effort is there. You begin bobbing your head up and down, solely focusing on his tip as the other half of his shaft was currently occupied by his hand, grip tightening every second your lips suction harder around him.
“Tongue, push it against–yes, just like that.” He whines.
Habits stay hard to break, especially when this is starting to get good and he wants to feel more of you. His hips buck with little restraint while he holds your head in place.
He likes your soft moans; though, the small gagging sound you just made might’ve dethroned its ranking on his ‘Things I Like About Pixie’ list.
“Sorry,” His chest stutters, red and flushed. “I–ah-”
You pull away, eyes watery and lips pouty. “Do you always do that?” Your voice cracks mid swallow, the edges of your mouth glisten from your saliva.
“Can’t help it, P.” He confesses with a playful smirk. “You feel so good.”
Naturally, Jungkook’s hand releases your hair in your pursuit to sit back up on your heels.
“Keep your hands at your side.” You request.
Jungkook scoffs. “Oh, we’re doing that?”
“What’s that?”
He also sits up higher too, hand releasing his cock in the process. He leans forward, close enough to smell the condom’s flavor on your lips.
Nose touching yours, he grins, “I give you control. Do whatever you like with me.”
“Is that something you like?” You ask with curious eyes.
Depends on who he’s with. Thinks he could like it with you, but with how you presented the question, he’s not so sure if that was your initial intention.
“Sometimes, why?”
You shrug. “Just want to know what makes you feel good, that’s all.”
While he’s been taken care of plenty of times by other partners, he likes knowing you’re just as dedicated to his pleasure. He kisses you, quick and soft. “Okay, Pix, I’ll keep my hands to myself this time.”
You both settle back into place again. One arm behind his head, the other one rests on his stomach comfortably. He keeps his hands to himself, but that doesn’t stop you from holding the one on his abdomen. Your thumb rubbing small circles brings forward a needier version of him to light, wanting you to ground and indulge his pleasures.
You take a couple of seconds to find your rhythm again. By the minute marker, Jungkook’s squeezing your hand, fighting to not push your head down all the way down to the base. You’re so warm, so snug when you suck harder around the head of his cock.
He makes his requests, guiding and teaching you what he fancies. “Baby, use your hand, fuck—so good.”
You hum and moan through his instructions, the action causing an uncontrolled eye-roll to the back of his head. You do something unexpected, though. The jerking motions from your hand ceases completely when you remove it, now used to anchor yourself on his thigh. The movement is quick — head dropping down low, your lips meet the base of his cock and his tip touches the back of your throat.
“Fuck!” Jungkook looks down, brows knitted and eyes blown out. His hand grips yours harder as you go down once more, gagging around his thick length. Your warm breaths exhaled through your nose hit his pubic bone every time you moved down.
You do this for a couple of seconds, whines and low grunts prompting you to move past the discomfort. He’s so close. Though, like any regular human being, your endurance runs low regardless of your heightened need to ensure Jungkook’s pleasure was reciprocated.
You come up for some much needed air, lips so swollen and eyes glassy. The arm behind his head has long dropped to his side where he fists the blanket as you kiss up and down his shaft again.
“Make yourself feel good — use me.” You rasp, eyes hopeful he complies.
He’d nearly combust just with how you mimic his exact words. So quick in how he lets go of your hand in favor of gathering your hair in one messy hold while the other hand steadies your jaw. He knows he can’t go too rough on you, so he settles for a pace good enough to get him to the finish line. Doesn’t require additional work on his end when you lock eyes at him as he pushes your head down to meet his hips.
He fights through the times he feels too much teeth for his liking, relishing in the sensation of whenever his tip hits the back of your throat in a frenzy thrust. Both impatient and mindless in how he seeks relief now, his hips jerk up the same time he pushes your head down.
“I’m close.” He stutters, hoping it brings you some comfort knowing he’s nearing his end all because of you. “You’re gonna make me cum.”
He curses, each word punctured by his every eager shift. Your hand runs up his torso, stopping at his chest where your fingers close in on his nipple. Eyes squeezed close, white-hot splotches fill the back of his lids as he fills the condom with his cum. He momentarily forgets where he’s at, but he never forgets who he’s with. Whose got him cumming like this. Whose head he has pushed down as he rides out his orgasm.
You take it, battling through the throbbing and soreness from having your mouth fucked. Know the ache is worth it when he shows you so much concern after he returns from his high. Jungkook wastes no time pulling you up, singing praises of how good you made him feel. And when you cough and giggle, his cock twitches pathetically against your core as he kisses you senselessly.
Late into the night, Jungkook stirs awake from a sound. His lids flutter open, gaze clearing at a sliver of blue coming from the blackout curtains. Dawn breaks, but not nearly enough to wake up the world. The bed shakes slightly and he’s reminded he’s not home, and the warmth he fell asleep with was no longer beside him.
Another shaky breath followed by a sniffle, Jungkook breaks out of his dream-like state.
“Pixie?” His voice cracks from sleep. He palms for your body and realizes you’re at the furthest edge of the bed from him. He reaches for the light switch on his side only to see your back turned away, shoulders trembling.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He comes closer. When his front meets your back, that’s when you turn to press your tearstained face into his chest.
You shake your head, another round of tearful hiccups escapes as you try to regulate your breathing. “Sorry.”
He’s not sure what you’re apologizing for. Feels awful you’re in this state.
“What’s wrong?” He repeats softly. Voice laced with so much concern, it might be another catalyst to the new round of uncontrolled sobbing.
He’s never seen you like this. Sure, close calls, but never to this magnitude. Nonetheless, he lays there quietly, palm soothing your back as you try to suppress your cries into his chest. Soon enough, your cries are reduced to a somewhat regulated pattern of breathing. Jungkook moves away a little to assess your face.
His heart tugs at the sight of your red eyes and his palm instinctively rubs at your cheeks, making sure to get the fresh tears at the brim of your eyes.
“I’m sorry for waking you.” You say, throat hoarse and voice small. Nimble fingers tugging the end of your shirt, you attempt wiping at the moisture built on his bare chest.
He shakes his head. “‘s okay.” He hugs you closer. “Wanna tell me what’s got you feeling like this?”
Your voice is muffled against his chest, but it would have sounded tiny in the space between you either way. “Just … I feel bad.”
Well, yeah, that checked out. He waits for your explanation.
“This is all so new and I got overwhelmed. I’m sorry.” You apologize again.
“From what we did tonight?” He swallows. “Or us?”
Your breath fans over his skin, creating another layer of warm condensation.
“I-I don’t know.” You stammer.
His throat tightens — he wishes he could push his insecurities and guilt underneath the rug; though, they bubble and fester dangerously at the edge. He can’t stand the thought of doing something as bad as making you feel this way.
Above all, he can’t stand the idea of being a regret — a mistake.
“But I think this feeling will pass.” You reassure through another forced inhale.
“What do you mean?” He does his best to keep his voice even.
You move away. Back flat on the mattress, your head sinks with the hotel’s fluffy pillows just enough to conceal your face. Gravity pulls fresh tears down your temples and past your ears.
“Safe sex is important.” You say. It is, so why does the statement come out laced with contempt? “I guess tonight made me realize there’s an added layer. I’ll be okay though, just need some time.”
His heart drops to his stomach. ‘Added layer.’ What you fail to put into words is how his job and what he does is an added layer to your guys’ relationship, especially when it comes to being intimate. So obvious how damned this whole ordeal was from the start. He couldn’t help himself — had to know what life could look like beyond friendship.
He should’ve listened to Hoseok … listened to his gut.
Although time held the possibility for a change of heart, he can’t run on what-ifs. Not when the possibility of hurt overtakes the potential for fun. He cares about you … but he cares about himself, too.
“Pix …” He begins, words wavering as you look at him with worry and anticipation. He pushes forward despite his better judgment. “Maybe we’re better off as friends.”
The space you create between your bodies is something Jungkook will need to get used to. Just like the hurt and reluctance on your face. Tears well up at the brim of your eyes again.
“No-no, things will get better. I … I just need time.” You stammer through the shaky promise.
“What if it doesn’t get better?” His jaw clenches, doing his best to keep his emotions controlled and logical.
You blink profusely at the question, and he wonders if you’re finally playing out the different scenarios in your head: blissful love versus looming heartbreak.
Your mouth parts, “It—”
“I can’t change what I do.” He realizes how little the statement burns him after it leaves his lips. Not nearly as much as the way your brows pull together in anguish — at another unprepared, shattering revelation: you thought you were enough for change.
“P—Hey,” He rushes to cup your cheek, “Come on, think about it. Nothing’s gonna change. We’ll be the same before all of this. I think it will be good.” Words meant to reassure you, he finds the need to verbalize the belief to himself too — speak it out to the universe.
“But we,” Your lips tremble, you take one calming breath, eyes closing to get a better bearing of your emotions. “Promise nothing’s going to change?”
“Promise.”
Relationships are fleeting, he knows this. But a part of him dies as he’s forced to choose another door.
He’ll settle for a friendship if that’s all he’s allowed. A kiss to your forehead is all he’s allowed as well, needing to create the physical distance only fitting for friends. Blue hour’s nearly over as the first peek of white light hits the window, but blue fills Jungkook’s entire being, jabbing and mocking him at a predictable loss.
So it goes.
Thank god you had a later checkout time. Fortunately for that, Jungkook accumulated a total of five hours of uninterrupted sleep before you stirred him awake around noon.
Lock clicking behind you both one last time, you and Jungkook make your way down to the hotel lobby.
As promised, nothing’s changed in how Jungkook treats you. The conversations come naturally; the way he smiles at you isn't forced. He tells himself it’s okay, it’s alright. The new—uh, old norm is something he’ll take over nothing.
All your bags, except one, are with Jungkook. He stands on the side, waiting while you do the final checkout with the receptionist.
“And did you find your stay pleasant?” A different worker from all the ones Jungkook encountered asks. Her eyes scans his face before looking back at you. Perhaps this worker was briefed on the drama by her other coworkers.
“Was great.” You smile, eyes still puffy from the lack of sleep.
Someone from behind clears their throat, “Um, excuse me, Miss?”
Jungkook turns around first, and it’s someone he’s never seen before. A bit taller than him, more built … strong jawline, too. Well, strong everything, appearance wise. Even with his sharp features, his expression holds an abundance of gentleness and patience Jungkook woefully believes he personally lacks.
Peculiar.
Jungkook nudges your arm. “Pix, think someone’s tryna talk to you.”
You turn, “Uh, wha–” It takes you a moment to register who Jungkook was referring to. But a quick wave from the mysterious man forces the cogs in your brain to move.
“Oh! You were at the wedding, right?”
Jungkook steps off to the side to give you both some privacy, unsure if he’s allowed to listen into the conversation. He’s far enough to where he busies himself on his phone, occasionally looking up to see if you’re done. You’re smiling like you always do, nodding and listening intently to what the man has to say. Jungkook appreciates the view. Prefers you more like this: relaxed and unguarded — diminished qualities you don’t display in the recent time he’s been around you.
Your eyes briefly catch Jungkook, offering an apologetic smile, almost antsy to get back to him. Attention now back on the mysterious man, a phone is thrusted awkwardly in your face and you watch with questioning eyes at what he intends to ask you.
Then, you’re waving your arms frantically. Jungkook nearly walks over to see if his rescue was needed, but you laugh and the man puts his phone back into his pockets, a sheepish smile on his face as he scratches behind his head.
Within seconds, you’re back at Jungkook’s side again.
“Everything good?” He asks.
You nod. “Yup. Just someone I saved at my last booking.”
Jungkook stops in his tracks. “Pix, you can’t just lore drop without any context.”
Your laugh will always be preferred over what he witnessed last night. He needs to keep it this way, another reminder the decision to remain friends was the right thing to do, even with all the conflicting feelings.
You give him the whole run-down of the encounter with the man. Jungkook listens with intent and marvel as he places your equipment into the back of your car.
“It looked like he wanted to get your number?” He rearranges your bags to face a certain way so it’ll be easier for you to unload when you’re home.
“Mm, he said he wanted to get to know me over dinner.” You mumble, but recover and explain, “I mean, he probably just wants to thank me. You know, for saving him and all.”
“That’s nice. Why didn’t you say yes?” Jungkook questions. As the words come out, he fights against a tone indicating his objection to the idea of you with someone other than him. Fights against the sick greed building up in his stomach — the one that rebels against his morals and beliefs, wanting you happy but all to himself. Yet, he knows the two things can’t happen without one lacking.
Such an innocent but extremely foolish question; regardless, he had to know.
“I have more than enough friends.” You reason, voice suddenly lower.
He scoffs, quietly relieved. “There’s no such thing as too many friends. He seems genuine, so—”
“You know why.” You close your trunk, a sad smile on your face as you look at him.
At this very moment, he thinks about what Hoseok said: risk management factors. He’s been a constant risk you’ve willingly partook in. Have the outcomes always been good? He’s not so sure.
What he does know is all the uncertainties with him hold you back on your potential to be happy. What he does know is you deserve better.
You deserve happiness. All of that and more.
He also knows space is needed to better separate pleasure and feelings in order to be actual friends.
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he clears his throat. “Pix, don’t take this the wrong way.”
Your brows pull together, anxious-ridden expression only further confirms his next words.
“I think I’d like some space.”
You frown. “You said nothing was going to change between us.”
“It won’t.” He answers all too quickly with a shake to his head. “I need to get some stuff sorted out. It’s not a punishment to you, I swear.”
You look to the side, eyes once again filled with tears. So different from who you were moments ago and who you were before everything transpired between you two.
“Okay.” You reply. If it’s one thing you both have for each other, it’s shared respect. You’d never deny him of his requests just as he’s never done that to you.
But why does your compliance burn like betrayal? Were you also just as tired with no more energy to fight?
Shaking away those thoughts, he replies, “Take care, alright? I promise I’ll reach out when things settle on my end.” He only hopes you’re also content to talk by then, too.
You nod with a tight-lipped smile. “Don’t take too long.”
Your joke lightens the mood a little. “I won’t.” He reassures. “Don’t forget about me either.”
“Never.” You reply.
He’s about to head to his car until he remembers something. Turning on his heels, you’re just as eager to face him, hoping everything transpired in the last twenty-four hours was a fluke and he wants to restore whatever he had with you.
He does, but he can’t. Instead, he grounds himself in his resolve for both your sakes, offering another piece of departing advice, “Don’t sell yourself short, P. Give new things a try, ‘kay?”
Your response lands a bit later, but the wait was worth your smile, warm and genuine. “Okay.”
You’re a bad texter, but it doesn’t mean you’re not thinking of your friends. All you do is think about them: what kind of trouble Taehyung gets into or where your sister from another mister, Candie, has traveled to for the month.
Point is, you think about them just as much as they think about you. Your friends are understanding of your situation and nature — they know exactly when a check-in is needed.
Jungkook now falls under the same category, but he hasn’t met any of your requirements as a friend. You find yourself thinking about him often. What’s he doing? Where is he at? How’s he doing?
Because you haven’t fared well. Breakups hurt, but they hurt more when things end on fair terms. You’ve hit every stage of grief at this point; thought you’d never leave anger or bargain and instead of moving forward, you’re back at the first stage: denial.
A small portion of the denial comes in the form of the sudden loss of Jungkook. The rest of it stems from the concept of experiencing your first situationship — which, honestly, quite laughable and borderline embarrassing at your age. Taehyung reassures this happens to everyone, older or younger. No one is above relationships not working out between two unfit people.
Were you and Jungkook really that unfit for one another?
He was great to you before, well, when you had to accept the realities of his job. Things seemingly took a turn for the worse when you put both your heart and body on the line.
He’s not on social media (that you’re aware of), so stalking his whereabouts and life is out of the question. You also don’t want to search him up on those websites; seeing him intimate with someone else would set you back even more on the stages of grief.
While you had all the intentions of being a good friend and checking in on him, you knew better than to reach out to someone who requested for space. The least you can do is honor his wishes.
Still didn’t hurt any less.
And now, the scales tip back to anger.
He left you to deal with your emotions on your own. Made an impression in your life and left when things got difficult — when things got difficult with you.
People keep reiterating the concept of multiple realities — how they can coexist, meet in the middle, merge together. But the truth is, Jeon Jungkook created this gaping space in your life, leaving parts of it empty, similar to the feeling heaving in your chest.
The first couple of weeks were the hardest. By month two, you’ve gotten better at distracting yourself, pushing yourself even harder at work. Summer trended a slow down of wedding bookings. While you never minded spending extra time with your beta fishes, life had more to offer than working and missing a certain someone, right? You hated the slow-down, creating more space for unfavorable thoughts worthy of mulling over.
Your top distraction for today was your Facebook Marketplace. Thirty minutes into browsing, you think a nice walk outside your complex may do you better than doom scrolling for endless hours. That is, until you see a small red dot in your notifications.
Huh.
You click. Nothing new in your primary inbox with your loved ones, but the notification persists until you realize the source: your message requests.
Kim Mingyu [Yesterday, 8:43 p.m.]: Hello, I’m so sorry to bother…
You look at the profile picture and immediately remember the person. Weddings were an opportunity to meet new people. There’s always a select few that stuck — Jungkook included. The man on screen is another who made quite an impression at your past booking.
You could ignore him. Forget about his message the moment you log out of Facebook. But you’re out of commission for the time being, and well, heartbroken too.
A distraction never hurts anyone.
The exchange starts by a message opened on a whim, then awkward small talk about the weather and how work was, then pictures of meals or recipes get traded until one brave soul (hint: it wasn’t you) initiates a dinner invite to which you later found out was a date.
Mingyu’s good at distracting, replacing your thoughts of a certain pair of round eyes, citrus cologne, and cheshire-like grin. He’s no Jungkook — could never be. Being with Mingyu fell closely to a safety net. Could fall and always expect something to catch you: you were never caught off guard by his intentions with you. Clear as day and patient as the turtle winning the race against the bunny.
You receive a message from Jungkook weeks later, all the grief replaced by acceptance by then, because that’s all that’s left between you two. It starts as a regular check in: he asks you how you’ve been, and you tell your heart and him you’re doing great. The hurt you experienced in the beginning no longer persists at the sight of his message bubbles. And you come to think … maybe he was right — things are better this way.
Four intentional dates later, Mingyu asked to be exclusive with you. He kept reiterating no pressure on a response; though, the urgency in his eyes begged for an answer even if it came as a rejection. Nonetheless, he was kind about it, giving you enough time to mull over what a future could look like with him.
You think back on Jungkook’s words to you at the hotel parking lot … don’t sell yourself short — try something new.
Mingyu comes from a less humble background, but he does his best to stay humble about it. Can’t hide his status whenever he arranges for personal pickups with the same gentleman you encountered at the wedding. Mr. Lee sings his praises about his employer enroute to whatever destination Mingyu chose for the day. Happy employees should be a good sign, right?
He’s also the second person in your life you opened up for physical intimacy. Nothing beyond heavy makeout sessions, of course, which you’re quite thankful for. You don’t mention about your inexperience and Mingyu doesn’t mention about the times you’ve rejected him for more.
His kindness restrains himself because this relationship wasn’t just about that.
Things with Jungkook have gotten better. You might even say the relationship reverts to the time where you only spoke about editing tips — a stretch, but you get it. No one was left to figure out the dynamics of the relationship. At times, he sends you the view from his massive curtain wall, mostly in the early hours of the day because you’ve already seen how the city looks like at night.
He doesn’t tell you to come over to see for yourself when you reply how lucky he is to wake up to that every morning.
A dull ache settles in your bones. So, this is the new norm you’ll have to get used to.
The ache fades a little when you finally tell Mingyu you’d like to continue seeing him exclusively.
“Doll, I can’t have that … peanut oil.” Mingyu frowns as he turns the salad dressing bottle to you.
“I’m so sorry.” You quickly place the bottle back on the shelf.
Dating Mingyu is great, his gentle giant nature leaving your insides feeling mushy. Though, you find yourself on the edge whenever you see a single peanut with his deathly aversion. Thinking back to the day of the wedding, both him and the cousin, the groom, were not aware of the added ingredient in the appetizers. After his cousin found out, he nearly sued the venue over the mishap. Though a big and certainly deadly deal, Mingyu rejected the idea of moving forward with the legal proceeding.
He’s alive and well thanks to you. Plus, the catering incident led him to you, so perhaps all was worth it.
No matter how hard you try, you sometimes overlook these things too — not as bad as the catering company. You’re both grocery shopping for tonight’s date. Mingyu’s idea, of course. Thinks nothing is sweeter than doing these mundane tasks with you, as opposed to having his assistant run these errands for him.
He stands behind you, strong arms caging you against the shopping cart.
“Hey … not your fault the world doesn’t bend for my lame peanut allergy.” He tries to joke. “Thanks for understanding, though. I know how limiting food choices are with me.”
It’s not a terrible adjustment, but it does make you more wary of the places you go with him and the ingredients in your own food pantry.
You kiss his cheek. “Not a trouble at all. I’ll be more thorough next time.”
His small dimples peek through in his smile — nothing nearly as prominent as a certain someone’s, but they’re endearing nonetheless.
“Pixie?”
Here’s the thing they don’t tell you about grief. It creeps up on you, reminds you of the gaping hole you’ve tip-toed around. Couldn’t fill the hole no matter how hard you tried. Jeon Jungkook has a way of reminding you of the grief as he stands behind you with a shopping basket in hand. Months of living with the divet in your chest, the edges crumble when he smiles at you, dimples the same and striking as ever.
“Jungkook.” You breathe. Mingyu creates some distance as he backs away from the cart handle. He stares at Jungkook, eyes slightly narrowing. Not out of malice, but in an attempt to recognize.
Jungkook’s smile changes a little too as he takes in the scene, realizing the significant life changes you failed to mention during the time you both started texting again. He doesn’t voice it, of course. Did he deserve the update? Would he even welcome it?
You blink, looking between the two men before landing on the one you have a date with tonight. “Mingyu, did you want to check out the produce section?” You raise your brows with a smile, already stepping away from him and toward the other man. “I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”
Mingyu agrees with a small smile before nodding at Jungkook, who replicates the gesture.
Once he was out of the aisle, Jungkook’s demeanor relaxes a little.
“So.”
You inhale. “So.”
Eyes crinkling, his teeth sink down on his bottom lip to suppress his laugh.
Regaining his composure, he tries, “What’s new?”
“Not much,” you start, ignoring the rapid beats against your chest, “work’s been the same, if anything slower.”
He pauses, waiting for you to continue—to listen to what details you may add on, perhaps details regarding the man embracing you just seconds ago. You don’t, just shrug.
Jungkook doesn’t seem to be bothered, nodding along with the information. “That’s right, you mentioned a slow down during summer holidays.”
He remembered. Breath caught in your throat, you recover with a quick nod, mentally berating yourself to get it together. Your friends should remember what you tell them.
“Yep. How have you been?” Doesn’t take a genius for him to know you were avoiding the topic of work with him.
“Not bad. Busy, but I like that. What’s on the menu?” He looks down at your cart. The conversation rolls off Jungkook with little effort. Envious and ticked by his nonchalance, you reply quickly hoping to match his pace.
“Mingyu wanted to try making lasagna soup after seeing it online.”
“Soup in this weather? Wild night.” He muses.
“It’s not that hot.” You roll your eyes. “Plus, air conditioning exists.”
“Thank god.” He grins. Your eyes trail over his thin cotton t-shirt — much different than his usual baggy shirts he fancied, the tight ones are just as flattering on him, if not more.
You’re getting the hang of this: the conversation, the relationship — this Jungkook.
“Mingyu, huh?” He raises his brows. “He looks familiar.”
You clear your throat. “Ah, yeah. Remember that one guest from that booking? He found me on Facebook.”
He lets his tongue poke the inside of his cheek for a second before he nods. “Cute.”
Your face remains unmoving; though, your heart pulls at the phrase, forever Pavlov-ed like a fool remembering what love was once like.
He continues, “Facebook Mom meets her Facebook Dad.”
His teasing makes up for the lost time — for the gap he left in your life. For a moment, this was enough … the promise he fulfilled as being your friend, or at least his attempt to. Wit caught in your throat, his phone pings and he offers an apologetic smile before reaching for it.
“Crap, I’m late.”
You wanted to ask for what, but hope he’d tell you himself. He doesn’t, instead, says to you:
“Let’s catch up over text or something, okay? Tell me all about Facebook Dad.” He flashes another smile — not the usual kind you’re used to, but you let the image linger in your mind, locking this memory up until the next time you’re afforded to see him.
“I’ll text you.” You smile and wave.
Finally, he gives you a real smile, the one you longed for these last couple of months.
“See ya, Pix.”
Lasagna soup was a hit. Having about three servings, you didn’t refuse Mingyu’s offer to pack you the leftovers for when you leave. On his couch, he tells you about his work drama … something about finances and numbers, you’re not sure. He senses your confusion and diverts to another story worthy of your attention as he muses about executive management.
“So your boss’ boss slept with his secretary?” You ask, setting down your wine glass and leaning back on his couch.
“Yup.” He places his arm over your shoulder. “The kicker? His wife was his prior secretary.”
You let out a scandalized gasp and he grins.
Easing further into the couch, he questions, “How about you? Any recent crazy wedding stories?”
You’ve already mentioned your dryspell at work, so neither something recent nor crazy occurred at a booking. You understand if he asks for formalities … but how hard was it to remember?
“Does saving a man from an allergic reaction count?” You tease.
Now, it’s his turn to gasp as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s heard all evening.
“Was he at least good looking? Worth the saving?”
“Mmm, he’s alright.”
Another gasp leaves his lips before he tickles your sides, “Take that back.”
You giggle and squirm away, “Okay—okay, ‘m sorry!”
He laughs along with you, tugging your body onto his lap. Your heart stirs in your chest at the proximity. Skinship is still a new thing for you regardless of the number of experiences you’ve had prior. Mingyu’s strong arm wraps around your midsection. You quiet down as he presses his chin on your shoulder, breathing into your hair.
“Speaking of which,” he mumbles into the tiny space between you. “Who was the person we bumped into earlier?”
You pause at the mention of Jungkook.
“Ah, just a friend.”
He narrows his eyes. “Friend, as in …?”
Your brows pinch, confused, though Mingyu reads your silence easily.
“I only ask because I’ve never heard about him. You only really talk about Taehyung.”
You don’t feel the need to explain your friendship status or tier levels. But you suppose it comes off odd you haven’t openly talked about a friend to your romantic interest. Friendships are normal; yet, Jungkook was a secret you’d like to keep locked up just for yourself.
“I met him through work.” You keep the response vague. “Why?”
“I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before.” He ponders.
“He has a familiar looking face.” You lie. No one looks like him. You find glimpses of him in others, but no one would ever compare.
“Hm, on the contrary, no.” Mingyu disagrees. “I just can’t put a pin on where I’ve seen him …”
The hairs on your neck raise as you buy time through another topic, hoping to lead his train of thoughts astray from Jungkook.
“He was with me on the weekend of your cousin’s wedding. Yeah. Anyway,” Ready to redirect the conversation, “Thanks again for dinner tonight. I can cook for us next time at my place.”
His eyes soften at your remark, thoughts of your friend long forgotten now that the main focus was on you and him. “Anytime. Glad you enjoyed. I love cooking for you.”
His hold on you tightens, one of his arms reaches up your front, large hand cupping your cheek before he turns you to the side. The angle is a little difficult, but you can’t refuse a kiss from Kim Mingyu.
It’s a gentle peck at first, heated second, before his hands are all over you.
“Can I touch you?” He breathes into the shell of your ear.
Funny how he already was with one hand on your hips as the other trails dangerously close to your center. You whisper a breathy yes, and Mingyu makes his descent down your skirt.
Your legs widen for an easier access, exhaling at the first contact of his fingers on your covered cunt.
His hands are a bit clumsy at first, unable to see your expressions from behind. He knows he’s on the right path when you let out a pretty sigh.
After multiple dates, both quiet and loud confessions of his adoration for you, you think you might be ready for the next step in this relationship. Your first time should be with someone you cared for and trusted. The belief gets thrown out the window as he lays you down on his bed, doubtful you’ll ever reach that point with anyone. What you’re certain is:
You cared for your body.
You trusted your body.
Intimacy doesn’t have to be perfect.
The mantra you replay in your head as Mingyu pulls out a condom from his nightstand. He opens it between his teeth and rolls it over his length. Relieved, you wait for the sweet scent to arrive — preferably strawberries, but only the rubbery latex fills your senses as he sinks his cock into you. Foreplay ended at the couch and now he fills you, coaxing you through your heavy breaths. Your body’s uncertain if it trusts you with your decision. You squeeze around him, unable to fully relax from the intrusion.
He waits for your okay to move and while you could’ve told him to never move, you nod, thinking the pain will subside. His thrusts are controlled and slow in the beginning, kissing you when you let out breathier moans. Everything burned longer than you liked, but there were about twenty-three seconds of pleasure until you revert to a state of indifference and wonder of when this will all be over.
He mistakes your tear-stained face as sweat, too busy burying his face into the crook of your neck as his hips piston into yours. Your uneven sounds timed with the punch of his thrusts clouded his judgment as pleasure.
As someone who always believed in trying something three times, you can’t expect your first time to be completely enjoyable. Eyes locked at the moving ceiling—well, no, your body was moving in tandem to Mingyu’s powerful thrusts, you chant a new mantra: Be in the moment. Be in the moment. Be in–
You fall short from the burnt rubber stench permeating your nostrils, mind choosing to slip into other matters like how Gum and Bubba liked their new tanks. Have you received any new booking inquiries? Wow, Mingyu’s chest gets really sweaty. You don’t recall Jungkook ever sweating like this.
Jungkook.
The dull ache returns — different from the ache between your legs.
You know you’re bound to share about your first sexual experience to your friends. Taehyung will be the first to hear, has to be. Plus, he’s been a huge Team Mingyu advocate since Jungkook’s blunder.
Friends. Jungkook is your friend; though, you can’t imagine sharing about this experience with him. Would he want to know? Or is this another secret you’ll have to keep to yourself? Not like he’s never kept things from you.
“Fuck, I’m c-close. You there, doll?” Mingyu grunts into your ear.
Close to cumming? You’re not sure. There, mentally? Also not sure.
But you whine and nod, hoping your body could reach to that desired high if you verbalized it.
The high never arrives … well, for you at least.
Mingyu finishes shortly in the condom, quickly pulling out of you as he rolls onto his back. He cards through his hair before turning to you with a sweet smile.
“That was nice.” He kisses your shoulder. “Be right back.”
You watch as he goes to his bathroom, squinting as the fluorescent light blinds you momentarily before he shuts the door closed. You lay there for a couple minutes, comforter covering your bare chest, wondering if you should locate your clothing on the floor.
Sitting up, your face scrunches in discomfort as the stinging pain in your middle travels to your lower abdomen. Before you could attempt to grab your underwear, the bathroom door opens again.
“Your turn. Should go pee.” Mingyu suggests, pulling up his boxer briefs before climbing into bed again.
You’re not sure why, but you comply and wobble into the bathroom after pulling over his discarded dress shirt. You pee as requested, stream coming out not like you’re used to. The burn greets you during the wipe, and you’re too afraid to look at the aftermath below you. Reaching behind, you flush away your worries.
You look in the mirror as you wash your hands. The world around you looks the same — you didn’t acquire new senses or appear any different. Certainly, an angel didn’t gain a new set of wings from your act. Nothing different, just new revelations … discoverings, like the new hickeys on your neck and chest. When did those even happen?
You should head home — you want to go home and be around something familiar.
When you emerge into Mingyu’s bedroom again, he’s scrolling through his phone, smiling as you near his bed, but the curves drop when you start looking for your clothes.
“Did you wanna spend the night?” He asks.
You quickly make up an excuse about a client reaching out for some clips you forgot to send over. Refusing his offer to have Mr. Lee take you home, you order a cab as you put on your clothes. Your shift worries him — confuses him even more when you don't want to wait for him to pack the leftover soup. You feel guilty enough to offer him a quick peck on the lips, telling him you had fun tonight and you’ll text when you arrive home safely.
The travel home was a blur until the locks of your door clicks behind you. You barely make it halfway through the threshold before you lean against the door for some support.
The back of your lids burn as you press both of your palms to your eyesockets.
Hot tears.
Feeling more foolish for these unknown emotions, you let out a quiet sob. Sex was magical, right? So, why do you feel empty? Void of the magic people speak so highly of?
Sniffling, you fish your phone from your purse, fingers automatically clicking into a contact without a second thought.
Before you could press on the call button, a message notification comes in.
Mingyu [7:11 p.m.]: Hope you arrived home safely. Tonight was fun.
Mingyu [7:12 p.m.]: Btw … I think you started your period. Don’t worry! Stain’s easy to get out 😀
Heat travels to the back of your neck before you quickly start the call. After the second ring, a laugh blares through your phone speakers and it quells the shakiness in your heart. “Hey! What’s up, kiddo?”
You bite down the tremor of your lower lip. “Hey, I’m sorry to bug you, I know you’re out of town and all—”
The background noises cease within two seconds. “Yo, is everything okay? Why do you sound like that?”
You breathe, sniffling and wiping away at your runny nose.
“I don’t know.” You answer honestly, voice breaking. “I just came back from Mingyu’s.”
“What? Did you guys fight or something? Talk to me.” He says, gentle and stern.
You shake your head despite knowing Taehyung couldn’t see your action. A fight is something you could put into words at least … not this feeling.
“We had sex.” Knowing your friend, he’d assume the worst if you were crying. You quickly follow up with, “It was fine. I j-just—I don’t know, I don’t feel fine.”
Taehyung’s quiet on the other end, waiting for you to continue.
“I just feel disappointed.”
“At what?”
The question should be rephrased to ‘who?’ Betrayal sets in, wondering why you chalked up sex to be this grand thing only to feel let down. A part of you grieves the unknown—grieves the hope of something magical. Now, you’re just left with the reality and truth: sex wasn’t all that.
You dodge his question by asking another one. “Sex is supposed to feel good, right?” You palm your cheeks.
“Mm, for girls? Uh, I guess not all the time.” Taehyung answers.
That means it should get better by the third try right? You just need to persevere, figure out what feels good–
“You don’t have to continue having sex to figure out if it’s not something you like, kiddo.” Taehyung cuts off your train of thought as though it could be heard through the line, redirecting it entirely. “I hope you know that.”
“But—”
“Hey,” he interrupts. “Tell you what, go on and take a hot shower, okay? I’m coming home tomorrow evening and we can spend some time with each other—catch up.”
You mumble a quick okay and apologize again for calling while he’s on a retreat. He dismisses your apology and tells you he loves you.
Taehyung’s right. Feeling more refreshed after your thirty-minute shower, you grab your phone to reply to Mingyu only to notice some text messages from your best friend.
Taehyung [8:11 p.m.]: Something’s waiting for you outside your door
Taehyung [8:11 p.m.]: App said it’s delivered so HURRY
Ominous, but you crack an opening and peer outside your apartment. A little brown bag with your name sits nicely on your welcome mat.
The bag crinkles in your attempt to pry the seal apart, finding two pints of your favorite flavors of ice cream. Your eyes water again for different reasons — better reasons.
You [8:15 p.m.]: You shouldn’t have 🥺
Taehyung [8:16 p.m.]: Enjoy, kiddo 😁 I’ll see you tmr
Feet tucked underneath you on your couch, you’re about two spoons deep into the ice cream as you click into your inbox. Luckily, two inquiries came in. A part of you relaxes at the fact of not fully lying to Mingyu about your need to work. The two inquiries were responded to and confirmed within fifteen minutes.
You pay extra attention to Gum and Bubba this evening. Noticing the lack of live plants in their tanks, you seek out your Facebook groups before eventually heading to the local pet store. Clicking on the shortcut in your browser, the first thing you see on your timeline is an announcement from your cohort’s group page:
CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR 9TH ANNUAL SHUTTER AWARDS WINNER: JEON JUNGKOOK
You check the timestamp of the post — made over an hour ago. You gasp, marveling at the submitted images, both ones he took with your assistance and ones you’ve never seen. Were they from his older portfolios or taken in the time you weren’t speaking?
Either way, he did it. He really entered.
… And he didn’t tell you.
You swallow down the icky thoughts of betrayal threatening to invade your mind. Maybe the thought slipped past his head, especially when the submission deadline fell around the time he wasn’t on speaking terms with you. You had a bad habit of forgetting to update him about your life, too. Still, he could’ve said something to you, even at the grocery store today.
Okay, this shouldn’t be about you. You’re happy for him. You hope your text messages congratulating him highlighted your joy and excitement. Minutes go by and there’s no response. Usually it wouldn’t bother you, but didn’t he say he wanted to catch up?
An idea pops in your head and you can’t be stopped. You don’t bother changing out of your grey sweats, opting to pull a thin cardigan to at least look somewhat presentable. You drive to the nearest late-night grocery store, settling for a decent last-call bouquet sale. As you line up for the cashier, a box catches your attention: persimmons.
Jungkook’s sentiment rings in your ears — he wouldn’t be able to finish them on his own.
You don’t think you’d be able to help him either.
About half an hour later, you’re in the lobby of Jungkook’s apartment complex with a bouquet of flowers in hand. The guest entry code changes every month, so there wasn’t a way for you to hand deliver the flowers to him, let alone drop off at his door. The front desk tried reaching him multiple times, but to no avail.
“You guys run a strict program around here, huh?” You muse at the older receptionist while writing a short note on the tiny piece of paper he graciously provided.
He chuckles, strikes up a conversation with you about how rules keep changing every year and he’s too old to keep up.
You’re just about to hand over the bouquet until you hear a familiar laugh in the distance.
Eyes squinting, you spot Jungkook in his workout gear, bangs stringy from sweat. He’s with another person — a woman. Feeling shy and awkward all of the sudden, you attempt to tell the receptionist you’ll be on your way now.
“Oh, Mr. Jeon!” The older man waves, voice booming in the spacious lobby.
Crap.
You grimace.
Jungkook and the woman peer over, steps now turned in the direction of where the front desk is — of where you are.
“Lucky we caught him.” The man murmurs to you, smiling as Jungkook and the woman nears. “You can personally give him the flowers now.”
You grab the flowers before Jungkook could notice them, hiding the bundle behind your back.
“Mr. Jeon, this guest is here to see you.”
Jungkook looks back and forth between you and the receptionist, brows twitching in confusion. His perplexity settles, finally accepting you’re in his building of all places.
He smiles at you; although, it doesn’t fully form before hesitation takes over his features once again. “Pix? Whatcha doing here?”
You catch a brief glimpse of the woman behind him. Older, but gorgeous. Were they a family member?
“Ah, uh, I wanted to congratulate you.” You say, feeling slightly underdressed in your oversized lounge clothes in comparison to their fancy workout clothing.
“Congratulate me?” Jungkook tilts his head. His eyes narrow, bemused but recovering quickly as he turns to the woman. “Sorry, Yoona. You can go ahead.”
Yoona gives him a neutral smile — hinting her gratitude in being dismissed. She turns on her heels and heads back to the elevators.
Something familiar brews inside of you: betrayal sits nicely on your chest, just in a different font.
“You got first place in the photography competition.”
His eyes light up and for a second, you’re transported back in your apartment again at a time when it was just you and him exploring the world of film and editing. For a moment, you wished things stayed like that; yet, you would never trade the feelings you’ve experienced with Jungkook.
“Wait, no fucking way.” His smile grows.
You mirror his smile. “Mhm, announced it a little over two hours ago.”
“Holy shit.” Hands on his hips, he tips his head down, concealing his happiness and excitement. “Fuck, I can’t believe I placed first.”
“I can.” You reply. “Knew you could do it.”
He rubs his hands over his face, still in disbelief at the win. He pauses, as if only just now realizing where you’re both at.
“And you came all the way here to congratulate me, Pix?”
“Well,” You look around awkwardly. “Y-you didn’t answer my text message and I wanted to–”
His hand pats the side of his pants at the mention of your text.
“Shoot, no wonder. My phone died while I was at the gym.” He slides the device back into his pocket.
“You can workout to no music?” You question with a small smile.
“Yeah, well, no.” He clears his throat. “Yoona hooked up her music to the gym stereo.”
Yoona. Well, it doesn’t seem like they’re a relative just by this conversation alone. You’d like to change the topic, unready to open this can of worms.
Jungkook senses the shift and continues, “Anyway, thanks, Pix. I really appreciate it. What a way to end the day.”
You rock on your heels knowing full well the bouquet behind you is far from concealed. Not a bit discreet. The petals poke out from your sides, creating a small border around your frame. Fitting for fairies frolicking in the meadows, if you were one.
You bring the bundle to your front. “Got these for you. Small gift for your big win.”
You win in the exact moment Jungkook’s eyes light up, joy spreading through his features as his hands engulf yours in the exchange. You lose when you realize you never knew how much you’ve missed this touch—his touch.
“This is so thoughtful, really.” He holds the flowers with one hand. Ever so subtly, his other hand twitches at his side, unsure if he’s allowed to pull you in for a hug. “Would you like to come upstairs and catch up? I just need to shower real—”
“No, no.” You shake your head with an awkward chuckle. “Social battery’s a little drained. I’m ready for bed.” You look down at your outfit and pull at your sweats.
“That’s right, soup date with Facebook Dad.” He muses, eyes lingering on your face.
While you’re thankful for Jungkook’s ability to remember details in your life, in that exact moment, you felt exposed. Does Jungkook know? Can he sense something different since the grocery store? You must have some sort of invisible sign on your forehead saying ‘I just had sex,’ right?
Betrayal’s over-welcomed stay gets knocked down a few notches as shame crawls up your spine. You resist the urge to cover your face — as if that’ll appear less shady.
Scientifically and logically impossible to tell; yet, Jungkook’s stare remains, studying and absorbing your every feature. There’s a small tick you’ve realized when he does this — like he’s trying to memorize you, unsure of when’s the next time he’d see you like this again.
He clears his throat a beat later. “Well, I don’t want to keep you too long. Thanks again for this, Pix.”
He offers to walk you to your car, but you’re already backing away, waving and congratulating him one more time this evening to drive home your pride in his win. At the same time, you take your time to memorize him too: eyes softening and lip piercing flipping prettily with his smile.
You’ve won and you’ve lost.
Mingyu and you share a mutual love for evening strolls after dinner.
Even with the warmer weather, he holds your hand as you both make your rounds in his gated complex’s park. It’s safe and clean cut — very similar to Mingyu.
Somewhere between the walk, you unlatch your hand in favor of responding to Jungkook’s invite to his celebratory party at the club next week.
“Would you like to come with me?” You ask Mingyu, phone stuffed into your jean pocket as you grab hold of his hand again.
He hums. “Don’t know, I’m a bit too old for the club scene.”
You want to argue that no one’s too old to be at the club. Plus, it’s not like you’d be participating in any heavy drinking activities. Nothing’s worth busting your knees over on the dance floor either, unless they summon you via “No Hands” by Waka Flocka. Say goodbye to your lower half. Anyway, you’re there to celebrate a friend’s accomplishment.
“It’s that Jungkook friend of yours, right?” Mingyu inquires.
You answer with a nod.
Mingyu hums again and looks straight forward, hand tightening around yours. The moisture gathers as you both continue your hold on each other, unwilling to be the first to let go.
“I did some digging on him. Did you know he does porn?”
Bile gathers at the back of your throat.
“Yes.” You answer, honest and straightforward. There was no dodging of this topic at this point. Jungkook was not ashamed of his profession, and you would never put down your friend’s choices.
“Isn’t that weird?” He shrugs.
“That he does porn?” You question, suddenly feeling defensive at the underlying implication you were weird for accepting Jungkook’s lifestyle. Another thought plays in your head: why the hell was he playing investigator on your friends?
“Well, yeah.”
You let go of Mingyu’s hand, excusing the act as a way to air out your sweaty palm. “Not any weirder than watching porn.”
“That’s different.” He argues.
You retract your head, “How? There wouldn’t be adult films without their viewers.” Simple theory in economics: supply and demand.
He sighs. “This isn’t something worth debating over …”
“You’re talking about my friend.” You purse your lips.
“I’m not trying to control you or anything,” He starts. Your skin pricks at the words. “I just don’t know if that’s the kind of person you want in your life.”
You frown. “You don’t have to come to the party with me if you don’t want to, Mingyu.”
He stops in his tracks at the same time your steps cease. “I wasn’t planning to. What I’m saying is, I don’t fancy the idea of you being friends with someone like that.”
Clean cut and straight to the point, just like his pursuit to get to know you. He knew what he wanted, and what he wants right now is for you to ween away from this particular friendship. So much for someone not wanting to be in control of you.
Silence drags as you continue your walk, eventually cutting it short under the guise of pesky mosquitos. They were never enough of a derailer in your past evening walks; though, you’ve never been happier to leave behind a conversation.
Two hours and you’ll leave.
It’s what you tell yourself the day of Jungkook’s event and what replays in your head as you get ready. After you’ve officially ended things with Mingyu two days ago, going out and having fun was the last thing you wanted to do.
Much like how Mingyu was, the split was clean cut and straight to the point — he didn’t want you going to Jungkook’s celebration party, and gave you the ultimatum of ending your guys’ relationship or the friendship with a pornstar. Ridiculous to think those were your choices when your final decision will always center around your autonomy.
Still, the breakup hurts.
You’re an hour into your socializing quota. Neither having a good or bad time because Jungkook’s too busy greeting others and making his rounds. It’s okay, you’ll catch him at the end of the party when you leave. Luckily, you had great company by your side.
Yoongi sits next to you, complaining about the strobing lights and the shitty playlist. He could’ve easily left you to fend for yourself, but he stayed. He keeps a watchful eye on his husband, laughing through his nose when Hoseok’s booming laughter rang louder than the club’s music.
“You know, I still watch our wedding video till this day.” Yoongi smiles, eyes still trained on Hoseok. “Best day of my life. Can’t believe the easter egg you added at the end.”
You smile fondly at the memory, nodding over to where Hoseok shows off his dance moves. “He was the true mastermind.”
He nods, a tender smile plastered on his lovesick face. Honeymoon’s long over, but there was no expiration for his adoration. “The pictures were a great touch too. Glad Kook had a hand in that.”
Similarly, you match Yoongi’s smile at the mention of Jungkook. Even through the flashing lights and shady hues of the nightclub, you’d always spot him. He stands out way too easily in the crowd with his dark attire, fingers and neck decked out in jewelry. He’s outside with a couple of friends, chatting and laughing. You notice the cigarettes in between their fingers, smoke exiting their nostrils or lips. Can’t exactly tell if Jungkook pinches a burning cigarette in between his fingers too with his arms crossed.
Jungkook spots you and Yoongi from outside, waving briefly. The glimmer from his rings match the single silver cuban links around his neck — still, nothing shone brighter than his smile.
“I’m proud of that kid.” Yoongi says, eyes following where you’re looking at. “Took him long enough.”
Huh? What does that mean? Is he referring to Jungkook finally entering a competition?
“He signed up for some photography courses. Hopefully he sticks through the prereqs.” Yoongi brings his glass to his lips.
You should feel happy for Jungkook, elated he’s finally pursuing his passion. Your joy could only extend for so long after losing. You lost Jungkook, lost Mingyu, and now you’re losing Jungkook again. You can’t help but feel left behind as you stare at him doubled over at a particularly funny thing one of his friends said.
“That’s great to hear.” You put forward your best smile and the corner of your eyes fight to mimic the emotions you outwardly speak of. You hope you’re convincing enough, but the retired actor has years beyond your experiences of faking it.
Out of respect, Yoongi doesn’t press on. Wouldn’t be allowed to anyway as you excuse yourself to get another drink.
“Another midori sour, please?” You wave down the bartender.
The bartender smiles and makes you a new drink. “I’m glad the special item has a fan.”
Your brows furrow at the statement.
“Host requested to add this on the menu today. Honestly a relic.” She pushes the cup towards you in exchange for your card.
You chug the green drink, glass only filled with ice now and the preserved cherry you’ll save for later. Not even the midori sour’s usual sugary goodness could cancel out the bitter aftertaste in your mouth. Checking your phone, you have about thirty-eight minutes left till you can call it a night. Soon. You’ll be back in your bed. Soon, you’ll—
“Pixie.”
Spoke too soon.
You smell him before you see him. The citrus scent paired with a hint of cigarette wafts in your direction as he sits on the barstool next to you, deja vu greeting you when he orders a highball and adds another midori sour on his tab.
“Sorry, haven’t had the chance to properly greet you.” One of his arms extends out behind you, tugging you in for a quick side hug. “Thanks for coming. Means a lot to me.”
Your senses get overwhelmed by his scent and heat.
Once pulled away and back on his seat, you drink in his figure donned in a black leather jacket and a pair of baggy jeans. You’d argue his silver chains shined brighter under these flashing lights, but who were you kidding? Those darn playful irises always come in first place.
He smiles at you, a slim white stick poking out from the corner of his mouth to which you later realize was a tiny sucker on its last legs.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” You smile as the drinks arrive in front of you both. He watches you take the first sip, tongue swirling around his lollipop to finish whatever last bits were on the stick.
Feeling hot under his gaze, you push your drink towards him. “Wanna try?”
He nods, fingers grasping the rim perfectly. Turning the glass, his mouth slots over the same spot with the lipstick stain. Out of all the free spaces, he still chose to claim your specific landmark.
“Sweet.” He chuckles. “Makes sense why it’s your go-to.”
You nod, taking the glass back, greedy to place your lips over the edges of where his lips once visited.
He stares at you, letting his eyes take their time as they trace your face, down to your exposed legs. Weather’s warmer, but even in your black halter top and short denim skirt, you burn and melt under his gaze.
“Where’s Facebook Dad?” His dropped lids keep a careful watch on you as he tips his own glass to his mouth, the white lolli-stick tucked between his fingers.
“Not sure.” Not here, apparently. Jungkook simply nods, taking the hint of your lack of words.
“I think I should head out, though.” You begin, phone placed in your backpocket as you stand from your stool.
He gives you the same stare on the night of the milestone party. This time, he’s more bold in his request.
“We barely hung out tonight. Stay a little longer for me.” He says. “Please?”
You’ve stayed plenty, but this was his special night. You can brave through a little discomfort for your friend. About three drinks in, Jungkook leads you onto the dance floor despite your initial protests. New lollipop in his mouth, he ignores your complaints and brings you into the middle where the fun’s usually at.
Though stiff at first, your body loosens up eventually, feeling the effects of the alcohol seep into your bloodstream. A warm flush builds in your stomach, undetermined whether it’s the alcohol talking or when Jungkook’s entire demeanor matches yours the moment “No Hands” begins playing.
“Aren’t you hot in that jacket?” You ask, eyes trailing down his covered torso. He has a grey top underneath his leather jacket, dark patches on his shirt growing as the night progresses.
“Pairs well with the outfit.” He banters. “Plus, air conditioning exists.”
You scowl and Jungkook laughs, turning you away from him. Good move on his end. Avoids a childish debate and he gets to dance with you.
The cigarette scent on his clothes intensifies as his front presses against your back. You’re not a smoker, but you wouldn’t mind smelling like one — like him. At least this is one thing you can bring home with you tonight.
You sway to the music, the hands on your hips keep your ass and his groin moving at a sensible distance and pressure. Completely normal between two friends. Yup. Should feel normal, should be alright. So normal how his breath fans over the shell of your ear, how his inhale stutters, an exhaled low chuckle the moment you reach behind his nape, keeping him close and secure.
You dance together like this for a few songs, unready to part for the night. Growing restless at the lack of his visual, you turn around and loop your arms over his neck. His eyes soften from the action, an endeared smile spreads at your hesitance to meet his eyes in the moment. Too soon — need some warming up.
“Didn’t know you had a sweet tooth.” You hum, focused on the white stick on the side of his mouth.
“I don’t.” He shakes his head. “Been tryna quit smoking.”
“You never mentioned you smoked.”
His thumb rubs your exposed skin on your hips. Not something any of your friends do, but you allow it for Jungkook. Your eyes stay on his lips as a deep laugh rumbles through his chest and he pushes the sucker against his cheek. “Did you want to try it?”
He pulls out the sucker and tips it to your lips. What he doesn’t show you are the three other unopened lollies in his pocket. He could’ve offered you one of those, but he’s selfish, wanting to claim what’s already his and only offering you what one would consider damaged goods.
You think they’re just goods.
No words are exchanged as you wrap your lips around the candy, tongue swirling around it slowly as you take it in. Whether it’s the alcohol buzzing through your system or the constant magnetic pull Jungkook has on your entire being, your gaze lifts to his eyes and how they’ve hyperfocused on your lips. His Adam’s apple bobs, pushing the sucker deeper so every part of your tongue’s coated in the sugary goodness.
Should’ve known how territorial he is. Claiming your glass rim and now wanting back the sucker lodged in your mouth. Soon enough, he tugs the lollipop out and pops it straight back to his mouth.
“You’ve been keeping things from me.” You say, teasing with a hint of bitterness despite the sugar sticking on your tongue. “Yoongi tells me you started photography courses.”
The photography classes, competition, smoking … the laundry list of things Jungkook failed to keep you posted about only further shuts you out of his life.
What other things don’t you know about Jeon Jungkook?
He breathes out a laugh, finally taking the wrapper in his pocket to place the unfinished lollipop in it to save for later. A little late to remind himself of the hazards of dancing with something in his mouth. “Yeah, well, I wanted to tell you when we caught up. Not easy being the only thirty-something year old in class too.”
“It’s a scary transition, but I’m proud of you.” You always have been, which is why you didn’t have a second thought in ending things with Mingyu.
“Thanks, Pix.” Smiles so prettily and sweet, you wonder if Jungkook’s mouth is all sugary like yours right now.
You try your best to shut down these thoughts. Hard when he tips his forehead against yours, sweaty bangs also on you. He stays like this as you both dance to the music, never pushing for more. You gave him flowers as a congratulatory gift … was he willing to accept something else from you?
In your drunken stupor, your true thoughts come to light: you missed Jeon Jungkook. And perhaps because of this reason — because of the liquid courage, you move in. Nose slotted snugly against his, you’re so close. So close to home and what you’ve wanted to come back to all these months.
He says your name, pained and strained. Close, so close … so—
The journey back home never arrives. Jungkook removes the pathway along with the hope and dreams of respite, pulling away at the last second.
He told you the space he needed wasn’t a form of punishment, so when is it going to stop feeling like one? Crushed, by the sweetest lips you’ll never kiss again — you can’t kiss again — and the warmest touch you’ll always miss.
“I’ll go get us some water. Wait for me, ‘kay?” He detaches from your body.
And when he returns with two slightly bent cone-shaped water cups, you’re nowhere to be found.
a/n: beta’d by @lovieku & @takeitawaykenny ty as always to my #1 supporters, brainstormers, and hype crew. they get me and this story like no other. aside from their big brained feedback, i should rly show yall the funny cmmts they be dropping LOL i love em
heh anyway, lmk your thoughts! … a roller coaster of a part, huh? homestretch, my beloveds!! next and final (🥺 WAHH!) update will be in june at latest. lots of life stuff happened and i’m doing my best over here. nice thing is, writing is one of the many things keeping me afloat. seeing all the positive feedback during these wild times makes this lil thing called life more tangible. ty all ♡
synopsis: your skills as a videographer gets put to the test when your friend, who happens to be in the same profession, falls victim to double-booking. problem is, you only specialized in weddings, not adult films. despite your initial reluctance, you take the job. cue the lights … you meet jeon jungkook, a pornstar, on set — in his world. you just never expected him to play a part in yours.
pairing: pornstar!jungkook x wedding videographer!fem reader
wc: 16.9k
genre: s2l, pornstar au, smut, angst, fluff
cw: slice of life, inaccurate adult films industry discourse/depiction, emotionally confused chars, angsty n cute moments, down bad jk, big bro hobi, mainly jk pov, smoking, alcohol consumption, 18+ ONLY, messy kisses, sexual guilt/shame, virgin oc, slight voyeurism, multiple sex scenes, filming, jk jerks it, oral (f receiving)
a/n: one thing about me is that i’m a liar. muah enjoy!
masterlist | prologue | act i. | act iii.
Life motto: try something three times before calling quits. After three tries of your cycling class, you knew a lifetime of a sore coochie wasn’t tangible. Gave dating apps the same chances as well and the results were as expected: disappointing, borderline revolting. You’ve stuck with some things — sashimi, 10K daily steps, and coconut body moisturizer. Thing is, everything you’ve stuck with after the third try enriched your life. If you wanted to play technicalities, you’ve only kissed Jungkook twice. You don’t know if you could ever kiss him the third time for you could only extend the trial or never kiss again.
As much as the experience enriched a part of your life … you’re ruined. Have not stopped thinking about Jungkook since that night — how his lips felt against yours: soft for the entire four second duration and fleeting towards the end when they inevitably pulled away.
Pleasure, feelings, and work can be separate.
Right. Only for Jungkook.
Wasn’t your full intent to avoid him for the past week. Work got busy and you’ve been dealing with Mina for the last twenty-four hours, asking if you were available for a last minute project at RkivedShots. You’ve sworn to give something three tries before quitting, and while you’ve only filmed once with RkivedShots, you don’t know if you had it in you to do it again. Had Mina been a little less nice and more curt with you, declining would’ve happened quicker and easier.
Asking Jungkook for his opinion would’ve been ideal, but again, you haven’t spoken to him in a couple days. Taehyung wouldn’t be able to give you an answer, defaulting the choice back to you.
You wanted someone to tell you it wasn’t a mistake to accept the project. Wasn’t a mistake as you drive to RkivedShots’ headquarters and not some random warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Because if it were a mistake, you’d have no one to blame but yourself.
“I promise it’ll be a quick shoot! Namjoon’s trying something new and he thought you’d be the perfect addition to the project.” Mina reasoned.
She greets you again at the entrance of their company building and briefs you on the assignment.
“He wanted to title it ‘vanilla’ … with a vanilla ice cream emoji next to it.”
Your mind wanders to the endless possibilities. Were the actors going to be drenched in vanilla ice cream? Worse … what if it had nothing to do with ice cream? The set up makes you question the theme even more: just a queen-sized mattress with soft yellow-hued lighting. A regular bedroom. If it’s one thing you’re sure of, the term ‘regular’ and RkivedShots do not go together.
“Our actors are still getting ready, so we’ll call you when we’re ready to shoot. Enjoy the snacks I prepared in your break area.” Mina smiles and points to a discreet location with your name printed on a piece of white paper.
You’re a little less nervous this time around after learning the project only involved a couple. Nothing better than starting off with one extreme such as an orgy to another production just between two actors. RkivedShots has prepared you well. Also prepared you for the excitement of the many amenities you’ve yet to explore. You wonder what kinds of snacks they’ve set out this time. Hands parting the divider between the set and your break area, you startle from a familiar voice.
“Pixie?”
It can’t be. Not again.
Of course, none other than Jeon Jungkook in the flesh. Or … well, in a robe. Dangerously opened, might you add.
You stand there, deer in headlights, before Jungkook laughs and wraps his hand around your wrist. He tugs you into your break area, barely catching the words coming out his mouth over the loud pounding in your ears.
“What’s your game, Pix?” He simpers, eyes matching the glimmer of his lip piercings.
“Game?” You ask in a stupor, having just processed you’ve bumped into Jungkook at another RkivedShots production set yet again. Seems like your whole relationship’s built on surprises and random meetings.
“Avoid me for a week only to surprise me at work?” He teases.
“I’m not avoiding … Been busy, that’s all.” Half-truth. “Wasn’t aware you were gonna be here.”
“Could’ve known if we’ve been talking.” He shrugs, no malice behind his words. “But I get it. Life happens.”
Jungkook happened too. He rooted himself in a part of your life you’re not sure how to navigate around. He’s left you with no oars, and no certainty over what your next words should be.
“Sorry …”
“You’ll get wrinkles like that.” He taps your forehead. “‘S fine, no biggie.”
His words don’t exactly match his smile — meant to reassure you, but only leaves you wondering whether he really is alright. Perhaps things were easier when Jungkook only reached out to you regarding film.
Jungkook sits on the arm rest of one of the couches in your break area and you take a seat on a small stool on the opposite side, untrusting of yourself if you were any closer to him. His exposed thighs peep through the slit and if it opened a little more … alright, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. But it still makes you swallow thickly, eyes wandering around the secluded space.
“Thought you said you weren’t signing with RkivedShots. Change of heart?” He tilts his head.
“More like Mina. Have you ever tried saying no to that girl?” You huff. Jungkook takes the chance to make it known you and him were within the same vicinity with his full laugh.
“Five years of working with her and I still find myself questioning why she isn’t in negotiations.”
“Right?” You chuckle. “Just another one-off job though.”
“Sure, that’s what they all say.” Jungkook winks. Was that what Jungkook believed after his first job? Speaking of jobs, you realize you’re both on the same set, which could only mean …
“Are you also a part of this production?” Dumb question, but Jungkook’s kind enough to grant you a simple answer.
“I am.” He confirms.
“Oh.” Your lips press into a thin line. “I-Is … would that be weird for you?”
“Would that be weird for you?” He parrots with his arms crossed, and your eyes drop to his chest.
“A little? I mean, we didn’t know each other the first time on set.”
He stares and exhales through his nose. “We’ll be fine, P. Just gotta separate things, remember? A job’s a job.” He reminds.
You and Jungkook fall into regular conversation. He asks about your schedule for the upcoming month, then you ask what he’s planning to eat for dinner, to which he questions whether that was your way of asking him out for dinner. Wasn’t your intention at all, but food with Jungkook sounds nice. The potential plan gets shot down when he tells you he already has other plans tonight.
He looks at his watch and sighs. “I gotta head back to the makeup chair. Stella’s gonna throw a fit.”
You’re reminded in just a few moments, you’ll be filming your friend fucking another person. It doesn’t sit right with you, but like Jungkook said … a job is a job — you can separate your feelings.
You have to.
Following closely behind him, you fall into your usual habit of overthinking, questioning if you can actually do this. There’s no denying your crush on Jungkook, but you were not ready to make it known — not ready to complicate the situation or relationship you’ve barely started with him. After all, the secret crush you have on your friend will crush you; if not, seeing him fuck someone else will finish the job.
Deep into your thoughts, you hadn’t realized Jungkook stopped before you bump face first into his back.
He turns, “You gonna be okay, Pix?”
“Yeah.” You lie.
Jungkook reads you easily. He hesitates, but then his hand nudges yours, and his pinkie hooks onto yours. You don’t move away.
“It’s not an orgy at least.” Jungkook tries to joke.
Yeah, it’s not an orgy. No, far worse. It’s Jungkook with someone else. Will it always feel like this?
“I suppose.” You reply. Feeling guilty for the damper mood, you try to joke too. “As long as you aren’t doused in vanilla ice cream or something.”
“God, I hope not. Namjoon’s done too much in the food category.”
“Oh, I’m aware.” The words leave your lips before you could fully register their insinuation.
“Are you now?” His pinkie curls around yours tighter, unwilling to let go of the thought — of you. “What other videos have you seen from RkivedShots?”
You blink, heat rising to your cheeks. Flashes of his thick fingers wrapped around his manhood threaten to make you black out entirely. “Nothing else.” You stutter.
“Uh-huh, sure.” He unhooks his pinkie with a mischievous grin and takes a step back. “I’ll see you out there, ‘kay?”
“Okay.” You nod, heart hammering even after he’s long gone from your space.
Jungkook’s costar was absolutely stunning. Skin free from blemishes or scars, breasts lifted and perky, and god, does she have a pretty smile. They seem close … friendly. Makes sense to have good chemistry before any bed chemistry.
True to Mina’s words, the script fits exactly what the title of the production suggested … vanilla. Nothing crazy, which is the crazy part considering Namjoon is all about breaking barriers. He wanted a shock factor for his audience. What better way to do it than to do something conventional?
“Totally going to rock RkivedShots’ fans.” Namjoon chuckles, going over the script with you and all the different angles he’d like you to film in.
It’s a simple scene: a couple waking up the morning after their wedding and making sweet love.
From behind, the girl and Jungkook de-robe. You should be used to seeing Jungkook naked at this point. Third time’s the charm, but you don’t feel quite lucky at the moment knowing what’s about to happen. You know the freckles on his chest up to the one below his lips. They say your moles and freckles were a result of all the kisses you received from your lover in your former life. And now, you’ll watch as someone else kisses them.
This is work.
A small fraction of both yours and Jungkook’s day which has nothing to do with who you are off set.
Though, if this is purely work, why does your grip tighten around your camera as Jungkook winks and smiles in your direction?
He sways his head to the side, shrugs his shoulders, and climbs into bed with his co-actress. You fight the laughter bubbling in your chest at the cringy lines being regurgitated between the woman and Jungkook — not so funny when the blanket slips below their waists, revealing his cock buried deep in her cunt. His mouth hangs open, a red flush spreading across his chest.
It really is soft-core porn at its finest.
Namjoon’s scripts are good, but the actors make it better. The kisses, murmurs of love, compliance to requests of reaching further, deeper. It’s the closest thing to love when Jungkook has her in missionary, arms embracing her as his lips press against her forehead. So tender — the complete opposite of everything happening below the waist.
The fucking issue is when he dares to look up at the camera — at you. Hooded eyes, mouth pouty, and hips unfaltering.
You swallow. Startled, almost struggling to keep the camera still. It would definitely capture your every quiver if you weren’t a professional.
Something in Jungkook shifts. He cracks a smile, his strokes become more frantic, causing the woman below him to moan even louder. He pays no mind, his only attention is on you and how you’re now biting down your lip.
Your eyes jump between the display screen and the tangible scene unfolding beyond it, ultimately choosing to fixate on the screen. Not only in a wrestling attempt to ground yourself, you remind yourself you’re here to work — that this is your job. As an attempt to escape his sliced stare, you angle the shot moving slightly downward to focus on his middle rhythmically meeting the woman’s. Doesn’t make it entirely better, maybe not at all, but at least you’re not forced into a staring contest with the devil himself.
“Cut! Less looking at the camera, Jungkook.”
This goes on for another three takes until Namjoon calls for a powder touch-up.
The co-actress detaches from Jungkook and scurries off to her chair.
Jungkook barely passes you and you whisper, heated and flushed, “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
“Just working.” He picks up his water bottle and chugs down a good amount. All while still maintaining eye contact with your glossed gaze, like this is some sort of joke.
Thankfully, Jungkook lessens his antics. Probably more to do with everyone’s time and not at the expense of your feelings.
The final scene transitions to the woman falling to her knees and ripping off Jungkook’s condom. She kneels between his legs; consequently, so were you on the side. The camera faces her, filming every second of her fast handjob, mouth open for his inevitable orgasm.
She looks up at him, and begs for his cum before taking half his length in her mouth.
You unconsciously shift in your kneeled position, thighs tensing — the action so minimal, one could easily miss it. Not by Jungkook. Your mouth parts, and although small, your warm breath reaches Jungkook’s bare skin. Jungkook moans, left leg tensing and shaking at the first sign of his orgasm.
“Gonna cum.” He rasps, looking down. At you. “Fuck baby, ‘m gonna cum all over you.”
Oh, how you wish you were the one kneeling between his legs, taking his length in your mouth like his costar is now. You’re uncertain what you’d do, having never given anyone head in the past. He’d guide you, right? Tap the head of his cock on your lips before entering? Tell you how he likes getting sucked off? Praise you for a job well done and if not, you’d have all the chances in the world to make it up to him in different ways?
His costar pulls his cock out her mouth, pumping him faster as his cum lands across her face. She envelopes her lips around the tip, sucking till he’s empty. He runs a thumb across her face, gathering his cum. Eyes never leaving yours, he pulls his softened cock out of her mouth and replaces it with his thumb.
“You make me the happiest man.” Another cringe-worthy line, but it was the last line in the script. Namjoon cuts the scene and wraps up production.
Jungkook helps his costar up first, then holds a hand out for you — the same cum-covered fingers, momentarily in another woman’s mouth. Ignoring his hand, you push yourself up from the ground. He stands there, brows twitching in confusion with his hand still extended in the air.
You shake your head.
“So mean.” You mutter, shoulder brushing his arm as you walk past him.
The only good thing about RkivedShots were their snacks and you don’t hesitate to empty the spread before leaving. You also know this was the final time you film with RkivedShots or any adult film production company for that matter.
Jungkook doesn’t follow you — doesn’t come by to see you off for the day, but you see him. Are reminded of him for hours in your day through the clips you edit, keeping and reserving those intensified stares for yourself.
A small part of you hopes none of the day was an act. It wasn’t just a job and he felt something too.
Jungkook was convinced his desire to kiss you was innocent at best and foolish at worst. He was so foolish. He fucked up building an attachment to someone he knew should be kept at a distance, and now, distance was all you granted him.
You’re upset with him and he’s not too sure why. Sure, his teasing on set went a little beyond necessary … but you enjoyed it, right? He knew he did. Wanted to show you how good he was at separating pleasure, feelings, and work. What other better way to show it than through demonstration?
‘So mean.’ Not true. Mean is ignoring his well-intended text messages and check-ins. Mean is also leaving your read receipts turned off and he isn’t sure whether you’re alive or not. A quick search on your business website shows you actively posting your past bookings … so yeah, you fit the definitions of cruelty. Not answering his text messages. Not addressing the elephant in the room — the one he unfortunately led in.
Alright, maybe he’s to blame in all of this.
After a week of crickets, he can’t be bothered to keep trying. Communication was a two way street and his unanswered messages stopped all potential forms of interactions with you. Aside from that, Jungkook’s taken some time off from work. No, the time off wasn’t because of the whole situation with you. His profession gives him the financial flexibility to not work all the time and as a result he enjoys work even more after a period without it.
What does Jeon Jungkook do on vacation? Nothing, really. He’s traveled where he wanted to in his twenties, so vacations are meant to just live. He eats what he wants, goes to the gym, and catches up on movies he’s missed.
Also, fucks just ‘cause he wants to and not for a script.
Just like he’s doing right now with his neighbor, Yoona—a pretty, forty-seven year old divorcee living the floor above him. The sixteen year age gap should be off putting, but there’s something about the maturity and wisdom she brings in this no-strings attached relationship Jungkook would otherwise struggle to maintain with someone around his age. She can’t be bothered to start over, and Jungkook isn’t looking for anything serious. She wants a good fuck, he wants confidence.
“Fuck yes, use this pussy.” She takes him on all fours, bed creaking as Jungkook fucks himself into her. He could do anything with her. Today? He’s unkind and she’s content with it.
She just paid off her kid’s hefty university tuition ‘cause her ex-husband demanded her to do so while still milking the alimony dry. How do you go from promising ‘till death do you part’ to depleting your ex-spouse’s bank account as an act of revenge? An unfortunate, double-edged sword for her to make more money than him, but Jungkook wouldn’t have it any other way. Better she’s self-sustained than having to rely on a deadbeat man. Plus, Jungkook gets moments like these with her.
When Jungkook moved below her on the thirty-fourth floor, he hadn’t expected his neighbors to be this quiet. That is, until he heard screaming one day. Wishing he had a ladder and stethoscope to listen through the ceiling, he settled for the muffled conversation, eventually ruling as a classic case of cheating on the husband’s end. Some shit about Yoona not giving him enough attention and he wanted to feel like a man again. Boring and overused. After that night, Jungkook has not heard any form of human life upstairs. Maybe she forgave him. Maybe they moved out. Or—calling all crime junkies—maybe she murdered him.
Oh well, it’s none of his concern.
Though, one encounter at the apartment complex’s gym, add the multiple shared glances, Yoona was in his bed before midnight. She finds him when she needs to blow off steam, whether it be from her ex or her children — and he finds her … well, whenever he’s horny.
See. This is why Jungkook thinks marriage is a sham. He questioned the concept of holy matrimony when Hoseok told him he was thinking of proposing to Yoongi. Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce and then you’re left to deal with the aftermath. Nah, no thanks. But he’s glad marriage is working for his friends so far.
He finishes in the condom shortly after, restless even when Yoona notices and offers to suck him off as a thank you for making her cum four times this morning. He’d take it, but a notification comes in on his phone. Yoona knew how all of this worked. She isn’t hurt or bothered by the idea Jungkook wasn’t fully present—wasn’t fully hers.
She pushes herself up, unneeding of any form of aftercare. This part felt weird in the beginning as Jungkook couldn’t comprehend how anyone didn’t want to be taken care of after sex. He’d love nothing more than to tend to his partner’s vulnerable needs. But sex with Yoona was just sex. Nothing more, nothing less.
Maybe her expectations for the relationship had been low considering her dried out sex life with her ex-husband. Or maybe she doesn’t expect anything from a young man like Jungkook other than a good dick. Everything works out for Jungkook in the end: Yoona’s in her bathroom cleaning herself up and getting ready for work.
Post-nut clarity lets him take care of things he actually cares about. He opens your message thread and gets greeted by an image. No words … just …
Roasted persimmons.
The plate is perched on your lap. Thighs exposed, you’re in the same black shorts he saw you in the video that one night. They’re perfect—your thighs—something he’d grab onto if he were driving … hell, as you drive. Would you let him lay his head there? Squish his cheeks between them as he eases your mind after a long day? And maybe you’d let him and all would be well again. A good orgasm always helped Jungkook forget about his problems. Wished that was the case after the sex he just had, cock throbbing again underneath the sheets at the mere thought of you.
He missed you. Missed talking to you and poking your knowledge on film and photography. Missed your presence. Feels terrible for taunting you. Feels even more terrible at the thought of wanting you when you’re naive to all his desires.
Jungkook [9:13 a.m.]: Yum.
The message was vague enough to deter you whether it was aimed at the persimmons or your thighs.
🧚[9:13 a.m.]: Morning 🙂
🧚[9:14 a.m.]: Long time no talk
And whose fault was that? He doesn’t reply, watching the typing bubbles fade in and out for a couple minutes.
🧚[9:20 a.m.]: That was lame. Sorry, I’m really bad at this.
Jungkook [9:20 a.m.]: At what?
His phone begins ringing and as much as he’d like to answer, he’s literally laid up in someone else’s bed—someone else’s home—very much naked. He begrudgingly clicks on the Custom Message button and types out a quick excuse, but before he could hit send, Yoona walks out in a beige pencil skirt, hair pulled into a neat bun. She fixes her earring backings, pausing as she does a fast once over at Jungkook.
“Don’t think I can go another round, Jungkook.” She eyes his covered lower half, silk sheets doing little to conceal his hard-on. Though not for her this time around, he’s not going to bruise her ego.
“Gonna head out.” She continues. “Feel free to stick around as long as you want, but Haemin’s stopping by around noon.” Haemin … her teenage son. Yeah, no, Jungkook wasn’t going to stick around for that.
No sappy goodbye kisses are required with Yoona. No well-wishes or check-ins either. Completely different from how he wishes things were between you and him. The moment Jungkook finds himself outside her home, he immediately calls you back.
“Hi.” Your greeting comes out hesitant even after answering at the first ring.
“Pix,” He breathes, “Sorry, got caught in the middle of something so couldn’t answer your call.” He opts to take the stairway, concerned the elevators might drop the call.
“It’s okay.” You reply. “How have you been?”
“Fine.” He answers, thumb pressed on the sensor to unlock his apartment door. “How are you?”
You laugh. Soft, with a hint of remorse. Was it awful of him to assume that you haven’t been alright? That, perhaps, your misery had something to do with avoiding him for the past month?
“Busy.” You pause, hesitating with your next words. “Found myself thinking about my friend often.”
Friend. Huh. He’s not sure how he feels about this title. Then again, what other label could fit?
“Which one?” His door gently clicks behind him, lungs unconsciously trapping his exhale as to hear your sheepish voice better.
“The mean one.”
He chuckles, with little humour in it. “Sounds like an asshole.”
“He is,” on the other side, Jungkook hears you shift and move, imagines you repositioning on your small couch. “I’m not sure if he even knows though.”
Humming, he plops down on his own. “Have you tried talking to him?”
“Does right now count?” You sigh. “Okay, no more games, Jungkook.” He hates the way his back straightens at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue.
“Look, I texted and you ignored me, P.”
“Only ‘cause you weren’t addressing the issue or apologizing. And you still haven’t.” Okay, fair, the couple of times he texted you after filming were dismissive and avoidant.
Still not fair enough for him to give up his stance, no matter if he’d happily drop this whole discourse with a single word of yours. He missed hearing your soft tone around them, and maybe that’s exactly why he keeps arguing.
To hear more of you.
“If you were upset, why didn’t you say anything? We’re too old to be playing guessing games.”
“And we’re too old to not read the room. You were mean and you still haven’t admitted it.”
The crazy thing is, Jungkook knows what he has to do to fix all of this. He knew in his heart he was in the wrong, but it’s hard to admit it. Humiliating, even. He’s only as good as his pride and that’s something he’ll have to swallow.
Just as he geared himself to properly apologize, you sigh again. “Let’s just call a truce. I gotta prep for a booking this afternoon. We can talk more about it later. Glad to know you’re alive at le—”
“I can come help, if you like.”
You pause.
“If you want.”
He does, that’s unquestionable, and quite obvious. He’s not as certain it’s the same for you, though. “Do you want me there with you?”
Another pause. “I do.”
Jungkook has about two hours to put together an appropriate outfit for a black-tie wedding. It’s the most excitement he’s felt all month since going on vacation. Which is foolish, considering he isn’t doing anything valuable going to a stranger’s wedding. At this point, he’ll take any form of you in any setting, even if it means wearing those godforsaken dress pants again.
You’re beautiful. Always been. Even more beautiful when you smile and throw a small wave in his direction as he gets out of his car. If you weren’t with your equipment, maybe it’d look like you two were each other’s plus ones for this wedding. He certainly wouldn’t mind.
He helps with your bags, carrying the heavier load and you let him without protest. That’s what he’s here for: just to help you. You guys weren’t dates for a wedding. You weren’t lovers — barely friends now, especially with how he treated you.
He finds himself on the cusp of an apology every single second of the event, but he knows to keep work and feelings separate. All he knows is his apologies to you in the past were not well-received. A wedding, let alone your place of work, was not the time and place.
He makes up for his clogged up words by trying to sneak your favorite appetizers in your direction. Hard when the couple seems to treat their employees … less than employees. Your itinerary mentioned to bring your own source of hydration and food. Bunch of other dumb rules Jungkook couldn’t be bothered to follow through, because if they were strict with their employees, they’re probably just as strict with their wedding guests. And god, did they look gloomy during the ceremony and reception.
Of course, Jungkook charms one of the waiters into giving him a mini-charcuterie cup.
“Psst, Pix. C’mere.” Jungkook waves behind one of the stone pillars. Between the wine glasses clinking and utensils scraping against plates, the reception was utterly dreadful and miserable. To add onto the horrors, there wasn’t any music playing.
You look to the side and fix your camera on the tripod before sneaking away, eyes lighting up when Jungkook holds out a small cup full of both savory and sweet snacks.
You gasp and whisper, “How’d you get your hands on these?” You moan softly after popping in a chocolate-covered pretzel. Maybe Jungkook didn’t need music.
“Employees in the back are manifesting a divorce, so they gave away a cup as a sacrifice.” He jokes. You giggle, another sound Jungkook preferred over the silence. Would add that single giggle to a playlist and loop it for hours. Does that sound creepy? Definitely better than whatever this function is looking and sounding like.
“Let’s get a bite after this is all over. My treat.” You say. Jungkook hums around a starved mouthful, crumpling up the empty cup after you’ve both demolished every single bite, even all the unfavorable treats you both typically wouldn’t reach for on a normal day.
For a wedding this expensive and extravagant, the couple ran a terribly strict program at a night meant to celebrate their love and unity. He could only imagine what the future holds for this couple if they were this rigid for a celebration of their unity. Oh well, whatever floats for their boat. He’s sure they own at least ten and never set sail.
He counts down every second of the event, holding onto the promise of spending more time with you outside of working. It’s when you both packed all your equipment into your trunk, Jungkook finally feels a surge of anticipation as you offer a neutral smile.
“There’s a diner I saw on my way over. We can go there unless there’s somewhere else you prefer.” You close the trunk to your car, waiting for his answer.
“Diner’s good.” He nods. “Let’s go.”
Jungkook follows behind your car, noting how you’d signal a little earlier, waiting for cars to pass so he’d always remain right behind you in view. He follows you through the windy roads — the most intuitive thing he’s done all month long.
In the small diner filled with other patrons of all ages, your formal wedding attires are none of the surprising. Looking less like you were both tortured at a wedding, Jungkook slides into the booth with his hair slightly disheveled and the first three buttons undone. You, on the other hand, took out your bobby pins during the ride over, leaving your hair running in whatever direction it pleased. Jungkook orders pancakes and a decaffeinated coffee, you order an omelet and hot tea — a perfect balance of sweet and savory, because what’s a good meal if not shared?
“So, work keepin’ you busy?” Jungkook sips his coffee. Lukewarm, bleh. When you look up at him, the liquid takes immediate effect down his esophagus, setting his chest and the pits of his stomach ablaze.
“Unfortunately. But I’m expecting a slow-down during summer holidays. No one likes being outdoors when it’s too hot or too cold. Plus, not in the budget for couples to fly me out to a destination wedding.” You shrug. “You? How’s work?”
“Makes sense. The beach sounds nice right now.” He nods. “Ah, and I’m technically on vacation, so I can’t complain.”
Raising your brows, you speak around your cup. “Oh? For how long?”
“However long I want.”
Unlike your choices of beverages, your food comes piping hot. You and Jungkook thank the older waitress before prepping all the proper condiments. The food is not of high quality, but after hours of nothing but pretzels and blueberries, this was a meal for the royalties.
“What have you been up to?” You ask, helping him slather an ungodly amount of butter on the pancakes.
“Trying to get back into gaming. Hiked last week and got some good nature shots.” He muses, cutting up the pancakes into bite-sized pieces. He drizzles globs of syrup over the pancakes to balance your butter. Pushing his plate to the center, you do the same with your plate of omelet.
“That sounds like a good time.” You acknowledge, joy spreading across your face at the first bite of pancakes.
“Mhm.” His fork stabs into one of the omelet pieces.
Silence falls between you both as you eat the subpar, but first, hot meal of the evening. Basic mannerisms called for no talking at the table; yet, you’ve hardly looked him in the eye. He should say something. Maybe start out with a long overdue apology — an appropriate heartfelt one because he cares about your feelings despite not fully understanding what he did wrong.
The wedding wasn’t an appropriate setting to talk; was a diner any better? Probably not, especially when trying to enjoy a meal. But every time he goes to swallow a bite, his throat constricts, tighter with each passing moment. Food is fighting to go down and words are in the way, trying to get out.
He continues eating; although, he’s slowly losing appetite the more you avoid his gaze, the mix of butter and syrup on your fork suddenly garnering your attention more than the man seated across the table from you. Half of him thinks, plans, and molds the perfect words for an apology. Curating something so foolproof, you wouldn’t be able to refuse it. The other half of him debates dropping the situation. Don’t try to fix what isn’t completely broken.
Instead, he buys some time by small talk, asking about how Gum was doing, to which he finds out you bought a second beta fish (separated by its own tank, of course) and named him Bubba.
“He’s pretty, isn’t he?” You lock your phone after showing a picture of the two fishes and their makeshift dividers.
Okay, Jungkook isn’t one to demand constant updates, but friends (if that’s what you are to each other) are supposed to share their lives with one another, right? In any other circumstance with his friends, they’d keep him posted on their whereabouts and small wins—losses too. Knows the silence between you two was a result of some mute animosity, but you’ve always been a terrible texter even before all this.
Not as terrible for you to keep fish-updates to yourself, though.
He rarely calls you by your actual name, but serious conversations call for a mildly serious introduction.
You tilt your head.
“I’m no stranger to things getting busy, but I don’t know …” He begins. “Makes me kind of disappointed to learn things about you after the fact.”
God, the moment those pathetic words leave his lips, he’s reduced to a fool begging for a hint of attention. So dumb having to ask your friends do the bare minimum — even dumber when his heart races at your frown.
Your voice sounds smaller. “I’ve always been like this.”
Great, he shows a little bit of weakness and now he’s going to be labeled as needy. Jungkook sits there, ready for your refusal — mouth agape, drawing in a sharp breath only to let out the air through a shaky exhale, no response following. He thinks your big eyes flickering over his face are making it harder to add anything else.
Lucky for him, you explain yourself further before he has to strip himself bare further. Not that he ever minded whenever he was in your company. Right now, the action carries a bit of shame with it.
“Maintaining communication’s hard for me.” You sigh. “I don’t mean to keep stuff from you. I’ll do better.”
Jungkook only nods, content with your promise. You give him a tight-lipped smile and go up to the counter, striking up a short conversation as the cashier rings up the bill.
Outside the diner, Jungkook is just a few steps behind you as he watches you make your way to the car, moonlight bright enough to light a pathway. Tunnel vision turned off, your skin glows underneath said moonlight enough for Jungkook’s attentive gaze to follow your every movement in the darkness.
Then, the gravel underneath your heels crack as you turn.
Your steps grow bolder, but now you’re walking straight up to him, and for a split second, Jungkook thinks—no, hopes— you kiss him goodnight. Not the goodbye kind, a lingering, syruped-sweetened peck. But the punishing kind, where it leaves him wanting more as he’s been wishing for since the night he kissed you.
You don’t, though, and that was enough punishment in itself.
You stop in front of him, breeze carrying your scent. “I’m still upset.” Your brows pull together, eyes wide as you stare up at him.
Ah, shit, he’s going to have to veer off from the script he curated in his head moments ago at the diner. It’ll still be a genuine apology, just not a well-versed one. Can’t be when you’re finally in his immediate proximity, and not at an arm’s length. He can feel your warm breath grace his skin, and for a second he’s teleported back to the very situation that made him you-starved for longer than he’d ever like — the very one you’re still upset over.
He inhales, “I know. I’m sorr—”
“No.” You shake your head. “I’m upset because I … I’m confused.”
So is Jungkook. Confused, because you’re both upset but still can’t help the fondness as you take the time to recount his moles — as he takes the time to count your every lash.
You swallow. “I don’t know how to explain these feelings, but I missed your company — I missed you.” The confession lands in a beat of silence too long. Heart in your hands, you continue. “I’ll try to be a better friend.”
A better friend. Huh.
He’s always in the market for friends. He has plenty of friends: good ones, ones no longer in his life, and ones he keeps for the sake of keeping. He intends for you to stay in his life if you wish to. Yet, your words burn like scalding water to the hand, unsure if it’s from the suggestion you were bad to begin with or that you only truly saw Jungkook as a friend.
Fuck that. He undoes your statement — voids it for a moment.
Hands coming up to cup your cheeks, you’re pulled against him before you could register what’s happening.
Even as Jungkook hovers over you, blocking all sources of light, moonlight is forever etched on your lips. So is the sweetness and everything good about you Jungkook desperately wants to savor.
He has you now, moonlight on his lips and all.
Kissing always felt good. But kissing you? He doesn’t ever want to lose this feeling. You moan, helpless as your fingers cling to the bottom of his dress shirt.
He pulls away just enough to speak, hoping his honesty reaches you. “You are good, Pix. So good. It’s me. All my fault, okay?” His lips brush against yours. “I’m sorry.” Another kiss. “Shouldn’t have done that at the shoot. I couldn’t help it.”
You nod, half whimpering as you kiss him back, repeating the same phrase you last said to him on set. “So mean.”
He doesn’t mean to be. And so he showers you with kisses, traps you against his car because he won’t chance the possibility of you leaving on bad terms again — a crucial moment to show you how sorry he is. If anyone were to come across you and Jungkook right now, they’d either whistle or yell something on the lines of getting a room.
“I’m sorry.” Jungkook says again. “I’ll do better.”
Both you and Jungkook do better after that night.
You attempt texting him daily — seemingly awkward and forced at first to Jungkook. He doesn’t allow himself to get too excited over a changed behavior early on in the event you revert to your old ways.
He tries his best to take things slow. Jungkook isn’t privy to relationships fizzling away after a short while, and is aware of their fleeting nature. Still, he hopes to build a solid one with you first regardless of his dislike of labeling you both as friends. Two things can exist at the same time … he’s just not sure where you stand in all this. Some people just wanna have fun; unsurprisingly, most people can’t envision a life with a pornstar halfway into a relationship and end up leaving.
Here for a fun time, not for a long time.
Maybe you’ll be that for him — maybe that’s all you want from him.
Pleasure, feelings, and work can be separate.
The statement grounds him, but eats away at his core with every moment spent with you. Nearly two months have passed since he’s accepted any work. Granted, he’s gone longer without work in the past, though, a looming unease brews inside the more time he takes away from his job. Thinks he should go back — rebuild and secure his routine again.
He’ll think about it.
Time away from work is meant for living, so he relishes in your company, inviting you over for dinner to finally watch 27 Dresses. He laughs to himself after he sent over his guest entry code and you question what kind of complex he lives in to require a guest code.
He runs his wet hands through his kitchen towel at the buzz of his doorbell system, signaling your arrival. Though unneeded, he still glances at his intercom out of habit, finding you looking around the vicinity. You take your phone out from your pocket, seemingly going to text Jungkook of your arrival.
He presses on the red button. “What’s the password?”
You startle, confused. Once spotted the camera, you glare, mouth pulled into a small pout.
“Pixie?”
Funny how you think your nickname would be the key to opening the door. He didn’t have an actual password in mind; nonetheless, the name he chose specifically for you is enough to gain entry through every one of Jungkook’s doors.
“Welcome to my humble abode.” He mimics the same cheesy line you used when he first visited your home. His home isn’t nearly as humble, even with its minimalistic appearances. Every carefully handpicked decor and furniture held an air of expense.
“Nice.” You compliment, taking off your shoes. Rarely caring about other people’s comfort in his home, he finds himself overly prepared for your visit, going as far as purchasing a pair of house slippers for your comfort.
What? Just a nice gesture he does for a friend who has welcomed him far too many times in their home. And secretly, he hopes you’ll continue to wear these slippers with every future visit, the compression wearing down and shaping perfectly around your feet as time progresses.
From Jungkook’s height, he spots a hint of orange in the small brown bag you hold from behind.
Persimmons.
“P, you know I can’t finish those on my own.” The small complaint carries a light jest.
Shrugging, your lips mirror his curled ones. “Well, I guess I would just have to help you.”
You follow closely behind him, and he’s suddenly conscious of his home. Did you fancy the candle’s scent he lit up about thirty minutes ago? He wasn’t going to tell you he spent his morning trying to find a scent matching closely to the one at your home.
He leads you to his kitchen where he has plates of ingredients washed and prepped. Saved the onion for last because … well, it’s onions and they’re the bane of his existence.
You’re seated on one of his high stools with a glass of water he poured. It’s weird having you in his space for once — a new type of different where he grows accustomed to the view of you surrounded by everything he loves. He chases away the thoughts of you fitting just right in.
You talk about your day, stopping to giggle as you offer to help when he starts tearing up during the onion cutting.
“You’re my guest though. Shouldn’t be helping.” He sniffs, wiping away his tears with his forearm.
“Got saran wrap?” You round the corner, now right by his side.
“Upper right cabinet.” He answers, going to the sink to rinse his hands and eyes.
“I saw this tip on Facebook …” You tip-toe, reaching the box and taking the wrap out.
“Okay, Facebook Mom.” He grins teasingly, paper towel in hand to dry his hands and face.
“I’ll have you know, they give some of the best advice there.” You rip away a strip and walk over to Jungkook.
“Facebook’s just for nosey people.” He’s long deleted Facebook after a nasty post circulated about him early on in his career.
“Missing out on all the food groups and marketplace.” You stand in front of him, crowding him against his own sink. “How else do you think I found Gum and Bubba?”
Hands coming up to his face, the saran wrap covers his eyes and nose. He jerks his head back before complying under your hold when you giggle, fingers patting the plastic secure over his cheeks.
You snort, arms crossing like you’re proud of your intervention. “There. Have a go at the onions again.”
Jungkook blinks, unsure how to properly function with his sight and breathing impaired. “I’m happy you found something great from Facebook—”
“Many things.” You correct.
“But this is the genius advice you got, Pix?” His vision goes cloudy after his tenth exhale.
“Trust me! It works.” You say with your hands on your hips.
Lo and behold, it does. One point to Pixie … er, to the Facebook Moms.
A comfortable silence falls between you and Jungkook as he turns away to cook. That is, until the legs of the chair scrape against the floor once again and Jungkook feels your heat on the left side of his body, front brushing his arm.
“What are we having tonight?”
We. Feels nice to hear. You feel nice next to him.
“Chicken risotto.” He replies, throat bobbing as you press your chest closer.
You probably don’t even realize what you’re doing either. Even under the food’s strong aromatics, Jungkook picks up your scent by sheer proximity. He could abandon the risotto—right here, right now—in favor of crowding you against his kitchen counter and kissing you silly. What’s the need for food when your kisses do enough to keep him fed and satiated?
Slow, he reminds himself.
He hums, glancing at the top of your head, your eyes fixated on the pan. “Almost done. Just gotta plate and we can eat together. Wanna start up the television? 27 Dresses should be on Netflix.”
You linger for another second before moving to the living room. He slows his movements on the stove as he listens for his television, tense shoulders dropping at the sound of the brief welcome introduction.
Steaming risotto plated, he expected you to remain in the living room, but when he walks in, you’re nowhere to be found.
“Pix?” He calls out, setting the plates on the coffee table.
“I’m here.”
He turns, following the source of your soft voice, and he finds you staring out the large curtain wall. This time, as he steps closer, he’s the one standing behind you, front pressed against your back.
“It’s nice here. You see everything.” You murmur. Frankly, this part of his home was his favorite. Nothing beats waking up or coming home to this view. Might argue this view was his new favorite: you looking up to face him, round eyes dancing between his own eyes and lips.
He clears his throat. “Food’s ready. We should eat before it gets cold.”
You blink. “Right.”
Both you and Jungkook sit on the floor of his living room. Risotto’s good — your company is even better. Evening’s going well and you seem to be enjoying the food. He mentally cheers in his head at a job well done.
“My university cohort group page posted an announcement for a photography competition. Not sure if you’re interested. Would be fun.” You say, wiping your mouth.
Jungkook was no stranger to competitions having entered quite a few of them in his teenage years. They were fun in the beginning when there was still no pressure behind them. Things changed as he got older and while there was no pressure, his pride was on the line. People got better — more creative and competitive. He’d imagine that’d be the same with this contest.
He shrugs. “Hm, maybe.”
“I can help if you like.” You offer. “There’s nothing to lose.”
Jungkook smiles, but doesn’t fully agree to the proposition quite yet.
People are lying if they say it takes a whole hour to eat. No longer than fifteen minutes into the movie, you and Jungkook finish your respective plates. You offer to wash dishes, but Jungkook refuses.
“I’ve got a dishwasher for that, P.”
Brows raised, you counter. “Okay, so do I, but it’s quicker by hand.”
He muses. “Why else would we have a dishwasher if not to use it to wash dishes?”
You shrug. “Store dishes?”
He chastises you for another thirty seconds before telling you to relax and enjoy the movie while he gets up to start the dishwasher.
Back next to you in record time, his teeth worry at the inside of his cheek. He never realized how big his couch was in comparison to your small two-seater. Far less cozy than yours, but there was never a need to entertain his guests out of comfort. They never stayed long and Jungkook valued aesthetics over ease.
Now as you’re both seated on his too-big-of-a couch, he wonders if you’re comfortable. There’s enough space on the surface where you don’t need to be side by side, but Jungkook didn’t mind you being close.
He wanted you close.
Arm slung along the backrest, his urge to touch the nape of your neck intensifies at your small shiver.
Perceptive to your every shift and need, he’s eagerly ready to right any discomfort. “You cold? I could get a blanket. Turn on the heater—”
You shake your head. The single gesture has his restless nerves calming, while the side of his leg dips as you shift your body closer to him. Your shoulder presses into the side of his chest.
“I’m good like this.” You turn your head to the side. “Are you?”
He fakes a cough. “Yeah. ‘m good.”
Jungkook wanted this hangout to be void of any talks of film or photography. He knows you both share love for those topics … still, what else was there? He’s finding it hard to rack up any other conversation starters with you this close to him.
What does he default to? Babble about the different film styles of the movie, even though he’s positive he’s wrong about his knowledge and theories. Nonetheless, you nod and act as though all the concepts Jungkook mentioned were something new and praiseworthy.
He’s about to transition to another analysis of the last frame in the movie when you suddenly shift to face him with a determined look.
“Do you wanna kiss me?”
He freezes, body seizing up at your unprompted question.
“You can’t–can’t just say that.” He instinctively covers his face with his hand, can’t bear looking at you like he’s a teenager navigating his first crush again. The tips of his ears burn from your honesty and when he finally wills himself to look at you, you’re also just as embarrassed — adorably so.
“Forget I asked.” You mumble, inching away. “Sorry.”
“Wait! No, I mean, yes, I want to, just,” He stumbles over his words. “You caught me off guard.”
The movie’s long over, and Jungkook didn’t get to ask how’d you like it — what you thought about the sister’s betrayal and how he thinks Jane’s problems would’ve gone away if she developed some form of backbone to say no. Actually, he’s in no position to judge Jane. Jungkook has no backbone when it comes to you — can’t seem to refuse you.
Doesn’t want to.
Knees planted on the sides of his thighs, you lean down to kiss him like you’ve intended to do so since the moment you walked through his door tonight.
Seems like every meeting with you has ended like this. Neither of you mind. You’re still hesitant when it comes to kissing, playing it safe as you press your lips on his, favoring his bottom lip only.
Cute. With every moment he lets you explore, you grow a little more confident in your actions. Just a little more time before he—
“Mmp–” You pull back, breath heavy with a sheen of saliva on your lips. His, definitely. All his.
“What? Didn’t like that?” Jungkook tilts his head.
“Never done it.” You admit, voice small.
Jungkook had a feeling you’ve never french kissed before. Not an issue. His lips part, back hitting his couch as he pulls you closer. “Go on. Stick it in my mouth. Try it.”
Jungkook half expects you to shy away, but your hand holds the back of his couch, caging him in your embrace. Your nose grazes his before he feels your wet muscle push through the entrance of his mouth. Groaning, he wraps his lips around your tongue, sucking on it.
He pulls away, “That’s how it’s done. You paying attention, Pix?” He doesn’t give you enough time to reply as he pulls you in again and you blindly stick your tongue back into his mouth another time.
Oh, it’s fucking filth.
Jungkook’s cock throbs painfully in the confinements of his pants. Doesn’t help when you roll your hips on top, seeking for some form of relief too.
And when you pull away, a string of saliva keeps you tethered to him for a millisecond. You’re saying something but Jungkook can’t hear anything through the pounding in his ears.
“My turn?” You ask.
And it’s only reasonable Jungkook agrees. After all, what’s a lesson without proper demonstration of your newly learned skills?
His hand cups your chin, fingers squishing your cheeks slightly to part your mouth.
Voice groggy, his smirk taunts you. “Show me what I taught you. You can do that, yeah?”
You nod, eyes growing heavy as Jungkook leans in. Without warning, he thrusts his tongue into your mouth. You moan, copying exactly what he did when he had your wet muscle tangled with his mouth. Such a quick learner, so keen to impress.
A minute goes by with you sucking and playing with his tongue. He loves it. Loves the way you sound—loves how you grow bolder if he reacts a certain way. His mind slips into territories of how you’d take his length in your mouth, cock growing stiffer in his pants thinking about it. You’d be just as clueless, right? Asking for guidance when Jungkook could quite literally bust a nut at the sight of you on your knees. Well, he has, but that’s besides the point.
Eventually, you both return to the normal pace of kissing, and even when you pull away, he can’t stop. Finds himself trailing kisses on your jaw, down the column of your throat.
“Jungkook,” You breathe, fingers woven into his hair.
“Hm?” He sucks harshly on the juncture of your neck.
Whining, you tug at his thick locks. “I-Is this normal?”
This? Whatever he’s doing with you? Probably not in the handbook of things to do with your friends, but alas, here you both are.
“What is?” He asks, warm exhale hitting your skin.
You take his hand, once rested on the curve of your hips, and place it dead center on your chest.
“This.” You swallow. “I know you said things should be separate. But … I don’t know.”
Your glassy eyes almost make him uncertain of his own strict belief. He hesitates when your fingers slip to his nape, curling at the base.
“Can be.” He corrects, feeling the hard thumps through your sweater. If he wanted, he could show you how his own heartbeat matches yours. But he doesn’t. Conjures something in his head convincing enough to slow its pace down. “It’s okay to not know. We’re just enjoying each other, right?”
“This is enjoyable for you?” You ask, breathless.
Jungkook mentally scoffs, as if the boner he’s sporting right now — which he’s sure you can feel, rock hard against your middle — isn’t enough proof.
“It’s sufficient.” He jokes, and a playful smile spreads on his face as you lightly smack his chest. His expression morphs into tenderness. “I wouldn’t do something if I didn’t like it, P. Same needs to go for you. You are enjoying this, right?”
“I am.” You confirm with a small nod.
“Good.” He kisses you, soft and reassuring. “Good.”
The kisses get heated again, and you slide his hand down over your breast, silently giving him the okay to do as he likes.
“You sure, P?” He murmurs against you.
Your palm over his presses harder, a silent yes. The pressure first comes from his fingertips, a tentative, experimental squeeze. You shudder, leading his hand under your sweater. His warm touch meets the soft skin of your stomach.
“Just so you know, this wasn’t–” Jungkook groans, kissing you once more, “my intention.”
“What were your intentions?” You push his hand up, guiding him to the valley of your breasts again. “Hm?” You push.
“Dinner. Movie.” He’s glad he didn’t make fun of you for your caveman-like responses a while back. He’s no better at the moment.
His hand is over your tit now, and a light pinch spurs on a small moan. The bralette you have on is sheer. Could feel your stiff nipples through the cloth.
“What were your intentions, P?” Jungkook asks, thumb swiping over the hardness.
You hardly suppress a whimper. “Spending time with my friend.”
That word — again, settling ickily in between you both — prompts him further. “Like this?” He squeezes harsher, knuckles pinching your covered nipple.
Dropping your head into the crook of his neck, you whine.
“Uh-huh. Like this.”
“You’re killing me.” He hisses.
Somewhere between the kissing, sucking, and groping, you end up on your back on Jungkook’s too-big-of-a couch. Comfort was the last thing Jungkook cared about when he purchased it, mainly for the functionality and its general ability to seat and hold multiple people for multiple types of activities. This isn’t about the couch’s body count though. Right now, his too-big-of-a couch fits you both perfectly. There’s one less thing to worry about, but this small win brings other issues to light. Like how he’s somehow responsible for your pleasure and experiences or how you somehow get a whiff of insecurity.
“Jungkook.” You clear your throat.
You shake from how quick he parts from you, lips detaching from your skin, hand coming out from underneath your shirt.
“Yeah, Pix? You okay?” He’s utterly unaware of how his looks affect you, as you drink in his kiss-bitten lips, messy hair, and blown out stare. You mirror his state, skin hot to the touch and clothes not in their original state from the time you entered his home.
Still, you sit up, pulling your sweater down to cover your midriff.
“Sorry.” You chew on your lips, noticing how this is definitely a shift from the previous activities.
Jungkook blinks, breaths regulating as he shifts up, but never too far from you. “What’s wrong? Did I…?”
There’s no throw pillow for you to shield behind. No where to run or hide.
He’d never pressure anyone to have sex with him, but things were going well and suddenly they weren't. A part of him can’t help but go into that dark space of … was it his fault? Did he read the room wrong? Not the first time when it came to you.
Maybe his game was off.
Or maybe it was him. His profession — who he is.
He can’t help but question out loud now that you haven’t said anything.
“Is this about what I do?” He asks again, straight to the point. “I test every week and I’m all for safe sex. Or no sex too. I don’t mind us just hanging out.”
A small puff of air exits before you laugh. “I’m the exact opposite of you, Jungkook.”
When his brows only furrow further in confusion, you continue, “I am having a nice time. I enjoy this … but reality is, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He blinks. “Okay? I never expected that of you.”
Shaking your head, you look down at your lap. “You said you don’t want to be in the position to teach or lead.”
Jungkook really needs to be careful with his words in the future. His words hold value and they are true to an extent. He just never felt like he was forced into the position to teach you. He does want to guide you, discover and learn — all that, alongside you.
He inches closer to you, pressing a small, careful kiss on your cheek you don’t move away from. He takes it as a sign to keep going.
“I don’t think I’ve been teaching or leading you.” He replies, the pressure of his body pushing you to lay on the couch again.
“You don’t,” your mouth gets covered momentarily from a quick peck, “understand.”
“Tell me then, so I do, Pix.” His hand cups the back of your neck and holds you there as he kisses down your neck.
“Don’t wanna be seen as some loser needing their hand held, but I’m afraid I might need it.” You whine and shiver from his touch.
“Intimacy doesn’t have to be perfect.” He reasons, more to himself than ever. “Won’t hold your hand through it unless you want me to.”
You purse your lips. “I might not be able to give you what you want.” Rather, what he’s used to. Similarly, Jungkook worries he might not be able to give you what you want — what you need. And what you need is someone who’s patient and gentle. So accustomed to either falling in line with a script or fucking based on primal needs, Jungkook isn’t sure if a part of his brain is capable of rewiring for someone like you.
He wants to try, but trying comes with the price of feelings.
You kiss him, your ease and comfort slowly thawing again as you let out a soft sigh, breath fanning against him before uttering, “And what you want matters too.”
What does he want? He’s well past the point of wanting filming lessons from you. He reached the conclusion a friendship was necessary, but it wasn’t the only thing he wanted. It’s certainly not a relationship like the one he has with Yoona … which he thinks he might need to stop if he were to explore more with you. For your sake, and for his too because he assumed you’d want something strictly between you two.
Wait, would you?
This is the fucked up part of starting stuff with a friend.
Even more fucked up for having to be careful and delicate with someone inexperienced.
For this very reason, he really does dislike inexperienced people. And yet, he likes you, a lot—more than he’d like to admit.
He’s not sure what he wants out of this. At the moment, all he can think about is what he wants to do to you.
Jungkook leans near you again, and your breath stills, waiting for what he says next.
“Let me take care of you tonight.”
He doesn’t promise it’ll be good, not like how kissing is. Has perfected the art of kissing, but what he wants to do produces subjective outcomes. You might love it, you might hate it — that’s for both of you to find out. He kisses his way down your body, focusing a little more at your chest because that’s where you seem to react most … where he finds you softest.
For now.
Your sweater lifts again, exposing your belly button. He kisses the side of it, and his cock twitches in his pants as you giggle and squirm. You quiet down when he nips at the button of your jeans, fingers splayed on top as he waits for your go-ahead.
“Didn’t shave, by the way.” You sputter.
“What are we, sixteen?” He jokes. He’ll be honest, sixteen year old Jungkook wouldn’t know right from wrong, and probably be repulsed only because he was taught to. Took a while for him to learn body hair was normal, no matter how much or little.
You offer a shy smile. “Just a courtesy notice.”
“Not needed, but thanks, P.” He smirks, doing his best to alleviate your worries along with the trembles of your fingers on your button. “Warn me if you got teeth down there, alright?”
You laugh and Jungkook takes this moment to pry off your pants, leaving your underwear on. Jeans tossed somewhere on the ground, Jungkook kisses the top of your knee, spreading your legs wide enough for him to drop down between them.
You should’ve worn a different pair of panties. You couldn’t have predicted reaching this level of intimacy with Jungkook tonight. Cotton blue does little to conceal the wet patch growing in the center, and Jungkook takes in the view a little longer than you would like. You cover your face with your hands.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Jungkook leans down, pressing his lips on your stomach. He feels it tense, squirming under his pecks.
Your voice comes out muffled and strained, “Nothing.”
The last time he said this phrase, he had different intentions. Wanted to show you how possible it was to separate pleasure, feelings, and work. He doesn’t think you’re saying this to deceive or deter.
“Can’t think.” You add, shoulders caving in as his hot breath warms your core.
“Try.” He kisses over your clothed pussy and you whimper, startled. “You have to tell me what you’re thinking, ‘kay?”
You nod, removing your hands from your face which ball up at your sides when Jungkook presses dainty kisses on the inside of your thighs. Your body still tenses here and there, not fully letting your guard down. Even worse, you weren’t verbalizing your thoughts as he asked.
Screw it.
He’s gonna give you something to think about—something to remember whenever you’re with or without him.
“Jungkook!”
Your back lifts off from the couch, brows pulled together as you watch him lick one long stripe along your slit, from the bottom to the top of your covered cunt.
Parts your panties to the side and wets his lips in anticipation. You’re fucking soaked, pussy lips glistening with your arousal, all from the previous makeout session. You may not be able to verbalize what you think, but Jungkook reads the message loud and clear when he runs his fingers between your folds.
He groans at the warm feeling, smooshing wet kisses along the inside of your thigh. “Pretty pussy. Gonna let me play with it, Pix?”
“Y-yes.” Your chest caves and heaves from the pleasure, eyes somehow holding his hooded stare from where he looks up at your face.
He does this for a couple minutes, watching how you’d react when his fingers part for your clit before he scissors them closed again. Your breathy moans come out without control as he speeds up his ministrations. He spits on your cunt — lubrication not needed, but it’s something he hopes you liked.
And fuck, you do.
Jungkook said he wasn’t gonna hold your hand, yet here he was: one hand keeping your panties to the side and the other coming from under your thigh to tangle with your fingers. His thumb rubs the top of your hand reassuringly, doesn’t need words to tell you he’s got you. Can’t talk even if he wanted to with his mouth busy lapping at your cunt.
It’s good—so, so, so fucking good. He knows it by how you cry out, the tail end of your moans coming out like a question, a surprise at how good this foreign experience is. He’s enjoying himself too, eyes closing as he wraps his lips around your clit. He sucks, soothes over with his tongue, and does it again. Can’t tell if the pool of wetness under you is from your pussy or a mixture of his saliva. Fuck if he cares.
“God, Pix, you’re dripping.” He peers at you. “So much.”
“Uh-huh.” You mewl. Your poor brain must be working overtime, unable to formulate a proper sentence.
Your hand squeezes harder around his as he laps up and down your folds. He soon grows tired of keeping your panties parted, briefly unwinding his fingers from yours and sitting on his heels. His heart lurches at your little whine, assuming Jungkook was done or denying you of pleasure, front slightly jolting forward at the sudden loss.
Your first experience is important and he’d never leave you like this — not without taking care of you and seeing through your orgasm. Fingers hooked at the waistband, he’s uncaring how shitty of a job he’s doing at removing your panties. It’s a crumpled mess dangling off one of your ankles and neither of you are concerned enough to finish the task as Jungkook finds home again between your legs.
Naturally, one of your hands is already enveloped in his, so he takes your other one and puts it on his head. Your nails rake through his hair, settling nicely on the base of his head before you pull his face back to your cunt.
Good. He likes that. Can’t help the muffled, pleasured sound he lets out against your core.
“Keep going. Please.” Your mouth drops open at the feeling of him suctioning around your clit again.
He hums, his other free hand coming underneath to part your legs further. The pad of his thumb pushes at your entrance, not with enough force to enter; yet, enough for you to keen and grip his dark locks tighter.
He’ll stay there for as long as you want, or don’t want. Your thighs unconsciously close around his head, squishing Jungkook’s cheeks in the process. You murmur a small apology, half giggling and half moaning in the process. The couch he chose might be stiff and uncomfortable for a reason after all — he appreciates it even more when he’s able to drive his hips down for some much needed friction.
“Koo–” A warning, wailed in the space of his living room.
Jungkook takes the sign, coaxing you with matched eagerness. “I know, baby. It’s okay. Cum on my tongue, won’t you?”
You cry out, stomach tensing at the first wave of your orgasm.
Fucking hell, he could nut just by the way you sound. He nods, continues doing whatever he’s been doing. Keeps everything the same, up until when you start to shake and your toes push at the couch, trying to move away from him. No way he’s letting you rob yourself of a good orgasm.
“I’m cumming.” You gasp. “Oh my god, I-I’m cumming.”
He pins you down, no more hand holding, just thighs opened for him as he continues eating you out. And because it’s your first time, he’s got to set the bar high—that good head should always feel like this. Head turned sideways, Jungkook moves himself up and down, lips suctioning and tugging every part of your pussy.
He finally backs off when your weak hands grasp his shoulders. Whether to stop him or to pull him back up your face, Jungkook moves and plants kisses all over your torso on his way to you. His forehead touches yours, nose nudging the side of your cheek. You can smell yourself on him. Can see your arousal shining on the bottom of his face. Everything Jungkook previously showed you goes out the window as you press your lips to his and stick your tongue clumsily into his mouth. Alright, to be fair, he only showed you how to handle another person in your mouth.
Chuckling and exhaling through his nose, he massages his tongue on yours, slow and deliberate.
“So good.” He praises, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “Did you like that?”
“Which part?” You breathe, hooded eyes looking into his. “But the answer is yes.”
He laughs.
“What about you? Did you like it?” You ask. Usually so sure of yourself, your voice comes out uncertain, anxious even at the thought he of all people might’ve hated everything he’s done with you. You avert your eyes under Jungkook’s confused stare.
He doesn’t verbally answer—instead, he drives his hips forward to your bare cunt. You gasp, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.
His own mouth falls agape, then curls into a wicked smirk at your reaction. “What’s the verdict, Pix? Hm?”
You gulp, hesitate a little before you say: “Like it needs to be taken care of.”
“Can do that on my own, don’t worr—”
“I wanna see.” You admit.
“Why?” He teases, brow lifted. “Seeing it on RkivedShots wasn’t enough?”
Your mouth goes slack. “How’d you know?”
“I didn’t.” His smile grows. “Now I do.”
He rolls over to the side. Looking down, he snorts at the sight of your shriveled up panties hanging on your ankle for dear life.
With one hand, he loops the opening onto your other ankle and pulls your underwear up for some coverage. He’s sure you’re messy from below, but knowing you, you’d probably be in your head about your lack of clothing and his lack of exposure.
How the roles have reversed.
You turn to face him. “It was just one time,” you mumble, sheepish.
“Yeah?” He doesn’t know exactly which video you’re referring to. Hopefully not the grapefruit one. “Good to know, it’s supposed to be watched and enjoyed, so don’t worry about it.”
“Okay …” You scoot closer, his hard length pressing against your stomach. “What happens from here?”
Were you asking about his current predicament or the status of your relationship?
He tilts your chin, going with a safe answer. “World’s our oyster.”
“Then, I want you to feel good too.” Your hand trembles as you trail down his front, stopping just shy of his metal beltloop.
Jungkook reaches down and helps you unbuckle his belt, undoing the zipper with no struggle. Hand wrapped around your wrist, he places it behind his head. “You gonna help me?”
“Did you want me to, um,” You look down, uncertain what to do. “Touch you?”
Jungkook needs something fast. Your touch is favored, but he’s unsure how long it’d take to teach you what he fancies and he’s in dire need of a quick release. Maybe next time, if there is one. He hopes there is.
“There’s other ways you can help.” He smiles. “Take off your top.”
“That’s not fair.” You protest. “Why am I the only one naked?”
Oh, you’re so predictable. Jungkook laughs, rolling you over so he straddles your hips.
He reaches below his shirt and pulls it over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. He doesn’t worry about the state of his body. Knows he looks good with how you drink him in, a visible swallow before you drag your eyes up his torso and end with his locked gaze.
“There. We’re even now.”
He decides then, you don’t even need to take off your top. Just pushes it high enough to reveal your bralette. Tucking the end of your sweater underneath your chin, his mouth waters at the sight. With all the time spent as a pornstar, he’s been faced with all variations of breasts: tiny, big, saggy, lifted … you name it, he’s seen it.
Yours are perfect on you—fit you so well. You gasp when he takes one in his hand, squeezing. Your hand covers his, while the other hides your other breast.
“They’re nothing special.” You murmur to the side.
Shaking off your palm, Jungkook leans down and places a small kiss on your covered tit. Does the same with the other one. Over and over, ‘till you’re worked up again.
“They’re perfect.” He runs his tongue over your bralette, but you feel the pressure on your stiff and sensitive nipple.
Finally, he dips his hand down his Calvins and free his cock from its confinements. Knows exactly what he needs to get himself off and knows it’ll be a quick finish with your help.
He comes back to your lips, kissing you, whispering how good he feels. You trail down his jaw and the crook of his neck.
“You can mark me up, Pix. Do whatever you want.” He rasps, head cocked to the side for better access.
“Won’t it be a problem for work?”
A complete misconception pornstars need to come to work unmarked. If that were the case, tattoos would’ve been long banned in the adult film industry. There’s nothing a little makeup can’t fix.
“Haven’t been to work in a while and–fuck–I’m resting.” He moans, hands going faster over his length. “Please? Come on.”
Just like his first kiss with you, you tentatively move in, wet lips smooshing against his hot skin. Your tongue darts out, wetting the area before you suction your lips to his neck. When you finally pull away with a victorious grin, Jungkook knows he’s marked.
Your eyes drop below, watching Jungkook jerk himself off.
“So greedy, Pix.” He purrs, slipping into an open-mouth moan as he moves faster.
“‘m not.” You answer, unsure of what he’s referring to.
“You so are.” He chides, his grip tightening around his length. “Watching my videos, filming me … now this? Greedy, baby.”
Your thighs close around his waist, flustered from his words. “I–” He drops his head and buries his nose in your hair. Moisture gathers from his heavy and uneven breaths vibrating in your ears, and Jungkook thinks he might die when your arms embrace him.
“What was your favorite part, hm?” He grunts as he lifts his face to look at you with hooded eyes. Jungkook traces his lips on your cheek, wanting to coax an answer out of you before granting you a much needed kiss. Your eyes widen for a fraction, teeth chewing the inside of your cheeks as you build the courage to reveal your secret.
“When you cum.” You admit. “I love watching you cum.”
Jungkook knew he was gonna finish fast, but he never expected it to happen this soon — this abrupt. He tenses and shakes as he unloads all over your exposed belly. You gasp, fingers curling around the base of his head. That only spurs him on even more, hand moving at a punishing pace to let everything go for you.
He drops his softening cock, shivering as it hits against your warm skin.
You look down at the mess on your abdomen, eyes blown out and lips swollen from how hard you bit down on it. He tucks away a strand of your sweaty locks and presses a kiss on your furrowed forehead.
“Did you like that, Pix?” He murmurs, hot breath hitting your skin.
You nod, eyes fixed on the bodily fluid. “Can I touch it?”
He laughs. “Sure. Whatever you like.”
The hand behind his head uncurls and drops down in between your bodies. He watches as your fingers swipe and collect, drawing your hand closer to your face to examine his cum.
He thinks he’ll die if you stick your fingers into your mouth to taste him. But you don’t, instead, your hand hovers awkwardly in the air like you don’t exactly know where to place it without getting cum everywhere.
Jungkook cackles, telling you to hold still while he gets something. He tucks himself back into his pants and jogs over to his bathroom. When he returns with a wet warm towel in hand, you’re still in the same position, and he doubles over at the sight. You giggle, half-yelling at him to hurry.
“Cute.” He cleans your fingers first, then lets the cloth linger on your stomach to re-moisturize the dried up cum before he gives you a proper wipe.
“Stay here, Pix.” And he doesn’t know if he meant for the moment or for the night — he’ll go with whatever you choose.
He cuts up a couple persimmons and refills your cup of water before grabbing a throw blanket on the way back to the living room. You’re seated upright, still in your underwear. It’s all so natural how your eyes light up and you settle next to him, blanket draped over your legs.
Intimacy doesn’t have to be perfect, but Jungkook wants it to be for you.
Jungkook hasn’t gone back to work in the last two weeks simply because he wants to keep enjoying his time off, especially with how you’ve talked him into joining the competition. See? Can’t say no to you.
So he’s been out in different neighborhoods and parks taking random pictures. This time, he sits with you in a quaint coffee shop after a couple hours of nature shots. Photography’s fun for Jungkook until the dread of not being good enough hits. He refuses to voice these silly thoughts, letting you take hold of the very source of his anxiety, his camera, typically meant for a hobby and stress reliever. The shutter goes off multiple rounds as you capture the surrounding objects in the cafe.
“Lemme see, Pix.” His hand reaches out for his camera.
You turn away, childish, with a pensive frown as you land on a recent picture you took. “Hold on, gotta delete this one … the lens didn’t focus.”
Jungkook snorts, sliding in your side of the booth to peek over your shoulder. There’s beauty in blurred images, similar to the relationship you have with Jungkook — similar to the static buzz in your ears as his hand covers yours on the device and his skilled fingers adjust the camera settings with a couple of clicks.
“Okay, I think it’s fixed.” He hands the camera back.
You cheer, fingertips pressing through the album for the pictures he took this afternoon. “I think you got some good shots today, Jungkook. Should have a good batch to send into the competition.”
He shrugs. “Mm, I’m not so sure. Feels kinda pointless.” There are so many skilled photographers out there. This competition is another beast in comparison to the ones he participated in the past.
Your brows knit together. “Huh.”
“What?” His own brows mirror yours.
“Didn’t peg you for the insecure type.”
Jungkook scoffs, eyes narrowed. “Reverse psychology doesn’t work on me, Pix. I’m serious.”
“So am I.” You purse your lips. Placing the camera on the table, his gaze follows your movement and settles on the device, even as your voice takes on a reassuring, less teasing tone.
“You have nothing to lose. This is supposed to be fun. You are having fun, right?”
Ironic you’re asking the same question he asked you that night.
“I always do.” He replies with a sigh. “And I guess you’re right. There’s nothing to lose.”
Jungkook feels like the biggest loser as you smile in triumph. And while he knows you mentioned you didn’t want your hand held figuratively (probably meant as a metaphor), all he finds himself wanting is your warmth enveloping him.
Picking up the camera again, you turn the lens at Jungkook and another round of shutter goes off. A picture’s worth a thousand words, and he wonders if these encapsulate a time of his feelings for you.
Jungkook chuckles, scooting closer to you. “Take another one.”
“You’re barely in the frame.” You pull the camera further.
He leans in, temples touching yours. “This better?”
The countdown happens with his head, the want happens in his heart. A picture’s worth a thousand words, unsaid and unheard. And this one will mark the time Jungkook started caring for someone special like you.
Later, he drops you off in front of your building, but no goodbyes have been said yet. You tell him you’ll be busy for the next coming weeks and all he tells you is to text him.
Mainly because he won’t be in the city for a couple days, and maybe because he can’t bear your absence longer. He doesn’t let you know of the latter. “I’ll be away for a weekend. Hoseok and Yoongi are hosting a get-together up in the mountains.”
“Have fun, and tell them I said hi.” You unbuckle your seatbelt.
He nods, taking off his seatbelt too. Leaning over the console, he brushes your hair out of your face and plants a quick kiss on your lips. Not a verbal ‘I’ll miss you,’ though, it is as good as one.
The last words he fans over your mouth are, “Bye, Pix.”
The get-together was a cover up for a retirement party. Who would’ve thought Yoongi and Hoseok would retire at thirty-five? Well, Yoongi did. He hates working and Hoseok’s the type to follow suit.
“Long time no see, Jungkook. Whatcha been up to?” Ryan, a past costar, places his hand on the small of Jungkook’s back. Warm, enticing, but Jungkook doesn’t want any of that. What he actually wants is for the Wi-Fi to work since his data’s been shit the entire weekend.
“Not much.” He replies. “Taking a little break from work. Been nice. How have you been?” He tilts the router’s antennas and checks if the signal’s improved on his phone.
Nope.
“Oh, same ol’.” He shrugs, bringing the bottle of beer to his lips. His hand remains on Jungkook’s body, now holding his waist.
“Jungkook, quit messing with the router,” Hoseok calls out. “What are the odds we’d ever be one with the wilderness again?” Yeah, Hoseok definitely is at the moment ... sunbathing absolutely naked.
“Say, if you’re free tonight, Kia wants the three of us to hang in the jacuzzi.” Ryan propositions, hand lingering on the small of Jungkook’s back. Jungkook’s no fool. The couple eyed him the entire weekend, throwing him subtle smiles and laughing extra hard at his jokes.
He can’t be bothered with their current offer while his top priority is his need to fix the damn router. After another couple of seconds, the light on the router flashes a solid green light. He checks his phone again and the picture of the tall trees he sent this morning finally delivers. Immediately, he receives a notification.
🧚[2:27 p.m.]: Pretty 💚
Just like the feeling in his chest. It aches prettily when he receives a picture of you at your work station, prominent bags underneath your eyes accentuating your exhaustion.
“Maybe.” Jungkook replies to Ryan. Probably not, but Jungkook’s always been too nice … too cordial. He’ll make up another excuse later, or wait till alcohol skews Ryan’s memory of his offer.
A bunch of other notifications on his phone come in, mostly random ads and spam in his inbox.
Agent Lee [2:31 p.m.]: Hey, got a project for U. LMK if U r interested.
He’s grateful for all the opportunities his agent has looked into for him. At the end of the day, it’s a transactional relationship. Jungkook gets a job, his agent gets a cut for the recruitment. There’s no rush to reply. After all, he’s one with the wilderness … or at least, should be.
The mountain’s perfect — air crisp and fresh in comparison to the usual pollution casted over the city. The cabin Hoseok and Yoongi picked out had ten bedrooms for around twenty-some guests and with his luck, Jungkook didn’t need to share with anyone. God bless the Airbnb hosts for placing four beds in one bedroom.
The weekend was filled with barbecue, outdoors activities, and way too much company. Jungkook holds himself well in social events, but he has limits. He preferred one on one time anyway — something more lowkey.
Yoongi is inside the cabin drinking with a couple of their friends; whereas Hoseok and Jungkook remained outside with their bottles of beer and cigarettes.
Perfect way to end this weekend trip. Jungkook’s ankle moves happily in place. He looks at his phone, smiling as he sees another notification from you updating what you were having for dinner.
“What’s got you smiling like an idiot?” Hoseok blows out the smoke from his cigarette. “Or should I say who?”
Jungkook debates whether or not he should tell his friend. It’s not like you don’t know each other, but that was also part of the issue. He’s not one to kiss and tell, so he’ll keep details vague.
Jungkook locks his phone and sets it face down on his lap. “Your wedding videographer.”
Hoseok sputters into a coughing fit mid-inhale. “Wait, the same one who filmed The Silent Library Orgy?”
Jungkook nods. Doesn’t know why he feels like he’s telling a parent he’s dating for the first time.
“Interesting.” He brings the cigarette back to his lips. “She’s nice.”
“She is.” Jungkook concedes.
“So, she cool with the profession?”
Ah, there it is.
“Not sure.” Jungkook knows the whole rundown of dating someone not in the industry. Most of the time, they aren’t cool with the nature of the job. It’s hard to separate personal and work when much of his work encompasses activities he’d do with someone he was dating. Except, he wasn’t dating you and you aren’t dating him. And he’s keen on demonstrating you pleasure, feelings, and work can be separate, after all.
He’s not so sure he’s ready to face the reality of your feelings for him and his job. Just wants to enjoy you.
“Probably good to figure out soon.”
“Yeah, probably.” Jungkook waves off.
“Don’t do that to the poor girl.” He warns, as if the conversation wouldn’t be difficult for Jungkook either.
A conversation does need to happen eventually. Selfishly, he wants to continue spending time with you just as things are. And unreasonably, he’s upset Hoseok’s right.
Better to rip off the bandaid now than later, he supposes.
Jungkook sinks further into the reclined lawn chair. Nearby frogs and crickets echo back and forth, filling the silence between the two men.
“Hate this part of seeing someone.” Jungkook mutters.
“Why’d you think I stuck to dating people in the industry?” Considerably less complicated when you’re with someone who understands the ins and outs of the job. “Hurts less parties.”
When his friend stays silent, pondering, Hoseok continues, “Keep putting that shit off and it’s gonna burn you. Promise.”
Jungkook smiles. “Alright, wise one.”
Pleased, Hoseok changes the topic. “Can’t believe Yoongi and I are finally kicking the bucket.”
A cloud of grey exits Jungkook as he chuckles. “You make it sound like you’re dying.”
“Feels like a part of me is. Youth.” He mumbles. “Been doing this shit for damn near fifteen years.”
Jungkook has been doing this for almost ten years and he feels like he can go for a lot more, the inevitable ending still indefinite in his brain. He doesn’t know if it’s from actual passion for the job, or the comfortable lifestyle it offers. When his thoughts unconsciously flicker to you, he frowns. No matter all the luxury, there are still normal, regular things he can’t have in his unusual, exceptional life.
“It’s the right thing to do. No regrets.” Hoseok adds. “You’ll realize too.” He points at Jungkook with his cigarette.
“Realize what?”
“We all outgrow this field.”
Part of Jungkook knows he can’t stay in the industry until actual retirement. Though, there is a subcategory in porn with the elderly community and while he knows he’s years beyond that point, he isn’t sure his hips or back can handle anything strenuous as fucking seven days a week at the age of sixty-five or beyond.
Regardless, Jungkook scoffs. “You’re just jealous I’m young and have the freedom of choice.”
“Maybe I am. Yerin called me ‘unc’ last week.”
“Well, you are her uncle. I don’t see how that’s an insult.” Jungkook taps his cigarette into the ashtray.
“Called me that ‘cause I said her brows were fleeky. Apparently that shit’s ancient, can you believe that?” He huffs a laugh before clearing his throat. “Anyway. You really see yourself doing this for the long run?”
Filming porn is all Jungkook has known. It’s never failed him. It wants him, conditionally … as long as he looks good and performs. He’s always thought he’d work in this field long enough to not have to work anymore. Never thought there could be something more for him out there. Get a regular 9-5? Hard pass. He’d rather shit in his hands and clap. He isn’t into any form of manual labor either, so that puts him out of a job. Jungkook’s also a man of spite, doing shit where people would perceive as taboo or “wrong.” Quitting would only prove his doubters right.
The closest thing he’d consider doing outside of his current field is photography. He’s not going to make jackshit with how saturated the market is, at least not the first couple of years. Again, he wants photography to remain a hobby. The climb to the window is far beyond his reach at this point in his life. He’s missed out on the networking, skill learning, and time needed to establish a clientele … let alone finding his niche.
He’d rather choose a familiar hell than run into the unknown, praying and hoping he’d find a safe haven.
Porn is easy and routine. Of course, bad days exist — if anyone says they love their job unconditionally, they’re liars.
“Ah, what the hell, who am I to question? You’re on your own path, Jungkook.” Hoseok presses the last bit of his cigarette into the ashtray.
Knowing his friend, his dismissive nature isn’t like him. Jungkook benefits a lot from being the youngest in his friend group. He’s not considered young to the masses, but amongst his friends, he reaps off the fruits of their struggles. Learns to not make mistakes through their mistakes and if he does end up fucking things up, he always can turn to them for an answer.
“Does meeting someone special mean I should give up certain things?” Does meeting someone mean he needs to change?
His friend hums, takes a moment to ponder for an answer. “Depends.”
“On?”
“Risk management factors.”
“You really are unc.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Dumb it down for me.”
“Look, change is scary, but remaining the same is scarier. I’ll be honest, no clue what Yoongi and I are gonna do, but we’ll figure things out—I’ll figure things out.” He corrects himself, an unconscious grin on his face from the thought of his husband. “I just know we can’t milk our time in this industry.”
Jungkook thinks about all the things he loves right now: his home, lifestyle, hobbies, and most importantly, freedom. Would he lose these things the moment he decides to quit the one thing maintaining these pillars in his life?
Perhaps Hoseok does have a point in this ‘risk management’ theory.
Jungkook’s phone vibrates against his leg. Two notifications. One from you and another from his agent.
He takes one final long drag of his cigarette. Funny how smoking feels like it’s the only thing forcing him to breathe when it could also be the reason for his inevitable death. He replays your voice in his head, telling him he has nothing to lose. True, but he is losing something when he could only choose and go through one door.
Hoseok’s right. A part of Jungkook dies a little as he only replies to one message thread.
He commemorates the last night with beers, company he otherwise wouldn’t see unless on set, and the powerful jacuzzi jets.
Jungkook makes an enemy of the fluorescent lights in his break area and blames them for his inability to stay hard ten minutes before he’s called on set.
Yup, definitely the lights and not something to do with how he’s been short with you all week, not fully going through with the plans you offered whether it be dinner or helping him with the photography competition. Yesterday, he let you know he might be free to come over tonight—would have to check-in later.
All vague answers. If you were truly upset, you’d confront him about it. And you haven’t, so business as usual.
He hates fluorescent lights, but more than that, he hates the lighting on his screen the most.
He sees your contact name and picture—the same picture you both took at the cafe. Hates this guilt-ridden feeling traveling to the tips of his fingertips as he presses the answer button.
“Hey—whoa, it’s really dark where you’re at.”
Jungkook chuckles and reaches over to the light switch. He has his phone angled just at his head and as unsuspecting as you are of his intentions, you offer a soft smile. You don’t tell him you’ve missed him, but he feels it — knows it.
“Hey, Pix. What’s up? Everything okay?”
“Yeah! I just wanted to check-in if tonight’s still a go? I know you said you’d let me know—”
“Need actor and actress on set in five minutes.” The director’s voice blares through the intercom in the corner of his break area.
Jungkook swallows, sees the shift in your eyes, but you blink away the confusion.
“You didn’t mention you were back at work again.”
“Yeah, I accepted a new project.” He scratches behind his head. “And about the plans tonight, I should be free—”
“You know what? I forgot, I had some things to take care of tonight, so I think it might be cutting it close.” You interrupt. “We can find some other time that works for the both of us. Don’t wanna keep you from work.”
“Wait, Pix. I—”
You shake your head, bottom lip trembles slightly before you move the camera away from your face. “I’ll text you. Have a good day, okay?”
The call drops before he could respond.
His arm falls to his side, phone enveloped in his hand for a moment before he sets it on the vanity near his other belongings.
His costar is gorgeous, as all of them have been in the past. New, apparently, a little on the shy side when they first met to sign papers, but she’s thankful her first job was with someone like Jungkook. Kind, handsome, and experienced; well, he’s only two of the listed traits. He feels like the worst person in the world at the moment.
Unfortunately for Jungkook, the video call with you didn’t help. Embarrassing for a pornstar like him to not be able to get it up. Rookie bullshit to let his personal life impact work. So much for the idea of pleasure, feelings, and work can be separate.
The director and his costar were kind enough to give him an additional fifteen minutes to prepare himself. Some of his team even offered enhancers, which, frankly, felt insulting. He’s always been apprehensive about using medication for his job. He looks at the pills, slides it right off the counter and into the wastebin, ‘cause fuck that.
Just as you’re the person responsible for his state, you’re also the person who ends up bringing him out of it. He thinks about you and how you sound, how you feel, how you look. And it’s enough to hold him through work.
He fucks himself into his costar. A little too rough, but thankfully, she said she was good with that beforehand and it fit the script. He just wants to get this over with and go home.
He loves sex. Loves how it eases his mind. It’s better than a cigarette. Better than any form of sugar or drug.
Yet, at this moment, it feels more like a duty, and all he could see right now were your dejected eyes. You have no reason to be sad, and perhaps it’s why the guilt is so all-consuming. You can’t voice your hurt and betrayal — not allowed to.
He feels himself soften inside the girl under him and he slams his eyes shut, praying these thoughts go away.
It’s sick. How he wishes he was inside of you instead, fucking you like he’s sorry for god knows what. He’s not a good person, but maybe if he could make you feel good in the only way he knew how, you’d forgive him. Right his wrongs.
Thinking about fucking you helps. His costar announces she’s going to cum, and it’s not fake like he’s used to on set. Jungkook doesn’t know if he is able to get there, but he still pulls out after she’s finished. His hand moves feverishly over his cock like he did the night with you.
You. You. You.
He finally cums all over the woman’s stomach with a call of your name.
Unlike him, your promised text messages never come.
a/n: beta’d by @lovieku she saved my AH with her suggestions and edits!!! this part couldn’t have reached flow state w/o her help. everyone go show her some love or else! 🫂
alright now… do any of yall hate me after reading this part? i hope to have some discussion heh or hear your thoughts!! i also anticipate act iii coming around late april or early may. as always, ty for your guys continued patience and support. toodles~
synopsis: your skills as a videographer gets put to the test when your friend, who happens to be in the same profession, falls victim to double-booking. problem is, you only specialized in weddings, not adult films. despite your initial reluctance, you take the job. cue the lights … you meet jeon jungkook, a pornstar, on set — in his world. you just never expected him to play a part in yours.
pairing: pornstar!jungkook x wedding videographer!fem reader
wc: 14.3k
genre: s2l, pornstar au, smut, angst, fluff
cw: slice of life, alcohol consumption, crack-ish, inaccurate adult film industry discourse/depiction, jk gets harassed :/, flirting/banter, weddings, nicknames bc im allergic to using y/n, 18+ ONLY, sexual guilt/shame, sexual tension, filming, butt & dookie talk (sorry), virgin oc, orgy, threesome, brief sope sex scene, brief fem masturbation, roles get reversed and jk watches oc not for research purposes 😌✊🏼
a/n: the saga begins… alright, the tags above lookin a lil questionable, but i promise it’s not as wack as you think (or maybe it is). anyway pls read the prologue beforehand!! otherwise, enjoy~
masterlist | prologue | act ii.
Taehyung sold the fantasy of your success as his stand-in very early on; however, he never promised anything on the lines of your safety.
The filming location was about a forty-minute drive outside of town. Your current surroundings blend with the acres of nature the further you drove away from civilization.
You could just go home — fake an illness, lie about a flat tire, or go off grid for a while … maybe rent a cabin in the woods until Taehyung eventually hunts you down. Alright, the alternatives were a bit excessive considering you continued the drive despite your unease.
You weren’t a quitter; plus, you would never let a client down.
Eventually, you pull up to a random warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Dumb ways to die? Check. Thankfully, the sight of food trucks and multiple trailers parked on the side relieved your nerves.
A woman stands at the front, hand hovering over her eyes to block out the sun. She spots you first, smiling as she waves you down.
“Mina?” You tilt your head, the pace of your steps increase as you near the front of the warehouse. Her email communications were nothing short of professional, outlining the day’s itinerary and liability waivers, down to your food allergies. You expected anyone but someone in a grey oil-stained crewneck and baggy jeans to greet you.
She wears her most welcoming smile and the percentages in your head of getting murdered significantly drops.
“Yes!” She shakes your hand. “You must be Kim Taehyung’s stand-in for today’s shoot.”
You follow closely behind her, taking in all the book-filled shelves and desktop computers placed strategically to mimic a library. Quite the costly production for a simple porn video.
“Director Kim’s excited to meet you. He should be right …” She points at a tall blonde man reading through some papers, “there.”
As you and Mina near him, he looks less and less like the sleazy old man you pictured capable of making such heinous videos like the ones you had the unfortunate privilege of witnessing … minus that one video.
A jolt runs down your spine at the memory from last night. Another jolt runs through you as Mina introduces you to Director Kim.
“Nice to meet you, Director Kim.” You take his hand in a quick but firm shake.
“Namjoon.” He corrects. “Likewise, Taehyung spoke greatly of you.”
With introductions out of the way, Namjoon quickly picks up where he left off in his review of the papers. He briefs the script and his vision for today’s shoot.
An orgy. Well, that explains why there were so many cars and trailers parked outside.
“You’ve seen the Silent Library Challenge before, right?” Namjoon asks. “Well …”
Library setup … orgy … and challenge?
“Trying to fuck in silence.” Namjoon’s voice breaks your thoughts. “Nothing revolutionary, but with the combination of the other factors … it’s gonna be legendary.” He nods proudly.
You could only return a nod, unsure if you’d sound believable if you verbally agreed.
“I’ll let Mina get you settled in before we start.” He turns and speaks into his headset, “thirty minutes till call time, team.”
Mina leads you to a secluded area away from the set: an isolated dark tent.
“Holler if you need anything. I’ll see you in a bit!”
As she turns, your tense shoulders finally drop. Phew, a moment of respite — calm before the storm. You look at the entrance of the sketchy tent and brace yourself as you peel back the openings.
You’re lucky if your wedding bookings had a chair for you to sit on between filming. Here? You had your own private rest area, snack spread, shoulder massager, and … pull-out futon? Now this was a true VIP treatment. Oh, Kim Taehyung’s gonna get an earful for gatekeeping the perks of his job.
You eye the snack basket and while you don’t think you can stomach anything at the moment, your appetite is subject to change. Backpack opened, you stuff in a couple of cookies and chips for later.
“Okay,” you bounce on the futon in your seated position, “so far, not bad.”
You spend your short break repeating affirmations, envisioning the most terrible scenarios followed by the good ones. Ultimately, you settle with: Nothing bad will happen and you’ll be out of here in no time.
Namjoon’s voice blasts through the intercom, “Five minutes.”
You got this, you tell yourself, jumping up from the futon to head on set.
Only, you don’t make it out far from your rest area because you collide into something, or rather someone, hard.
“Oof—I’m sorry—”
You look up. Oh, hell no. No, no, no…
It can’t be.
They say if you’ve ever dreamed of a stranger, you’ve probably seen them in real life. The man in front of you? No stranger, not by a stretch. His face, the way he sounds … down to the moles on his chest, was forever carved in your memories. This new encounter only adds more details to those now: the way he feels and smells, citrus overtaking your senses.
He looks as good as he did in the video last night, chest on display from his loose robe.
“You good?” He asks.
The foolish part of your brain only registers his question as a praise like the ones in the video from last night.
You chirp out another quick apology and beeline to the set. Heat rushes to your face and sweat gathers at your hairline from the brief encounter. What were the odds of bumping into him? Well, the odds weren’t that low considering he featured in one of RkivedShots’ videos, but still …
The actors and actresses around the set begin de-robing like it’s a normal Tuesday. Yes, it was Tuesday, but none of this was the norm — your norm, at least.
“Alright crew, stick to your script and it’ll be a quick day. Let’s have fun, okay?” Namjoon announces into his mic. “We’ll break when we hit Act Two.”
The moment you grip the camera handle, your brain goes on autopilot, ceasing all thoughts of the man. Time to actually do what you came here for: work.
Weddings weren’t foolproof and you’ve learned in the hour of filming with RkivedShots the sentiment ran the same.
‘I ain’t hard enough.’
‘Whoops, condom slipped.’
‘Sorry, my shit’s drier than the Sahara desert.’
Despite the minor hiccups, everything seemed to be going well. On your final break, Namjoon looks distressed as he calls you over.
“Think we’re low on shots at the bookshelves. Mind focusing there a bit?”
There was a reason why you didn’t go over there as much. For one, you’re not sure how sturdy those shelves were with the number of people perched against it. Second, he was there.
Unfortunately, a job was a job.
The camera feels heavier in your hands as you trudge to the shelves.
“Psst.”
Alright, you’ve been around naked people all day — filmed them fucking, but you weren’t ready to have a conversation with an actor on set. A slender, but built man leans against the book shelves … bush out and dick erect. You avert your eyes. Eyes up here, you repeat, at the books … at his face where a pleased smile spreads when you near.
“Can you film from this spot?” He points at the small corner towards the end of the aisle.
“Sure thing.” The location was definitely not the most optimal angle, but you’re always eager to please your clients.
“That’s not fair, Hoseok.” A shorter man appears from behind. “What about the rest of the crew?”
Hoseok pouts. “Come on, Yoongi. Just this once? I’m finally topping, so I want my ass to look good in the frame.”
Yoongi crosses his arms and shakes his head.
“Please, my love?” Hoseok pleads and Yoongi’s stoic expression falters at the petname. He purses his lips and sighs.
“Fine.” Yoongi uncrosses his arms and looks apologetically over at you. “Sorry, my fiancè is making this difficult.”
“You love me.” Hoseok grins. “And thank you,” he turns to you again, “feel free to cut it short if it works better for you.”
“Standby!” Namjoon calls from the director’s stand.
Yoongi goes back to his original position — bent over, hands on the shelf. Hoseok comes from behind, left hand covering Yoongi’s. Hoseok plants a soft kiss on his shoulder and positions his cock at Yoongi’s entrance, waiting for the next cue.
Your eyes soften at the sight of their matching black wedding bands. Couples in the adult film industry shouldn’t surprise you; though, finally seeing one in the flesh raised questions. How did they meet? Did they start their careers at the same time? Do they get jealous if they aren’t filming with each other?
Questions continue to flood your mind until Namjoon signals for cameras to roll again.
You aren’t sure what Hoseok was talking about in terms of a “better angle” because he looked ethereal in every way you filmed him. As you filmed the couple, it becomes harder to decipher between acting or reality; certainly not with how Yoongi’s mouth hangs open as Hoseok thrusts inside of him. Heads turned, they share a heated kiss to stifle the sounds threatening to leave their lips. Very on theme for Silent Library. Works in theory — minus the balls slapping against balls asmr.
Your earpiece signals you to move from this scene. Slowly, you back away and shift over to the next aisle.
Yoongi and Hoseok’s performance displayed passion and love, the next scene … has you biting the inside of your cheeks and clenching your thighs together.
The same man you bumped into earlier. Same man on your laptop. Same man responsible for your accelerated heartrate, overtaking all your senses and rationale.
His fingers dig into the girl’s ass as he thrusts from behind. He tosses his head back in the same fashion as the video from last night. A tingle shoots straight to your core. God. The girl is inaudible, mouth preoccupied on sucking off and gagging on another man’s cock. The man in front leans forward and on cue, your mystery man meets him halfway for a frenzied kiss.
Wow, the perfect “A” formation.
Everything about this scene screamed primal — full of unadulterated want and need. Very different from the couple before.
The man in front breaks the kiss first, now solely focused on the girl sucking his cock. And your mysterious man from last night? Well … he's no better. He does little to hold back his low grunts and moans as he fucks himself into the woman.
Your mind checks off the question of how he’d look when he’s inside someone — completely and utterly blissed out. He fucks like he isn’t in a secluded warehouse in the middle of nowhere with twenty other pornstars. It’s just him, whatever partner(s) he’s with, and his pleasure.
And maybe that's what Namjoon wanted — to show how little restraint people have in places meant for silence and solitude.
You eventually move away from the area, now focused on the circle of men jerking off in a circle and finishing on top of a pile of paper, which you assumed was a metaphor for something. Fuck … homework?
You know what? Hell yeah.
Namjoon yells into his mic, "Cut! We got our shots. Great work!"
All the actors and actresses detach from one another, moving to their rest areas. You gather your belongings and catch the tattooed man whispering something into the girl's ear. They share a knowing look before she leads him away from the shelves.
"Not too bad, right?” Mina says, handing you a refreshment from her cooler, “I remember being super nervous on my first day."
How do you politely tell someone filming porn was something you never thought you’d dabble into? You don’t.
You settle with a neutral response, "It's different."
"I bet. Very different from the usual wedding scene."
"Totally." You chuckle, hand tightening around your camera.
"Oh!” Mina snaps. “You know what? Director Kim was telling me how he wanted to film something about cheating — parents of the bride or groom. Since you’re a wedding expert, he'll probably ask you some questions."
Sure, drama unfolded at weddings, but that didn’t make you an expert. You’re unsure where the correlation existed; regardless, you nod and smile.
"Genius, isn't he?" Mina fawns. "Anyway, we’re done for the day. Take as much time as you need before heading out." She ushers you in the direction of your rest area.
Your tired legs take you right in front of your private area of solitude and you hear it before you see it: rhythmic clapping, hushed moans, and giggles fill your ears. Must be a hallucination or side effect of being around hoards of people fucking all afternoon.
Gotta be.
You peel back the curtain and the air around you stills. For the second time today, you're rendered speechless — frozen in place. Time ceases to move … unlike the two naked people in front of you on the same futon you were graciously provided.
Fucking.
You recognize those tattoos, the way he sounds — there's no way you’d forget. How could you when he was the last thing you heard before you went to sleep in shame?
"Oh my god!" Profusely apologizing, you immediately back away and speed off in the opposite direction — not without hearing a faint, frustrated sigh followed by a high pitched giggle.
Outside the warehouse, you frantically type on your cellphone.
You [4:32 p.m.]: Dude. Caught ppl having sex.
Three dots appear in the message thread and you gnaw on your bottom lip, angry tears threatening to fall at the brim of your eyes.
Taehyung [4:33 p.m.]: Uh, idk what to tell you … you are on a porn set.
You [4:33 p.m.]: Well
You [4:33 p.m.]: Yes
Taehyung [4:34 p.m.]: ??
You [4:36 p.m.]: Is it normal for them to have sex outside their filming time?
Within seconds, your phone lights up with Taehyung's contact picture.
"Can only talk for about five minutes, so I thought it'd be easier to call. What's going on, kiddo?"
You roll your eyes. Hate it when he calls you that despite being the same age.
"Caught someone having sex … in my break area."
"Oh, um, my condolences."
"So like … is that a usual thing?"
"I mean, professionally speaking, there's the saying: don't eat where you shit. Or wait, is that the other way around? Anyway," he hums in deep thought, "I guess it's not totally taboo to have sex with your co-actors, but it's frowned upon."
His answer brings you little comfort. Honestly, you aren’t sure if any answer other than erasing your memories from the last four hours could bring you comfort.
"I see."
"Mhm … that aside, how's everything? You doing okay?"
"It’s alright."
If Taehyung wasn’t one of your best friends, maybe you’d do a better job at keeping your struggles to yourself.
“Okay, it was rough and I’m tired. How the hell do you do this?” You whine.
He laughs, "I know. Not so easy, right? That’s the challenging part about this industry. Wait till you get to the editing portion."
You groan, head craned back to relieve the tension forming at your neck.
“Let me know if you need any help though.”
"I’ll let you know if I hit a wall. Should be straightforward." Only because your stubbornness and pride refuses any form of assistance.
"That's my bestie," He cheers, "But alright, I gotta head back on set. Let's catch up later? Drinks on me."
The phone call with your best friend did make you feel better — almost enough to have made you forget the whole debacle in your break area.
You press your back against the warehouse, the structure’s warmth absorbed under the sun seeps through your clothes, relaxing your muscles. You give yourself (and them) another ten minutes before you march yourself back to the tent for your belongings. They have to be done by now, right?
After the shame and embarrassment subsided, you find yourself angry. Of all the places they could’ve gone, why did they pick yours? They couldn't have held on for another discrete location? And they didn't even apologize to you. Matter of fact, you don’t think they even stopped when you caught them.
Fuck them.
You begrudgingly go back into the warehouse, eyes glaring at the black curtain separating you and potentially a scene you don't wish to walk into.
You purposely clear your throat a little louder than usual, praying your signal alarms them of your presence.
Prying apart the curtains, your head turns away in the event you misjudged the silence for their absence. You peek at the area with one eye.
Oh.
As if two people weren’t in here fucking each other’s brains out, the area looks spotless — just as you originally entered.
Maybe it was a hallucination.
You look over at the futon.
White stain. Yep, not a hallucination.
You quickly move around the room to gather your belongings — not without sweeping the rest of the snacks into your bag.
What? Therapy wasn’t included with the job (that you’re aware of), so the snacks will do as compensation.
Once packed up, you make one last stop to Namjoon and Mina before departing.
"Pleasure working with you — everything went smoothly if I do say so myself. I'm excited for the final product." Namjoon smiles — the kind that encourages you to work a little harder.
Taehyung’s incessant need to please this man makes sense now.
"Likewise. I'll have something for you by the end of this weekend." You nod, shrugging the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder.
Mina escorts you out of the warehouse and walks you to your car. Like a mirage or distant memory, the warehouse fades away as you drive back to your world and sanctuary.
For writers, your words and stories come to life during the editing phase. The sentiment holds the same for your line of work.
Without a doubt, your videos came to life during editing.
At least, that's how you felt with weddings.
You didn't know what to do with the raw shots from yesterday.
“WWKTD: What would Kim Taehyung do?” You close your eyes, desk chair swaying as you rocked back and forth.
No, there was no need to be a copycat of any sort — just gotta follow your own method of madness.
Identifying your target audience was the first step to any good production. Weddings? Easy. Porn? As difficult as trying to hit a moving target. Aside from those consuming the media, you also needed to appease your employer, Kim Namjoon.
You set to editing. Hours and hours of cutting clips, checking the sound, and adjusting the filters on each shot nearly sends you into psychosis. It’s a lot, okay? The constant moaning, bodily fluids, and skin slapping …
Twelve rigorous hours later, six tea breaks, and multiple laps around your building, you condensed the many hours of clips into a thirty minute production.
"Finally." Your body melts into your desk chair, completely depleted from the project.
But it’s done.
Less is more. You hope Namjoon agrees. Within two minutes of emailing the file, Mina replied with their confirmation receipt and advised you their accounting folks wired the second half of your paycheck.
Your jaw nearly drops to the floor at the sight of your bank notification.
You [11:32 p.m.]: HOLY SHIT. YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU MADE THAT MUCH ON ONE JOB!
Taehyung [11:36 p.m.]: Sex sells🤷
You [11:36 p.m.]: 😟
He reacts to your message with a laughing emoji.
And so, life and work continues as normally after that project. You’ve always told yourself you’d try something at least three times before calling quits — one try of RkivedShots told you enough.
You've been on a blaze with your wedding bookings since working with RkivedShots. So much that you haven't been able to answer text messages and email inquiries in the last couple of weeks.
People typically back off after a no response. Not Mina, nope. Her unanswered email only fuels her persistence.
Mina [4:58 p.m.]: Hey there, it’s Mina!! Just in case you didn't get my email, RkivedShots is hosting a milestone party this weekend at our company headquarter! The Silent Library Orgy made it to the top video on the website and it's still going strong. You were a huge part of the production's success, so we'd love it if you come and celebrate with us!
You [5:01 p.m.]: Glad to hear the video is doing great! Been super swamped, so I will have to pass on this party. Thank you though, and I hope you're doing well. :)
That should’ve been the end of it.
Yet, you're in front of your small vanity, begrudgingly patting on a light layer of foundation as Taehyung rummages through your closet for an appropriate party outfit.
"What happened to all your clubbing outfits?" Taehyung grunts. "You know, that one disco ball looking dress you always wore in undergrad?"
"Donated." You roll your eyes. “And I only wore that dress once for a Halloween party as a disco ball.”
Ignoring you, Taehyung continues his mission of berating your fashion choices. "Why do you only have black tops and bottoms? This is the worst."
Black was a nice and neutral color — perfect for someone to blend into the background for events like weddings. You were unnoticeable to many. The focus should always be on your clients, not you.
"Then maybe we shouldn't go to the party … I'm totally okay with a night in."
Taehyung pokes his head out from your small walk-in closet with a glare. "Dude. You don't get how big of a deal this is!"
"Explain then. Because I could be catching up on my shows … it's the first weekend in weeks I'm finally free." You complain.
"You can always find time to catch up on shows. This is a big deal for RkivedShots to hit the top video for the third week in a row."
"Fine, but no more than two hours."
"Two hours? You're spoiling me." Taehyung grins at your dull expression. "But alright, we show face then bounce."
"Golden."
And so was the party as you and Taehyung waltz through the elevator doors of RkivedShots headquarters. You hate to admit it … but maybe Taehyung had a point when he said you looked like you were going in for an interview with your fancy blouse and beige slacks. Everyone was dressed to the nines minus the naked people laying down with appetizers served on their bodies. Now that was a sight to witness. Purple and pink hues of lights flash around the room, but nothing stood out more than the black and golden banner, “Top Streamed Adult Film.”
"Is it too late to change call time?" You mutter under your breath.
Taehyung laughs and with a hand behind the small of your back, he guides you to the open bar.
"What can I get you both?" The bartender asks, topless with only a black bowtie around his neck.
"Tequila, please." Taehyung requests.
"Do you guys do midori sour?" You inquire. Bars rarely make this drink these days, but it never stopped you from testing your luck. You’ll default to your usual rum and coke if it’s a no go.
"Finally. A break from the usual whiskey and beer." The bartender winks. "And yes, one midori sour and tequila coming right up."
As the bartender makes your drinks, Taehyung nudges you and whispers, "Oh my god, Director Kim is walking over here. Act cool."
Funny how he's the one sporting an awkward boxy smile, hands deep in his back pockets to minimize his fidgeting.
Poor boy.
Behind Namjoon, you spot Mina. No longer in her crewneck and baggy jeans, she resembles a fairy in her flowy lilac dress.
Mina rushes past Namjoon the moment she recognizes you and gives you a small side hug. "So glad you came through! Did you guys order drinks yet?" She begins waving down the bartender, but stops midway when you giggle and nod.
From the side, Namjoon and Taehyung are deep in their own greeting. Hand slapped onto Taehyung’s shoulder, Namjoon’s laughter catches a few stares from surrounding attendees who smile knowingly at the source. Eventually, Namjoon looks over in your direction and smiles.
"Ah, just who I wanted to see." His dimples welcome you before he does.
"Director Kim—" You begin.
"Ah-ah, just Namjoon. Director Kim makes me feel like my old man."
"Oh, okay, Namjoon," you smile, "thank you for inviting me."
"Thank you." He repeats, "Truly, the pleasure's all mine. We wouldn't be here without your help."
"Your scripts and plots speak for themselves." You reassure.
Namjoon shakes his head. "The way you captured each scene and the hue of the video." He recounts. "It's different."
"Good, I hope."
"Exceptional. I do have another future project … I was wondering if you'd be up for it."
"Um—"
"Wedding season’s keeping her busy. I barely got her out tonight." Taehyung chimes in, saving you from having to awkwardly decline. You secretly thank him with a subtle glance.
Namjoon and Taehyung fall back in their conversation again, throwing out ideas and visions for future projects. Thankfully, Mina makes a great party companion even while greeting other attendees, she always comes back to you. Finds your line of work so fascinating because of its everlasting demand and new trends.
Suddenly, you lurch forward from an unknown force.
“Oh god, so sorry!” The man from behind apologizes.
“It’s okay—oh, Hoseok?”
There’s no Hoseok without Yoongi and they both look immaculate donned in dark grey. Their looks wouldn’t be complete without a set of matching cuff links only visible to the naked eye. You've been to enough weddings to know how special they hold to the grooms.
It's a statement piece. His and his.
"Well, who do we have here?" Hoseok smiles brightly. "If it isn't The Camerawoman that saved my ass. Literally. I've never looked better, so thank you."
"Sorry, he's had one too many to drink." Yoongi apologizes. “Your video was awesome, by the way. Just the right traction RkivedShots needed.”
“She’s awesome, isn’t she? Jack of all trades.” Mina praises. “Oh my god, wait! Don’t you and Hoseok need a wedding videographer?”
"We do." Yoongi nods.
You fumble around your purse and hand him your business card. "No pressure at all, but feel free to check my portfolio and calendar to see if it aligns with your schedule. Congrats to you two — I'm sure the wedding is going to be amazing."
Yoongi offers you his most sincere smile and tucks the card in his back pocket. He shares a fond stare with Hoseok. You later learned they met on set about three years ago … something about the video being about the Lorax and Onceler.
"Looks like they're going to play a drinking game over there. Come join?" Hoseok nods in the direction where there were about ten other people seated around a small table.
As you near the table, the blood draws from your face. It's the same man from before. The one you bumped into. The one in your break room. The one your body and heart recognize with ease.
He's as gorgeous as everyone else in the room. The pounding in your ears amplifies at the sound of his laughter. He unintentionally garners all the attention, be it from his appearances or whatever words leave his lips.
You tip-toe away from Mina, finding Taehyung on the other side of the gathering. He jumps at your poke, "That's him."
"Huh, what? Who?" He looks around.
"Don't make it obvious." You whisper-yell. "One of the two I caught having sex. Black coat, lip piercings."
Taehyung slowly lifts his head to scan for the person matching your description. His eyes widen for a millisecond before he drops his head to your ear.
"No fucking way … Jeon Jungkook?"
Well, you didn’t know his name. But now that you think about it, the shoe fits … 'JK 🐰.'
"Do you know him?" You ask.
"Hm, not particularly. Always been a nice fellow to shoot with. Never had any issues with him in the past."
Guess you were just the unlucky one.
The girl next to Jungkook takes a sip of her drink before clapping her hands.
"Alright. Let's play two truths, one lie. I don't want to hear some lame shit like you had a dog named Q-tip."
"Hey, what's wrong with that name?" One of the other dudes around the table retorts.
"Snooze fest. I'll start us off though. If you guess wrong, you take a shot."
She taps on her chin for a couple of seconds and grins. "Went to the ER for a bottle stuck up my ass, my sister was in 'Two Girls, One Cup,' and last one … lost my virginity at a car wash fundraiser to eradicate smallpox."
The people around the table begin their discourse. No one has made the move to speak out for fear of getting it wrong.
"Bottle seems so general." Taehyung murmurs to you.
Meanwhile, you're still stuck on the fact that one of their family members had potential ties to the 'Two Girls, One Cup' franchise. By the way, hugest mistake on your part for even looking up the video when you were in college.
"I'm voting for the ER story." Mina raises her glass and some of the other players raise theirs too.
Some voted on the cup, very little decided against the car wash as the lie. And very little meaning, just one person. Jungkook, namely.
"You sure you want to go with that option, Jungkook?" Hoseok grins.
"Mhm." He leans against the backrest of the chair, returning a smirk.
Confident. Or perhaps overly cocky, just as you ruled from the night you watched the video. Almost made you want to change your vote to spite him.
"Everyone ready for the reveal?" The girl does a little drumroll on her thighs. "The lie was … losing my virginity at a car wash fundraiser to eradicate smallpox."
A bunch of people groaned and sighed in disappointment while others rolled their eyes before taking a shot of their drink.
"Damn, how'd you know, Jungkook?" Taehyung inquires.
Jungkook glances over in his direction — well, yours too. His eyes flickered between you and Taehying before he answered.
"Unless Hana was born before the 1970s, I'm pretty sure smallpox's eradicated."
"Bingo! It was for polio, actually." Hana confirms.
You take another sip of your drink. Not because you guessed wrong. Technically, you weren’t even playing. Just gave you something as a distraction to lessen the weight of his stares.
He finally averts his gaze at Hana’s single clap. "Your turn since you guessed right, Kook."
"Hmm." Lips pursed, his piercings flip. The small act sends shockwaves to your core at the reminder of how they also did that when he … okay, time-out, you need to reel it back in.
"Had my first kiss at nineteen—"
"Boring!" Yoongi chants.
“Yawning!” Hoseok adds.
Everyone laughs but you. You were a late bloomer. Hell, you took extra time learning to crawl and walk as a baby. Came nearly last in all your Physical Education running exams. Puberty hit you later in comparison to all the other kids in middle school too. Last or late … didn’t matter. And just like crawling, puberty, and everything in between, you were also late in the game for your first kiss.
That is, until the age of twenty-two on New Year's Eve. There wasn’t anything profound about your first kiss other than the fact you were fed up about never experiencing it. One locked gaze with the boy next to you, a quick nod, and even faster peck, it was over.
All that was left was the faint aftertaste of whatever cheap drink he favored that evening and the prickle on your skin from his chin stubble.
Were you ashamed about kissing a random stranger? Not as much as you were disappointed. At least this was one thing you could check off your list.
Lackluster first kiss? Done.
"Fine." Jungkook rolls his eyes. "I love prostate orgasms, shit myself during a half marathon, and I don't fancy virgins."
Oh.
What was the virgin equivalence to a Scarlet Letter branding? Yeah. This was one of those moments.
You zone out, noise and chatter from all the other attendees fading in the background until Taehyung brushes his arm against yours and mouths, “You good?”
“Yep.” You lie.
"Aw, whatcha got against virgins?" Mina scrunches her nose playfully.
He shrugs, "Is that your guess?"
She taps on her chin, "I know you're extra whiny when you take it up the ass … so the first one is out."
Jungkook laughs, like, actually laughs. He doesn't deny it – a simple confirmation of his preferences. Owns the fact without shame or embarrassment.
With Mina's knowledge, everyone was down to the other two options. Virgin hater or blowing ass while running? This or that.
Ultimately, the group was split down the middle.
"Gotta be the virgin." Another girl nods. “How could you not like them? So innocent and clueless.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you have a corruption kink, Nabi.” Another girl calls out.
“Touché. So am I right, Jungkook? You don’t really hate virgins, right?” Nabi bats her eyes.
"Take a sip," Jungkook simply says. "Would be caught dead before I run in a marathon."
Okay, confirmed: Jungkook hates virgins. You suppose that’s understandable considering there was no fun in being with someone inexperienced when he has access to all this and more.
It hurts. Not because you lost out on a highly improbable chance with him—it’s just always been like this. If no one has chosen you in the past, why would anyone choose to be with someone as you are now? You had to be the problem, right?
The game continues around the group. There's a pattern to their truths and lies — both the added and unnecessary details. You’re not sure if it’s because of all the explicit facts, but up to a certain point in the game … it got boring.
Too much butt discourse for your liking truthfully.
Taehyung eventually goes and does his round. Less graphic and devoid of butt related lore in comparison. There’s nothing you don’t know about your best friend, so you’re curious what kind of antics he’ll pull. Naturally, you read his lie the moment the statement left his lips.
“Really? You sexted someone for eight hours? That’s a full workshift.” You tease in a hushed voice.
“Don’t say a word.” He grumbles.
You giggle and take a sip from your drink only to notice it’s filled with nothing but ice and a little preserved cherry. Perfect timing to discreetly slip away, especially since Taehyung’s turn is nearing the end.
“Another midori sour for the pretty lady?” The same bartender asks. You’re no stranger to lip service having been a waitress yourself in your college years. The art of finessing for a couple bucks takes a certain level of mastery and tact. The bartender was nice and remembered something about you — that’s an easy tip right there. You end up stuffing some cash into their phallic-shaped jar — not for flattery, but you knew this was their only way to take home a little more in their pockets tonight being an open bar and all.
He slides you another drink on a napkin and looks to the side for the next customer.
The barstool next to you scrapes against the floor, citrus filling your nostrils.
His hands catch your attention first. You know them — know the tattoos littered on his fingers and top of his hand. How they look wrapped around his coc—cup, yes, that. He scoots his empty glass to the bartender, “Highball, please?”
He takes out his wallet and stuffs a couple bills into the jar as the bartender makes his drink.
Like some dumb spell, you stay, get lost in his scent — realize he’s, well, real. The same person you secretly watched and touched yourself to, same person you filmed, same person staring at you all night. And you only know this because, you too, have secretly stared all night long.
Your thoughts scatter from the drink-filled glass sliding across the counter.
"It's rude to disappear in the middle of a game." He remarks, lips linger at the rim of the glass. He takes a small sip, lips pressed into a thin line to cherish any remnants of the liquor. "You do that a lot?"
You nearly forget to answer, too mesmerized by the way he grips and swirls his glass with his fingers. "What?"
"You know, run away — disappear, poof." Eyes sparkling as he studies his drink. "Like a fairy."
A terrible comparison, really, but it earns a light snort from you. Just like that, he’s reduced to nothing but a good looking man striking up a conversation with the oddest topics. You’ll entertain him thanks to the sugary confidence from your midori sour.
"You look for fairies often?" You muse.
"I do." He turns to you now, lids heavy. "Could never quite catch them. You know, ‘cause they’re always fleeing from the scene." He says pointedly.
Definitely a dig. Though, you’re anything but offended, not when the banter came from him.
"Your video did numbers." He cuts his bit short and changes the topic. "You plan to sign with RkivedShots?"
You shake your head. Plus, Namjoon never offered you a job.
"Shame." Jungkook shrugs and finishes the rest of his drink. He exhales the alcohol fumes through his nostrils.
"Sorry you walked in on that the other day by the way."
Doesn’t take you long to connect what he was apologizing for. You just never expected it to come out so … dismissive. What’s an apology without intention? Obligation. He wasn’t truly sorry. At least, that’s what you’ve gathered from his bored expression with the most interesting thing being the round ice in his cup.
“No biggie.” You answer, as equally nonchalant.
"Jungkook." He extends his hand out.
It’s so pretty and inviting — nails perfectly manicured and clean. And when your own gets engulfed in his warmth, your mind wanders back to the video and how he truly feels to the touch.
"Nice to meet you, Jungkook. I've got to go though. Have a good evening."
"Running away again?" He laughs softly through his nose.
"Exiting gracefully.” You rephrase. “Met my two-hour quota."
It’s not fair the way Jungkook looks up from where he’s seated. The mask he’s worn all evening falters momentarily, exposing his want for your company.
Again, his eyes spoke — just a little longer.
"Do I not get to know your name?" He asks.
He could ask anyone, but shows his persistence and integrity of obtaining this knowledge from the primary source: you.
"It'll give you too much power." You reply. Fairy Logic 101: never give your name out. You hope he gets the reference, but then again, none of this mattered since this will be the last time you see him anyway.
With a laugh and slow shake of his head, he confirms his understanding of the niche allusion. "Alright, see you around then, Pixie."
Had any other man called you that nickname, you’d return the biggest scowl. Jungkook was lucky he was Jungkook.
As predicted, you don't see Jungkook again after that night. Then again, you know what they say: chances of re-meeting pornstars are low, but never zero. Alright, no one has ever said that, but you do reconnect with a couple from the party three months later inquiring for your wedding services.
Yoongi and Hoseok were probably the easiest, if not funnest, couple you’ve worked with. They still wanted to keep the sweet and loving aspect of a traditional wedding video while incorporating an interview portion similar to The Office.
Weeks pass till your calendar pings you: Hoseok & Yoongi’s Wedding (All Day).
Your first stop was at Yoongi’s suite. You knock. No answer. After another round of hesitant knocks, you twist the knob. You don’t see him at first, but the sounds of distant footsteps catch your attention. Yoongi paces back and forth near the open balcony, suit jacket hanging on the door handle of the bathroom. Hair a little longer and dress shirt fitting snug on his body, he looks different — in a good way. Unlike his usual collected demeanor, he chews on his thumb, mumbling phrases you could only assume were his vows.
Classic wedding jitters.
The moment he notices your presence, he exhales and straightens his posture.
“Hey, you made it.” He breathes.
He does everything besides completing the interview portion of the wedding video: offers you snacks, asks about your drive to the venue, and even pulls a stool for you to sit down as you adjust your equipment.
“Whoa-whoa, don’t worry about me,” You chuckle. “Today’s about you.”
He settles back into his chair again, less fidgety than before but the nerves are still present.
A soft knock on the door interrupts Yoongi mid-interview.
“Yoongi, Hoseok wanted to give you—”
Jungkook stands at the doorway, dumbfounded, as he holds a plastic box containing a white boutonniere. A shit-eating grin grows on his handsome face at the realization of your attendance.
"Pixie!" He beams.
You cringe at the nickname. Totally your fault for not giving him your real name, but it’s too late now.
"Pixie?" Yoongi asks with a lifted brow. He looks over at you and you busy yourself with the camera, feigning ignorance to Jungkook’s greeting.
Seeing your lack of acknowledgement, Jungkook ignores Yoongi’s questioning stare to spare you from further embarrassment. "Here." He hands over the tiny box to Yoongi.
"How are you feeling?" Jungkook asks, leaning against the drawer. He crosses his arms, biceps becoming more defined in his fitted navy blue suit.
You slowly let out a shaky breath at the sight.
"Nervous.” Yoongi exhales. “What if Hoseok was right about the cake?"
"You really think people would prefer carrot over red velvet? The cake you picked out is perfect, Yoongi." He reassures.
"Yeah… yeah." Yoongi nods. "Sorry, I'm just anxious."
Jungkook crouches down to meet Yoongi's eye level. "At the end of the day, it's just you and Hoseok. Just like it's always been and will be, well, just with an audience today. Wedding’s going to be awesome." He looks at the camera … or perhaps, at you. "Agree?"
You move the camera up and down. Yoongi snickers and looks fondly at the boutonniere on his lap.
He gives Yoongi one final firm squeeze on the shoulder. "I'll see you out there." The room feels hotter despite the open balcony. It has less to do with the warm weather and everything to do with Jungkook’s lingering glance in your direction before he finally leaves the suite.
Yoongi’s pre-wedding interview lasts for another ten minutes before you switch over to Hoseok's suite. Surprisingly, he's a lot quieter today — not his usual extroverted self. He opts out of the interview, instead requesting to film a secret message to his and Yoongi’s future-self.
You're stationed on the side of the ceremony now. Ever so discreetly, you watch the wedding guests file in and fill the chairs, but there were no signs of the man in a navy-fitted suit. Then, a couple camera shutters go off behind you.
"Didn't know you do weddings, Pixie." Jungkook lowers his camera, satisfied with the images he captured. Few of the ceremony hall, many of your blank stares.
"Mhm." Act cool, act cool.
"So, this your part-time gig?" He stands next to you, again, another round of camera shutters go off. One eye closed, his long wispy lashes kiss the top of his cheek.
You shake your head. “Full-time wedding videographer. You … into photography?"
"Just a thing I like to do on the side." He lowers his camera. "Nothing serious."
At minimum, the camera’s about your month's rent. Certainly no rookie camera for something he wasn’t serious about.
"Their photographer came down with the flu this morning. So I'm just filling in.” He explains. “Would much rather sit with everyone else, but you saw Yoongi."
“That’s nice of you.”
“Just what friends do.”
And perhaps that was your turning point with Jungkook. Or maybe it was when he snuck you some appetizers … or when he refilled your apple cider (non-alcoholic drinks only ‘cause you’re on the job, duh), or tried cracking a joke about how Hoseok’s racist, money leeching uncle’s toupee caught some airtime during the ceremony. Jungkook was everywhere, but he was always close by.
You leave the venue with a content warmth filling your chest, unsure if the magnified feelings came from the numerous candid shots of the lovely couple or your interactions with Jungkook. The night you begin editing for Hoseok and Yoongi’s wedding is also the night you discover one of your memory cards containing the latter half of the wedding was nowhere to be found.
After flipping your apartment upside down and numerous calls to the wedding venue, you officially declared the memory card lost.
Aside from having to deliver bad news, you hated the idea of disappointing your clients. Can already imagine Hoseok’s crestfallen smile and Yoongi’s displeased expression.
“Think, think, think.” You pace in your home for the hundredth time, hoping for an epiphany to strike.
Just as you click into Yoongi’s contact information to initiate the dreaded call, an idea pops into your head. “Aha!”
Surely Jungkook took pictures of the latter part of the evening, right? Maybe you can ask him if he's willing to share some of his photos.
You text Yoongi asking for Jungkook’s contact information. No questions asked, Yoongi immediately forwards his friend’s phone number. Too easy … too cooperative. Perhaps Yoongi thought he was playing matchmaker with his wedding videographer and friend.
Either way, you don’t find the need to explain yourself. Plus, there was no need to create unnecessary panic or disappointment.
You [7:44 p.m.]: Hey, is this Jungkook?
Jungkook [7:48 p.m.]: Who's this?
Your teeth sink onto your bottom lip.
You [7:49 p.m.]: 🧚
Your phone begins ringing instantaneously. You take a deep breath before answering your phone.
"Hello?"
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Funny coming from someone who called you.
You contemplate hanging up, but you really don't want to jeopardize Hoseok and Yoongi's wedding video.
"Okay … so, I lost the memory card containing Yoongi and Hoseok’s reception."
He sucks in a breath. "Yikes."
"Yeah … I, uh, was wondering if you'd like to share some of the pictures from the evening. If you don't mind, I wanted to combine it with the video. You'll get full credit, of course."
He chuckles, warm and silky. The melodic sound gives full permission for those godforsaken butterflies to flutter in the depths of your stomach.
"Sure thing, Pix.” Okay, fine. The nickname’s starting to grow on you.
He continues, “Took a whole bunch though, so maybe I can move them into a USB stick and we can meet up?"
Well, that was a lot easier than you thought. You both settle for a coffee shop in the afternoon tomorrow.
Naturally, you're first to arrive. You spent an extra thirty minutes looking through your wardrobe only to realize … what the hell were you doing? All this overplanning and anxiety for a simple meetup you would never in a million years write off as a date. You eventually settle with your old university hoodie and leggings.
Good thing you did, because Jungkook comes into the shop moments later looking like he just left the gym with his beanie and black long sleeve compression shirt. Casual, just like you. Relaxed, unlike you.
"Hi." You greet.
"Hey." A boyish grin adorns his features.
"Thanks again for this. You’re truly a lifesaver."
"You're welcome." He reaches in his pocket to fish out the black USB stick.
He holds the stick in his palm, waiting for you to reach over. At the last second, he closes his palm.
"On two conditions." He says with a smirk.
Damn. You were a fool to think this favor came without a price tag.
"Shoot."
"Let me shadow your filming and editing process."
"Why?" Your brows furrow in confusion. In truth, you’re a bit skeptical of his motives. What could Jungkook possibly get out of shadowing weddings with you?
He answers your doubts without you needing to voice them. "Always appreciated film and photography, so I'm interested in your process."
"I'm no expert."
"You run a business and your video for RkivedShots is one of the top viewed videos on the site. I think you’ve earned your title."
His flattery does wonders to your ego, but you don't feel suited for the job. If anything, Taehyung might be a better match.
Then again, it wouldn't hurt to get some extra help at your bookings and you weren’t opposed to free labor.
Plus, you'll get the pictures you need for Yoongi and Hoseok's wedding video. A win is a win.
"Alright, but no complaining if it's not what you expected."
He smiles, "Perfect."
Your drink orders arrive shortly. Surprisingly, you both ordered the same drink, just hot and cold versions. A sheen layer of condensation builds around your cup, water droplets dripping onto the coaster as you shake and swirl the drink to disperse the sweetness and ice.
Jungkook’s loose hold on the USB stick reminds you haven’t been granted full access to the pictures yet.
"So, what's the second condition?" You question.
He tips the cup of coffee towards his lips and takes a cautious sip to gauge at the temperature. Content with his drink, he places the cup down on the coaster. "Your name." He simpers, eyes playful and expectant.
Oh.
You snort and tell him your name.
"You know, you could've asked anyone. I'm sure they would've told you." You quip.
"It's not the same." He shakes his head, handing over the USB stick to you. "Here." He says your name. Like a prayer. Like a command. A wish.
You were right. Names do hold powers.
Even with the knowledge of your legal government name, Jungkook prefers calling you anything but that. Variations of Pixie, Pix, and P slip out more during your conversations. Does it bother you? Not really. Grown on you in fact. Just like his daily text messages and questions.
Surprisingly, he keeps all interactions solely about film and photography. It's you who starts feeling antsy at the lack of questions about personal life. You weren't just a wedding videographer and Jungkook wasn't just your informal disciple. Wasn’t he curious about who you were outside of your job? Because you’re certainly curious about him. Alas, he doesn't push for more and you're too prideful to initiate otherwise.
A couple weeks later, you forward your month's schedule and out of the eight weddings, he's only able to make it to three.
The first two times, he had to cancel the night before — something about his agent booking him last minute projects. You weren’t too pressed, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed.
Were you a fan of last minute cancellations? In general, no. You’re a firm believer in upholding promises and obligations. In retrospect, he didn’t owe you anything and he wasn’t getting paid for shadowing you.
So yeah, he should get his bag or bread — whatever the kids say nowadays.
You’re grateful he had the decency to tell you and appeared extremely apologetic both times. Sure, bare minimum to extend that courtesy, but you’ve encountered way too many flakes and ghosters in the past. You’ll give credit where credit is due.
The third and final booking for the month rolls by and you had half a thought he'd cancel, but his car parks right next to yours at the venue’s reserved lot.
"You made it." You breathe.
"Didn't think I'd go AWOL, did you?" He locks his car and walks over to your trunk where you started unloading your equipment
"Partially."
Jungkook gives you a pensive stare and leans over to grab one of your bags. “I’d never do that to you.”
Only because he’s unknowingly done too much to your poor heart. You hope these feelings lessen as your relationship evolves outside of this student-teacher dynamic. Maybe if he were more of a friend and less of an idea, your mind could shut down any notions of a budding crush.
“This is one of my favorite spots. You get the full view from the front and also whoever is walking down the aisle." You angle your camera.
Jungkook leans down to your level, head tilted for a better view of the screen. "This is awesome, P." He says, unaware how his low tone sends swarms of butterflies to your stomach.
As the wedding guests enter the ceremony, you overhear a gasp and a series of whispers on the side. Glancing over, you confirm a group of girls hovered in a small circle, peering over at you and Jungkook.
You note your own appearance: clothing free of stains and not a single strand of hair out of place — what could be wrong?
Your companion, of course. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he looks too good to be doing something as ordinary as adjusting the lens on the camera, completely oblivious to the small fawning session on the side. Perhaps he’s aware, just chooses not to acknowledge.
Towards the middle of the reception, one of the bridesmaids comes up to you and Jungkook with water bottles.
"You both should stay after. Everything that's not finished is going into the trash tonight. We can make you a box for the road."
"Thank you,” you hand the extra bottle to Jungkook, “We’ll rain check." You answer politely. You never know how long a wedding could run and you'd rather just go back home once the event is officially over.
The bridesmaid startles at a tap on her shoulder.
"Wonhee, Sora is looking for you." A woman in a blush dress says. Behind her were a group of girls — the same girls you recognize from the ceremony earlier this evening.
The bridesmaid leaves and the woman stays in her spot, looking back and forth between both you and Jungkook.
"I feel like I've seen you somewhere …" She says.
"Have you?" Jungkook entertains. "This is my first wedding gig."
Like a school of hungry sharks, the group of girls circle around you both, waiting to sink their jaws into their prey.
"Mhm. Pretty sure it was at a wedding too. Something about 'a groom and five bridesmaids' ring a bell?"
The girls in the back snicker. Your heart drops, unsure if you’re more mortified for or with Jungkook at the abrasive question.
You clear your throat. "Ladies, we need this area cleared for—"
Paying no mind to you, she continues, "Are you free tonight? We can grab drinks later."
"I have somewhere to be after this, but I appreciate the invite." Jungkook replies.
"Doesn't have to be tonight. It could be any time."
The back and forth between Jungkook and the girls’ ringleader continues far longer than you would’ve imagined. They were ruthless and didn’t like taking no for an answer regardless of how witty or sarcastic Jungkook responded. This wasn’t your battle, but they were too much.
You’ve had it.
"Six minutes." You say. “Would you like to explain to the couple why they’re going to see six minutes of your bodice in the frame or should I?”
She scoffs, gearing for a response, but you beat her to it. “Please let us do our jobs. I’d hate to ruin their night.”
By some miracle, she returns to her group — not without glaring you down like you’ve murdered her entire bloodline … a bloodline she won’t be starting with Jungkook.
Once the group of girls were far enough, Jungkook exhales from his nose. "Thanks."
"You okay? They were really persistent."
He nods. "Nothing I'm not used to."
"Shouldn't have to be used to that." You reply.
If you had to choose between getting daggers thrown at you by the group of girls, which you’re positively sure are plotting your downfall at the moment, or the stare Jungkook gives you under these cheap flickering fairy lights … you’d prefer the former. You can’t exactly discern the meaning behind his stare. Was it curiosity? Longing? Or only a projection of what you wished for?
By the end of the evening, you counted at least a dozen stolen glances … some from the girls, many from Jungkook. And every time you catch his stares, he holds your gaze a little longer before looking back into the camera.
"That was fun." Hands stuffed in his dress pants pockets, he looks like your typical boy next door. Except, it’s Jungkook, so it’s even better.
"I'm glad. Thanks for the free labor." You joke.
Terrible joke, but Jungkook laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all evening.
"Jokes aside, though." You put your hands on your hips. "Those guests were rude. I can make a complaint to the couple if you want—"
Your back straightens at his chuckle and the sound of your name rolling off his lips. "I'm alright, really." He promises.
Under the moonlight, your gaze lingers a little longer than intended, lashes poking your lids as you stare up at Jungkook for any indication of deceit. You thought you almost had when he blinks and hides his embarrassed smile.
"Okay." You say softly. "Still, I feel really bad for this evening … is there something I can do to make up for it?"
“Wow, I guess there are some benefits to suffering.” His smile widens.
You roll your eyes, returning his smile, “I’m serious.”
His eyes soften, "It’s not your thing to make up for. You don’t owe me anything."
The simple sentiment lodges something in your throat. And you burn — burned all night long and you’re near the point of combustion if he says more.
"But …" He starts and your eyes flicker back to his face, hopeful for what's to come. "If you truly insist, I'd love to watch your editing process. Maybe through Zoom or—"
"I don't mind meeting up in person." You say, a little too quickly.
"You sure?" He scratches behind his head.
You nod. "Mhm, I only edit on my desktop, so if you want …"
“You tryna invite me over, Pix?” He teases.
“—or not.” You rescind just as quick.
“Sorry, sorry.” He laughs. “I’d love that, if it’s not too much trouble.”
Jungkook’s a busy man — that much you gathered based on all the attempts to schedule a good meeting time. In general, it’s always a struggle finding small pockets of time to hang out with your friends since graduating college, so blocking out an entire evening for Jungkook was near impossible. Two weeks later and a big red circle marked on your kitchen calendar, you’re scrubbing parts of the bathroom sink you’ve never touched since the initial move-in date in preparation for Jungkook’s visit.
"Inviting Jungkook to your place was definitely not on my bingo card." Taehyung whistles.
"Is that a bad thing?" You wipe your coffee table, noting the time. It’s a little past the agreed meeting time, but he’s coming from work so you expected a delay.
"Dunno. Is he actually serious about this whole film and photography stuff?" Taehyung asks. "Seems suspicious he didn't ask me or any of the other camera crew in the past."
"Maybe he just likes my style?" You reason, completely unprepared to open that can of worms. Will die if you continue this thread of thought.
"You should ask him."
"Uh, no. That's weird."
"Any weirder than a pornstar you barely know coming over to your place to learn about video editing? If you’re asking me, I think he’s into you."
"Hey, he's not just some pornstar." You frown. "And I didn’t ask you for this reason. Don’t wanna overanalyze shit whenever I meet someone new."
"Fair. Just me being hopeful. You're always so closed off when it comes to men."
"You're a man."
"I'm your friend. Plus, you were cold when you met me."
He's right. Building relationships with men in general was hard. It's not your fault they're notoriously shallow and terrible. Trust only came in the form of a mutual’s vouch. For the first time, the trust with Jungkook bypassed that.
"Okay, you have a point, but—"
The doorbell rings. Shit.
"Think that’s him. Talk later?"
"Waitwaitwait, keep me on the phone. I wanna ask about his intentions—"
"Bye!" You quickly say before dropping the call.
You jog to your door, all while fixing your hair and the wrinkles on your shirt. You check the body length mirror one last time and curse at the tiny skin flakes on your semi-chapped lips. Quickly wetting and biting your lips, they’re filled with life and color once more before you crack open your door.
Jungkook looks devastatingly beautiful: hair in soft waves, nose blushed from the brisk evening weather, and eyes twinkled the same as when you first saw him that one fateful night. The you from two months ago would’ve never thought he’d be in the threshold of your home.
"Hey." You greet.
"Hi."
"Welcome to my humble abode." You recoil internally. Is this what you usually say to visitors? Well, you've certainly never said the phrase to your friends.
Jungkook is a friend … right?
"Thanks." He chuckles as he hands you a hefty brown paper bag. "Bought some persimmons from a fruit stand near the filming site today. Maybe we can have some while we work."
"Oh, I love persimmons." You place the bag on your kitchen island and take a couple out. As you wash and prep the persimmons, Jungkook takes in his surroundings. It’s certainly humble, but very you. A two seater couch, single coaster on your coffee table, and no additional winter house slippers next to yours at the door were telltale signs of a single bachelorette. Only thing you’re missing was a pet. Wait, nevermind, you have a red beta fish in your living room.
Yep, you lived alone.
Wasting no time, you place the plate on your workstation and reboot your desktop computer. Two persimmons in, you both quickly transition over to editing techniques and watching him practice with the clips filmed from the recent wedding.
"You're a natural." You praise.
Clicking away on the computer mouse, the corners of his eyes crinkle at the compliment. Your own eyes mirror his when he voices a reply. "Got a good teacher."
The number of sliced persimmons slowly disappear as the night progresses and you're unsure if the sticky sweet feeling in your chest was from the fruit’s aftertaste or Jungkook's eyes whenever they light up after another accomplishment.
"So," Jungkook begins, still facing the computer screen. It's a clip of the bride's parents crying as they walk her down the aisle. "What made you want to do videography?"
You lean on your chair, back achy from the time spent sitting down. You hadn’t expected the impromptu interview question, but you knew this answer by heart.
"Experiencing the moment is different than remembering it.” You answer. “You know the core memories from Inside Out?”
He nods.
“I get to curate a core memory for them to keep forever. How cool is that?”
“That’s good, Pix.” He says softly, more to himself than you.
You stare at the smiling couple on the screen, “It is, isn’t it?”
He nods again. Soaks in your words. Secretly wishes this was a memory he could replay over and over again in his head.
Editing doesn’t go for any longer after that. He cranks open his own laptop to show you some of the editing techniques you’ve taught him in the last month which migrated to pictures he’s taken in the past.
"These are so good, Jungkook. Honestly, exhibit worthy."
"Yeah, well," he sighs, "Ship's sailed for me already. This is just a hobby."
A heck of an expensive hobby — one that has him going to weddings and a stranger’s house in his spare time to learn more.
“Never too late if it’s something you love.” You murmur.
Realizing your unsolicited advice slipped out, you quickly clear your throat. "Can I ask you something—and uh, feel free to say no at any point …"
"Try me."
There’s no easy or graceful way to ask this question, so you’ll ask the same way he did:
"What made you want to do adult films?"
Aside from the rapid beating of your heart, you could hear a pin drop in the room.
Then, he laughs.
"Aw, Pixie, I had a bet going with a buddy of mine to see how long it'd take for you to ask me that question."
You frown, heart calming down from his response. Wait … he talks about you? Well, you’ve talked about him to Taehyung. You just never thought you could be any more than a resource to Jungkook.
"Were you winning?" You ask.
"If only you held out for another week." He grins when your jaw drops.
“To answer your question,” He hums, "What made me want to do adult films? Uh, well, wasn’t anything groundbreaking. Just your typical struggling fine arts student who got approached by a stranger on the street and the rest was history. Money was great and I never looked back."
This is where you should accept his answer and move on — where you’re meant to ignore the nagging feeling there was more behind what he shared.
Not your style.
“So, it was just for money?”
Anyone would be offended, but Jungkook owns it. Nods and tips his head back on your couch.
“Don’t have a deep answer like you, P. I could say some shit like filming porn is liberating and I’m dismantling the patriarchy, but I’m not Namjoon.”
Your laughter spurs on his next words:
“I like money and I really like the sex. Win-win.”
Your body warms at his honest confession and forwardness.
"Wasn't it scary?"
“Nah. Awkward the first five minutes if there’s a script. Everything eventually blurs. Kinda like filming yourself. Embarrassing at first but then it’s just you and your body."
"Right. Yes." You agree stiffly.
"What? You’ve never?" He snickers.
You pull at the loose thread on your throw pillow, lips pressed into a thin line as you shake your head no.
He chooses not to dwell on this, redirecting to the one topic he knows you have no problem talking off his ears. Another hour passes before Jungkook announces it’s late and he should leave. You offer him to take back some of the persimmons. Can’t finish on your own, you reason. For the same reasons, Jungkook says he can’t take them either.
“Then you gotta come back to help me finish them.” You say as he puts on his shoes at the doorway.
“‘Course.” He sports a relaxed smile as you both bid each other goodnight.
You watch him turn and stop midway, eyes curious as he faces you again.
"Try it."
"Huh?"
"You've filmed other people all your life. Film yourself for once."
“Like … a vlog?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “You can if you want. But come on, P, think outside the box.”
Suddenly, the cogs in your brain click. Oh. He’s asking you to film yourself doing other things.
"What would I even get out of that?"
"That’s for you to find out."
Top five most absurd pieces of advice.
Even more absurd as his advice replays in your head three nights later. Was this another “self-growth” moment? You’ll never know unless you try, right? Only one way to find out.
‘Film yourself for once.’
Always filming, never filmed. This was for you and only you.
Camera on selfie mode, closing the application feels more intuitive than pressing the red spherical button.
Can’t think too hard as you set your phone on the nightstand.
Can’t think too much minutes later when your legs are spread full eagle, hand in between your thighs, and mind only on the thought of chasing your high.
‘That’s for you to find out.’
The only thing you found out that night was how you looked with a name lodged in your throat as you cum.
Jungkook didn't care for weddings. Aside from the restrictive dress pants, weddings were expensive as hell. The only thing capable of bringing him joy at a wedding was a good 2000s hip-hop song during the reception.
These days? He gets a kick out of watching you get all glassy-eyed at the flower girl and ring bearer or your little feet taps during Cha-Cha Slide.
Weddings are a bit more bearable now; he doesn't have to fork out lump sums of cash as a gift. Still hate those god awful dress pants, but they’re manageable. Only because he's with you.
Contrary to belief, there was no ulterior motive when he asked to shadow you. He's always been into film and photography — that part of his youth he holds near and dear to his heart.
He likes your style and even better he likes you — as a friend, of course.
Somehow you captured the public’s attention even with an Achille’s Heel such as Namjoon's scripts. Look, he's grateful for Namjoon, both as a friend and employer, but he won't lie … his ideas were out of this world. Thus, he rarely takes up projects at RkivedShots. After that grapefruit fiasco (no, he won't elaborate further), he vowed to only accept jobs with reasonable plots … well, as reasonable as porn can be.
First impressions weren’t his strongest suit. It didn't help you caught him fucking his costar post-filming hours. Heat of the moment things, alright? It's not typical for pornstars — not something he does, but it felt right at the moment to finish what was started.
He really did mean to apologize to you at the milestone party. Did you receive a proper apology from him? Well, judging from your reaction … no.
Can't blame him.
From holding the undisputed title as his family’s unspoken shame to being publicly perceived as some sex-crazed god, there hasn’t been a day where Jungkook lived a judgement-free life. So no, he wasn’t bothered when you didn’t take well to his half-assed apology. He’s tired of fighting against the false narratives built around his choices.
At the end of the day, you’re both adults. Not like you didn't just film an entire orgy before walking in on him.
Yes, the first two meetings were unfavorable, but his friends’ wedding might’ve been his last chance to rectify your perception of him and he’s forever thankful.
He likes your filming style and work ethics — likes your company even more and everything he’s learned from and of you.
Discovered you’re a sucker for finger foods but you’re too shy to get any, and he has no problem building you a snack plate while you work. Knows your optimal editing hours are between 8 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. so he rarely reaches out around that time nor expects a response despite your contact name being the most sought out notification on his phone. Notices how you always run your fingers across your lips when you're deep in editing.
The same lips Jungkook has thought about since the night at the party. You've always spoken so eloquently — quick too. Always so playful and witty, yet careful with your words. It’s why you didn’t hesitate helping him at the first wedding.
He visited your place another five times after that initial visit — strictly for editing tips. On some nights, he’d bring takeout; on others, you’d already have a plate saved for him. Nights like these were easy — gave him something to look forward to after work.
"Hm, that clip definitely needs to make the cut." Jungkook references the video playing on the television. You paired your laptop to the television for easy viewing.
"The groom's mom is scowling though."
"Exactly. Bride's gonna watch this video years from now and thank you for that foreshadowing."
You laugh. A hearty one, genuine and unabashed.
And a horrible thought comes in as he wonders if he's deserving of a kiss as a reward for pleasing you; regrettably, he counted a total number of three separate occasions of having these impure thoughts and desires since meeting you.
"It's a wedding video, not a soap opera, Jungkook." Nonetheless, you move it to the 'Maybe' folder.
Your phone pings.
"Yay! Delivery guy’s just around the block with my new lens." You cheer.
You purse on your lips before locking your phone. The folders of your current project gets minimized. By default, your computer shuffles random pictures and videos from your cloud drive.
"I'm gonna go downstairs to retrieve it. Mail thieves." You sigh, pushing yourself up from the ground.
"Want me to come with? I don't mind—"
"No. No. It'll be quick." You're halfway to the door already, outside sandals on with your fuzzy socks. “I’ll be right back.”
Jungkook gestures an okay sign and you’re out the door.
It's not uncomfortable being in your home alone, but Jungkook feels your absence. Likes things better when you're around. It's less boring — less quiet. And even if there was silence between you both, it's a comfortable one.
He distracts himself on his phone, looking between his calendar and the pictures playing on the television — small glimpses of your life.
A couple minutes roll by and he receives a text message from you saying you're talking to the mail room folks. Something about a package mix-up, but you'll be back in a couple of minutes.
A sigh catches Jungkook's attention. He startles, looks around the vicinity for the source and lands back on the television screen.
It's you.
Frame shaky from the angle you hold your camera, your hair halos prettily around your pillow. You set your camera on the nightstand, now laying down with your eyes closed.
Jungkook tips his head with a curious smile, wondering what antics you could possibly be up to.
Meditation session?
"This is so humiliating."
His smile gets wiped off in the next twenty seconds. Jaw going slack momentarily, then clenched before he swallows at the sight of your lifted t-shirt and a hand down your black shorts.
His back straightens in his seated position. Knows he should look away or maybe look for a remote control.
But he leans forward, breath caught in his throat as the first small moan leaves your lips.
You listened to him.
If he had a conscience to begin with, perhaps it’d tell him: Turn off the television. Turn it off. Now.
How could he? Eyes glued to the screen, his cock grows stiff in his pants with no regard to his internal protests. He’s seen the same expression on many past partners and costars — should be unaffected by now. And yet, he sits there like a starry-eyed pubescent teenager who’s come across their parents’ secret porn stash.
You’re not some actress playing off a script though. Wholeheartedly and authentically you when your back lifts off the mattress, cheek squished into your shoulder as your tongue swipes over your lips in concentration.
His hand palms his groin. Fuck, he’s hard and it’s all because of you. And he shouldn’t react like this … not for a friend. His smart, witty friend. The same friend he has nothing but the utmost respect for; yet, he’s here watching you in the most disrespectful way. Wants to tell you to move your shirt up, to touch yourself faster — god, if you let him, he could get you to where you need and as many times as you’d like.
He’s in your fucking home, surrounded by everything you love (including Gum the beta fish), and none of the acts he wishes to do with you mimics anything remotely close to love should he have the powers to reach into the television screen.
Ding.
🧚 [6:51 p.m.]: Coming.
"Shitshitshit." Jungkook looks around nervously, eyes finally landing on the small black remote control. He lunges over the coffee table and hits the power button at a scene he wished he could’ve seen through. Should’ve been the end of the blunder until he realizes the video continued playing on your laptop.
"Fuck!" Hands scrabbling on your mousepad, he successfully closes the application alongside every other window for safe measures.
He paces around your living room thinking about every possible unsexy thing to calm himself down. Puppies, rude senior citizens, and capitalism. Yup, that’ll do it.
Your doorknob rattles, keys jingling before they're placed in the bowl where your other on-the-go items reside.
"Package got placed in my neighbor's box as I expected," you huff, "but we got everything sorted out." You lift the box to your face with a triumphed smile which drops faintly at Jungkook’s bewildered expression.
"Everything good?" You ask. "Looks like you've just seen a ghost."
"Yup." He nods with a thumbs up. "All good here."
"Suspicious." Your eyes narrow, but you join him on your couch. "Oh, did the television turn off on its own?" You reach for the remote control.
"Yeah, it did." He clears his throat.
"Huh. Weird." You shrug. "Laptop looks like it crashed too."
He gulps as you reopen your folders from before.
Jungkook thanks the universe for your unsuspecting nature as you’re both back to the usual business of sorting through clips again. Helps he’s on a mission to forget what he saw earlier, for both yours and his sake. Hot topic of the hour? You’ve never seen 27 Dresses.
"But you're in the wedding industry. It’s a classic." He huffs.
"That's like saying every lawyer should’ve seen Legally Blonde—”
“They definitely should.” He interrupts.
“—Or you’ve seen every top rated adult film because you're also in, uh, that industry."
"I probably have, you don't know."
You don't. Really. Don't know what he fancies in that department aside from what he shared at the party. He doesn't know what you like either — but he knows how you sound like, what you look like when you …
Puppies.
Old people.
Capitalism.
Again, Jungkook usually likes the silence between you two. Not this one. Dislikes it even more at your troubled expression.
“What’s on your mind, P?”
You don’t grant him an answer — not yet, at least. Every second of silence becomes nearly unbearable. He’s about to ask again, but you sigh and place your laptop onto your coffee table.
"How do you do it?" You ask quietly.
"Hm?" For a moment, he forgets about his previous inner battles.
"Your work … how do you just not feel more after being intimate with someone?"
He won't deny his pleasure and desires took over his rationale in the past, but he’s never fallen for a costar. Nature of the job. Thinks of it as a one time hookup … while getting paid. A job was a job as it was getting his dick wet. He settles with a simple answer:
"Pleasure, feelings, and work can be separate."
You frown.
"Seems difficult and impractical."
Difficult is Jungkook distracting himself all evening — impractical is not returning any form of eye contact as an act of avoidance.
What Jungkook does next is stupid. Reckless, even. The worst you can do is say no. Well, no, actually, the worst you can do is kick him out of your home and never speak to him again. He can't help it … will lose his mind if he doesn't get this out.
"I can prove it to you. Kiss me."
Silence, then:
"No."
Ouch.
"Why not?" Could only rule his profession as the reason. Why else would you bring up his job?
Silverlining in all this is you’re not looking at him with pure disgust and the door has not hit him from behind. Yet.
Your expression remains neutral, eyes locked on the clips organized into its designated folders. "Wouldn't want to torture you with an awful time.” You brush off. “You know, ‘not fancying inexperienced people and all.’"
"Huh? What does that have anything to do with kissing?"
“You said that, not me. I’m just respecting your preferences.”
Jungkook takes a moment, lets your words sink in a little before the dots finally connect. "Wait. You're a virgin?"
Another pregnant pause. "Can I plead the fifth?" You groan.
"No way." He didn't mean for it to come out the way it did.
"Anyway," you attempt to take reign of the conversation, "it's fine, everyone has their preferences—"
"Pix—hold on, what I said at the party wasn't a dig or anything—"
"Wasn’t it?” You cut in. “Shamed when you have too much sex, shamed if you’ve never had it.” Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
"It's not that I don't like virgins." He mumbles.
"You don't have to explain yourself, Jungkook."
"I want to." Jungkook replies sternly. "I just … don’t want to be put in the position to lead and teach. Or I’m some marker for what intimacy is supposed to be."
And he unfortunately has been. Doesn’t feel the need to get into the details — just hopes you understand.
“I think I get it.” You nod.
“Good.” He breathes, relieved. Decides the conversation has gone too serious for his liking. “You had me thinking you wouldn’t kiss me ‘cause I’m some repulsive pornstar.” He jokes.
Oops, too much.
Your eyes snap up, head shaking profusely, “What? No! That’s not true at all ...”
You play with the loose thread on your throw pillow again — one wrong pull and everything might unravel. Your secrets. Desires. Feelings.
"Humor me this, Pixie. You've at least kissed people, right?"
"Of course I have."
"Did you like it?”
He catches a flash of your unease as you try to remember the details of the experience. “Eh. It was alright.”
“What do you mean?” He presses. “It’s great. Kissing’s awesome — should feel good.”
“Mm, sure, I guess.” You reply, passive and distant.
“So you’ve never been kissed properly.” He concludes.
“Psh, what do you know?”
“I’m literally a pornstar, Pix.” He deadpans.
There’s a pause, a brief glance, then a huff before you both burst out laughing.
"You're impossible." You say in between giggles.
"And I’ve told no lies." He snorts.
The laughter dies down, this time, to a comfortable silence.
You shuffle, placing the throw pillow behind you as you sit on your heels. The couch was always meant for two, but the space feels even tinier now with you facing him.
"Fine, kiss me. Show me how it’s supposed to be done."
"Pixie.” He chuckles. “Was joking about the whole kiss thing. Wasn’t serious." His heart would disagree.
Your face falls, “Oh. Okay.”
Fucking idiot, Jungkook chatises himself.
"Unless,” He clears his throat, “it's something you want to do?" He probes.
He eyes the feline-like curve in your back. Could feel the heat radiating off your body thanks to the small couch.
"Is this something you want?" You ask. "With someone like me?"
With someone like you? What kind of ridiculous question ...
"Only if you do." He answers.
Instinctively, his fingers pushes your hair behind your ear, warm and soft under his touch. Your throat bobs as you swallow thickly and nod.
Jungkook leans in, nose tapping against yours before he angles his head. “Last chance to back out, P.”
Not a verbal go-ahead or decline, but with a quick shake to your head and a nervous giggle, it was more than enough confirmation for Jungkook to close the small gap. Refusing to let his mind ponder too deeply behind the meaning of your hand on his knee, he goes for it — a small, hesitant kiss.
He pulls away first, because he’s not allowed to stay. Not allowed for more.
But one kiss was not enough.
He goes in for another before your eyes could fully open. So greedy and selfish, albeit he’s trying to prove a point whether to you or himself: he can separate feelings and pleasure.
How true is that when his heart tugs at your whimper? Your inexperience only confirmed through your stiff lips, soon relaxing at the tilt of his head, his lips brushing against yours to tell you: it’s okay.
Jungkook hadn’t brought persimmons since the first visit, but that’s all he can taste on your lips right now: pure sweetness.
He pulls away once more before he lets himself get too lost in you and really get in trouble. So dangerous as you wet your lips to savor the experience—to savor him.
“See?” Jungkook speaks first, soft and attentive. “Kissing’s good, right?”
“Yeah.” You nod. “Good.”
While he wants to poke fun at your one liner caveman-esque responses, all he finds himself thinking about is kissing you silly till you’re both rendered speechless. Wonders if he’d move the hand cupping your cheek down to your neck, would he feel your pulse match his accelerated pace?
Speaking of feelings …
"And do you feel anything?" He fights a losing battle, heavy lids eyeing your lips again.
"I-I don't know." You answer honestly, careful as you lean in for the possibility of more. “You?”
Your lips graze his ever so faintly, leaving a trail of fire behind its wake.
He swallows the truth. Settles for a lie.
After all, he has to set an example.
“Nothing."
a/n: beta’d by @takeitawaykenny & @lovieku TY for your help per usual!! 💖
what’d ya’ll think? did anyone clock the nickname and the lil fairies in the story banner? anyway, next part will come a lil slower. BUT i operate quicker on praises and feedback, so take what you will with that. i’ll be honest… i only have two sentences written atm. you know what they say tho — good things take time.
SUMMARY. Your friends think you’re one bad night away from becoming a cat lady with a wine addiction. Their solution? It’s simple: Wingmate, the new dating app where your friends swipe for you, and set you up on a blind date. At the very least, it’s supposed to guarantee a steamy hookup for the group’s weekend trip—little do you know, they’ve swiped right on none other than Jeon Jungkook, resident fuckboy and your coworker, who’s terminally addicted to two things: bad bitches and situationships.
word count. 9k
warnings. none.
note. from here on out we are committing to the 10k+ word chapters because i can nawt be casual about anything. like ever. 😹😹😹 if you’ve read my other works i feel like 10k-15k is my sweet spot. ANYWHOOO this chapter is the unfortunate tale on how they fell into this fake dating mess, and in my humble opinion, is one of my favorite things i’ve ever written. 2024 me lowkey cooked, i was on my lynn painter shit fr. (also, ever since i posted chapter one, this taglist has grown by ~30 people and i am baffled by it. brb crying.)
ᯓ➤ playlist here
ᯓ➤ series masterlist here
ᯓ➤ main masterlist here
banner creds.
“So….”
“So…”
Words normally come easy to you, but in this exact moment, they sit like deadweight on your tongue. There’s not really much to say to the person who makes your workdays feel longer than the standard eight hours.
However—and this revelation perturbs you—Jeon Jungkook is decidedly more attractive than you’d like to admit.
Nayeon and Jihyo, for all that they are smart and sly, know your type better than anyone. You’re easy to read—and what self-respecting woman doesn’t want to be thrown around the bedroom like a ragdoll by some unsuspecting chiseled man?
It’s unfortunate that Jeon Jungkook is the man sitting next to you, but a girl is allowed to call it as she sees it.
Maybe things could’ve been different, and this blind date would’ve been a happy surprise, if he wasn’t the communal office sleeping bag. Jungkook has slept with half the Marketing department and then some, in addition to the secondhand accounts from the HR team.
You’re not jealous of these women. The way they get treated is hardly what you would consider the great stuff of romance novels.
His formula is as follows: flirt with an oblivious girl in the break room, repeat four or five times, ask for her number, take her out to drinks, and finish it off with a sexual encounter she’ll be sure to spread like an urban legend around the office.
It’s predictable. Safe. You have no interest in being a victim.
And since you've made that clear from day one, he's decided to channel his energy into making your life miserable instead.
“Nice weather we’re having.” You stare out the window, watching as bystanders stroll by, bags in tow, kids in strollers.
He lets out a sound of annoyance. “Okay, no, no. We gotta treat this like a real date. I’m trying to show off my skills here.”
“What skills?” you question sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest.
He blinks at you a few times, like he’s confused by how clueless you must be to his efforts. “My charm.”
Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “You mean how you get girls into bed every night?”
“Precisely,” he affirms. “And I'm damn good at it.”
You don't know whose brilliant idea it was to pick a coffee shop over a bar. At least alcohol would make this torture bearable.
“Okay, ew.”
He pats your shoulder in mock affection. “It’s okay, I know you wish it were you."
“In your dreams, evil spawn,” you sneer.
There’s not much more of this you can take. You’ve barely sat down for more than thirty seconds and you’re already at your absolute limit.
With your phone still in hand, you unlock it, tap the timer app, and set it for five minutes.
Looking back up at him, without breaking eye contact, you press start and set it face-up between you.
“Seriously?” Jungkook rests one forearm across the counter, slouching forward lazily.
“Just giving this date the respect it deserves,” you say sweetly, “Five minutes of my undivided attention. I gave you the first thirty seconds for free.”
“That’s cute.” He chuckles, a gravelly sound that would send a tingle to your lady parts down there if it didn’t come from him. “You think I need five minutes.”
You nearly choke on your saliva. “Excuse me?’
“I’ve made bigger impressions in less time.” He shrugs.
Why are you not shocked whatsoever by anything that comes out of his mouth?
“Wow. Is there enough space in your pants for your massive fucking ego?” you bite back, hoping your words don’t echo out across the cafe. Fortunately, the other couples are too wrapped up in their own romantic comedies to witness whatever dumpster fire of a meet-cute this is supposed to be.
That elicits a laugh from him again, one that rumbles through his chest and reverberates in your ears. He leans back slightly, hands wrapping around a warm coffee mug you hadn't even noticed earlier, and studies you.
A full head-to-toe scan, with a second look at your chest.
Predictable as ever.
“What?” you snap.
“Nothing.”
“No, say it.”
He smiles widely. His pearly teeth could generate enough light to power this entire coffee shop—you wonder which girl fell for this last. “I’m just realizing… this is fun.”
“This is not fun,” you hiss, gesturing between you. “This is a mistake. A bug in the Wingmate algorithm. I’m going to send a long email to their CEO and demand reparations.”
“Hm.” He cocks his head pensively. “I wouldn’t say it was a total mistake.”
“Are you insane?”
“Well, clearly, our friends think we’re a good match. I’m just curious what gave them that impression.” He pauses, contemplating. “I’m sure your friends saw my face and were like… ah, her dream man.”
“Four minutes, Jungkook.”
“And listen, you’re not too bad on the eyes either. Tae knows what I like.” His eyes gleam. “Granted, something crawled up your ass and died judging by that attitude, but I'll make do.”
“Really?” You shake your head. The fucking nerve of this guy. The backhanded compliment gets filed away directly into your mental trash bin. “How do you think this date is gonna end?”
“Tsk, tsk. Let’s be civil here. Everyone knows any good date starts with getting to know each other.” Jungkook wags his finger in your face, but you snatch it and give it a sharp twist before he jerks his hand away.
If you play along, it'll be over sooner. Like with food poisoning—you plant yourself by the toilet and wait for the misery to run its course.
“Fine,” you say. “Let’s talk about whatever it is we’re supposed to talk about.”
He’s entirely too pleased with himself, and now you have no choice but to cry into your pillow later. “You want to go first, or should I?”
“Go.”
“Okay.” Looks away, taps his chin, then drums his fingers on the wooden counter. “What’s your type?”
“Funny, emotionally available, nice… see where I'm going with this?”
“Ha. Ha. Cupcake, your sarcasm annoys the shit out of me sometimes.” He tousles his dark hair, closing his eyes for a millisecond. Probably imagining himself balls deep in a girl, if you had to guess.
“That was barely sarcasm.”
“Whatever.” His eyes roll back into his cranium. “Let me ask my little date questions so we can get this over with.”
“Wow, I’m swooning over here—”
“Shut up.” He pushes your shoulder lightly, and again, you’re made painfully aware of his strength. “Alright, what’s your biggest fear?”
“That’s what you’re going with?” You snort, a real one that would be embarrassing if you were on a real date with a real man. “My biggest fear?”
“That’s literally the most basic getting-to-know you question.”
“Also the most boring question known to mankind.” You check your phone. Three minutes left. “Fine. Bees. Your turn. What’s your biggest red flag?”
“That I don’t have any.”
“Wrong, dipshit. The correct answer is that you don't think you have any.” If you were given the task to count his red flags, you’re sure you would be sitting in this coffee shop for days. “Next question.”
“Okay, okay.” He leans forward, and his generic cologne enters your nostrils, uninvited. “If you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?”
Did this man read a book on what questions are appropriate to ask on a date? They’re incredibly innocent, especially coming from a man who, just last week, told the entire office about some threesome he once had.
“Someone who can get me out of this date.” Glancing down at the timer, you remind him, “Two minutes, thirty seconds. Clock’s ticking.”
His laugh bellows throughout the cafe. “Damn, can’t let me have one win?”
“How long have you known me, Jungkook?”
“Well played. Your turn to ask me something.”
Under the lighting of the cafe, it’s easy to notice how his stupid lip piercing catches the shadows, or how his dark eyes have little flecks of gold you never really saw before.
“How many girls have you ghosted this week?”
“Straight to the point, eh?” He doesn’t even look embarrassed when he says, “Three.”
“Jesus Christ.” Your eye twitches a few times. “And you’re proud… of this?”
“I’m honest about it. Gotta count for something, right?”
“Literally counts for nothing.”
“Harsh.” He takes a sip of his coffee, side-eyeing you over the rim. “So why are you even getting set up right now? On dates, I mean.”
You glance down at your phone. Two minutes left. Might as well lose your dignity while you’re at it. “My friends think I'm pathetic.”
“Ouch.”
“No, they’re right. I haven’t been on a date in…” you pause, doing mental math, but then realize there’s no number you can assign to how long it’s been, “forever. They cornered me during wine night and staged a whole intervention. I swear they think I’m gonna end up as a cat lady with a wine addiction.”
“Well, are you?” Jungkook asks, genuine curiosity lacing his tone.
“Probably.” You shrug. “So they made the Wingmate profile without asking, and here we are. Living the dream.”
“Ah.” He nods knowingly. “The old ‘friends who care too much’ sitch.”
“What about you?” you ask, and you can’t keep your own slight interest out of your voice. “Your own friends give you a speech on how you need to find love?”
Jungkook nearly chokes on his next sip of coffee. “Actually, yeah. That’s exactly what happened.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “My friend Tae’s dating this guy Jimin, right? And apparently I've been killing their vibes by telling them about my… extracurricular activities.”
“Your what now?”
“My hookups. Fuckbuddies. Bed companions.” A smirk on his face reappears, remaining unrattled. “Taehyung said, and I quote ‘I’m sick of hearing about how many girls you fuck, it’s gross, please just find one person and stick with them.’”
“Wow.” You shake your head, trying to swallow down the giggles threatening to make their way out your mouth. “Even your friends think you’re a mess.”
“I’m a great friend,” he protests, scrunching his nose. “I just have an active social life.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
He ignores that. “So yeah, Tae made the profile. He said he wanted to see me settle down or whatever the fuck.”
“And do you? Want to settle down?”
After this date, you’re going to tie your lips up in a ponytail and never speak again. There’s no reason to ask Jungkook this question, mostly because you know the answer, and you don’t want to hear it.
Jungkook pauses for a moment, suddenly looking less cocky. “I don’t know. Haven’t really met the right girl, I guess.”
“Right girl for what? A relationship or just someone willing to put up with your bullshit?” you say snarkily.
You’re finding it hard to imagine that there’s any girl that could tie down Jeon Jungkook.
His voice is timid when he speaks, “Both?”
The timer on your phone erupts through the cafe, its shrill beeping echoing in your ear.
“Well, that’s time.” Your body moves to stand up so quickly that your stool wobbles. “Can’t say it’s the worst date I’ve ever been on.”
“Wait.” He reaches for your arm again, but this time his grip is gentler. “That’s it?”
“What else were you expecting?” Your eyes trek down to where his palm meets your skin. Who does this guy think he is?
“Come on, we barely scratched the surface. I didn’t even get to tell you about my hobbies.”
You scoff. “Let me guess. Working out, protein shakes, and disappointing women in bed?”
“Hey, I also play guitar.” He grins. “Badly.”
“Shocker.”
“See? This is bonding.” He releases your arm to gesture between you two. “Plus, I feel like we should at least milk this for fifteen minutes. Make it look like we tried.”
He has a point. A very unfortunate point you shouldn’t care about. You glance briefly around the coffee shop—still full of happy couples who probably didn’t meet their significant other on a cursed dating app. “I’m not sitting back down.”
“Fair enough.” He stands up too, towering over you. You never realized how tall he was outside of the office setting you normally find yourselves in. “So what happens when you tell your friends this was a disaster?”
“They’ll probably sign me up for speed dating next.” The thought makes you shudder. “God, this weekend trip is going to be hell. They’re going to spend the entire time analyzing my love life and plotting their next move.”
You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook look so confused. “Weekend trip?”
“Jeju. Annual tradition. Just me, two couples, and a whole bunch of questions about why I'm still single.” You lean against the stool, a wave of exhaustion crashing over you. “They mean well, but it’s like being a zoo animal sometimes. Look, the sad single girl in her natural habitat eating marshmallows alone!”
Jungkook actually laughs at that. “Don’t worry, my friend Taehyung is going to be insufferable when I tell him this didn’t work out. He’s already planned our double dates with him and Jimin. Won’t be thrilled when I explain he set me up with a coworker I don’t like.”
“Excuse me?” You straighten your spine. “You don’t like me?”
“I mean…” he trails off, sheepishly looking away. “You did threaten me over a muffin.”
“You stole my muffin!”
“You wished death by blueberry on me.”
“You’re lucky that’s all I did.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time I want a snack.” You both start drifting towards the exit now, like two magnets repelling each other but still orbiting in the same space. The afternoon sun streams through the windows, wrapping the cafe in a golden warmth.
"Not hard to keep your nose out of my things.”
“Wait.”
Jungkook pauses abruptly, your body bumping into his back.
“I have an idea.”
“What?” You rub your face, exasperated.
Regret creeps up your spine. Any idea concocted by his brain can’t possibly be good.
“What if we… saved each other?”
You blink repeatedly, processing each word. “I’m sorry, come again?”
“From our friends. Like, help each other out.” He runs a hand through his dark hair. “Look, Taehyung is never gonna let this go. He’s going to spend the next month asking me why it didn’t work out, then sign me up for more dates, which, clearly, I suck at.”
“Okay, and?”
“And if it looks like I’m seeing someone, he’ll shut up.” His eyes light up like he’s Albert Einstein and he’s just solved a physics equation. “And I’ll go on your stupid weekend trip with you. We can act like we hit it off, so your friends will leave you alone.”
For a long moment, you just stare at him. Deliberating, digesting, mulling over his words.
Then, before you can stop yourself, you start laughing. It’s not a polite chuckle or amused little snort. No, this is full-on, doubled-over, can’t-catch-your-breath cackling that starts in your chest and explodes outward like a firework made of hysteria.
The coffee shop goes silent—conversations halt mid-word, spoons stop stirring, espresso machine pausing mid-hiss. Ten patrons turn to stare at you like you’ve just announced you’re running for president while juggling flaming batons.
Out of all the things he could’ve said in the world, you weren’t expecting that.
“Oh my god,” you wheeze between gasps, tears nearly streaming down your face. “Oh my god. You want me to—” Another wave of laughter. “You want me to fake date you?”
Jungkook glances around nervously at your audience. “Maybe we could discuss this outside?”
“This is—” You're hiccupping now. “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You and I…”
Jungkook’s hand wraps around your wrist and he all but drags you toward the exit while you’re still cackling viciously. The bell above the door jingles as he pulls you outside onto the sidewalk.
“Okay, okay, breathe,” he says, as if he’s comforting someone from a panic attack instead of a fit of giggles.
You’re still shaking with laughter, wiping tears from your eyes. “I’m sorry, I just—the mental image of us pretending to—” Another giggle escapes. “You realize we can barely have a five minute conversation without wanting to murder each other, right?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s why it would work.” He gestures wildly. He’s committed to this insane plan. “Think about it. We already know we can’t stand each other, so there’s no risk of anyone catching feelings. It’s purely transactional.”
You almost lose it again at transactional, but then the words in your brain click. The laughter dies in your throat, and the reality of your situation hits you like a brick.
Nayeon and Jihyo are going to be married off the entire weekend. They’ll spend every waking moment cuddling their stupid boyfriends while you stuff your face with marshmallows and scroll through TikTok. They’ll have their boyfriends weigh in on your love life with ‘male perspective’ and suggest silly alternatives like a singles cruise for people over fifty.
The worst part of all is that they’ll do it with such adoration that you can’t even be mad at them. They’ll hover and fuss and treat you like a bird with broken wings that needs attention.
“Oh god,” you mutter, the horror of it settling in. “They’re never going to stop.”
“What?”
“My friends. They’re going to ruin the whole weekend. They’ll probably bring relationship books if I’m really lucky.” You stare blankly at the sidewalk, imagining all the ways they’ll torture you.
Jungkook agrees, “And Tae will spend the next month trying to fix me up with other ridiculous girls. Last time he tried to set me up with his pilates instructor. The only thing I found out about her was that she was really flexible, but whatever. Not the point.”
You look at him. Really look at him, standing there in the sunlight looking completely serious about this ridiculous plan.
For just one millisecond, you ruminate over the logistics of fake dating Jeon Jungkook.
Just one, before your brain kicks back into overdrive.
“This is insane,” you say, shaking your head as you start backing away from him.
Jungkook’s bottom lip juts out slightly, lip ring reflecting off the afternoon light. “Come on, just think about it.”
“I am thinking about it. That’s why I’m walking away.” You take another step backward, but he follows.
“I’m so sick of Taehyung,” he continues, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Do you know what he’s put me through? The pilates instructor was the most tame one, I think. Dental hygienist…”
“A dental hygienist?”
“Her name was Ae-sun. She spent twenty minutes explaining the proper flossing technique.” He looks actually traumatized. “Twenty minutes. About fucking floss.”
“And you think fake dating me is better than that?”
“At least you’re not going to lecture me about gum disease.”
You’re still walking backward, one foot behind the other, and he’s following some kind of persistent, tattooed puppy. “Jungkook, this is crazy. I despise you.”
“Despise is a crazy word,” he argues. “Listen, your friends will think you’re capable of real human connection and Taehyung thinks I'm reformed. Everyone wins.”
You’ve reached the street corner, and you can see the crosswalk signal counting down. Seven seconds to escape this madness.
“Just…” he calls after you as you start to cross. “Think about it, okay? I’ll see you in the office!”
You don’t turn around, but you do call back over your shoulder, “Fine!”
“Fine?”
“Fine, I’ll think about it!” Halfway across the street, your voice rises, “But this is still the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard!”
“I’ll take that as progress, cupcake!” he shouts back.
You flip him off, eyes directed ahead of you, but there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at your lips as you disappear into the crowd.
Three days. Three entire days you’ve been considering Jungkook’s ridiculous proposal, and your mental state has really taken a nosedive off the deep end.
It’s Wednesday afternoon, and you’re hunched over your computer screen pretending to care about quarterly projects when really you're wondering if fake dating your office nemesis is a sign that you’ve lost it. The spreadsheet blurs in front of your eyes as your brain replays the conversation for the hundredth time.
Transactional.
God, even his word choice was aggravating.
You’ve done your absolute best to avoid him since your blind date. Taking the stairs instead of the elevator, eating lunch at your desk, timing your bathroom breaks, limiting your visits to the break room. The few times you’ve spotted his chestnut hair across the office, you’ve found somewhere else to be. Just yesterday you spent ten minutes hiding in the supply closet to avoid walking past his desk when he was there.
Deep down, in the part of your brain that’s given up on dignity entirely, you know it’s not actually the worst idea you’ve ever heard. It’s not even in the top ten, which says something so deeply concerning about the way you choose to lead your life.
You’re only considering it because you’re so pathetically single it hurts. Last night you caught yourself having a conversation with your reflection in the bathroom mirror, and when you realized what you werre doing, you didn’t even stop. You just kept going and argued with yourself about whether putting pineapple on pizza was acceptable.
The Jeju trip leaves Friday morning, and the group chat has been blowing up nonstop with messages of excitement and ‘this weekend is going to be so good for your confidence.’
You kept your recap of the date with Nayeon and Jihyo pretty brief and vague, mostly because ten minutes before your Facetime with them, Jihyo sent a link to an article titled “How to Bounce Back from Dating Disappointments.”
It’s enough to make any sane person consider desperate measures.
Your stomach growls loudly, interrupting your spiral into self-pity. You haven’t eaten anything since your sad desk salad at noon, and it’s already well past three. Your body is literally running on nothing but lettuce and your own stubbornness at this point.
The break room is your only hope for actual sustenance. Maybe someone brought cookies, or there’s a brownie hiding in the back of the snack cabinet. You need sugar, and you need it now, before the unhinged part of you emails the customer service reps over at Wingmate to complain about their matching algorithm.
Pushing away from your desk, you make your way through the maze of laptops and exhausted people.
The break room door is propped open when you reach it, and you can hear the coffee machine rattling while it brews a fresh pot. Perfect. Caffeine and sugar, the two food groups you need to get you through the last two hours of the workday.
But when you close the door behind you and round the corner into the small space, your heart drops straight down to the tiled floor.
Jungkook is standing at the counter, stirring something into a mug. His hair is perfectly mussed, sleeves rolled up somewhat to reveal the edges of his tattoos.
He glances up at the sound of your footsteps. His signature smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth.
God fucking damnit.
You freeze, every instinct demanding you to turn around and flee back to your desk. But you’re already here, and retreating would add to your patheticness, and you can’t give him the satisfaction of that also.
So you square your shoulders, march over to the snack cabinet, and ignore his presence entirely. There has to be chocolate somewhere. Something with enough sugar to send you into a high.
“Have you thought about it?”
His voice cuts through your hunt for sweets, like he’s asking you about the weather and not his fake dating scheme.
You refuse to look at him. Instead, you focus intently on rummaging through the cabinet, moving aside packages of crackers and granola bars in search of something that won’t taste like cardboard. “Fuck no.”
The lie slips out so easily you’re impressed. You’ve always been good at lying to yourself, but now you’re getting better at lying to other people too.
“Hm.” He takes a sip out of his mug, and you can feel his beady eyes burning into your back. “I have.”
Your hand freezes on a package of cookies. “You have?”
What the actual fuck.
He’s been thinking about it? About fake dating you?
Your brain starts spinning in twenty different directions.
“Yup. Been running through our escape route. It’s actually pretty genius when you think about it.”
You latch onto the cookies and pull it out of the cabinet, but your hands are less steady than they were thirty seconds ago. “Genius, or a massive fucking mistake?”
He shifts closer, and the break room feels like it shrinks to the size of a shoebox. “What, you can’t fake mild interest in me?”
You clutch the cookie package tighter. “No, actually. I can’t. Especially not in front of my best friends.”
“The bar is so low for us, though. All we need to do is not murder each other and boom, sold.”
You turn to face him fully. Enormous mistake on your part, because his eyes are eagerly awaiting yours, and he’s using his tongue to fiddle with his lip ring.
“This is crazy,” you repeat, but it lacks the conviction it had three days ago.
Another step closer, and your back hits the counter. “C’mon, you never faked something before? Liking someone’s music taste, knowing Excel, an orgasm…?”
Your grip on the cookies is probably leaving permanent indents in the plastic. “Can I get my snacks in peace?”
His smile is downright diabolical. “What’s it gonna be, cupcake? You gonna let your friends turn this weekend into an intervention, or are you gonna let me save your ass?”
Your resolve is crumbling like a stale cookie and you can feel it happening. Your shoulders are sagging, defensive posture softening. Warning signs are blaring in your brain, but it’s being overruled by the part that’s tired of being treated like a charity case.
“I haven’t said yes,” you say weakly.
“Haven’t said no either.” He’s studying your face like he can see through every crack in the armor. “Or well, not a real no.”
Thump thump. Your heartbeat thuds in your ears, blood whooshing.
It’s just Jungkook. Just the same infuriating man who calls you cupcake.
But he’s also offering you a way out of this weekend of torture, and your desperation has always been stronger than your pride.
He sighs, “Look, I know it’s crazy, but—”
The break room door swings open with a creak, and both of you jump apart like you’ve been caught with his head in between your thighs. Sakura from Marketing strolls in, blonde hair tied up in a messy bun, humming some song under her breath.
“Oh! Sorry, didn’t realize you two were cozy in here.” She beams at both of you sweetly. “Just need some coffee. Long day, ya know?”
“No problem,” you manage, voice pitched four octaves higher. You step sideways, putting as much distance between you and Jungkook as the room allows. “We’re just chilling in here. Two, uh, coworkers.”
Jungkook clears his throat, taking an obvious interest in the motivational poster hung on the wall. Something about teamwork making the dream work, which feels mockingly appropriate.
Sakura busies herself with the coffee machine, oblivious to whatever weird tension you and Jungkook sparked up. She hums while she pours herself her cup, occasionally looking over with a friendly smile that you return feebly.
“How was your weekend, [Y/N]? Haven’t seen you around much this week,” she asks, reaching for the creamer. “Do anything fun?”
Right. The weekend where you went on a blind date with the man currently standing three feet away pretending to read about teamwork. “Oh, um. Just relaxed. You know how it is.”
“I totally get that. Sometimes you just need to recharge.” She nods. “Jungkook, how about you? You always have a good story.”
He shrugs, still not looking at either of you. “Not much. I was pretty busy.”
“Well, don’t work too hard!” Sakura grabs her mug, a big, goofy smile planted on her lips. You would think she knew what you two were up to. “You both have a good rest of your day!”
She nearly skips out of the break room, leaving you and Jungkook standing in awkward silence.
Counting to ten in your head, you wait to make sure she's fully gone, and then spin to face him. “We are not discussing this here.”
“Discussing what, exactly? How you owe me those reports still?”
The little fucker. As an accountant, your job revolves around checks and balances, ensuring Choi Industries’ financial reports are accurate. Jeon Jungkook, on the other hand, is an auditor.
A professional nitpicker who shows up to poke holes in your work.
In another life—or some romantic comedy written by some Tumblr author—this would’ve been the perfect enemies-to-lovers setup. The girl who loves spreadsheets and the cocky bastard who audits them.
But this isn’t that life. This is your life.
“You know what I’m talking about, Jungkook.”
“Actually, I don’t think we were discussing anything,” says Jungkook, cocking his head sideways. “I think I was making a very reasonable proposal and you were being stubborn.”
You’re going to throw these cookies at his head. “Stubborn?”
“Not an insult.” He throws his hands up defensively. “You’ve also been avoiding me, cupcake, and that feels unfair.”
“I avoid you normally. That’s not new behavior.”
“True,” he accedes. “But the way you’ve been avoiding me has been different. More.. panicked.”
Your entire face goes numb, and you can feel your cheeks heating up. “I’m not scared of anything.”
“It’s just… the more I think about it, the more it makes sense.” No smirk, no cocky attitude. It’s deeply unsettling. “Taehyung made a list of ‘eligible women’ for me to meet. Please save me.”
“Oh god.”
“No shot your friends are better than mine.”
The group chat messages fire across your brain like slides on a projector.
Jungkook takes your silence as his answer. “We’re literally doomed unless we help each other out.”
He’s right, and you hate that he’s right, and you especially hate that spending a weekend pretending to date him is your final resort.
“This isn’t even crazy anymore. This is insane.”
“Sometimes insane is exactly what you need.”
You should say no. God knows you should say no. But your best friends are in stable, affectionate relationships. They share skincare routines, they take matching vitamins, they use phrases like “our calendar.”
Meanwhile, you’re one more “you’ll find someone when you least expect it” away from walking into the sea.
Maybe you would rather be coupled up with the office fuckboy than show up to another trip alone.
If there’s one thing worse than being single, it’s being predictably single.
And right now, Jeon Jungkook is the stupidest, pettiest, most attractive solution you've got.
“It’s one weekend,” you hear yourself saying.
His smile grows tenfold, spreading light across his features. “One weekend.”
This weekend trip used to be your safe space.
Now, it feels like a death sentence, like you're a prisoner serving life with no parole.
You’ve been awake since 5 AM, roughly three hours earlier than any human should be awake on a Friday morning. Your suitcase sits by the door, packed and repacked twice, because seemingly, your brain thinks the difference between three dresses versus four will determine whether this weekend ends in success or social annihilation.
The group chat has been buzzing since yesterday, when you dropped the bomb that you were bringing someone. Nayeon sent forty question marks followed by “DETAILS NOW BITCH.” and Jihyo called immediately, shrieking so loudly you had to hold the phone away from your ear.
“You’ve been holding out on us!” Jihyo had accused. “Who is he? Where did you meet him? How long have you been seeing him? Is he sexy? How big is his dick?”
You’d deflected with vague answers, like “taking things slow” and ‘wanting to be sure” while internally screaming because you were about to introduce them to the man they set you up with.
They bought it all, hook, line, and sinker, and they’re just beyond thrilled that you’re putting yourself out there.
The irony of it all is not lost on you.
Your doorbell rings at 8 AM, and you’re shocked Jungkook is punctual. It’s the least he can do.
Taking a deep inhale, you smooth down your outfit and open the door.
Immediately, you want to slam it shut again.
Jungkook is standing in your apartment hallway wearing what can only be described as the quintessential fuckboy uniform: black tank top that shows off his tattoos and biceps, gray sweatpants, and a baseball cap.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Good morning to you too, cupcake.” He smiles, pleased with your reaction. “Ready for the weekend of a lifetime with your fake boyfriend?”
“You can’t be dressed like—like that!” you sputter. “These are my best friends, not a flock of girls at a party,”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” He looks down at himself, confusion plastered all over his face.
“Everything. Literally everything.” You step aside to let him in, mostly because you can’t have this argument in the hallway where Mrs. Kim from 3B might overhear. “You’re supposed to be someone I’m potentially serious about, not someone who catcalled me at the gym.”
“I look good. Sue me.” He drops his duffel by your door and takes in your apartment with curiosity. “I fuck with your place. Very… you.”
You follow the line of his gaze around your living room, trying to see it through his eyes. The lime green and mustard yellow throw blanket is folded neatly on the couch, bookshelves organized by color, and there’s a half-empty bottle of wine on the kitchen counter from last night’s panic drinking session.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Clean, organized, uptight.” He picks up a candle from your coffee table and sniffs it. “Vanilla. Of course.”
“Put that down.” You snatch it from his hands. “And I’m not uptight.”
“Right. Is that why you look like you haven’t slept in days?”
Your eye twitches. “Jeon Jungkook, I swear—never mind. We need to talk strategy.”
“Strategy?” He flops onto your couch without invitation, sprawling his limbs out. “We’re fake dating, not running a military operation.”
You remain standing, pacing the length of your tiny apartment. “Nayeon and Jihyo are going to interrogate us. They’re going to want details on our date, what we like about each other, stuff like that.”
“Okay, so we just… make stuff up?” he questions, a puzzled look on his features.
“We can’t just ‘make stuff up.’ We need a cohesive story that won’t fall apart under questioning.” You’re about to rip your hair out. “They know me better than anyone. If we contradict each other or say something that doesn’t make sense, they’ll figure it out.”
Jungkook watches you pace in amusement, “You’re really losing it right now.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” you answer almost automatically. “This was your stupid idea, and now I have to convince my best friends that I’m dating someone I regularly fantasize about pushing down a flight of stairs.”
“You fantasize about me?” He props his arms behind his head, ankles crossed.
“About pushing you down stairs. Try to keep up.”
“A fantasy is a fantasy.”
You are going to scream so loud the entirety of Korea will hear you. Focus, [Y/N]. Don’t let him get to you.
“Okay. Timeline. We met on our blind date, which was… Sunday. We hit it off despite initial reservations—”
“What initial reservations?” He rolls his eyes.
You don’t miss a beat. “That you’re you. We’ve been texting since then, went on a second date Wednesday night—”
“Where?” Jungkook asks.
“I don’t know, somewhere normal people go. A restaurant with food.” You’re pacing faster, stress levels climbing with each kink you need to work out in your story. “The point is, we decided to take things slow because we work together and didn't want to complicate things, but we've been talking every day and decided we like each other enough to do this weekend together.”
“Wow.” He slow-claps, corner of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “You’ve really thought this out.”
“One of us has to.” You stop walking and stare at him. The man doesn’t have a care in the world. “How are you so calm about this?”
He lifts his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “Because it’s not that deep. We show up, hold hands a few times, maybe I put my arm around you during a group photo. Easy peasy.”
“Hold hands?” You gulp thickly.
“Yeah, you know, like couples do?” He demonstrates by lacing his fingers together. “Phyiscal contact. It’s a dead giveaway that two people are dating."
There’s so many ways in which this could go wrong. His hands are bigger than yours. What if they’re sweaty? What if yours are sweaty? What if you both have sweaty hands and create some kind of disgusting hand-holding soup situation?
“We should practice,” you blurt.
“Practice what?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Being couple-y. So it doesn't look weird.” You wring your hands, a nervous habit you’ve had since childhood. “It can’t be clear that we’re uncomfortable.”
“Want to practice right now?” He sits upright, patting the couch next to him. “Come sit, cupcake.”
“I am not sitting next to you.”
“How are we going to convince anyone we like each other if you won't even share a couch with me?”
Points were made. Reluctantly, you perch on the edge of the couch, as far from him as possible while still technically sharing the same piece of furniture.
“Ugh, this is what I’m talking about,” you groan, throwing your head in your hands. “We look like strangers forced to sit next to each other on the train.”
“Fine.” He shifts, and suddenly his thigh is pressed against yours. “Better?”
His leg is pressed against the warm fabric of your leggings, and he smells like some cologne that doesn’t make you dizzy, and your heart is barely functioning.
An ice-cold panic shoots through you as you scramble further away from him on the couch. “I—this is—we need boundaries,” you stutter embarrassingly.
“Jesus, cupcake, what can we do?”
You talk a mile a minute before he can disrupt you further. “No unnecessary touching. No pet names in private. No method acting.”
He chuckles. “Do I look like Austin Butler?”
You shoot him a death glare. “Don’t start thinking we’re dating just because we’re pretending to date.”
Jungkook is silent for a moment. Studies your face with an expression you haven’t seen him wear before. “I don’t think you need to worry about that.”
You know that. In fact, now you’re not even sure why you said it.
“Just making sure.” You avoid eye contact. “Anything you need from me?”
“We’re gonna need to take some pictures, cupcake,” he says.
“What kind of pictures?” You deem it safe to look at him from your peripheral vision.
“Not those kind of pictures. Although I wouldn’t say no to a little boudoir,” he jokes, but you do not laugh in the slightest. “Normal couple stuff. Just something I can show Taehyung so he believes this shit is real.”
“Pictures. Okay, so far we got hand-holding, pictures, and act like a couple. This is good. This will work.”
“Exactly. Tae’s going to want proof. He’s been burned before when I told him I was ‘seeing someone’ and it turned out to be a girl I fucked in a bathroom at the club,” he explains, and you’re honestly confused how this man doesn’t have 10 STD’s and three baby moms.
“I’m not even going to ask questions.” You sigh. This is the man you’re putting all your trust in. The man who is going to somehow convince your friends you are in love and officially off the market.
“I just need evidence of my alleged character growth. That’s all. Is there anything else we’re missing?” he wonders aloud.
You think for a moment. His proximity to you is making your skin hot and tingly, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters, because by the end of the weekend, this will all be a distant memory. “When this is over, we go back to normal. We’re not friends, just coworkers.”
“Deal.” He extends his hand for you to shake. “Fake girlfriend in crime?”
You peer at his outstretched hand, calloused and strong, with tattoos littering his knuckles. There’s no going back from this monstrosity. Once you shake his hand, you’ve committed to the most insane plan on God’s green earth.
“Fake boyfriend in crime,” you agree, and slip your hand into his.
His grip is firm, and when his thumb brushes across your knuckles—definitely by accident—you feel it all the way down to your toes.
This is either going to be the best worst idea you've ever had, or the worst best idea.
Here’s hoping it’s the former.
By the time you pull into the parking lot outside of Nayeon’s apartment complex, you’re pretty sure you’re having some form of a stroke. Your palms are sweating, eye twitching, and you’ve checked your reflection in the rearview mirror so many times you think you’re developing a nervous tic.
This is really happening.
Jeon Jungkook is about to be introduced to your best friends as the new man you’re seeing.
The same best friends who have known you since freshman year, who can read your emotions like a picture book, who will notice if something’s off.
“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Jungkook observes from the passenger seat.
“I might,” you moan, gripping the steering wheel with every last ounce of strength you possess. “They’re going to see right through us.”
“No, they’re not. Stop overthinking.” He’s scrolling through his phone now, double tapping on what you can assume are other girl’s pictures. Not the time, Jungkook. “We’ve got this.”
“Considering you’re on Instagram liking other girls' pictures,” You unbuckle your seatbelt but make no moves to get out of the car, “We absolutely do not have this.”
He scrambles to put his phone away, like he’s a child who just got caught stealing an extra piece of cake. “My bad.”
“What if they ask about our first kiss? What if they want to know your middle name? What if—”
“Breathe.” He reaches over and places a hand on your arm. It’s so unlike him, so unlike the Jungkook you know, that your body listens to him and takes a few inhales and exhales. “We stick to the story. Coffee shop, hit it off, been talking since.”
You take one last shaky breath. “Okay. I can do this.”
“You can do this.”
Unfortunately, when you do finally work up the courage to step out of the vehicle, his calming effect vanishes from your body. Your legs feel like they’re made of jelly, and you’re sweating through the stupid leggings you chose.
Nayeon’s car is parked a few spots over, and you see her and Hoseok loading bags into the trunk. She’s wearing a flowery dress, and her hair is done in perfect beach waves. Great. So her perfect boyfriend, perfect outfit, and perfect hair will look impeccable next to your fake boyfriend, fake confidence, and fake desire to be on the trip.
“There they are,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than Jungkook.
“Showtime,” he responds, and when you glance at him, he’s slipped into character. Gone is the cocky smirk and lazy posture. He’s standing close to you—like personal space never meant a damn thing to him—hand brushing against yours like he’s thinking about taking it.
It’s annoying he quickly he can transform from office fuckboy to potential boyfriend material.
Walking toward them, Jungkook falls into step beside you. Your heart hasn’t stopped cartwheeling since you got in the car, and they’re not letting up anytime soon.
Nayeon, the ever-observant girl, spots you first. She’s bent over the truck, shoving a cooler into it, when she whips around. Her eyes land on you, then instantly shift to Jungkook, and you watch as the wheels turn, gears shifting, to process what she’s seeing.
The bag in her hands drops to the concrete with a loud thud.
“Oh my fucking god!” she screams, hand over her heart. She would have a heart attack over something like this. “OH MY FUCKING GOD!”
And then he’s following her line of sight, and his eyes widen. “Oh. Oh wow.”
Nayeon is staring at Jungkook like he’s some mythical creature from those fantasy books she loves so much. Her eyes travel from his face, to his shoulders, linger on his arms, then back up to his face again.
“Hi,” Jungkook steps forward with a charming smile. “You must be Nayeon. I've heard so much about you.”
He extends his hand for a proper handshake, and she takes it like she’s in a trance. Hoseok rolls his eyes behind her.
“You’re him,” she breathes. “You’re the Wingmate guy.”
“Guilty as charged.” His laugh is sincere, nothing like the mocking sounds he makes in your direction. “Thanks for setting up that profile for her. Best thing that ever happened to me.”
Your stomach flip-flops like a fish out of water, even though you know he’s just acting.
New mantra for the weekend: he is acting. This is all pretend.
“I’m Hoseok,” he introduces himself, shaking Jungkook’s hand firmly. “Nayeon’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you, man.”
“Jungkook. And same here. [Y/N]’s been talking about this trip since we first met up.”
You shoot him a look, but he’s solely focused on making a good impression, asking Hoseok about the drive to Jeju and complimenting Nayeon’s car.
“Here, let me help with those,” Jungkook says, noticing the bags still scattered around the trunk. Before you can protest, he’s removing your suitcase from your hands and loading it into the car.
You’re not the type of girl to swoon over basic human interactions. This would hardly classify on the romance scale as anything worth noting.
However, your heartbeat doesn’t seem to agree.
“You really don’t have to—” you start, but he’s already reaching for Nayeon’s bag.
“No problem. My mom raised me right.” He throws you a wink that only you can see, and you realize now this is part of his little performance. Playing the role of Perfect Boyfriend, and playing it well.
While the boys discuss the best route to Jeju’s ferry station to beat weekend traffic, Nayeon grabs your arm and pulls you aside. “Holy fuck,” she mouths silently, glancing over at Jungkook to ensure he’s not watching. “He’s literally a dreamboat.”
Over Nayeon’s shoulder, you spot him laughing at something Hoseok said, morning sun catching his lip ring, his chain sitting delicately on his chest. His tank top has ridden up a tad, revealing a singular strip of toned stomach.
“Yup,” you grit out, voice strangled.
There’s no lies being told. Objectively speaking, Jungkook is hot. You've always known this, even when you wanted to push him off the office building. But seeing him like this—charming, helpful, likeable—is doing weird things to your brain.
Nayeon is basically buzzing beside you. “God, how did we not find him sooner? Those fucking arms could squash me like a bug—”
“Nay.”
“—I mean, we knew he was cute when we swiped on him, but this is like… magazine cover type shit. Does he have a brother? Cousin? Father who looks just like him but older?”
Just as you’re about to smack her across the face and tell her to pull it together, you hear Jungkook say, “All ready to go?”
“Yup!” Nayeon chirps, running over to slam her packed trunk shut. “Let’s hit the road before Jin and Jihyo beat us there again.”
Automatically, you migrate toward the front passenger seat—your usual spot for road trips—but Nayeon gives you the most baffled expression you’ve ever seen her make.
“What are you doing?” She tilts her head.
“Getting… in the car?” You enunciate each letter, just in case she’s decided to become illiterate.
“Don’t you want to sit with your man?” The way she says ‘man’ is so loaded with sheer excitement that you want to crawl into a hole and die.
Couples sit together. That's what normal people in normal relationships do during normal car rides to normal weekend getaways.
“God, silly me,” you force a few laughs.
Jungkook is sliding into the backseat, patting the space next to him. “Come on, baby. Don’t leave me alone back here.”
Baby.
Your knees haven’t buckled yet, so one small win this morning.
You clamber into the backseat, keen of every movement, every breath, every detail your friends might debrief later. The car smells like Nayeon’s jasmine perfume and Hoseok’s iced coffee, familiar and comforting. It makes the whole charade feel even more phony.
“Everyone buckled?” Nayeon asks, adjusting her rearview mirror. “I am not letting Jin and Jihyo get to the house first this year. Last time they did that, they claimed the master bedroom and we got stuck with the room that has the broken air conditioning.”
“All good, baby,” Hoseok confirms, fiddling with the aux cord.
When Hoseok calls her baby, it sounds comfortable. Ordinary. Routine. You wonder if Jungkook’s version rolled off the same way.
Nayeon peels out of the parking lot like she's auditioning for Fast and Furious, and you're grateful for your seatbelt. She drives like someone who learned from video games.
“So, Jungkook,” Hoseok turns around in his seat. “What type of music do you listen to? Please tell me you're not one of those guys who only listens to gym playlists.”
“Depends,” Jungkook replies easily. “I’m all over the place. Hip hop, rock, some indie stuff. How about you?”
Hoseok’s eyes light up instantaneously. “Bro, finally someone with good taste. Have you heard the new Drake album? I;ve been trying to get these girls to appreciate good music for years, but they’re stuck on Taylor Swift.”
“Taylor Swift is a lyrical genius. We will not be tolerating slander at this time,” Nayeon protests from the driver’s seat.
Hoseok knows about your secret Swiftie fanpage you run on Twitter, so that’s just plain cruel.
You’re about to let him have it when you hear beside you, “I actually don’t mind Taylor.”
You have to physically restrain yourself from whipping your head to stare him down. “Her stuff is pretty clever.”
The fuckboy to end all fuckboys listens to Taylor Swift. There has to be a fundamental flaw in his hardware. The queen didn’t make music for his ears to consume.
Nayeon catches his eyes in the mirror. “I like him already.”
The boys’ conversation flows from there—music to sports to some story about Hoseok trying to learn golf. Jungkook contributes, laughing at the right moments, asking follow-up questions as if he’s truly interested in getting to know your inner circle.
Oh god.
Your body has been squished to the door, nearly pressed against the window, when you see Nayeon eyeing you in the mirror. The poor girl isn’t even pretending to focus on the road ahead; she’s studying the two of you.
You realize, with growing horror, that you and Jungkook look like two strangers sharing an Uber, not a couple who’s been “talking every day” for a week.
Shit.
As Jungkook explains his thoughts on some baseball trade, you scoot closer to him, trying to close some of the suspicious gap.
He doesn’t miss a beat in his conversation with Hoseok, and without a second pause or glance in your direction, his hand finds yours. His fingers thread through your own, and then he’s placing your joined hands on his thigh like he does this everyday.
His thigh is solid muscle underneath you. Despite your undying hatred for him, you can admit one thing: holding his hand doesn’t feel as awkward as it should.
Hand-holding was theoretical. Abstract. A concept you'd agreed to in principle but hadn't fully considered the physical reality of.
Your palm is definitely going to start sweating any minute now. Actually, it probably already is. He's going to notice and think you're disgusting and then this whole charade will fall apart before you even make it to the ferry to Jeju.
But he barrels forward, talking about batting averages or whatever sports bullshit he and Hoseok are bonding over, thumb unconsciously tracing small circles on the back of your hand.
You hold in a gag. Not because the experience is unpleasant—which is worse than if it were unpleasant—but because your body is vibrating in ways that are inappropriate for someone who’s supposed to be faking this entire thing.
“You good back there?” Nayeon asks, and your stomach clenches. You squeeze his hand intuitively.
“Amazing.” You lightly smile at her.
“Good. We've got about an hour until we reach the ferry.”
Jungkook returns your squeeze with one of his own. Risking a peek over at him, there’s a genuine smile curved upon his pink lips. A warm expression that would make any woman melt into a puddle.
You’re so fucked.
But it’s fine. It’s only a couple of days, and the world will restore to its natural balance.
SUMMARY. Your friends think you’re one bad night away from becoming a cat lady with a wine addiction. Their solution? It’s simple: Wingmate, the new dating app where your friends swipe for you, and set you up on a blind date. At the very least, it’s supposed to guarantee a steamy hookup for the group’s weekend trip—little do you know, they’ve swiped right on none other than Jeon Jungkook, resident fuckboy and your coworker, who’s terminally addicted to two things: bad bitches and situationships.
word count. 5.2k
warnings. none.
note. shorter chapter but trust the process!! 2024 me loveddd a good short chapter that gave you everything you needed to know. chapter two will be quite lengthy if i do say so myself. ANYWHOOO this may be my favorite jungkook ever. i’m a sucker for a fuckboy with annoying tendencies (will he be reformed? who’s to say) i hope you cutieful’s enjoy! 😻
ᯓ➤ playlist here
ᯓ➤ series masterlist here
ᯓ➤ main masterlist here
banner creds.
There have been a lot of bad days in your six years of corporate work, but today might take the cake.
The day from fucking hell has arrived on your plate.
It all started with your Outlook calendar gaslighting you. You could’ve sworn the budget meeting with Finance was next week, but allegedly, they ‘moved it up to allot time back.’
So, not only did you wake up at the crack of dawn for no reason, but you also prepared a powerpoint that will see the light of day in two weeks.
Then, the office WiFi cut out four times during a client call, forcing you to join through your phone, which meant everyone earned a lovely view of your head followed by the awkward “can you guys hear me now?” line you’d been avoiding all year.
By lunchtime, your blood pressure had reached astronomical levels. Minimum 190/100.
You briefly consider walking into the HR office barefoot, and simply lying down on the carpeted floor. Hopefully, they’ll build a shrine to remember you by. Here lies a girl who hasn’t had sex in one entire year and died in the arms of Excel spreadsheets.
“Hey,” Yunjin, the only coworker of yours you trust to get things right, slides her chair closer to you. “No offense, [Y/N], but you look like you’re about to cry.”
Are you that obvious?
You deadpan. “I am about to cry, thank you very much.”
“Was it Steve? Did he steal the candy from the break room again?” She frowns sympathetically, bottom lip puckered out.
Yunjin started the same day as you, and while her role is more focused on treasury analysis, you share a lot of the same calendar invites and email threads. They keep the Finance departments tightly wound together, like a tiny little dysfunctional family.
“No.” You sigh loudly. “Worse than that. Chaewon just sent me two more spreadsheets to look at. I don’t have any time left in the fucking day. Do you think it’s possible to take a shit with my laptop?”
She snorts, tossing her auburn hair over her shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, she added me to five email chains with the CFO of a massive company undergoing a merger. I’m beyond fucked.”
Yeah, she wins this round.
“UGHHHH.” You groan, head flopping onto the wooden desk with a loud thud. Two rows over, Seo-yeon from Marketing looks over. Marketing sounds nice. Bet she’s never cried over an Excel formula not computing properly. “Yunjin, my patience is running thin.”
“There, there.” She pats your back gently. “You need sugar, stat. Didn’t you say there was one blueberry muffin you had your eye on?”
Lifting your head quickly, you jolt upwards. A will to live has re-entered your body. “Right. I did say I would get it after my call with Rick.”
Anyone who works at Choi Industries knows how much you enjoy sweets. You’ve heard it all—cavity jokes, ‘sweetest in the room’, cookie monster… list goes on.
It’s gotten to the point where team members will leave out different types of candies and goodies just to catch your eye. You appreciate the gesture, truly, but your cholesterol levels are getting concerning.
However, sometimes—and this is a rare occurrence—the sweets people leave out for you will go missing. Now, you can chalk this up to two things: 1) Steve from Procurement also loves candy and 2) someone out there is trying to ruin your life.
“Well, you better run,” she says, already swiveling back to her computer. “Before Steve beats you there. He’s been hovering.”
And with that, your heels are click-clacking against the linoleum as fast as your legs will take you. It’s 2:17 PM, and that muffin is your god-given right.
When you enter the kitchen, it’s eerily quiet. The old fridge is humming noisily, and the water dispenser expels two more chunks of ice.
Alas, on the counter, your eyes hone in on the muffin tray. In just a few short seconds, that muffin will be—
The muffin tray is right there.
But the muffin… is not.
It’s gone. A corpse of what could’ve been your only moment of joy today.
You stare at it, willing it to reappear, telekinetically demanding the universe to rewind. You’re not entirely sure if the ache in your chest is from rage, grief or starvation, but you do know this: this is your breaking point. Real tears might fall from your eyes.
A chuckle appears behind you. A singular “Ha.” sound, like someone’s pressing down on their stomach and expelling the sound forcefully.
You don’t even need to turn to know who it is.
There is only one person in this entire company who could expel fake laughter like that at your misery, someone who would absolutely steal the last muffin out of spite.
Jeon Jungkook.
Slowly, steadily, you swivel to face your muffin’s captor.
Jungkook is standing behind you, hands tucked into his pockets, leaning against the fridge with an expression so smug you want to slap it right off. His teeth are fiddling with the metal ring on his bottom lip, and there’s a mirrorball of sparkles flying across his pupils. Sheer, unadulterated happiness.
“Something wrong?” He tilts his head sideways.
“You ate my muffin.”
“Innocent until proven guilty.” He shrugs.
“You knew I wanted that.”
If this were any other day, any other moment in time, you would walk away. You wouldn’t even put up a fight. It’s not worth it—especially not with Jeon Jungkook.
“Didn’t see your name on it.” He’s so decidedly uninterested in what’s going on that your blood boils to steaming levels.
“It’s an office kitchen, not a kindergarten class. What did you want me to do? Leave a note that says ‘Please don’t be a dick’?”
You don’t normally blame things on people’s mothers, but there must be some fundamental flaw in the way she raised her son. He’s despicable.
There are office rules, etiquette one must follow. And he just broke the most cardinal rule.
“I mean…” He shifts his weight, crossing his big arms over his chest. “Might’ve helped.”
Your eyes narrow into spiteful little slits. “I hope you choke on a fat blueberry.”
His lips quirk upwards just an inch, enough to enrage you all over again. “That’s a little harsh, cupcake. Even for you.”
Cupcake.
See, the office jokes about your adoration for sweet foods… funny. Laughable. Hilarious.
Jeon Jungkook nicknaming you cupcake the second he caught wind of your sugar addiction six months ago?
Heinous.
“Are you always like this?” You mimic his protective stance, your arms intersecting over your chest. “Is this how you keep scaring girls away?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Scared is hardly the word I would use to describe them.”
You grimace. “Well, do they know you’re a thief?”
“Nah, but they do know I’ve got a massive—”
“Finish that fucking sentence and I will end your life.”
There are a lot of things you want to learn in this world. Jungkook’s dick size does not make the shortlist.
(Although you have heard rumors. And if the rumors are true… well, then he’s not lying.)
“Listen, if you like sweet things so much, I’ve got something else you can try,” he teases, leaning his back against the fridge like he’s planning on being here a while. With your dynamic, you probably will be. These quips and jabs can go for hours.
You shiver in disgust. “I would literally rather eat Sour Patch Kids until the day I die.”
“I always love our conversations, cupcake.” Jungkook smirks widely, an expression you’ve seen so many times you wonder if his lips just live in that permanent curve. “Keeps me on my toes”
“Can you just please, please leave the muffin by my desk?” you beg. It’s unfortunate that you have to, but you’re past the point of return.
“What makes you think I haven’t eaten it yet?”
“Because you’ve never eaten the muffins. You literally did it to piss me off.” Your voice raises several octaves, but you have to remind yourself you’re at work. Whispering now, you say, “Congratulations. Consider me pissed.”
"That's cute you notice my eating habits.” He smiles fondly. “Not even my last situationship did that.”
“Jung—”
“No, really, I’m flattered.”
“Jungkook.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Stay in your fucking lane, and I’ll stay in mine.” If he could just follow rules, this would be simple.
“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes, clearly bored by the trajectory of this conversation. “By the way, you owe me those reports by 5. Wasn’t sure if Chae told you.”
“Chae?”
His eyes glint before he proceeds with his final jab. “She let me call her that last weekend. Cute, right?”
“Please tell me you’re not fucking my boss. Please.”
“Relax, cupcake.” He leans into you, close enough that you can smell the minty breath and generic cologne. “You’re not her type anyway.”
Wine nights with Nayeon and Jihyo are rare. Everyone’s schedule is always ridiculously overbooked, stacked with deadlines, boyfriends, other friends, but when they do happen, your heart is ten pounds lighter.
Nayeon has claimed the corner of your couch, a fuzzy blanket coccooned around her shoulders, balancing the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. Jihyo is sprawled lengthwise across the other end, wiggling her painted toes in your lap just to annoy you.
When Harry Met Sally is blasting on the TV, but the three of you are far too busy talking over it to pay attention to Sally showcase how easy it is to fake an orgasm.
“I’m just saying.” Nayeon barrels on with her previous point, “I would submit better work if my boss stopped bringing his acoustic guitar into the office.”
“Jesus Christ, Nay. That sounds like a nightmare.” Jihyo is only half-listening as she replies, fascinated by how the streaks on her wine glass look.
“It is,” Nayeon insists. “Have you ever heard a middle-aged man sing old Elvis hits while trying to hit a deadline?”
You laugh into your glass, eyes misted over with the haze of alcohol. “If my boss started singing old music, I think I’d just throw myself out the nearest window.”
“Thank you!” Nayeon smacks the couch cushion. “It’s not even his good songs either.”
Jihyo shifts her legs, toes digging pointedly into your thigh. You make a sound of indignation but she doesn’t let up. “Coming from the girl who made us learn One Direction’s ‘Steal My Girl’ word for word. You must be at the apex of music critiquing.”
Gasping, Nayeon retorts, “That is one of their best songs. How dare you. It’s about the hidden message behind the lyrics.”
“Great song.” You take a sip of your crimson wine. “But need I remind you, you also had Hoseok doing cartwheels in our freshman dorm lounge to One Direction just so he could get your attention.”
It’s a fond memory, but the poor boy nearly concussed himself trying to impress your best friend.
It clearly worked, seeing as the pair are still together seven years later.
“Who cares? He looked good while doing it.” Nayeon waves you off, movements sluggish.
Jihyo’s laughter fills your living room. Nights like these are far and few between, but they remind you that even when you feel alone, you could never truly be with these two by your side.
Your trio was an authentic accident. Freshman year, you lived alone on the 14th floor, just how you had planned it since high school. Nayeon and Jihyo lived on the 13th floor, but often traveled to your floor to visit your neighbors. One night, while you were trying to get some peace and quiet (virtually impossible in university), they were involved in a full-on rager next door.
You marched over there, ready to rain on their parade, only to get dragged in by the aforementioned two girls. Four jell-o shots later, you had finally made friends in college.
(Un)fortunately, they never left you alone.
“You really need a new throw blanket, [Y/N]. How can you have men over with this scratchy thing?”
You look down at the knitted atrocity draped across your knees. Lime green, mustard yellow, a patch of neon pink.
“It was my great grandma’s.”
“Oh my god,” Jihyo groans, collapsing further into the cushion. “Of course it is.”
“Plus, it’s not like any men are spending their days here.”
“We know,” Nayeon and Jihyo say in unison.
Jeez. Tough crowd.
“[Y/N], honey, my cherry pie,” Jihyo begins, “Don’t you think it’s time to… to…”
She plays with the words on her tongue before finally, Nayeon cuts in, “Time to get fucked?”
You let out a gasp, as if that’s somehow the most scandalous thing you’ve ever heard. Considering Nayeon once re-enacted her schoolgirl roleplay escapade in front of you, this hardly makes the list.
“I-I..I..”
And, truly, honestly, you have no defense. No comeback of your own. It would be different if you had at least made out with a man in the past few months, but you can’t lie and say you have.
“Maybe it’s time to see what’s out there..” Nayeon wiggles her brow.
Oh, no.
No.
There's a dangerous glint in your best friend's eyes, one that always appears right before she ruins your life.
Your eyes go all narrow, lips pursed. Jihyo peeks over your body at Nayeon. “Should we… tell her?”
Nayeon shrugs carelessly. “Probably not. She’ll ruin it for herself.”
“Sitting right here, you evil fucks.” You take an extensive sip of alcohol to try and wash down their words.
Jihyo’s face goes from mildly annoyed to honestly worried. “It’s just… we were thinking about something the other day. You always say it’s difficult to find dates in Seoul, and when you do, the guy turns out to be a dick. One time, you even said it would be great if we could pick someone for you.”
You know exactly where this is going, and it’s down a road you’ve kept paved over with cement for a year.
Nayeon unlocks her phone, a bright screen casting shadows across her porcelain features. “Hear me out. Imagine if there were a way where we could actually help find you someone.”
She’s scrolling through her apps with a painted finger, clearly searching for something.
Jihyo takes over. “Also imagine you on a hot, sexy date with a man you’ve had no time to form biases about.”
“Mhm,” Nayeon hums before sliding the phone over to you. “Take a peek.”
Sighing, you clutch the device tightly in your hand.
When your eyes finally focus on the screen, you nearly drop the wine glass between your fingers.
It’s a dating profile, or what looks to be one. At the bottom of the screen, there are prompts filled out, links to songs you enjoy. There’s even handpicked pictures of you from your Instagram—you do note that they at least had the decency to choose your finest ones.
Tentatively, Nayeon speaks, as though you’re a wild animal and you’ll skitter off into the distance if she approaches too quickly. “It’s a dating app. We get to swipe for you. We do the awkward small talk, set up the date, we can even track you once you arrive.”
“They say chivalry is dead.”
She awkwardly chuckles. “Thoughts? Comments? Concerns?”
You actually have a lot of comments, one of them rhyming with muck pew.
Maybe you’ll be able to find a way to delete your account before you have to hand the phone back to Nayeon. Yes, that’s a great idea. You navigate to the settings, chuckling darkly. “Nayeon. Jihyo. Quit it with the fucking set-ups.”
She moves at lightning speed once she catches sight of where your thumb is hovering.
“But this isn’t a set up!” Nayeon protests, catapulting over your legs to snatch her phone out of your hand.“This is far from it. This is an app designed for people like you, who are too picky to choose someone to date on their own, so their friends choose for them. Isn’t it great?”
It actually sounds as enjoyable as telling your mom you’re still single at 28.
“Dude, it’s all the rage right now,” Jihyo chimes in, finger pointing upwards in the air like she’s some professor with a PhD in meddling. “Everyone’s obsessed.”
You squint at her. “Ozempic is also ‘all the rage’ right now, but you don’t see me signing up for that.”
Jihyo ignores you, eyeing Nayeon from her peripheral vision as if you aren’t even there (which, in this exact moment, you wish you weren’t). Nayeon is hugging her phone tightly to her chest, scared you might leap over once again to investigate what she’s hiding on her phone.
“The app is called Wingmate,” Jihyo pushes on, overly chipper for a woman who just got fired two weeks ago from her corporate job. “The whole point, like Nay said, is that we swipe for you. It’s foolproof. We set you up with someone actually dateable.”
“Foolproof…” you echo flatly. “Right. Because I’m going to outsource my love life to two women who still put ketchup on their ramen.”
All things considered, these two have failed at many things in life, but relationships is not one of them. They both have been dating their current boyfriends, Hoseok and Jin, since university days. They’re part of that lucky subset of people who figured out companionship before everyone else threw in the towel and settled for bad Hinge dates.
Nayeon sighs deeply, “Listen, you haven’t gotten laid since…”
“Don’t.”
“—since Jeremy.”
You groan. Bringing up Jeremy is cruel. He was your three-year long situationship that you met while backpacking in Europe, and you gave up countless weekends and holidays to visit him in London, only for him to sporadically announce he’s getting married to some marathoner he met in Tokyo.
Not to mention, you also found out through Instagram. So he’s really not the upstanding guy you thought he was.
How wonderful.
“I told you not to bring him up ever again, Nay.”
Jihyo pats your back sweetly, probably in the same way she pets her chihuahua after they do a trick. “[Y/N], we only want to help you. I, for one, want you to move on.”
“Trust me, we will only pick the finest of men for you,” Nayeon reassures, “And you can also bring him on the weekend trip! C’mon, it’ll be so fun. You know I always bring Hoseok, and Jihyo’s bringing Jinnie! It’ll be like a triple date!”
Nayeon has a fatal flaw of being the bubbliest person in the room. It’s a trait you envy and despise.
Jihyo nods enthusiastically like some broken bobblehead. You’re going to smack her head. “The trip will be much more fun if you bring someone! I mean—of course, Jin and I love you like a sister, but wouldn’t it be fun to be coupled up with someone for the weekend?”
If you’re being honest, it has been a while. Jeremy cannot be the last person you’ve given entry into your vagina.
Plus, if anyone has your best interests at heart, it’s your overexcited, loving two friends.
It can’t be that bad, right?
“It’s called Wingmate, you say?” You stare at them, digging yourself under the throw blanket.
Nayeon’s smile is suspiciously wide, pearly white canines on display.
The annual Jeju trip would be more enjoyable if you weren't consistently outnumbered by horny couples. Every year it's the same: they sneak off for mysterious 'early bedtimes' and you console yourself by eating marshmallows straight from the bag like some kind of camping goblin.
“And you’ll choose wisely?”
They look uncanny as they nod in sync.
“We pinky swear on it.” Nayeon raises her pinky finger high, Jihyo following behind in solidarity.
You already know this is a mistake. It's practically begging to join the hall of fame of your spectacularly poor life choices.
But maybe they’re right. Maybe it’s time to say fuck Jeremy, with your head held high and a new man on your arm. After all, these girls have been with you through thick and thin; they wouldn’t dare lead you astray.
So you do something you don’t normally like to do.
You admit defeat and say, “Fine.”
Life has thrown a lot of inconveniences in your direction.
Job interviews where the hiring manager asked you “what’s your biggest weakness” and you wanted to say men. Finals week with $5 in your bank account and two hours of sleep. That one disastrous one-night stand where you gagged on his dick and threw up a little.
But this one… well, this feels like the inconvenience to end all inconveniences.
This is like getting an emergency root canal scheduled the day of your wedding.
Possibly worse. Who knows?
A blind date. Or rather, the dreaded Wingmate date Nayeon and Jihyo wouldn’t shut up about.
You didn’t swipe, didn't choose, didn’t even get the satisfaction of judging someone for holding up a fish in their picture. No, you’ve been set up like a lamb for slaughter, thrown to the pack of wolves.
Ever since you gave them the greenlight this past weekend, they’ve been working diligently to find a suitor for your first Wingmate date. They promised—no, swore on your dead goldfish from freshman year—that the man would be your dream man. He would be intelligent, rich, and most importantly, hot. Somehow, you doubt that’s possible to find on an app called Wingmate, but that’s neither here nor there.
They gave you four descriptors to work with—tall. Dark hair. Tattoos. Buff as fuck.
That’s it. That’s the grand list of identifiers.
You stop on the sidewalk, staring at the coffee shop door like it’s the gates of hell. Your palms are sweaty, heart thudding away in your chest as you think about all the ways you’ll have to explain this situation to your therapist in a few days.
“Tall, dark hair, tattoos, buff as fuck,” you mutter, reciting it under your breath for the fifth time. That could describe half the men in Hongdae alone.
A group of younger men walk past, one of them fitting the bill exactly, and you immediately avert your gaze like you’ve been looking at something else the whole time.
This is why you didn’t want to do this. This is why you told Nayeon and Jihyo to quit it with the set-ups. Because now you’re outside an innocent cafe, spiraling about who your mystery date is going to be.
You squeeze your phone tightly in your hand, thumb hovering over the Messages app. If you texted the group chat right now, you could still bail. Fake food poisoning. Pretend you got stuck in traffic. Say you were abducted by a family of aliens and are now on your way to their home planet to save humanity.
But before you get the chance to type the message, another thought hits you: what if, against all odds, it’s actually someone hot, normal, and emotionally stable? Someone who’s ready for a relationship?
Surely, if he’s on the app, he must also have friends who love him dearly and want to see him happy.
You’re going to do it. You’re going to walk in—
Grrrr.
Your stomach growls loudly, and you slap a hand over it like that’ll stop it. Great. Nervous hunger. So now you really can’t leave, because you at least owe yourself a croissant.
Taking one last deep breath, you swing the door open.
The bell above the door jingles as you cross the threshold. It’s warm inside, golden hues of light reflecting off exposed brick walls and wooden tables. Lightbulbs on string lights hang low, and there’s a chalkboard menu written in cursive along with a display case so crammed with pastries it makes your stomach growl again.
Couples are everywhere—huddled in corners, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder on stools, whispering across tables. There’s not a single male sitting alone in sight.
You observe it all with a strange feeling tightening in your chest, blooming into your throat, threatening to choke you.
This is it. This is the prank. Nayeon and Jihyo have actually set you up with nobody, just so they can laugh about you waiting pathetically in a coffee shop for a man that will never come.
Your eyes frantically sweep over the cafe once more.
Where is he? Which one is he?
And then, like there’s a spotlight dropping from the ceiling, you see him.
At the far end, near the windows.
Perched on one of the barstools that faces the street. Broad back, dark hair, and an arm propped on the counter that’s covered in inky designs. A whole sleeve of tattoos disappearing under a black t-shirt that clings to muscle.
Tall. Dark hair. Tattoos. Buff as fuck.
A pit opens in your stomach, and a nest of metaphorical bees swarm into the hole. Your whole body is buzzing, from head to toe, with the familiar swell of anxiety and hope and excitement.
That has to be him.
You smooth down your shirt, square your shoulders, and start walking. Each step feels like there’s a vat of cement tied to your shoelaces. You can practically hear Nayeon giggling in your head.
When you finally reach him, you clear your throat and tap his shoulder.
He turns around.
And in that single second, you realize, in undying horror, that the universe has yet again inconvenienced you.
His eyes widen, jaw unhinging. “Cupcake?!”
Your own jaw pops out of its socket too. “You?!”
The monosyllabic word echoes off the walls, loud enough to make the barista look over.
Of all the men in this city—every single one—Wingmate (and your friends) has the audacity to match you with Jeon Jungkook.
Office headache. Resident fuckboy. Your personal corporate nightmare.
And apparently now, you can add blind date to that list.
You spin on your heel so fast you almost trip over your own two feet. If you bolt now, you can salvage your day. You can go on a nice, relaxing walk, maybe go shopping in Itaewon. Maybe you can lie to Nayeon and Jihyo and say the guy was a no-show.
A clean cut exit.
Except Jungkook’s hand shoots out, wrapping around your arm with enough pressure to stop you dead in your tracks. His palm is warm as it digs into your skin. Strong, too.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” There’s amusement tucked into his tone. “Where are you going? You’re gonna bail on a date neither of us want to be on?”
You pivot slowly, glare on full display. “First of all, this isn’t a date. Not anymore. Second of all, you just said it yourself. Neither of us wanna be on it.”
“I don’t know, cupcake, I’m pretty sure when two people meet through a dating app at a coffee shop, the legal term for it is ‘date.’”
His hand is still wrapped around your bicep.
You can feel the barista’s eyes piercing into your skull, and for a moment, a wave of embarrassment rushes through you. You’re officially her entertainment. You contemplate collapsing to the floor dramatically—fainting, a seizure, anything to escape—but Jungkook just won’t let go of your arm.
It’s not even a firm hold, but his strength doesn’t go unnoticed.
“You don’t need to be all dramatic about it,” he says, thumb casually brushing against the edge of your sleeve.
“Dramatic?” Your voice cracks on the last syllable, and you immediately pray for anything, any higher power, to come save you from this. “I was promised tall, dark hair, tattoos, buff as fuck. Not you.”
Jungkook looks down at himself like he’s remembering what he looks like, then back at you.
It doesn’t help your case that he fits the bill to a lethal degree.
“Sorry to disappoint?”
Tears threaten to spill over your waterline. It’s not going to be a cute kind of cry either, if it does claw its way out of you. How is this your life? How has the universe once again shown you that you are incapable of experiencing a healthy relationship?
“Let me go,” you mutter, trying to tug free.
He’s still cocky as ever, but something in his eyes has shifted. “It’s just coffee. We’re already here. You might as well sit down for five minutes.”
“Five minutes might be too much,” you mumble.
“I can settle for two,” he says, releasing your arm only to gesture toward the empty stool next to his.
“When have you ever settled for what I want?” You almost stomp your foot on the ground like a petulant toddler out of frustration.
He rolls his eyes. “God, [Y/N], why are you always like this? Just sit down.”
“There’s no point.” You take a small step backward, then another, hoping he won't notice. “This was such a mistake. I’m going to kill Nayeon and Jihyo—”
“And I’m gonna kill Taehyung, but it’s a little late for regrets, don’t you think?”
“I—”
He shifts his body more towards you, hands gripping his stool like he has to hold himself back from strangling you. “They can see on their end when the date starts and ends. There's tracking installed in the app. For safety reasons.”
Oh. That… actually makes perfectly good sense.
“But.” You wave your pointer finger in the air. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be on a date that neither of us wants to be on.”
“Cupcake—” He runs a hand through his dark hair, looking almost… frustrated? “You’re being stubborn as fuck right now.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“No, you’re being dramatic. It's five minutes and a coffee. I’m not proposing marriage to you.” His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smirk. “Unless you’re scared you might actually like me.”
If there is a God, now would be a great time for him to send a lightning bolt through this coffee shop and burn you to a crisp where you stand.
“Jungkook, this is not happening. I’m leaving. I’ll see you at work.”
Several emotions pass over Jungkook’s face. The arrogance from his face is gone, lips no longer in their signature smirk. “Look, if it makes you feel better… I didn't choose you either. My friend set me up. I told him it was stupid.”
Somehow that makes it worse.
“Just… sit for five minutes,” he offers, nodding towards the stool again. “Then we can leave. Tell our friends we just weren’t a good fit. No hard feelings.”
You stare blankly at him. For the first time ever, you see a man, one who normally spends his weekends hooking up with three girls and bragging about it in the office break room, asking for mercy.
And maybe it’s the exhaustion of searching for something more in a world where everyone wants less, or the humiliating prospect of texting Nayeon and Jihyo that you bailed, or maybe it’s just that you’re starving and the croissants are three feet away, but your knees bend, and you lower yourself onto the stool.
The curiosity lingering in your body doesn’t fade away.
“So,” he laughs, “here we are.”
“Guess so.”
And that’s how, against every ounce of intelligence you possess, you end up on a blind date with Jeon Jungkook.
SUMMARY. Your friends think you’re one bad night away from becoming a cat lady with a wine addiction. Their solution? It’s simple: Wingmate, the new dating app where your friends swipe for you, and set you up on a blind date. At the least, it’s supposed to guarantee a steamy hookup for the group’s weekend trip—little do you know, they’ve swiped right on none other than Jeon Jungkook, resident fuckboy and your coworker, who’s terminally addicted to two things: bad bitches and situationships.
word count. 0.9k
warnings. none!
note. idk 😹😹 publishing this three hours early because i am feeling manic and whimsical after the announcement of my close personal friend taylor swift's engagement.. see you all on friday for part one!
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banner creds.
Life has thrown a lot of inconveniences in your direction.
Job interviews where the hiring manager asked you “what’s your biggest weakness” and you wanted to say men. Finals week with $5 in your bank account and two hours of sleep. That one disastrous one-night stand where you gagged on his dick and threw up a little.
But this one… well, this feels like the inconvenience to end all inconveniences.
This is like getting an emergency root canal scheduled the day of your wedding.
Possibly worse. Who knows?
A blind date. Or rather, the dreaded Wingmate date Nayeon and Jihyo wouldn’t shut up about.
You didn’t swipe, didn't choose, didn’t even get the satisfaction of judging someone for holding up a fish in their picture. No, you’ve been set up like a lamb for slaughter, thrown to the pack of wolves.
Ever since you gave them the greenlight this past weekend, they’ve been working diligently to find a suitor for your first Wingmate date. They promised—no, swore on your dead goldfish from freshman year—that the man would be your dream man. He would be intelligent, rich, and most importantly, hot. Somehow, you doubt that’s possible to find on an app called Wingmate, but that’s neither here nor there.
They gave you four descriptors to work with—tall. Dark hair. Tattoos. Buff as fuck.
That’s it. That’s the grand list of identifiers.
You stop on the sidewalk, staring at the coffee shop door like it’s the gates of hell. Your palms are sweaty, heart thudding away in your chest as you think about all the ways you’ll have to explain this situation to your therapist in a few days.
“Tall, dark hair, tattoos, buff as fuck,” you mutter, reciting it under your breath for the fifth time. That could describe half the men in Hongdae alone.
A group of younger men walk past, one of them fitting the bill exactly, and you immediately avert your gaze like you’ve been looking at something else the whole time.
This is why you didn’t want to do this. This is why you told Nayeon and Jihyo to quit it with the set-ups. Because now you’re outside an innocent cafe, spiraling about who your mystery date is going to be.
You squeeze your phone tightly in your hand, thumb hovering over the Messages app. If you texted the group chat right now, you could still bail. Fake food poisoning. Pretend you got stuck in traffic. Say you were abducted by a family of aliens and are now on your way to their home planet to save humanity.
But before you get the chance to type the message, another thought hits you: what if, against all odds, it’s actually someone hot, normal, and emotionally stable? Someone who’s ready for a relationship?
Surely, if he’s on the app, he must also have friends who love him dearly and want to see him happy.
You’re going to do it. You’re going to walk in—
Grrrr.
Your stomach growls loudly, and you slap a hand over it like that’ll stop it. Great. Nervous hunger. So now you really can’t leave, because you at least owe yourself a croissant.
Taking one last deep breath, you swing the door open.
The bell above the door jingles as you cross the threshold. It’s warm inside, golden hues of light reflecting off exposed brick walls and wooden tables. Lightbulbs on string lights hang low, and there’s a chalkboard menu written in cursive along with a display case so crammed with pastries it makes your stomach growl again.
Couples are everywhere—huddled in corners, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder on stools, whispering across tables. There’s not a single male sitting alone in sight.
You observe it all with a strange feeling tightening in your chest, blooming into your throat, threatening to choke you.
A prank of epic proportions must be getting played on you. Ashton Kutcher is probably waiting around the corner with a camera crew and microphone. Nayeon and Jihyo have actually set you up with nobody, just so they can laugh about you waiting pathetically in a coffee shop for a man that will never come.
Your eyes frantically sweep over the cafe once more.
Where is he? Which one is he?
And then, like there’s a spotlight dropping from the ceiling, you see him.
At the far end, near the windows.
Perched on one of the barstools that faces the street. Broad back, dark hair, and an arm propped on the counter that’s covered in inky designs. A whole sleeve of tattoos disappearing under a black t-shirt that clings to muscle.
Tall. Dark hair. Tattoos. Buff as fuck.
A pit opens in your stomach, and a nest of metaphorical bees swarm into the hole. Your whole body is buzzing, from head to toe, with the familiar swell of anxiety and hope and excitement.
That has to be him.
You smooth down your shirt, square your shoulders, and start walking. Each step feels like there’s a vat of cement tied to your shoelaces. You can practically hear Nayeon giggling in your head.
When you finally reach him, you clear your throat and tap his shoulder.
He turns around.
And in that single second, you realize, in undying horror, that the universe has yet again inconvenienced you.
His eyes widen, jaw unhinging. “Cupcake?!”
Your own jaw pops out of its socket too. “You?!”
The monosyllabic word echoes off the walls, loud enough to make the barista look over.
Of all the men in this city—every single one—Wingmate (and your friends) has the audacity to match you with Jeon Jungkook.
Office headache. Resident fuckboy. Your personal corporate nightmare.
And apparently now, you can add blind date to that list.
SUMMARY. Your friends think you’re one bad night away from becoming a cat lady with a wine addiction. Their solution? It’s simple: Wingmate, the new dating app where your friends swipe for you, and set you up on a blind date. At the very least, it’s supposed to guarantee a steamy hookup for the group’s weekend trip—little do you know, they’ve swiped right on none other than Jeon Jungkook, resident fuckboy and your coworker, who’s terminally addicted to two things: bad bitches and situationships.
note. LOL!!!!! before you bring out the glock, this is actually a pre-written fic from the big year of 2024 that never saw the light of day, and i am re-vamping it to fit my current writing style. think of it as a gift… *hides from incoming tomatoes* heh-he, right guys..? no but genuinely this shit is a joke. it’s a—you guessed it—romantic comedy so. idk. have a laughs luv xx ALSOOO as you can see below i’m playing around with a new style for my blog… be patient with me i’m just a girl
summary: your roomate asks you for help to film a video for his OF, and you agree
pairing: roomate!Jungkook × reader
tags: roomate au, friends with benefits, OF streamer Jungkook
warnings: sex on camera, tit sucking, tit play , unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it !! ), blowjob, yn rides him! he calls her baby and beautiful and that makes her feel funny
wc: ~3.1k
a/n: I thoght I could give our hit pause couple a bit of background! what do you think? As always, english isn’t my first language, so please be kind!
The second you open the door, Jungkook’s already calling out from his room.
“Hey, Y/N, you home?”
You kick your shoes off, drop your bag, and yell back, “Yeah! Why?”
His door swings open. He’s shirtless, wearing just some loose shorts, and his messy hair looks like he just woke up.
You’ve been living together for almost a year now. You found out through some friends that Jungkook was renting out a room in his place. You’d just gotten out of a relationship and weren’t looking for anything permanent – just somewhere to crash for a while while you sorted yourself out.
When you met him, he told you right away what he did for a living: he’s a content creator – making videos, streaming, all that stuff - the adult kind of content. But honestly? You didn’t care much. His job wasn’t that important to you, as long as you got along.
Living together just kind of happened, and you actually really like living with him. There’s something about how easy it feels around him, and sometimes, you get this little tingly feeling inside. But you usually push it down, not wanting to read too much into it or complicate things.
He leans on the doorframe. “Are you busy?”
You narrow your eyes. “Why?”
He grins. That one he pulls when he’s about to say something stupid. Or nasty. Usually both.
“So…” He scratches his neck. “I got this custom request. A subscriber wants a full POV of me sucking tits.”
You blink. “Okay… and you’re telling me… because…?”
He shrugs. “Mmmm…I have this silicone doll this brand sent me and… The tits are fine, I guess. But they don’t jiggle like real ones. It’s not gonna look real.”
You’re still waiting for the punchline. He gives you a fake innocent look. “I thought… yours would be way better,” he says, pointing at your tits.
You cross your arms. “You wanna suck my tits for a video?”
“I mean…” He steps closer, eyes on your chest. “You’ve got the most perfect rack I’ve ever seen. Big, round.”He makes a rough circle in the air with his hands. “Would look crazy on camera.”
You raise an eyebrow.
He smirks. “I’ve seen you in your gym stuff enough times. I noticed–” he drags his eyes down, then back up, real slow, and gives a small shrug “Anyway. It’s just for the video. No face, I promise. Just my mouth and your tits. You just lay back and enjoy it while I do all the work.”
You snort. “That 's all?”
He tilts his head. “Unless you wanna do more.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re already smirking. “Mmh. Sounds good. I’m down.”
His face lights up. “Seriously? Fuck – thank you. You’re saving my ass. They paid extra for this request and I was starting to get pretty stressed.”
You lean on the wall with your arms crossed under your chest, watching him practically bounce with excitement.
“So… when do you want to do it?” you ask.
He gives you a look. “How about now?”
Your brows shoot up. “Like now, now?”
“Yeah,” he says, already stepping back toward the hallway. “I’ll head to the studio, get the lights and setup going. Just bring that black lace set. You know the one.”
You squint at him.“How do you know I own that?”
He pauses at the door, shoots you a wicked little smirk over his shoulder.
“I’ve seen your laundry. Those panties with the tiny bows? Burned into my brain.”
You head to your room, the door clicking shut behind you. For a second, you just stand there, staring at your dresser like... what are we doing?
Still, you’re already moving. You grab the black lace set he mentioned and toss it on the bed while you reach for your make up bag.
As you lean over the mirror, dusting some bronzer on your cheeks, you pause. “My face isn’t even gonna show,” you mutter. “Why the hell am I doing this?”
You slip on the lingerie, then throw a loose tee over it and then a pair of shorts.
You walk down the hall, heart thumping like crazy even though you’re just about to let Jungkook suck on your tits for his OF. At his door, you knock twice.
The door swings open right away and you see Jungkook. You see the camera set up on a tripod behind him and a few softboxes. You’ve been here before – the spare room turned into a studio. It smells like his cologne. The bed’s made with plain sheets, simple. He steps aside as you walk in.
“Mmm, you look good,” he smirks. “Did you put on makeup for me, pretty?”
You snort, feeling a little blush creep up your cheeks. “Shut up.”
He closes the door behind you. “Alright” he says. “Sit on the bed. Back against the frame.”
You nod and move over, climbing onto the mattress. Your tee rides up as you sit with your legs stretched out and your back against the headboard, hands resting behind you.
You glance up at him. “Like this?”
“Perfect,” he says as he reaches to adjust the camera angle.
Jungkook finishes adjusting the camera, checking the screen once more before turning to you. He runs a hand through his hair, then leans against the edge of the bed.
“Before we start – anything you don’t want me to do?”
You tilt your head, thinking for a second, then shrug. “Not really. I’m good with whatever.”
With that, he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it off in one smooth motion. Now it’s just him and his basketball shorts, with his abs and tattooed sleeve on full display.
Your eyes drop without meaning to, tracing the faint trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband. He catches you looking and smirks again. “Your turn.”
You blink. “Hm?”
“Shirt. Off.”
He watches you almost as if he was waiting for any sign you’ll back out. But you don’t. You grab the hem of your tee and pull it off slow, knowing he’s watching.
He stares, just for a second “...fuck.”
You shift a little under his gaze, raising a brow. “What? Something wrong?”
Jungkook snaps out of it, shaking his head slowly. “No! No. That black really suits you.”
You chuckle as your fingers brush along one strap. He clears his throat, and glances back at the camera. “Okay – quick rundown.” You nod, sitting a little straighter.
“So, I’ll hit record,” he says, moving around the bed. “Then I’ll come close, say something to set the mood, get the audience ready.”
You hum in agreement. “Right. Then what?”
“Then I get to work.” He grins.
You nod again, glancing down at your cleavage. “Should I unhook the bra or…?”
He cuts in, shaking his head. “No. Let me pull the cups down. Waaaay hotter. Makes them look even fuller when they spill out like that.”
You laugh. “You sound like you’ve done your research.”
“I jack off to this kind of shit. Of course I have.”
That earns a grin from you, and then he’s climbing up onto the mattress, grabbing the remote for the camera. His knees press into the bed, positioning himself between your legs.
“Alrighty,” he says, looking at you one last time. “Ready?”
You nod, biting your lip. He hits record, then moves forward, kneeling between your thighs as his face drops toward your chest. The red light on the camera clicks on.
Jungkook’s voice drops an octave. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? Bet you’ve imagined this…”
You bite your lip, and your heart skips a beat. “Yeah…”
But then you realize – he’s not looking at you. He’s talking to the camera. You clear your throat, trying to play it cool as he starts kissing your collarbone, just above your bra where the lace meets your skin.
“Damn…” he mutters, pulling back just for a second to look at you. “You’re beautiful.”
Something tightens in your chest at that.
Yes, you’re used to him calling you pretty, yes – but beautiful? You don’t know why, but that just hits differently. You push the thought away before it sticks.
He leans in again. His tongue presses over your nipple through the fabric of your bra.You exhale, shifting slightly under him. He sucks gently, slow and wet, letting the sounds hit just right for the camera.
“Can’t wait to get these pretty tits out,” he whispers. His fingers slip under the bra and eyes never leave yours. Then he tugs the cups down, and your tits spill free.
“Fuck me,” he breathes, quiet. His eyes go wide, as if he forgot the camera was on. “They’re even bigger than I thought.” His hands move up, feeling warm on your skin. He rubs your nipples, then pinches them. You arch your back with a sharp breath.
“Ah. Fuck.”
He groans low, clearly loving the sound. “You like that?” he mutters, tugging again, this time slower, rolling the sensitive peaks between his fingers.
“Yeah – shit. Keep going,” you breathe.
“So sensitive,” he mutters, giving your nipples a slow tug. You moan, and he smirks. “Just a little touch and you're already making noise.”
He groans as his mouth moves across your skin. “They’re so big, I bet I could fit them both in my mouth.” He grabs your tits, pulling them to his face. His mouth opens wide, sucking both nipples. You let out a moan.
He stops for a second and looks up at you. His mouth curls into a dirty little smile, then he dives back in.
“Shit, Jungkook…” you pant, thighs tightening around him without even trying, “I–I think I’m close…” you pant.
He pauses for a moment, watching your face as you squirm beneath him.
“Are you serious right now?” he asks. “You feel like you could cum… just from this?”
“Yeah,” you whisper. “Fuck, I feel like I could.”
That lights something in him. His mouth opens to say something cocky, but he stops. “Damn, baby…” That damn nickname again, making you feel all funny inside.
Jungkook groans, sucking your nipple hard. Your thighs tighten around him and your fingers clutch the sheets. His other hand grabs your other tit, pressing them together as spit drips down your chest.
“God, yes – fuck! Don’t stop,” you whimper.
“You gonna cum for me?” he growls against your nipple. “Just from this? From me sucking on your perfect fucking tits?”
“Y-Yeah. Jungkook, I –” You come hard, grabbing his hair. Jungkook keeps licking, growling as you shake under him.
“Damn,” he mutters “You really came. All from my mouth on your tits.” He pulls back a bit. “You gonna tell your future hookups some guy made you cum off tit sucking alone?” he teases, raising his eyebrows. “’Cause I feel like that’s a flex.”
Still trying to come down from your climax, you let out a shaky breath.
“No – but,” you say, dragging a hand down your face. “That wasn’t just some orgasm. That was... the orgasm.”
“Yeah?” He leans in again and his nose brushes your breast. “Damn, baby. You’re gonna give me a god complex or something.”
You roll your eyes. “Mpfh. Like you don’t have one already.”
He smirks against your skin, and gives your tits with one last squeeze before he sits up on his knees. “Alright, I’ll stop the camera,” he says, reaching toward the remote.
But before he gets there, you notice it – the bulge in his shorts. He's hard and you bet he’s been holding back this whole time. Your eyes move up to his face, and he catches you looking.
You raise an eyebrow. “You’re really gonna walk around hard like this?”
He freezes for half a second, then chuckles under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I mean… wasn’t really planning to, but – ” He glances down at himself, then back at you, grinning. “Hard not to be when you’re sitting there moaning like that.”
You sit up a little. “So you’re telling me…” you start, playfull, “you made me cum… and you’re just gonna leave yourself like that?”
He licks his lips slowly, gaze flicking down your body like he’s rethinking everything.
“…didn’t say that,” he mutters. “Was probably just gonna go jerk off in the shower or something.”
You watch him for a second. He’s trying to play it cool, but that bulge says otherwise. Your eyes drag down to it again, and then back up. “Come here.”
He blinks. “Huh?”
You tilt your head, smirking. “I wanna suck you off,” you say.
His breath stutters, eyes darkening. “You wanna – yeah?”
You nod. He shoves his shorts and underwear down in one motion and his cock springs free, hard. His hand wraps around himself, stroking slowly as his thumb smears pre-cum across the head.
He drops back onto the bed and you move between his thighs, fingers curling around the base of his cock. He’s hot, heavy in your hand, and your grip tightens as you start to stroke him, watching his breath hitch.
“Fuck,” he mutters, barely audible.
You lean in, tongue flicking out to taste him, dragging a slow lick from base to tip. His hips jerk. Then your mouth closes over him, lips sliding down his length, tongue working the underside. You take as much as you can, and your hand strokes what your mouth doesn’t cover.
“Shit,” he mutters, eyes wide, locked on you. “You’re actually— okay, fuck.”
You hollow your cheeks, pull back, then sink down again.
His hand drifts up your chest and his fingers brush your skin before he finds your nipple. He rolls it between his fingers, slow at first, then pinches, watching the way your body responds. You moan around him, and his cock twitches in your mouth.
He groans as he keeps playing with your nipple with his fingers. His hips shift, fighting the urge to thrust deeper. Every time you pull back to breathe, you lick at the head, your tongue circling before you take him again. He’s panting.
His thumb wipes a streak of spit from your chin, then lingers at your lip, watching the way you take him. You suck him deeper making your jaw ache, but you don’t stop. He’s close – you can feel it in the way he tightens beneath you, the way his breath breaks.
“Can I fuck you?” he asks. “Because I wanna fuck you so bad right now.”
You let him slip from your mouth to speak. Your lips are swollen, a sheen of spit glistening on your chin. “Yeah.”
He lets out a breath, “Thank fuck,” he mutters, already reaching for you.
He leans in, kissing you hard, and his hands grip your hips, pulling you closer. It stirs something inside you, a mix of wanting and nervousness, but neither of you says a word. One hand slides down to the waistband of your shorts, tugging them and your panties off in one smooth motion. They hit the floor somewhere behind him, forgotten.
His fingers trail slowly up your thigh, pausing just a breath away from where you need him most. Then they slip between your folds. You gasp into his mouth as one finger slides in, then another.
“God,” he mutters against your lips, “you’re soaked.”
His fingers move and his mouth never leaves yours. “Jungkook” Your hips jerk up, chasing his fingers, trembling around them.
Jungkook slips his fingers out slowly, and his lips brush against your neck as he pulls back a little. He moves lower, positioning himself at your entrance, feeling how wet and ready you are.
He pushes forward, his cock stretching you open. You gasp.
“Shit,” you breathe. “You’re … big.”
He groans at that, and his head dips to your shoulder as he sinks deeper. “I’ll go slow,” he mutters. “Just tell me if it’s too much.”
You shake your head, panting. “No. Just – mmmh. Don’t stop.”
He stills when he bottoms out your walls clench tight around him.
“You’re so tight,” he growls, grabbing your hips as he drives into you. “Moan for me,” he pants. “I want to hear you”
“Jungkook!” you cry out.
His hands grip your hips tight, then with a quick move, he flips you over so you’re on top. You settle down slowly, riding him, grinding as his hands slide over your waist. Your hands grip his shoulders and Jungkook watches your tits bounce.
“I wish you could see how hot you look right now, riding me like that” he groans. “I love watching your tits bounce” He reaches up, cupping one, squeezing it tight, watching it jiggle under his hand.
“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” he groans. His hips snap up to meet yours.
Skin meets skin as the rhythm quickens. You bounce harder, keeping up with his pace. Jungkook drives deep, each thrust harder than the last. You grip his shoulders. “Jungkook, I’m close,” you gasp.
His grip on your hips tightens, pulling you closer. “Cum for me, baby,” he says.
Your body shakes, as you reach your climax, but Jungkook never stops thrusting.
“Fuck, I’m cumming,” he growls. His hips jerk hard, driving deep as he spills inside you, groaning your name.
You collapse over his chest with shaky breath, and press a quick kiss to one of his pecs.
He asks softly, “You okay?”
You nod.
“Mmm, I like being like this,” he says. He stays still for a moment, then slowly thrusts again. You let out a low moan, feeling he’s still inside you, not soft yet.
“Jungkook!”
He chuckles, brushing his lips over your skin. “What? I like being inside you. Could stay here all day. Watch a movie or something.”
You giggle. “So… you recorded the whole thing? But you’re not going to upload everything, right? Like, the entire thing?”
He smirks against your skin. “Nope. What happened after you came the first time? That’s private content, for my eyes only.”
You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Good. Some things should stay between us.”
He wraps an arm around you tighter. “Exactly. And honestly, we could do this more often – with or without the cameras.”
☆ summary: jeon jungkook learns the hard way how not to behave in public
☆ tags: established relationship, smut, fluff? at the end
☆ warnings: subby!jungkook, dom!reader,he calls her mistress tit sucking, desperate and whiny jungkook, public sex if you squint?, masochist Jungkook? kinda?car tit sucking because it’s me what did you expect, voyeurism, oral (f receiving), jungkook sucks a fake dick, mentions of -male- anal, mentions of a harness, yoongi gets mentioned, edging, cock slapping what, breath play, dirty talk, praise, mild degradation, creampie, aftercare for once!!! might be missing something this is pure filth
☆ wc: 6k
☆ yoru’s notes: this fic has been sitting in my drafts for a long time but decided it had to see the light. inspired by @borathae ‘s incredible work
Silverware clinks softly as waiters glide between tables, pouring expensive wine into delicate glasses and checking if everything is okay. You sit with perfect posture, here to network and keep up appearances.
While you remain the picture of composure, sipping your wine slowly with every line of your dress sculpted to perfection, Jungkook is a mess beside you, fidgeting in his seat like he’s trying –and failing terribly– to keep up appearances.
He’s dressed like the perfect gentleman. Sharp suit, neat hair, polite smile. But beneath the table, you can feel his knee bouncing against the linen. It's a nervous tic he gets when he's trying too hard to be good.
“Mistress,” he breathes suddenly, his lips grazing your ear. His voice is pitched low enough that no one else can hear. The word itself makes you, because hearing that title in a room full of your colleagues nearly makes you freeze. It’s a name reserved for when things get intimate between you, and he never uses it in public. Hearing it now shows just how much he’s losing his grip.
“What?” you ask, keeping your voice cool, barely sparing him a glance.
“Your tits, Mistress.” He pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, his eyes dropping to the curve of your chest. “I-I wanna put my mouth on them so bad–”
You raise your glass, taking a slow sip to hide the smirk tugging at your mouth. You wore this dress specifically for this reaction. The neckline dips just low enough to be professional to everyone else, but a torment to him. “Careful,” you murmur back, setting your glass down. “You sound pathetic.”
He shudders at the word, “I can’t help it. Please, Mistress, just let me–”
Your hand slides under the table, your palm cupping the thick bulge in his pants. Jungkook jerks in his seat, biting his lip to keep a sound from slipping out.
“You’ll sit here. Quiet,” you say, rubbing slow circles over the hard length trapped under fabric. “And no one at this table will know what a needy little thing you’re being. Do we have an understanding?”
Jungkook can’t even find his voice to answer, so he simply offers a quick nod. His fingers twitch against the tablecloth, and a muffled whine escapes him despite his efforts to stay quiet. You press your palm a little firmer, feeling the way he strains against your touch, and it makes the corner of your mouth twitch with amusement.
The waiter sets down another bottle of wine and you thank him calmly, your hand never leaving Jungkook’s lap.
“Mistress…” His voice cracks, hips twitching, betraying how desperate he is. He grips the edge of his chair. “Please don’t tease me. It hurts.”
You squeeze him once. “Not another word. Or you’ll regret it.”
Jungkook swallows and falls silent. Obedient. Somehow, there’s a strange comfort in following your orders. His cock throbs under your palm as you chat casually with your companions about work.
By the time dessert arrives, his face is pink, lips bitten raw, sweat prickling at his temples. You finally pull your hand away, dabbing your lips with your napkin. He doesn’t speak as you rise from the table, but his hand finds yours as you excuse yourself, citing an early morning meeting. You let him hold your hand, fingers gripping yours tightly as you lead him out, your red heels clicking against the marble floor.
Your driver is already waiting at the curb, the back door held open. “Ma’am,” he greets smoothly. You nod, sliding in first with Jungkook following close behind, keeping his eyes low as the door closes.
You sink back calmly, smoothing the hem of your dress, while beside you, Jungkook sits stiff, thighs tight, breathing heavily.
As soon as the partition slides shut between you and the driver, his composure crumbles. He opens his mouth to speak, but you raise a finger to stop him. “What did I say? Not a word.”
He bites his lip, trying to stay silent, but it’s no use. “Mistress,” he blurts. “Please. I can’t take it anymore.” He knows he will have to face the consequences for speaking, but he is so desperate that he just can’t stop himself.
You tilt your head, pretending mild curiosity. “Can’t take what, bunny?”
He turns toward you. “Your tits. I need them. Please, I’ll do anything, just let me suck for a little.”
Your lips curve in the faintest smile. “You think begging will save you from punishment?”
He shakes his head quickly, his gaze dropping to the swell of your breasts visible above your neckline. “No, Mistress. But,” he swallows hard, “I just need it.”
Your fingers trail down the front of your dress, pausing at the neckline. You watch the way his hungry gaze follows. He looks at you like a starving man looks at a feast.
“You’ve been nothing but needy all evening,” you murmur, tugging the straps down slowly, “and I should deny you just to make you suffer. Is this what you want?” you ask, pinching one nipple. “You were so focused on my tits all through dinner, weren't you?.”
“I haven't been able to think about anything else,” he gasps, his voice strained. “Please, Mistress. Please.”
You arch a brow. “Are you sure, bunny? Because you’ll remember this when I’m punishing you later.”
The threat of punishment doesn't discourage him. Knowing he'll have to pay for it later only makes the moment sweeter. He tries to bite back smile, but he can’t quite mask his excitement at the promise of your discipline later. “I’ll take any punishment you think I deserve.”
“Well then,” you murmur, leaning back against the seat and letting your hands slide to your sides in silent invitation. His mouth finds your nipple, latching on with a soft groan as his tongue swirls and pulls you in. He tries to reach for you, but you catch his wrist.
“No hands,” you order. “Only your mouth.”
He nods against your skin, keeping his hands balled into fists at his sides.
“That’s it,” you whisper, stroking his hair, pressing him closer. “Get it out of your system, bunny. You’ll need it to survive what’s waiting at home.”
Jungkook whimpers, switching from one breast to the other, leaving spit across them like he can’t decide which he loves more. Your back hits the seat as you let him indulge in his craving.
By the time the car slows in front of your building, your breasts glisten with his spit. “That’s enough,” you say sharply, fingers tightening in his hair to pull him back. “Look at what you’ve done. Filthy.”
He lifts his head, and your heart nearly softens at the sight of his wide, brown doe eyes. “I’m sorry–”
“You know what to do,” you cut in, tugging the straps of your dress back up, covering yourself again. “Strip and wait for me in the bedroom.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he whispers.
The driver opens the door. You step out first, Jungkook stumbling after you, still tasting your skin on his tongue.
You pause at the front desk, sending Jungkook ahead of you. You stay behind, smiling as you chat with the concierge about a package that arrived earlier, intentionally drawing out the conversation to ensure he has enough time to get ready. Once you decide he’s waited long enough, you excuse yourself and step into the elevator. The doors slide open directly into your home, as the elevator leads straight into the private foyer of your penthouse.
The first thing you see when you step into the apartment is his trail of clothes. His jacket lies crumpled by the door, his tie draped across the hall table, his shirt hanging off a chair. His shoes are kicked off carelessly, socks left like markers leading the way.
You follow the clothing path towards your bedroom. The massive bed dominates the center, with a velvet chair at the foot, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the sparkling city lights.
Jungkook kneels on the rug by the bed, naked, his hands resting on his thighs like the obedient boy he wants to be. His broad shoulders rise and fall with shallow breaths, his cock stands rigid against his stomach.
“You listened,” you say softly, shutting the door behind you.
“Yes, Mistress,” he whispers. “I’m good.”
Your smile sharpens as you step closer, heels clicking softly on the hardwood. “You weren’t good at dinner. You weren’t good in the car.”
Jungkook looks down, ashamed, his hands clenching against his thighs. “I’m sorry, Mistress,” he mumbles. “I tried, I swear. But you looked so beautiful at the restaurant... and I’m so hard, it’s actually painful–” He reaches out, fingers trembling as they try to brush against your legs.
“Ah ah.” Your tone slices through his apology. “You don’t get to touch. At least not yet.”
His head snaps up, but he doesn’t move.
You take your time shedding your dress, unzipping it slowly until it pools at your feet. Every inch of skin you reveal makes his cock twitch violently. You lock eyes with him as you slide your panties off, tossing them carelessly so they land right next to him on the rug.
By the time you’re naked, his bottom lip is red from biting it. You choose to leave your heels on. The extra height makes you look powerful, and you know he loves being looked down on like that.
You lower yourself onto the velvet chair across from him, legs spreading wide, one heel hooked against the edge of the seat.
Instead of reaching for him, you open the drawer of the nightstand, fingers closing around your black dildo. Thick, long. Just the way you like it. The silicone is cool in your palm, and you can already imagine it inside you, stretching you open while Jungkook watches.
“Mistress–” he breathes, voice cracking.
“Quiet.” You crook a finger. “Come here.” He crawls forward instantly, kneeling between your spread legs. “Open.”
Holding the base firmly, you press the head against his lips until they part. Nodding, he takes the toy in his mouth, lips closing around the tip, sucking it, his tongue swirling to coat it in spit. You watch him, they way his cheeks hollow, how his eyes flick up to you nervously.
He is used to the shape of it, having spent countless nights with his legs thrown over your shoulders, whining while you thrust this exact toy deep inside him with your harness. You love how he looks with a cock inside him, the way he pleads for more and whines your name when you hit the right spot. Seeing him so submissive always makes you want to push him even further.
“You look so good like this, bunny,” you muse, tilting your head. “Sucking on a cock.” You watch him work, mesmerized by how beautifully he submits to the toy, and a sudden, provocative thought crosses your mind.
“Would you want it?”Jungkook pauses, the toy still held between his lips as he looks up at you with a confused expression. He stays still, his brows furrowing slightly as if he’s trying to understand what you mean. “A real one?”
You let the question hang in the air, watching him freeze as he processes the idea, his eyes wide as he looks up at you through his lashes.
“You can speak now.”
Jungkook whines around the silicone, but pulls back enough to gasp, “I want whatever you want, Mistress.”
“I didn’t ask what I want,” you correct, your voice is sharp, making him flinch. Your hand glides along the length of the toy, rolling it slowly between your fingers.“I asked what you want. Be honest, because I'll know if you are lying.”
He looks at you, “I want it,” he admits with a trembling voice, as if he’s been too nervous to say it out loud until now. “I want to suck a real cock.” He doesn't wait for an answer before taking the toy back into his mouth.
You can’t help but picture the real thing. Him on his knees, gagging on cock while you sit back and watch, or maybe bent over the bed getting fucked hard by someone else while you instruct him. He looks so natural like this: on his knees, submissive, and desperate to please. To please you.
“Good answer,” you purr, threading your fingers through his hair to grip the back of his scalp. “If you keep being this obedient, maybe I’ll find someone to use this pretty mouth properly. Keep sucking."
His cock gives a twitch against his stomach at your words. The thought hits him so hard he nearly chokes on the toy.
Noticing his reaction, you smirk. “Did that excite you? Were you picturing it?” He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to hide his reaction, but you know him too well. The blush spreading across his cheeks betrays him. “Who were you thinking about?” you tease, leaning closer to whisper. “Was it Taehyung?” He keeps sucking. “Or maybe…” you smile, “Yoongi?”
At the mention of your best friend, Jungkook’s face burns a deep, pretty crimson. He doesn’t deny it. You smirk, bingo.
“Oh? Is it Yoongi?” you murmur, lips curling. “Is that who you were thinking about?”
Jungkook doesn't stop his work, his throat working as he swallows the toy deeper, giving you a nod. Back before you and Jungkook were a thing, you and Yoongi were just fuck buddies. It was a perfect arrangement. No feelings, just good sex.
“You know, Yoongi… he used to fuck me so good.” You trace a finger down his cheek, watching him shiver. “So rough, so demanding… he knew exactly how to make me melt. And his cock.” You suddenly palm the base of the toy, pushing it deeper into his throat until he gasps against the silicone. “Oh… you’d love it. So big, so thick. It would fill your mouth perfectly.”
You watch him struggle with the toy, and you can’t help but enjoy the way he reacts to each word that comes from your mouth. All you can think about is how incredible he would look with the real thing in his mouth.
“I know he’d fuck you just as well if I told him to. Better than you can imagine. A lot better than this plastic, right?” You give the toy a twist as you speak.
Jungkook pulls back. “No one... no one can fuck me like you do, Mistress,” he gasps, his voice full of honest devotion. “Only you.”
“Aww, how sweet,” you coo, reaching out to caress his cheek with a gentle touch that almost feels like a reward. Your smile softens for a second before your gaze sharpens again. “But don’t think for a second that your little confession is going to get you out of your punishment. You still have a debt to pay for dinner.”
“I understand,” he whispers, his eyes dropping back to the toy as he leans in to take it again.
“Enough.” You pull it back and point to the rug in front of you. “Back to your position.”
He nods, sliding his palms back until they are flat against his thighs as he kneels before you once more, positioning himself only a foot away from your seat.
“You’re going to sit there,” you say. “And you’re going to watch me fuck myself with this cock instead of yours. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he whispers, trembling.
You shift, throwing one leg over the armrest of the chair, baring yourself fully to him. The toy glistens from his spit as you circle the tip over your clit, teasing yourself.
“See what you lost out on?” you taunt. “All because you couldn’t keep that greedy mouth shut at dinner.”
“I’m sorry, Mistress, I’m so sorry–” The apology is breathless, his gaze pinned to you as he watches the head of the toy begin to disappear into your cunt.
“‘Sorry’ doesn’t put your cock in me, bunny.” And with that, you sink the toy inside. “Fuck–”
You start to thrust, driving the toy deeper and faster. Your breasts bounce with every movement of your hips, and you notice his eyes darting back and forth, unable to choose between the sight of you stretching and the way your chest moves. “This is what you want, isn’t it? These tits stuffed in your face while my pussy squeezes you dry?” You catch your nipple between two fingers, pulling at the sensitive peak with the hand that isn't busy with the toy.
“Yes. Yes, Mistress, please. I need it so bad, I need you–”
“Too bad,” you pant, circling your clit with your thumb while the toy fills you. “You’re gonna sit there like a good little boy and watch me cum without you.”
The wet sound of the toy gets louder as you go faster, and your own moans fill the room. You tug at your nipple, loving the way he watches your every move.
“Fuck, I’m close,” you gasp, finally letting your gaze meet his.. “Look at me, bunny. Watch me cum all over this cock instead of yours.”
He nods frantically, his entire body trembling with the effort of not touching himself. Seeing you pleasure yourself is torture, but knowing he caused this state is his ruin.
“Fuck! Yes, yes, fuck!”
You ride your orgasm, grinding down until your thighs shake, every filthy sound spilling into the air as Jungkook whimpers like he’s dying. When you slow, pulling the toy out, strings of wetness clinging to it, dripping onto your thighs. Your chest heaves as you look at him with a satisfied look. “See what happens when you’re a bad boy?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he whispers. Still kneeling where you left him, his hands haven’t moved from his thighs.
“Come here, bunny,” you murmur.
He crawls forward, stopping between your thighs, his eyes flicking up to your face for permission.
“You’ve been patient,” you say softly, one hand threading through his hair. “You want a taste?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he breathes. “I want to taste you.”
Lifting the toy, you place the slick head into his waiting mouth. He licks it clean obediently, cleaning up the mess you made. “Is that enough for you?” you ask.
“No, Mistress.”
“Then tell me what you want.”
“Please, let me eat you out.”
“Very well, bunny.” You lean back into the seat, spreading yourself wider for him.
His eyes widen at the sight. Your slick folds glisten and he shifts closer and bends down, licking a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit. You shudder, a low sigh slipping from your mouth. His tongue swirls around the swollen bud, pressure light at first, then firmer as you guide him with small tugs of his hair.
“Good,” you breathe. “Suck.” He seals his lips around your clit and sucks gently, the wet sound making your back arch. “Harder,” you moan.
He groans into you, sucking harder now, tongue flicking quick against you. Your hips start to move on their own, grinding against his face. “That’s it,” you gasp. “Like that. Your mouth feels so good, bunny. Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. He stays latched to you, eyes closed, tongue and lips working together until your moans turn into sharp cries. Your nails dig into his hair as he moves faster, his tongue tracing quick, messy patterns over your clit, and you can feel the wetness dripping down his chin.
Your thighs clamp around his head. “I’m so close.” He makes a sound low in his throat but keeps going.
“Can I use my fingers, Mistress?” he whispers against your folds.
You tilt your head at him, stroking his damp hair. “Show me how much you want it. Beg a little for me, bunny, you know how much I love you begging.”
“Please,” he repeats, his voice close to breaking. “I’ll do it exactly how you like. I’ll make you cum. Please let me.”
Your lips curl in a smile. “Alright, bunny. Fingers too.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
He slides his hands up at last, fingers trembling as they part your folds, sliding two inside you. His mouth seals back around your clit, tongue flicking, and you gasp jerking your hips.
“Fuck–yes. Just like that. You’re doing so good.” He hooks his fingers inside you, finding that specific spot. “Don’t stop, yes, yes, bunny, right there!”
He continues without pause, focused entirely on your pleasure as if his only purpose in the world is to see you reach the end. He looks as though serving you like this is his entire reason for being.
Your voice pitches high, tearing into a scream as your climax hits. You clamp down around his fingers, pressing him closer. His mouth doesn’t stop, working over you, lips and tongue tracing every sensitive spot until you have to grab his hair and shove him back, gasping for air.
You’re panting now, staring down at him. Lips and chin glistening, his fingers slick, his cock leaking against his stomach. He looks drained but his eyes are shining like he’s proud of himself for being allowed to serve you.
Your fingers slide through his sweaty hair as you tilt his head back. “You didn’t touch yourself,” you murmur, thumb dragging slowly across his cheek. He responds with a small smile that makes your heart melt. He looks so genuinely happy to have pleased you.
“I didn’t, Mistress,” he says quickly. “I wanted to so bad, but I waited. I was good for you.”
“Good boy.” You smile. “I’ll let you have your reward. But listen, bunny,” you lean in, your voice a low warning, “if you ever pull that stunt again, whining for me in public, your punishment will be worse. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he whispers, nodding. “I understand.”
“Good.” You straighten. “Get on the bed.”
He scrambles up immediately, lying back against the sheets with his hands flat by his sides. His cock rests against his stomach, and you stand over him for a moment, enjoying the view of him lying there, ready, waiting. You’re aching to feel him inside you, but you want to draw this out even more.
“Such a greedy little bunny,” you tease, stepping right up to the edge of the mattress. You lean down until your nipples drag slowly across his lips, letting him feel the pebble-hard peaks against his mouth. “Spent the whole night begging for my tits. Couldn’t even think straight, could you?”
“No–fuck, no, Mistress,” he mumbles, his voice muffled against your skin, his tongue darting out to catch your nipple.
Yanking back sharply, you let his lips pop off. “Not until I say so,” you snap.
Your hand drops between his legs and grab his cock, starting to pump it slowly, thumb rubbing over the leaking tip, spreading the slick down the shaft. He shudders violently under your touch. Then your palm smacks lightly against his cock, drawing a moan from his throat.
“Fuck, Mistress...,” he gasps, his hips following your hand.
“You like that?” you ask, your palm landing again, firmer this time. You follow it up with another quick slap that leaves the skin of his cock stinging.
“Yes, Mistress.” His hips jerk against your hand before he can stop himself.
“Stay still,” you warn.
He freezes instantly, fists clenching the sheets. You keep jerking him, slow at first, then stop to roll his balls in your palm. You give them a sharp squeeze and he whimpers, but still not moving an inch.
“That’s it,” you murmur, stroking him once, then slapping the side of his cock again, harder. “Be a good boy and let me play with you.”
His thighs tremble, cock twitching in your grip, leaking more with each stroke from your hand. “You want to be inside me so bad?” you taunt, giving him a rough pump and another slap just below the head.
“Yes, Mistress, please–” he moans. His hands are clenched so tightly his knuckles turn white, his whole body trembling, but he doesn’t reach for you. He just stares with his eyes fixed on your tits as though he’s dying of thirst.
“Not yet,” you cut him off, squeezing his balls again, rolling them between your fingers before stroking him right to the edge and then letting go completely.
You reach down with both hands now, gripping him at the base and pumping him slow and tight until his hips start to lift from the mattress. When he’s right at the edge, you stop again, releasing him. A high-pitched whine breaks from his lips, his body sagging back into the sheets as he mourns the loss of your touch.
“You behave,” you say, dragging your nails down his thighs one more time, “and maybe, just maybe, I’ll fuck you so good you won’t even remember your name.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he breathes, trembling. “Please…”
Finally climbing onto the mattress, you settle between his open legs. Reaching down, you wrap your fingers around him and bring the wet tip upward, dragging it slowly across your nipples.
“Do you like this, bunny?” you ask, watching him closely.
“Yes, Mistress, I love it,” he whines, looking up at you with pure adoration. “I love everything you do to me.”
You squeeze your breasts together to create a deep space between them and lean forward. Guiding his cock upward, you press the head between your tits, moving with a constant rub as you slide against him. “So needy,” you tease, watching his face twist with pleasure.
You slide down, engulfing his length between your soft flesh. Your tongue darts out to lick the tip. He bucks his hips up, trying to thrust deeper into the cleavage, into your mouth.
“Greedy boy,” you scold, though you don’t stop him. Picking up the pace, you use your hands to press your breasts even firmer against his shaft.
“I’m gonna– I’m gonna–”
“Not yet,” you command, pulling back suddenly and leaving him panting. You pump him a few more times before giving him another sharp slap.
“Ah! Mistress, please!” he cries out.
“You’re so loud for me tonight,” you murmur. “Do you want me to put you out of your misery?”
“Yes, please... I need to be inside you,” he begs.
You move, your slick thighs brushing his cock as you straddle his hips. Grabbing him, you line him up, teasing the thick head through your folds. He groans, head slamming back against the sheets. While you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing it, the truth is that you’re just as desperate to feel him filling you as he is to be inside you.
You sink onto him slowly, until his cock stretches you open, until you’re seated fully on him, your ass resting on his thighs.
“Fuck–” Jungkook’s voice cracks, his fists clenched tight by his sides. “Mistress. You’re so tight, your pussy’s so perfect –”
You grind down, your chest swaying as you rock your hips. He tries to thrust up, desperate, but you pin him with a sharp look. “Did I tell you to move, bunny?”
“No, Mistress,” he whispers, trembling.
“Now tell me, who does this cock belong to?”
“It’s yours... it’s all yours,” he moans.
“That’s right. You’ll keep it still until I say otherwise.” You lean down and bite his shoulder, leaving a mark. “I am the one using you tonight. You’re just a toy for my pleasure, remember?”
“Yes, Mistress... I’m just your toy,” he gasps, the words coming out in a broken rush. “Use me however you want,” he whimpers, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He stays perfectly still, even though his whole body is shaking from the effort.
“Do you want to suck my tits?” you taunt, remaining perfectly still as you squeeze your internal muscles around him. Jungkook nods, his eyes locked on your chest. “Then beg. Use your words.”
“Please, Mistress, please, I need–” You lean forward, letting your nipples drag across his lips.“I need to taste you,” Jungkook begs. “I need your tits in my mouth.”
You lean down, practically draping your weight over him as you offer yourself up. He latches on desperately, moaning into your skin, sucking at your nipples until spit slicks them both. You begin to bounce. “That’s it, bunny,” you groan, dragging his cock against your walls. “You just lie there and let me use you. That’s what you’re good for.”
His cock twitches violently inside you. You slap your tits against his face, smearing his spit everywhere. “God, Mistress, please,” he sobs. “You feel so good, you’re so tight–”
“You’re so pathetic, crying for me like this,” you whisper, grinding your hips in a slow circle.
“I don't care,” he chokes out, his head thrashing against the pillow. “I don't care how I look. I’m yours, I’m all yours, please just use me, I belong to you–”
“I know you do,” you say, gripping his hair to pull his head back. “And I’m going to use you until I've had every bit of pleasure I want from this body, okay?”
“Yes, yes, please! Use me, Mistress, I just want to please you,” he wails, his hips stuttering upward in a reflex he can't control.
He feels like he’s going to explode at any second. “Please, Mistress, please let me cum!”
You lean down, your hand wrapping tight around his throat. “Not yet. You hold it for me.”
He whines but obeys. His muscles are tight and straining because he’s trying so hard not to cum, and he’s practically seeing stars as you keep riding him while forcing him to stay right on the edge.
Riding him harder, you chase your own release, moaning filth into his ear. “Fuck. This cock is mine. Stretching me so good, gonna squeeze you dry, bunny.” You lean in and capture his lips, biting his bottom lip until he moans into your mouth. With your hand still firm on his neck, you whisper against his lips, “You’re nothing but a place for me to come, bunny. You’re just my pretty little toy, and I’m going to break you tonight.”
“Yes... please break me, Mistress. I love being your toy,” he gasps, completely undone.
You pick up the pace, your hips slamming against his. You lean down, whispering every dirty thought into his ear.
“Mistress! I’m going to–I can’t stop it!”
“I cum first,” you hiss, smothering your tits against his face. “If you cum before I do, you’re getting punished, you know that.” Jungkook is at his breaking point and, even though he knows he might get in trouble for it later, he arches his hips just enough to hit that specific spot you love.
“Fuck! Fuck yes!” you cry out, grinding down tight on him as you break apart, your orgasm spilling through you, walls clenching around his cock. “Yes, just like that! Fuck, you’re so good for me!”
You keep bouncing, riding out your high, his cock swelling inside you, ready to explode. Leaning close to his ear, your voice drops to a filthy whisper. “Look at this cock, bunny. So big and thick, filling me up exactly how I wanted. You did such a good job holding it in for me, stretching me out so perfectly.” You lift your head and pick up the pace, slamming your hips down with everything you have left. “Come on. Cum for me. Now. Empty those balls for Mistress. Show me how much you needed this.”
His cry is loud, broken, his body arching as hot spurts flood your pussy. “Yes! Fill me up, bunny!” you moan, feeling his cum coating your insides. You ride him through it, milking him, grinding on him while he shakes beneath you, his mouth still latched on your tits.
When you finally slow, collapsing against his chest, his cock twitches weakly inside you, your walls messy with his cum. You stroke his sweaty hair, pressing your tits to his lips until his whimpers soften.
“There you go, bunny,” you whisper. “My good boy. Took your punishment, took your reward.”
He hums against your skin. “Thank you, Mistress. Thank you.”
Your breathing slows first. The sound of your heartbeat begins to quiet in your ears, your body still trembling lightly as you sit perched on top of him. Jungkook’s eyes are squeezed shut, his lashes wet, his lips parted around soft, shuddering breaths. He looks completely undone, but obedient, waiting for you to decide what comes next.
You brush your fingers through his damp hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp. “Easy, bunny,” you murmur, your voice a low, soothing hum now instead of a command.
His eyes blink open slowly, hazy and glassy, but focused only on you. “Did I… was I good, Mistress?”
A smile curves your lips. “You were perfect.” You shift, lifting yourself off his cock gently. He misses your warmth instantly, whining as he tries to reach for you, his fingers curling into the empty space where you just were.
“Stay right there,” you say softly but firmly, leaving him for a moment to grab a cloth from the bathroom.
“Yes, Mistress.” His voice is small now.
You return with the cloth, kneeling between his legs. Carefully, you clean the mess from his stomach, thighs, and cock. He twitches slightly under your touch, but doesn’t move, his eyes locked on your face. His expression is soft, filled with a drowsy adoration that melts your heart.
“Shh…” You stroke his cheek with your free hand as you wipe him down. “You were such a good boy for me, bunny. You did exactly what I told you to do.”
He exhales shakily. “Thank you, Mistress,” he whispers.
Once he’s clean, you take a moment to wipe the dampness from your own thighs and hands. You toss the cloth aside and climb back onto the bed. “Come here,” you murmur.
Instantly, he crawls toward you, folding himself against your body without hesitation. You guide him until his head is resting on your chest, his arms curled loosely around your waist. Stroking his hair again slowly you draw idle circles against the back of his neck.
“Breathe with me,” you say softly. “In…” He inhales. “And out.” He exhales, his body melting against you.
“That’s it. Good boy,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
He hums faintly, his face pressed between your breasts, voice muffled. “I like when you touch me like this…”
“I know,” you murmur, still stroking his hair. “It’s part of the deal. I push you. Then I take care of you.”
“I like being pushed.” His voice is drowsy now, almost childlike, but still reverent. “I love you, Mistress.”
You tilt his chin up so he’s looking at you. His pupils are still wide but soft now, his lips swollen. You press your forehead to his. “And I love you too, bunny.” His shoulders relax fully and lets out a deep, heavy sigh. “Do you want water?” you ask gently. “Food? Or just to stay here for a while?”
“Here,” he whispers. “Just… here.” He shifts slightly, turning his head to capture your nipple in his mouth, sucking softly, no longer desperate but seeking comfort.
You smile, pulling the blanket over both of you, holding him close. “Then here it is.”
SUMMARY: After getting various comments about your poor filming skills for your OF page, you finally decided to give in and reach out to the one person that could help you with your problem. However, what started as your roommate just helping you to film your video turned into you begging him to fuck you.
How long would it take for Jungkook to finally give in? After all, all he ever wanted was to be closer to you.
WC: 8,7k
WARNINGS: smut, masturbation, fingering, voyeurism, dirty talk, nerdy!jungkook going from shy to freaky to shy and freaky again. Pet names, jungkook with glasses (that NEEDS a warning idc), jk being completely whipped for reader but also mocking her and being a little shit when he got into it. Use of “good girl” (1), mention of only fans and adult content. If I’m missing something lmk!
A/N: part one is finally out!! I honestly feel nervous to post again and I really hope you guys enjoy this one! lmk what you think in the comments or sending an ask, enjoy ur reading <3!
masterlist
“I need a favor.”
You barging into his room along with those three words were enough to break the quiet and cozy atmosphere that your roommate had going on. He was sitting in his gaming chair, with his headphones covering his ears and glasses slightly falling off the bridge of his nose. Jungkook looked startled, with his big, round eyes staring at you as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t, when in reality a loud and violent video game was the only thing playing on his computer screen.
“H-Hi to you too.” His response and his rapid way of blinking let you know that Jungkook was not expecting you to come into his room unannounced, however, there was not a single complaint flying out of his mouth. More often than not, you would invade his personal space with your overenthusiastic self, chatting his ear off about some new gossip from your class that he was not really interested in, but Jungkook being Jungkook could never tell you to shut up, even when it was needed. “What do you need? Is everything okay?”
A pang of guilt spread through your chest by the way he completely abandoned whatever game he was playing to put his undivided attention on you when he noticed how distressed you were; what you were about to ask him was far from being a serious or urgent matter, but rather something that might bring chaos and awkwardness into your friendship. In all honesty, you weren’t even sure why you decided to entertain the idea of asking for Jungkook’s help. All you knew is that Eunbi, your best friend, was very eloquent while suggesting your roommate as a solution for your problem, and while you weren’t exactly desperate, you didn’t want to spend more time thinking of other alternatives either.
So here you were, hoping that the following minutes would remain the same after you inevitably tell Jungkook the truth.
“Y/n…? Is everything alright?” He asked once again, snapping you out of your thoughts.
“Yes, right! It is. I just…” A frustrated sigh escaped your lips. “I need a huge favor, but I don’t know how to tell you.”
“You know you can tell me anything, I’m here for whatever you need.” His tender smile made that guilty feeling become stronger.
You tried to find the words to voice the idea running through your mind without making this situation painfully weird, but nothing could really prevent the inevitable awkward silence that was bound to be installed between you two once you put it all out.
The favor and the help you needed was regarding your line of work, something that Jungkook was pretty much aware of, but never fully involved in. Being a creator for adult content, more specifically for only fans, was already hard enough to explain to him when he moved in with you a few years ago, but somehow you managed to make it seem as if it wasn’t a big deal. You thought that it would be a dealbreaker, that Jungkook would run far away from you and never even consider being your roommate when you told him you made content for only fans, however, after a few days, he willingly showed up at your apartment with boxes full of his belongings and a shy smile, telling you that he was ready to live with you.
That memory was the only thing keeping you from running out of his room and hiding inside your own until the embarrassment subsided, instead, it helped you to follow through with your plan and accept the outcome of this, like the confident woman that you were.
However, the long pauses that you were taking to organize your ideas were starting to worry the brown-eyed boy in front of you. He’s never seen you like this before, hesitating and so unsure of yourself. Your confident demeanor would often throw him off, and the way you so surely carried yourself wherever you went was a stark contrast to his shy and awkward way of living, but that’s something Jungkook was used to, that’s how things worked between you two. You were the easygoing, extroverted friend that would strike up a conversation with almost anyone, while he was the quiet, shy and reserved friend that was ready to lend his shoulder if you ever needed a good cry.
But this, the way you were so notoriously nervous and preoccupied was something new for Jungkook, a new side of you that he never thought he would see.
“Listen, Y/n, you don’t have to tell me right now. I’ll help you with anything you need, but if you feel like it’s too much in this moment, you can talk to me about it whenever you’re rea–”
“I need you to help me film a video for my page.”
There, you said it, it was all set in stone, with no way to go back. No backtracking, no regretting, no way to undo it. Your words hung in the air with a heavy weight falling upon you two. If Jungkook was startled when you came into his room, he was completely dumbfounded after listening to what you needed.
“Co-Come again.” It wasn’t the smartest way to ask you to repeat yourself, but it sure fit into the conversation. “I-I mean, are you seriously asking me to do what I think you’re asking?”
He wasn’t stupid, Jungkook was familiar with your work, and while he didn’t consume your content, apart from a few pictures he looked at while scrolling through your page out of curiosity, the boy knew exactly what your deal was. Posting your whole body on the internet for almost anyone to see was the easiest way to describe your job; making videos, taking pictures that left little to the imagination for the people that came across your profile, even going as far as hosting lives to chat with your followers and sometimes cater to their filthy needs. That’s the kind of job you had, the kind of things you were willing to do, and it was crystal clear how comfortable and okay you were with it.
Jungkook had never judged you or questioned what you did for a living, not once in the years he’s known you, mainly out of respect and because it was none of his business, but also because he didn’t want to think or imagine the things you did in front of the camera. Now, however, he might have to, because what you were asking of him was more than what he was expecting from you.
Asking him to cook dinner, fix your laptop or pick up his clothes from the bathroom floor was okay with him, he could do it in a heartbeat, but filming a video for your secret page was something he was not ready for.
“I know it sounds crazy, believe me. I actually thought about this for a few days, but I wouldn’t ask you to do it if I truly didn’t need your help.” You were almost ready to beg him at this point. It has been weeks since the last time you posted a video and the lack of content was starting to upset your followers. There was really no other option. “I swear I’ll try to make it as normal as possible, but I really need you”
She needs me.
Jungkook had to look away from you, the pleading eyes you were sending his way were starting to affect him more than they should have, and while he was usually willing to lend you a helping hand at any moment, this time he really needed some time to think about it.
“I don’t know, Y/n…” He hesitated, taking his glasses off for a brief moment and rubbing his eyes. “I mean, why me? Doesn’t Eunbi usually help you with that stuff?”
“Yeah, she does, but it’s mainly to help me choose an outfit, makeup or the color of the lights. She doesn’t know about cameras like you do. And lately my followers have been complaining about my poor filming skills.” You finally explained your reasons behind it all. “You’re a photography major after all, wouldn’t you know about angles, settings, and all that stuff better than us?”
You took some cautious steps towards your roommate before making him turn around in his chair only for you to sit on his lap. You were aware that it was an unfair strategy to use on him, but desperate times call for desperate measures, don’t they?
A blaring alarm went off inside of Jungkook’s head the moment you became painfully close to him, invading his personal space. Then again, it was not out of the ordinary for you to be touchy-feely with him, but the boy still had a hard time getting used to your overly affectionate demeanor. His hands were eager to lay on the warm skin of your waist and feel your soft flesh against his, nonetheless, he knew better than crossing that line. If Jungkook wanted to maintain his sanity, he needed to remain still for as long as possible.
“Would you be a sweetheart and help me with this, Kookie?
Fuck, not that nickname.
Jungkook melted right on the spot whenever you called him that or any other short variant of his name. He was weak for you and both of you were aware of it.
“I…” It was a hard decision, but how could he say no to you when you were looking at him as if he was your only saviour. “Okay, yes. I’ll help you, but just this time. I will teach you everything you need to know to make your videos better, but next time you’ll be on your own.”
“Oh my god! Thank you, Kook, thank you so much.” Your arms found their way to his neck, engulfing the shy boy into an effusive hug. “I promise I’ll repay you with anything you want.”
“We can figure that out afterwards, don’t worry about it now.” He assured you with a sheepish grin while his hands finally reciprocated the affection by timidly patting your back.
The more you stayed in that position, the more Jungkook wondered if he was really ready to take such a big step into your dynamic, however, there was no way out. You were already counting on him.
What have I gotten myself into?
The following days were spent trying to figure out the logistics and set a schedule that would work for the both of you. Despite what anyone would think, Jungkook was a very busy guy, between his major, work and tutoring lessons he offered three days a week, he had little to no time to hangout with his friends or even watch a movie with you. Therefore, Saturday seemed like the safest option to film the video. Usually Jungkook would play online games with his friends during the weekends as it was the only time he could actually have some free time for himself, but he was willing to sacrifice one day just this time, especially if it was for you.
The boy was in a constant fight or flight mode during those days, overthinking every single minute of his day about how terribly wrong the whole thing could go. He had a plan from A to Z for any unfortunate situation that might occur, only to prevent ruining your friendship any further. Jungkook was so anxious and absorbed in the predicament that he didn’t even notice when Saturday finally arrived.
In a blink of an eye both of you were already making sure that everything was ready to start filming. You would use his professional camera instead of your phone to enhance the quality of the video; he helped you find the perfect spot in your room, void of your personal stuff or anything that could be used to reveal your real identity. He even showed you the angles that you could use to prevent your face from showing but still giving your followers what they wanted. The setting and ambience was perfect, with the perfect amount of lighting and the right color to make the whole moment more enjoyable for your viewers.
“Whenever you’re ready.” His soft voice echoed through the room while you were doing some touch ups to your makeup. Jungkook was doing a good job with keeping a straight face and calm attitude. It was barely impossible to tell how nervous and anxious he was at that precise moment.
“I’m ready.” You stood up from the chair in front of your vanity, and started your way towards the place where you would be filming. It was a corner decorated with a bunch of pillows and a fluffy blanket to make it comfortable for you. “I should take this off now, shouldn’t I?” A nervous giggle escaped your mouth while pointing to your robe.
It would be the first time you would present yourself like this to Jungkook, at least that you were aware of. The boy had already seen more of your body that he would’ve preferred, thanks to his curiosity, however, this time it was different, it wasn’t a simple picture of you in lingerie or with your bare chest showing. It was you in the flesh, quite literally. Naked and ready to put your body under a plethora of sensations he could only think of —he shouldn’t even think about it in all honesty—, along with sounds that up until this moment were only part of his imagination.
“Do-Do you want me to like… turn around?”
It was an innocent and genuine question, yet you couldn’t help but laugh.
“There’s no point. You’ll have to see me to check that the filming is going right, either way.” You waved him off, trying to ease his worries. “It’s okay, don’t read too much into it, you’re only being a good friend and helping me.”
“Sure… a good friend.”
Why does it bother me so much when she calls me that?
Oh, if only he understood.
“Okay, here goes nothing.” In a swift motion you undid the knot of your robe, taking the piece of clothing completely off to show your body covered in the prettiest set of red lingerie that you owned.
Your tits were engulfed by the soft lace of your bra, adorned with a red bow right in the center, drawing more attention to your cleavage. Your panties left little to the imagination; see through lace covering just enough to tease the viewers and make them crave for more of your beautiful body. In hindsight, it wasn’t the sexiest or most elegant set out there, but you liked the way it enhanced your features just the right way to feel comfortable and sexy with your body. And as it turns out, Jungkook thought exactly the same.
The boy could not tear his eyes, covered with his round glasses, away from your figure, taking his time to let the way you presented yourself before him sink in. So bare and vulnerable, yet so sexy and confident. You looked incredibly stunning, beautiful, gorgeous, delectable… words were not enough to describe what he thought of you the moment your robe fell to your feet. However, along with appreciating your body came the realization that helping you film this video would be the hardest task he would ever do.
How can I do this to myself?
“Does it look good?” A very dangerous question, but it was intended to ease the tension already forming in between the two. The longer Jungkook took to answer, the more you wondered if you chose the correct outfit “Should I change?”
“No!” His answer, then, was definitive. “I-I mean, you don’t really need to change, unless you want to. It looks… good, very good on you.” He used one finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
His cheeks turning red was something you could not ignore, it brought a sweet smile to your face.
“Alright then, let’s get this over with!”
A faint fighting came out of your roommate’s mouth while waiting for you to position yourself in front of the camera. The moment you stepped into the comfortable yet sexy set your whole demeanor changed. Your cheerful smile was replaced with a cheeky smirk; your eyes were charged with this sensual energy that made the boy in front of you swallow harshly; your velvety voice was like a siren chant, luring him to step closer and fall into the trap.
Jungkook was mesmerized by the nonchalant way you executed every single movement, as if it was second nature for you, and it sure was. It was part of your routine, part of your lifestyle. The brown-haired man was only now discovering what it was like, but you’ve been under the spotlight for quite some time. Your hands knew perfectly well the path they had to go through to get to the most sensitive parts of your body. Your fingers knew just the right amount of pressure they had to put into your flesh to elicit those sinful sounds. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts, you knew what to do and you loved every single second of it.
Jungkook was entranced by your performance, hands curled into fists to prevent them from acting on their own; cheeks tinted with a rosy color that got lost in the red lights adorning your room. His eyes were glued to your fingers dancing up and down your sides, stealing faint sighs out of you. He had a love-hate reaction to how long you were taking to strip out of your bra. It was sensual, teasing, yet it made the boy fall into a desperate state, eager to see you fully, in all your glory.
“I’ve missed you guys so much.” Your sultry voice sent a shiver down his spine, but the words coming out of your mouth were a cold reminder that he wasn’t there as a viewer but rather as a helper. “It’s been so long since the last time we saw each other.”
A small gasp fell from your lips when you finally pushed down the cups of your bra to display your bare chest. Your hardened nipples were glazed with your saliva after running your wet fingers over them. Little by little you let loose, forgetting that Jungkook was even there, watching you touch yourself and talk to the camera with the most cliche and nasty lines you’ve mastered up until now. Once again, it was part of your routine, and in that routine you needed to have some sort of interaction with your viewers. But truth be told, Jungkook was loving it. He loved how free you looked, and probably felt. He loved how careless you were, how you never hesitated to take a step further and further until you were fully naked, panting and moaning while your fingers graced your inner thighs with a tender touch. He loved it because you were in your element, you were in full control of yourself and body, and that was beyond attractive for him.
“Shit.” A breathy moan elicited from your soft lips when your fingers ran over your folds with a feather-like touch. “I’m so wet.”
Fuck.
Jungkook mentally cursed himself for getting into this situation. It was so hard to watch you in such a lewd way and not be able to get involved. But then again, even thinking of the possibility of being the reason behind your sinful sounds was beyond wrong. You were his friend, his roommate for fuck’s sake, he shouldn’t be thinking of you in that way.
He shouldn’t think of how beautiful you’d look under him, writhing and chanting his…
“Jungkook.”
Fuck, yes.
“Jungkook!”
If only I could make her sound like that.
“Kook!! I’m talking to you.”
Your urgent tone snapped him out of his dirty thoughts. His eyes connected with yours, with a disoriented expression as he fixed his glasses.
“Shit, sorry, I just… zoned out for a bit.” He tried to excuse himself, but the way his voice cracked in the middle of the sentence prevented it from sounding sincere. “Wh-What were you saying?”
You chuckled, deciding to ignore his reaction and cutting right to the point.
“I can’t get into it.”
“What do you mean?”
His tilted head and innocent, round eyes made your frustration lessen. The whole time you let your hands run free over your skin you were trying —almost begging, to get in the mood to continue with the video, but as it turned out, you were nowhere near turned on. It was disappointing — after putting so much effort into it and gathering the courage to ask Jungkook for help, you couldn’t even get aroused.
What is wrong with me today?
With a deep sigh, you sat right up and covered your naked skin with the fluffy blanket next to you. “What I mean is that I can’t get in the mood to, you know… do it.”
“I’m not following.” Jungkook shook his head slowly, trying to comprehend the message that you were sending him. “Do you need anything? Are you uncomfortable?”
“No, it’s not that. I just can’t get turned on.” Plain and simple. He surely would get what you were trying to say.
“You mean that you’re not–”
“Oh my god, I’m not wet enough to continue filming!”
A pregnant silence fell into the room. Neither of you dared to move or say a single thing after that. Jungkook was rendered speechless after your confession and you could not even look at his face due to the embarrassment you were experiencing right in that moment. Maybe it was too much information, but then again, you were literally naked in front of him, voicing out your frustrations to the only other person in the room wouldn’t be that bad, would it?
Well, apparently it was, especially because it was not just anyone but Jungkook. The boy who not only had to endure seeing you touch yourself but also had to listen to your ridiculous complaints about not being aroused.
“Bu-But you just… you said you were…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence. “Fuck, I feel so lost right now.”
The brown-eyed boy was so confused, if your facial expressions and sounds were anything to go by, Jungkook could swear on his life that you were enjoying it. Your frustrated reaction and straightforward confession threw him off; how come he was fighting his own instincts and urges to not come right on the spot while you were faking it all along? Maybe it was due to being the first time in such an environment with you. Would your viewers know when you’re not being genuine and that’s why you stopped? Or was he really that clueless to women’s pleasure?
“I was acting.” You confessed. “Sometimes I talk like that to help myself and get in the mood, but clearly today is not working for me.” A dejected groan flew out of your mouth.
“Can I, I don’t know, help you with that?” He shyly asked, “Maybe it’s because I’m here. Perhaps having another person in the room is making it difficult for you, I can leave…”
You shook your head, “No, if anything, your presence is helping me to feel somehow relaxed.” You thought about it for a second, trying to come up with a quick solution. “Maybe we can try something else.”
“What would that be?”
It took you a few seconds to voice your idea, mainly out of fear and nervousness due to how much it could damage your friendship. In all honesty, involving Jungkook in the filming was already damaging and risky enough, but it was still within the limits you mentally established for this situation. What you were about to ask him, however, was beyond those limits.
“Could you step closer?” You waited a few seconds before developing your whole idea. “I mean, could you film me from a closer angle?”
“Would that really help?” He asked in a shaky voice.
“We could try and see.”
And see he did. Jungkook moved from his position behind the camera, trying to get his equipment and himself as close to you as possible —losing a little bit of his sanity in the process— with the utmost caution and respect. He didn’t want to overstep the boundaries that were established before starting filming, he also didn’t want to do a wrong movement and throw everything to waste. Jeon had the opportunity to see your body from a closer perspective, and albeit unsure, he managed to keep calm and resume his work.
“Is this okay?” Your roommate asked, angling the camera to focus solely on the space between your legs, right where your fingers wished to disappear in. “Tell me if it becomes too much, okay?”
“Will do.”
After listening to your words of approval and making sure you felt comfortable with the new position, Jungkook continued filming you and every single movement you did. It was hypnotizing how you so confidently went back to your previous endeavors to get you in the mood. Your noises sounded sexier, your breathing was heavier, your eyes were closed tighter than before, willing yourself to enjoy the moment thoroughly and push back the feeling of being so exposed to the only man you swore would never see you like this.
Jungkook tried to stay calm and collected, cool and relaxed, even when he felt the air getting stuck in his throat when he watched your fingers dive into your warm walls through the lenses of the camera.
“Fuck…” He breathed out without realizing. The boy was quick to cover his mouth with his hand when he noticed your quizzical look. “Sorry.” Jungkook mouthed and focused on his work as the cameraman.
You continued with your ministrations, ignoring the heat in your cheeks that wasn’t exactly due to finally getting worked up from your touches. Your fingers moved in and out of your cunt, slowly and carefully, as if you were calculating what you were going to do next. A faint moan fell from your lips, eliciting a raspy groan from the boy in front of you.
Right in that moment you noticed how aggravated Jungkook was. Eyes shining in the dark like a pair of beautiful stars but with a glint of lust covering them along with his glasses; lips parted, letting out his heavy breath and small sighs. His hands were twitching at his sides, eager to move and, most likely, to touch what he was not even allowed to taste.
Maybe this was more than he could handle, maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to help you with this video, perhaps this was already creating a dent in your friendship that you were nowhere close to know how to fix, but the way he was looking at you was nothing you had ever seen before, at least not from him. There was hunger, need and desperation mixed in his hard glare, and as much as you wanted to deny and ignore it, his reaction was doing wonders on you. And so a new idea was installed in your mind. Your friendship was already beyond salvation, how bad would it be to make a last request?
“Kook…” You breathed out, “I need you.”
It was so subtle, so fleeting the smugness that covered his face that you barely noticed. His eyes widened and his lips moved like that of a fish trying to survive out of the water, he didn’t know what to do, much less what to say.
“Me?” He whispered, completely clueless of the effect he was having on you in that moment. You nodded, fingers stilling in between your legs. “Wh-What do you mean?”
You sat up, stopping the filming once again. “Exactly what I said, I need you… I-I need your help with something else. You can say no, but… I would be forever grateful to you if you said yes.”
Jungkook was putting to use his 128 IQ score to try and understand what you were hinting at, but none the wiser, he needed the words spelled out to him to get your idea. And so, as softly as possible, you explained what your need was actually about. You noticed the way his body reacted to you and the show you were putting on for your viewers but more specifically for him; it was painfully obvious how much he desired you, and in all honesty, you weren’t any better.
Ever since you two started living together, you swore that you wouldn’t act on the small and silly crush you developed for him after meeting for the first time. It was just a silly attraction that wasn’t worth the hassle of getting involved with your roommate; his built body and big biceps drove you crazy, and you couldn’t turn a blind eye to the intricate tattoos adorning his arm, which was such a stark contrast to the type of man he made himself out to be; the lip ring shining from his mouth was so painfully enticing, and more often than not, you found yourself wondering what it would feel like against your lips while kissing the life out of him. And God bless the person that gets you started on how much you loved those black rimmed glasses that adorned his eyes almost 24/7, giving him a geeky look that would never fail to make you weak in the knees. But all of those features, as well as the lewd scenarios conquering your mind minutes before going to sleep, had made it difficult for you to stay in your lane all this time. Tonight, however, might be your one and only chance to turn your dirty dreams into reality, only and only if Jungkook agreed to your idea.
“I don’t want this to ruin our friendship.” He murmured, looking down at the floor and avoiding your hopeful eyes glaring at him. You reached out for him, your soft hands coming in contact with his covered thighs while you kneeled in front of him. “Y/n… don’t do this to me.” His whole body stiffened, fighting the urge to jump your bones and turn you into a crying mess just like he always imagined.
“You don’t want me like that, Kookie?” You so innocently asked, lashes fluttering against your cheekbones. “Is that the real problem, hm?” Your hands were sliding up and down his thighs, teasing him.
“God, no.” He answered breathlessly, “You have no fucking idea how bad I want you…”
“Then why don’t you show me? What’s stopping you, hm?” Your cheek resting on his jean-covered thigh elicited a soft gasp from your roommate. “It's just a small favor.”
“I… fuck, you’re driving me crazy right now.” He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends while letting out a frustrated groan. Jungkook took off his glasses while rubbing his eyes before looking at you again. “You have to promise… you really have to promise that it will be a one-time thing. No more favors after this, at least not of this caliber.”
You nodded eagerly, looking at him with a spark in your eyes. “I promise, just this time.”
“Okay,” Jungkook nodded, “I’ll help you with anything you need.” One of his hands, albeit shakily, reached out to push away a strand of hair falling into your face.
With a wide grin you pull his hand to get him closer to you. It was a bit hard to get his face and the majority of his body out of frame, but both of you managed. Jungkook sat behind you, with his built back leaning on the soft pillows while yours was resting on his firm chest. Both of his strong arms wrapped around your body while his hesitant hands touched your skin lightly.
In all honesty he didn’t know what to do, it felt unreal to be this close to you, especially under those conditions. Jeon was trying so hard to figure out what to do next that the tension conquering his body was noticed by you.
“Relax, Kook, do what you would do with any other girl.” You tried to reassure him while softly stroking his forearm, but the silence in between you two was making you feel uneasy. “You’ve done this before, right?”
Should he answer honestly? The short answer would be yes, he’s done it before; the long one though, would be that he only did it once when he lost his virginity at a random party his friends at the time invited him to. Jungkook couldn’t even remember the name of the girl or how she looked, all he could recall from that time was the awkwardness and how short it lasted. Jeon wasn’t sure that he could live up to your expectations, and while he was not clueless to how it worked, he doubted his performance would be as amazing as that of all your previous sexual partners, which caused part of his nervousness.
He was reading too much into it whereas you were starting to feel desperate and needy. You had the boy of your dreams right behind you with his hands very close to the place that was basically begging to be touched, but not much has happened. It was a bit disappointing how long it was taking him to act, but you also understood that it might not be an easy task to do, especially if it was your roommate doing it.
“Let’s go with an easy start, okay? I’ll lead.” Your hands reached out for his, guiding his right hand towards one of your tits. “You can explore my body as much as you want, don’t be afraid to touch.” And just as if you were reading his mind, you added, “Don’t think too much about it, I won’t be mad if this doesn’t go as planned.”
“Okay.” With a deep sigh he let his fingers feel your skin up, touching, caressing, pinching even.
His slender fingers wrapped around one of your already hardened nipples, toying with it, which elicited a soft gasp from you. His other hand slowly reached for your other tit, trying to stimulate both at the same time.
“Yes… like that, Kook.” Your praising words were helping him to build up his confidence. The more you praised him, the more adventurous he got, letting his hands explore the entirety of your body.
After a few more minutes of playing with your boobs, his hands finally started to drift south, with feather-like touches here and there before reaching your tender thighs. His big hands looked very attractive against your flesh, like the prettiest accessory. The one that was cladded with a bunch of tattoos started to descend more and more, landing small smacks on your inner thigh.
“Oh…” you breathed out, a bit surprised by the sudden move.
“Sorry, should I not have done that?” Jungkook asked, retrieving both of his hands.
“No, no, no!” You pulled them right back where they were placed before. “Please continue… I really liked what you were doing.”
“Okay.”
With a more confident attitude, Jungkook started to touch your thighs, kneading your skin while his hot breath was hitting the back of your neck. In all honesty, it all felt surreal, you never thought that a moment like this would ever happen, that you would have the same boy that you had fantasized about many times before touching you and willing to please you.
“You can use more than your hands, you know?” You whispered softly, closing your eyes due to how good everything was feeling.
“Are you sure?” He murmured really close to your ear, sending shivers through your body. You hummed in response, leaning more and more into his touch. “So, it would be okay if I do this.” His lips graced your neck with a faint kiss, eliciting a small gasp from you. “Or this,” a firmer kiss was placed right under your ear, Jungkook’s lips moving skillfully. “And since I’m at it, you surely wouldn’t mind me doing this,” His teeth sank into your skin suddenly. “Right?”
“Shit…” You moaned out loud, “N-No, I… I don’t mind, at all.”
A husky chuckle erupted from his throat, “Good.” His hands kept moving in between your legs, now finally reaching your needy cunt. “Are you sure you want me to do anything I want to you, Y/n?” You once again hummed, unable to properly answer due to his touches. “I think I might need to hear you say it, before I go any further.”
If he was trying to get your consent or just teasing you, you didn’t know, but you were sure of one thing, you needed to feel any part of him inside of you. Now.
“Fuck, yes, I’m completely sure, don’t make me wait anymore, please.”
It was the please added at the end that really did it for him, the way your needy and desperate voice echoed through the room was enough for Jungkook to give you what you wanted.
He finally pushed one of his fingers inside your velvety walls, slowly sliding in and out with enough easiness that got you wondering just then how wet you were before he started touching you. Your whole body squirmed, reacting at how great it felt to be touched like that. Curses, moans and gasps were falling from your lips, creating the most sensual cacophony.
“You like that?” His husky voice rang through your ears, earning an effusive nod from you, “You like that I’m touching you like this, hm?” You could feel the smug smile against your skin, right under your earlobe, “Maybe I should try harder, since you’re not answering to me.” With no further warning, Jungkook added a second finger, stretching you out deliciously. He picked up his pace as well, pushing in and out with such vigor that got you sinking your nails into your palms.
“Oh my god!” You breathed out.
Where was this sudden change in attitude coming from? Not a minute ago he was acting shy and reserved, as if he had never touched a woman before, as if he didn’t have it in him to wreck you in the way you wanted. But now, that whole act was left behind and there seemed to be no trace of the innocent and nerdy Jungkook you thought you knew, only this suddenly confident and teasing boy, ready to make you fall apart on his fingers.
“That’s not quite the answer I’m looking for.” Jeon goaded you on to the response he wanted from you. “Come on, pretty, tell me how much you like it.”
“Fuck…” You cursed out loud, “I-I can’t.”
It was difficult for you to concentrate on gathering the words that your roommate wished to hear due to his fingers moving deliciously inside of you. He was hitting the right spots with his long and slender digits, over and over again to the point that tears were pooling in the corner of your eyes.
“Hm, and why is that?” Jungkook questioned with feigned innocence in his voice. “Is it really that difficult for you to speak?”
You nodded desperately, looking into his eyes right through those slutty glasses you adored so much. “I can’t… I-I can’t con… centrate.” You finally admitted.
A mocking chuckle flew out of his mouth, his fingers never relenting, “Poor little you.”
“Ah, fuck, Kook.” Your sounds were becoming dirtier, needier, more naughty and desperate as the familiar hot sensation started to invade your body. You knew your release was coming with such rapidness and ease.
It was astonishing how Jungkook could so effortlessly get you to your breaking point, when it took you several minutes to even get aroused. You wanted to believe that it was all due to your previous touching, but deep down you knew that doing it on your own would never get you the pleasure you were experimenting in that moment.
“Shit, you’re squeezing my fingers so much.” He pointed out, struggling to move thanks to the firm grip your walls had on his digits. “So tight and warm.”
If only he knew that his way of talking was only contributing to your forthcoming release. Your eyes could not look away from his face. His hard features and the way his lustful orbs were looking right down at you got you in a trance, one that you didn’t want to get out. The faint smirk on the corner of his lips, along with the lip ring were once again taunting you, tempting you; threatening you with a good time, and just as you were about to reach and find out if your assumptions were correct, Jungkook leaned down and captured your lips in a harsh kiss.
Kissing you for the first time was life-changing, or so he would say, because despite all the girls –only a few actually– he has ever kissed or been intimate with, Jungkook has never felt like this with any of them, so addicted, so eager to taste more of you; craving you in ways that he probably shouldn’t.Your lips were so soft and sweet, and it was right in that moment that he realized that it would be a living hell to go back to normal after getting a taste of you. The way your mouth was chasing after him when he pulled away briefly due to running out of air, it drove him crazy, making him feel light in the head. Being able to see that look in your face as your orgasm was approaching, while your puffy, red lips were begging him to kiss you more was, in fact, something that Jungkook would never forget.
Kissing Jungkook for the first time felt exactly like you imagined, dangerous and messy. It was dangerous because it was right in that moment that you realized that there was no way to go back to your normal routine after this; it wasn’t only because of the intimate act that you both decided to engage in, but because there was no way in hell that you would let him go on with his life without having him like that again. Your previous words became an empty promise the more his lips devoured yours, kissing and biting as if his life depended on it. The coldness of his lip ring was making you shudder and chase for more; you finally got an answer to your question: it felt amazing while kissing. On the other hand, it was messy due to the both of you being so eager to feel more of one another; saliva coating your lips while his tongue finally made an appearance inside your mouth, making you squirm and fight the urge to burst right in that moment.
“I’m so close.” You announced against his lips, panting ridiculously loud.
“You’re gonna come for me, baby?” It was so strange to hear him talk to you like that, using pet names and saying things that Jungkook would never even think of saying in any other situation. “Wanna come on my fingers, hm?”
“Yes, yes, please.” The begging and whiny voice almost made him come in his pants, but Jeon managed to maintain his composure.
“Go on, let go, baby, but keep those pretty eyes on me.” Jungkook’s free hand came up to lay right under your jaw, squeezing lightly but firmly enough to keep you in place. You didn’t have to be told twice, the moment his hand came in contact with your hot skin you felt the waves of your orgasm crash over you. “That’s it… you’re doing so good.”
Fuck, if only he could talk to you like that all the time.
“Oh my god, Jungkook!” You moaned, closing your thighs tightly, capturing his hand in between your legs. “Shit, it feels… so good.”
“I know, doll, I know.”
Not once did your eyes look away from him, not even when the tears started to spill down your face like the most beautiful raindrops, all due to the overwhelming feeling or your orgasm. You couldn’t even grasp the fact that you just came on Jungkook’s fingers, or that your body was shaking uncontrollably while his hand kept moving rather slowly, going from sliding up and down your soaked folds to rubbing your swollen clit. Even in your post-orgasmic state you recognized that one was not enough; as good as his fingers were, you needed more of him. It was more a want than a need, but you couldn’t finish the day without knowing what his cock felt like inside of you.
Craving.
That’s the best way you could describe this feeling; you were craving his body on top of yours, even under, sideways, it didn’t matter, but you had to have more, even if it was just for the night. Even if it would leave a burning memory in your brain to fantasize about in the solitude of your room, when your hands were the only solace for your lewd desires and obscene scenarios playing in your head.
And so, letting the wild side of you speak, you uttered a sentence that was bound to change the whole course of your friendship.
“Jungkook…” You called for him, getting his attention right back on your face rather than in the space in between your legs. After listening to his humming you added “I want you to fuck me.”
His hand came to a halt, fingers not moving an inch, completely frozen in place. His brown eyes were now coated with a glint of fear and uneasiness. Jungkook had been taken by surprise a lot during the day, but right there in that moment, with you eagerly waiting for his response while looking at him with perfect innocent eyes, it had to be the most unexpected thing that could have happened to him.
A deep silence fell in the room once again, with Jungkook quickly retrieving his hands from your body. It took him several minutes to come up with something to say, something that wasn’t pure stuttering and nonsense coming out of his mouth.
“I-I beg your pardon?” His feeble voice rang through your ears due to the proximity, otherwise you wouldn’t have heard him. “I don’t think you understand what you’re asking me.”
You sat up straight, turning in your place to be face to face with Jungkook. “I’m fully aware that what I’m asking of you might be too much, but I honestly can’t ignore how much I want you, Kook.” You leaned forward, straddling his hips and resting both of your hands on his shoulders. “I thought you liked this too.”
It was funny how minutes ago he was completely into you, adamant on making you come and talking with his sultry voice until you fell apart on his fingers and now he was back to his shy and reserved persona; stuttering while trying to gather his thoughts. There were two sides of Jungkook as it seems. One was simply Jungkook, the co-founder of a comic club at your local library; the boy that spent a whole night trying to recover a document you foolishly deleted the night before you had to submit it. Jungkook who always pulled you close whenever you walked near a group of guys whose eyes were glued to your legs, and the one that didn’t hesitate to go and buy you a bunch of snacks as a way of comfort when a date you were so excited to go on went terribly wrong. That was the Jungkook you knew and adored, the one that was ready to do anything for you, being at your beck and call, but that also would get upset if you interrupted him while watching his favorite show.
And then, there was Jeon Jungkook, the boy that rocked your entire world with a few touches. The boy that spoke to you in such a sensual voice with the craziest sentences that you would never imagine him uttering. The Jungkook that called you baby, doll, pretty and kissed you so passionately that you almost forgot your name. The same man that unexpectedly acted with confidence, sure of himself and what he was doing, moving his skillful fingers in and out of your cunt with an ease that left you beyond surprised. There was the side of Jungkook that you didn’t know, and that was exactly why you needed to have more of him.
“It’ll be just this time, remember? Why not go all the way out and have a little fun yourself?” You reiterated your previous promise, even though you knew it was far from being the last time having each other like this. Without thinking too much about it, you started to grind your soaked cunt on top of his crotch; hips moving slowly to rub deliciously on top of him. “So what do you say, hm?”
You could see his self-control starting to crumble the more you rubbed yourself on him. His hardening cock felt wonderful under your hot pussy, along with the rough material of his jeans, because yes, he’s the type of guy to wear jeans while being home, even if he wasn’t expecting anyone to visit him.
You were getting too lost in the sensation, in the way Jungkook was fighting against his own moans escaping his lips or his hips thrusting up into you that you were startled by the weight of his hands on your hips, stilling you in place and preventing you from moving any further.
“I say,” He began with a husky tone, “that you’re making it really difficult to be nice to you.”
Those words caused a shit-eating grin to appear on your face, and with the most seductive voice you could muster you said “I didn’t ask you to be nice to me.” Leaning in closer to his ear you added “I asked you to fuck me… as hard as you possibly can.”
A hiss abandoned his lips while Jungkook’s hands squeezed your hips deliciously tight.
“Is that what you really want, hm? For me to fuck you senseless.” One of his hands weaved through your hair, pulling you away with enough strength to get you to look right into his eyes. “Didn’t think you would be that desperate.” A mocking chuckle echoed through your four walls, bouncing on every corner and back to your warm ears.
“You clearly don’t know everything about me.” You said through gritted teeth, the harsh grip he had on your hair was hurting you in the right way, making you wetter by the second. “Please say yes… I need you so bad, baby.”
It was the first time you called him that, and Jungkook would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy listening to your sweet voice saying it. He retrieved his hand from your hair, changing his direction to rest his thumb right onto your bottom lip.
“I did promise I would help you with anything you needed, didn’t I?” A playful smirk adorned the corner of his mouth.
“That you did,” You pointed out. “And now you have to keep your promise.”
“Alright, alright. I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m not a man of my word.” Jungkook sighed. “But you have to be good, okay? You gotta be good for me.” His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, ever so slightly, making it bounce right into place after playing with it.
An electrifying rush went down your spine by the way his voice tone changed so quickly. Once again, there was no trace of his shy demeanor as it seemed to blend into this smug attitude growing slowly inside of him. A lazy smile took place on his face while his hand continued to caress your tender skin.
“You’re gonna be my good girl, hm? Do exactly as I say?”
A moan flew out of your mouth, not expecting him to say it so confidently. You nodded effusively, though, wanting nothing more than to follow whatever order he had for you.
Hot cute, he thought, admiring the way you were so eager to agree to anything he said.
“I need you to say it, Y/n. Use your words, sweetheart.”
“I’ll be good, I’ll do anything you ask me to.”
“Alright then, let’s see how much you can handle.”
everything she writes is sooooooo goooooooooood, here are some of my ult favs:
🌷it's a match 𖹭.ᐟ
her opus magna dare i say? this was the first work i read from her and had me reading till ass o'clock feeling like a teenage girl again reading. it's a perfect combo of some of my fav tropes: enemies to lovers + fake dating + forced proximity? yessssssss pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
🌷 one more night 𖹭.ᐟ
her lastest work. she took her figurative dick and slapped over the table because JESUS CHRIST ALMIGHTY. needy whiny virgin inexperienced koo? here you dropped this 👑
🌷handle with care 𖹭.ᐟ
the fic that made me discover the term blue collar dick and boy oh boy i was in for a treat
🌷under the mistletoe 𖹭.ᐟ
one of the best friends to lovers i've ever read but im a sucker for unrequited love tropes so what can i say (๑>◡<๑)
🌷gameboy 𖹭.ᐟ
i just loooooooooove oc and jungkook relationship. love that we can see snippets from their life and the smut aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaimdead each part is freakier than the previous one and please girly i beg you never stop writting them
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
honorable mention to 🌷no warranty 𖹭.ᐟ and it's epilogue -sorry couldn't find it in your masterlist! :( - because again, blue collar jungkook has me on a effing chockehold !
check all of her works ⁀જ➣ @dreamersparacosm masterlist / blurbs
bruh. a whole ass post about little old me??!?!!?! im actually going to cry you stop it rn🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🩷🩷🩷 omg this means so much to me you actually have no idea. i’m glad my writing resonates with you all as much as it does with me when im crafting it oh welp here i go crying again
just devoured One more night in one sitting and i can’t stop thinking about omn!jk eating y/n out for the first time 🙂↕️ so if you have time………… maybe you could……. no rush…… just a very big fan of desperate jk pussy eater………. bye girl xx love ya!!
there is something severely wrong with me bc i read this and was like “no. no epilogue blurb. there’s no time.” and then i proceeded to open up my gdocs and well… here we are
SUMMARY. Jungkook just wants to be a good boy. And what better way to earn that title than eating you out like his life depends on it?
pairing. omn!jungkook x oc
word count. 2.4k
warnings/genre. smut (duh), whiny subby koo, oc is a very very soft dom, first time performing oral (m on f), fingering
banner creds | masterlist | main fic
Many moons ago, Jeon Jungkook believed he would end up alone, unmarried and without children. He liked it that way, despite what everyone around him seemed to think.
But once you came along, it was crystal clear that the thought of ending up alone was scarier than ending up with you. It’s embarrassing how quickly his philosophy came crashing down. For once, he had something he was scared to lose, and something about it excited him, deep within his core.
You weren’t necessarily his to claim yet, since he hadn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend. But he hoped that would happen sooner rather than later, so he could stop dreaming about getting you pregnant or building a life with you and turn it all into fruition.
Jungkook has never courted a girl before, but he thinks he’s getting the hang of it. It started small. A car waiting outside the club after your shift, just in case. Then coffee, your order engrained in his brain without being asked, appearing on your vanity before you’d changed out of your work clothes. Then came jewelry, which cost Jungkook about an arm and leg, but he didn’t mind.
You’d say Jungkook, no with your mouth while your eyes said something else, and he had learned very quickly that the eyes were the more honest of the two. That was his favorite discovery.
He didn’t stop at just a pair of earrings. He couldn’t. He moved on to necklaces, diamond rings, tennis bracelets. I don’t want your money, you had said to him, and he had respected that. He respected it still to this day. But noticing what made your eyes do the thing made his heart flutter in a way he wasn’t used to. He was a detail-oriented person by nature. It was only natural for him to continue to catalog every detail about you.
He also paid off your mother’s hospital bills, but he did that quietly through three different channels, and he will take it to his grave if you ever ask him directly.
The thing is—and this is something he has been turning over quietly, privately, in the way he processes most things that matter to him—he would do anything to have you. To have some kind of claim over you. Sort of how he approaches everything worth having, which is with patience and intention and the knowledge that he will figure it out eventually.
He has figured out most things.
There is, however, one thing that remains.
In the past few weeks, the two of you have done quite a lot. Beyond the frivolous dates and gift-giving, his sex education has been thorough and he has proven to be, in his own humble assessment, a committed student.
He’s learned that you love when he pushes your head down deeper onto his cock so it hits your esophagus. You cum harder when you make eye contact with him and he talks you through it. If he fucks you with your legs on his shoulders, there’s a high chance you’ll squirt all over him.
But the one thing he hasn’t done… the fault is his own and he is painfully aware of it.
He thinks about it constantly. Masturbates to the thought of it in the shower, gets hard at work or at company dinners. Wanting something very badly and knowing how to do it well are two different things, and Jeon Jungkook does not do things until he can do them well.
Tonight, however, he is determined. He’s a man on a mission.
Below him, you lie on his king-sized mattress, adorned in a lace pink camisole he had bought you earlier. Your eyes are hazy from the red wine he had been spoon-feeding you upon your arrival to his penthouse. Cheeks ruddy, hair a tangled mess, but he thinks you look gorgeous regardless.
“Kookie, stop it,” you giggle, squirming as his lips find the supple skin below your ear, fingers pushing weakly at his shoulder that he’s learned means the opposite of stop.
“Can’t.” He murmurs against your neck, moving lower. “Too pretty.”
A soft moan falls from your lips when his mouth finds the valley of your chest, lips pressing warm against skin the camisole doesn’t cover. He feels your chest rise sharply under him. Pushing the hem of the silk up slowly, he reveals the plane of your stomach, enough to press his lips there too, kissing your abdomen to your belly button to…
Your fingers entangle in his hair and tug. You pull him right off, and he lets himself be dragged up, peering at you expectantly.
“What are you doing?” you ask, although it’s not really a question.
He holds your gaze. Kisses your stomach again without looking away. “Treating you right. The way you deserve.”
That answer doesn’t seem to satisfy you, and your eyes narrow. “Jungkook—”
God, he’s done it now. Full name. You usually revert to ‘pretty boy’ or ‘Kookie.’
“Let me.” His voice comes out lower than he intends, Your fingers are still in his hair and the nerve endings in his body are very aware of every point of contact. “Please.”
Sighing, you shake your head. “You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to.” He turns his head, presses his lips to the waistband of your panties. “I want to. I’ve wanted to for a very long time.”
“But you’ve never—”
“I know.” His jaw tightens. Do you think he’s not capable of pleasing you the way you do him? Jungkook doesn’t normally care for the male ego, nor does he think it needs to be stroked, but a swell of anxiety pushes to the forefront of his brain. “I’m aware of that. Which is why I need you to let me.”
You stare at him hopelessly. “Kookie.” Your thumb traces his cheekbone. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“I’m not proving anything.” He catches your hand, turns his face into your palm. “I just… I want to know what you taste like.”
Jungkook senses that he’s got you right where he wants you. He watches as you teeter on the breaking point of resolve. Watches your lips part and your eyes go soft at the edges and he feels the fingers in his hair loosen their grip.
“Please,” he says again. He’s also learned you can’t say no to him in certain scenarios, which he is not above using. “Let me. I’ll be good.”
“I’ll be so good,” he murmurs against your stomach, nosing at the hem of the camisole. “I promise. Tell me if I’m doing something wrong, tell me what you want, I’ll do whatever you want, princess.”
You wiggle underneath his grasp. With a quick peek at your panties, he can see the wet spot forming where your pussy is. Fuck, his mouth waters, eyes lighting up. Just one taste of you and he’ll be yours forever.
“Does my pretty boy want to taste me?” You card your fingers through his ruffled hair, and the sensation goes straight to his cock.
Jungkook eagerly nods, shuffling closer so that his lips ghost over your soaked panties. He wants this. A man who identifies what he wants and acquires it, who does not linger in the wanting. In the privacy of his own humiliation, he’s done research. He has asked Namjoon things he will never speak of again. He has lain in the dark of this penthouse thinking about the little moans you make and what it would take to make more of them, better ones, ones that are specifically his to hear.
“Okay, Kookie,” you say, “I’ll teach you, yeah?”
His hands find your hips, fingers curling around the waistband of your panties. “I’ll do good,” he says. “I promise.”
You look down at him, propped on your elbows, oh so pretty in the low light of his penthouse that something in his chest pulls taut. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky. Jungkook wants to make this as enjoyable for you as you always are for him. He tugs down your underwear, inch by inch, before tossing them somewhere he doesn’t care to know.
Under the light, your folds glisten with arousal, and his mouth waters with desire. Something visceral sprouts in his chest and he suddenly feels possessive over you, although he has no right to claim you. You run your manicured fingers through his hair, breaking his trance. “Give it a lick, Kookie. Taste me.”
You really don’t have to tell him twice. Jungkook connects his tongue to your folds, licking up a stripe and tasting your essence on his tongue. It’s sweet, salty, like sugar on his tongue and he’s addicted. He moans into you, and you grin widely, ruffling his hair. “Tastes so fucking good, princess,” he sighs, diving back in for a few more kitten licks.
He spreads your legs wider, wrapping them around his broad shoulders, wearing your thighs like earmuffs. You jolt forward, eyes widening, and Jungkook tries to remember what Namjoon told him. Tries to picture the porn videos he watched. Tentatively, he licks over your folds before coming to flick his tongue over the sensitive nub he thinks is your clit. You squeal, “Fuck, right there, baby.”
“Hm, right here?” he innocently asks, repeating his actions and circling your clit with his tongue. He tries to fall into a pattern, remembering that Namjoon told him when girls like something, it’s smart not to switch it up. Lo and behold, you squirm, and his big hands push down on your hips, pinning you to his plush mattress.
“Oh, fuck,” Your back arches off his bed as he tongues your clit, his hand reaching around to try and spread your folds to gather more and more of your milky arousal. “It feels so good, Kookie, y-you’re such a good boy.”
He moans at the praise, tongue working faster against the nub. Jungkook’s mind is on autopilot, instinctively moving as though it’s done this before. He ignores the ache in his cock, using his long, tattooed fingers to push into your sopping entrance. Your walls feel so tight around him, so wet and warm. He lets his fingers rest there, uses what you taught him on fingering to thrust in and out of you while he stimulates your clit. Your fingers twist in his hair. “Shit, so good, baby. Doing such a good job for me. You’re gonna make me cum.”
“Yeah?” He pops his head off, fully aware your juices are all over his lips. The way you look at him tells him you don’t mind one bit. His fingers continue to pump in and out of you, juices collecting on his wrist. “I want to taste you, princess. Are you gonna cum on my tongue?”
He says the words so innocently that he forgets they’re sinful. Your lashes bat at him as you try to fight back another moan, eyes connected to where his biceps strain with each movement of his fingers. “Y-yes, Kookie, I’m gonna cum—fuck—if you keep going.”
“I’m doing good, right?” He licks a stripe up your folds, maintaining eye contact. He watches as your eyes roll back into your head, walls tightening around him again.
“Doing so good for me, baby,” you whine. “My pretty boy.” His heart flutters in his chest. He dives back in, tongue poking around your entrance, fucking in and out along with his fingers. His nose presses against your clit, and he can’t help but shake his head back and forth to try and stimulate your clit.
“W-where did you learn that?” You moan, and he has to fight to hide the smirk. Kim Namjoon is good for some things, he supposes. Apparently, he has just the right nose to fuck your clit with. You push his head onto your pussy, even though there’s not an inch of space left. He can hardly breathe, but none of it matters, not when he’s so intoxicated off you.
He just wants to be a good boy, wants to prove himself to you. You deserve only the best, and he’s determined to learn and give it to you. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t fail at anything, period. And that includes making you cum.
“Fuck, fuck, Kookie, don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m gonna cum, right there, baby.” Your limbs thrash against his ears, but none of it matters, nothing matters except for how utterly amazing you taste, how ethereal you sound when you’re all his.
He crooks his fingers upwards like Namjoon told him to, feeling your sweet spot and toying with it. Your back arches once more off the mattress, but he uses all his weight to hold you steady. With one final swirl of his tongue against your clit, he can feel your walls clenching around his fingers, milky cum coating his hands and lips. Jungkook laps at your entrance, taking as much of you into his mouth as he possibly can. “Oh—fuck.” You throw your head back onto the pillow. “Fuck, baby. That was so good. You’re so good to me.”
He peers up from between your thighs, smiling widely.
It’s then, and only then, that he realizes he came in his fucking pants.
Again.
God, he’s a loser.
Thankfully, you don’t care much for that, eyes glossy and lips swollen. You’re still under a dreamlike trance after your orgasm.
“C’mere and give me a taste,” You crook your finger towards him and he grins devilishly, unwrapping your legs from around him and climbing over you. His lips find yours as easily as they always do, and a whimper escapes you as you taste your essence on his lips. Jungkook has to hold himself back from cumming in his pants (yet again—and really, twice is far too embarrassing, even for a man with as little experience as him).
“You’re never.” You kiss his cheek. “Ever.” Then kiss his jaw. “Ever.” You kiss his lips chastely. “Doing that to another fucking girl, you hear me?” Your hand finds his jaw, forcing you to stare at him.
You must think he’s insane.
Maybe he is. Maybe thirty years of total indifference followed by one woman has rewired him. Maybe he has completely lost the plot. Maybe his dumbass friend were right about everything and Jungkook will have to live with that.
However, he would, without hesitation, rather be lowered into the ground at his own funeral than spend a single day knowing someone else has what he just had. He would rather explain to his father why the Jeon succession plan fell apart than lose the best thing that has ever happened to him, and that includes the company, the penthouse, and the Ferrari he still hasn’t bought himself.
Suddenly, a thought clicks in his brain. The final puzzle piece of your words slotting into his mind.
“So,” Jungkook begins, lips ghosting over your jaw. “Does that mean you’re keeping me?”
