𑣲 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭 — j.jk ˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀
synopsis .✦ ݁˖ you work as the manager of bts whilst also being a diehard army in secret and having the biggest and fattest crush on jeon jungkook ⊹ ࣪ ˖
jungkook's heart softens when he almost passes out on stage and you are there to help ⊹ ࣪ ˖
pairing .✦ ݁˖ jeon jungkook x f!reader ⊹ ࣪ ˖
warnings / troupes .✦ ݁˖ idol!jk x manager!reader, fluff, eventual smut, clingy jk (lowkey giving attachment issues) if you squint HARD, praising, grinding, big dick jk, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, dominant jk, jk whines and whimpers, playfully subtle degradation, solo masturbation, slice of life kinda, alcohol, smoking, tipsy sex ⊹ ࣪ ˖
word count .✦ ݁˖ 12.0K ⊹ ࣪ ˖
a/n .✦ ݁˖ this is my first time writing smut and publishing anything at all so please be kind!! english is not my first language too so sorry for any spelling mistakes :') i listened to damned — miguel on repeat while writing this ughhh it just reminds me of this fic so much. // slightly inspired by @gguksprincess fics her stories are scrumptious go check her out! ⊹ ࣪ ˖
your life is the best it's ever been.
ever since you were a teenager, you were utterly obsessed with bts, a boy band from all the way in korea.
you discovered their music from your best friend, mira. she had been an army way longer than you, and at first, you despised that. the girl couldn't stop talking about how sweet they are and how much meaning their songs hold. it was repetitive. it was annoying. why would you listen to your homegirl boast about seven random men?
that was until you first heard a song of theirs.
"tomorrow" played from mira's phone after she hit 'play' on her main playlist whilst you two were preparing a project for school. at first, you pretended not to care, nails swiftly tapping the keyboard of your laptop as you researched a topic you couldn't concentrate on. then, after two songs, it was "house of cards," and then "we on," and you knew you were doomed.
they opened a whole new world to you with their music. not a single western artist could compare to the wave of shivers that'd run down your spine whenever you closed your eyes and slipped your wired earphones deep near your eardrums, blasting their songs at max volume.
this still happens now, except you are an adult and you have a constant income to fund your excessive spending on merch and albums. it's a little embarrassing to say the least—the beige walls of your room are decorated with bts photocards and posters, the shelves have more albums stacked than books, and there's even a kooky plush resting by your pink heart pillow.
you see bts every single day.
you work as their artist manager, meaning you are often responsible for managing schedules, coordinating with the company, handling emergencies, and much, much, much more.
you never thought you'd become one—you started off as a company intern, anyway.
people of higher responsibility strictly told you, "don't talk to the artists unless it's necessary," and that sounded disappointing. of course you were excited to have a chat with your favorite artists, and it was a bummer you couldn't, but when you first passed by the whole group in a hallway at big hit entertainment, it was hard not to drop all your folders on the ground.
the moment you first made eye contact with jeon jungkook.
it's hard to find the words to describe it.
he was young and fresh, meaning—no tattoos yet, and only simple piercings hanging from his earlobes.
the look in his big doe eyes was hard to get rid of. you replayed that precise moment in your head all night and all morning the following day. you brewed coffee, and the way it swirled in your cup reminded you of him. you wore a coral cardigan that day, and the brown buttons you fastened reminded you of him.
now, seeing jungkook is not something new or extraordinary. you know him, you know him well. you know how he acts when cameras, lights, and screens aren't being pushed at his face, you know what he says when he is a hundred percent sure he doesn't have to entertain. you know him, and still, being in his presence stirs emotions at the pit of your stomach you don't know what to do about.
their arirang tour is the most stress you've had since forever. you had forgotten how exhausting your work truly is, sometimes anxious thoughts flood your mind and you start reconsidering whether this position is worth it.
those thoughts are only effective in the morning; that is, until you see bts. and suddenly, life is worth living again.
currently, you are in são paulo, watching them perform from one of the side stages. your responsibility is to monitor the performance, meaning, your eyes are constantly flicking between the members and you are reporting everything back to the production team.
you're doing a great job. especially when your eyes don't linger just a little too long on jungkook.
i mean, how could they not?
it's hard to rip them away when he appears so sexily confident and fierce on stage, the moment he slipped off his jacket to reveal his tattooed shoulder, whilst nodding at the crowd made your knees buckle. mentally, you hope, at least. how embarrassing would if it be if you, as a responsible and dependable manager, got down on your knees for jungkook in front of your whole crew and the crowd?
jesus, you can't afford to have these thoughts. anything could go wrong at any moment on stage and you wouldn't even notice.
you closely watch your bangtan boys do their "boy in luv" choreo. it's got the fans screaming and singing along, barely anyone expected this song. it's good, so good you can't help but hum along.
it takes merely a millisecond for you to notice something odd. nearing the end of the song, the member you couldn't quit staring at suddenly falls out of rhythm, stumbling over his feet and bending down lower, longer than everyone else, like his head feels too heavy to handle. you immediately straighten your posture and your mind clears of every distraction—the blinding lights, the loud screams, the music and the other members of your crew speaking in your radio earpiece—to focus on jungkook.
for some reason it feels like the longer you'll stare with your brows furrowed, biting the inside of your bottom lip, the sooner everything will return to normal. but you're wrong. jungkook stops doing the choreography. he doesn't look at anyone, he doesn't move. he stands, with his back bent over and his hands locked on his knees, tightly holding his upper body up.
the silence that fills the stadium when it's his turn to sing hits your stomach like an anvil—this is a manager's worst fear.
it's not only about the concert having issues, it's not only about the fans being disappointed. it's about jungkook. his wellbeing. his health. how hard on himself he's been lately, how overworked he is. and you know this, because you are always there with him, in the same room, listening to him groan and sigh constantly, wishing there was something you could say or do but you are in no place to offer mental support. you are a manager, that is all, and he is but an idol to you.
sometimes, you wish the walls of your room weren't filled with his face. maybe it'd loosen the tight knot in the very center of your chest.
the voices of your crew members echo through your earpieces but you don't care enough to listen. you know what to do. you've practiced for this.
you immediately rush to the main stage and, though being in the very spotlight would normally make you flustered, it just feels like the stadium is completely empty and there is only you two on stage.
heart thudding against your sternum, you crouch in front of jungkook and look up at him just enough to try to see his face through the front pieces of his sweaty hair. his eyes are closed, his lips are parted. on the way you managed to snatch a cold water of bottle from another assistant and you offer it to him, trying to read his body or his face for clues whether he can continue to perform or not.
jungkook subtly shakes his head, it's barely noticeable, as if he's using up all his energy to do so.
before your mouth can open to ask another question, his legs almost give out and he lurches onto you. your heart skips a beat and your hands move to hold him by the shoulders in place.
you tap your earpiece and speak with a monotone voice, "jungkook is barely conscious, he might be blacking out. i'm taking him to the backstage."
two other staff members you weren't aware of hear you and help you stabilize him by throwing his arms over yours and another assistant's shoulders. the third one holds his microphone and follows you as you firmly and carefully navigate to the backstage.
you hear namjoon in the background apologizing to the crowd and explaining the situation, though he himself is not sure of what's happening.
once you reach the backstage lounge, you, with the assist of other staff, delicately sit jungkook down on the middle of a black leather sofa, positioning him so his back is comfortably leaning against the backrest. his jacket gets taken off swiftly and a museum of tattoos trailing up his arm catch your attention momentarily.
it's pure chaos. assistants and helpers run around, asking questions that don't register to you and bringing in more bottles of freezing water.
for fuck's sake, at this rate jungkook will pass out only from the lack of oxygen in this room.
you strictly order half of the people in the room to leave and direct the other half to bring tissues and wet towels.
one by one, they disappear until there's only a few staff left. it's easier to breathe like this. it's easier to speak.
you squat down in front of jungkook and ask him clearly, "what's wrong? does anything hurt?"
he shakes his head a little more evidently than last time. with him arching his throat like this, you can see his adam's apple sticking out prominently, legs spread and arms laid lazily like a sack of potatoes.
"i need you to tell me what's wrong so we can help."
for a few moments he doesn't utter a single word and chilling worry agitates in your stomach. you are so close to him you can hear, and almost feel, every deep breath enter and exit his lungs. it's hard to stay professional when your idol is pathetically sitting in front of you, too frail to even move his lips.
but after some time and patience, he finds the strength to do so. "dizzy. head's spinning. so hot in here," he mutters words you can barely hear.
you instantly report back to the crew through your earpieces.
he hunches over to you, leaning all his body weight on his knees by his forearms. this way, his face is barely a few inches from yours and you can see sweat painted all over his skin.
the pattern of his breathing is messed up.
you instinctively want to back away, but you don't and if anyone were to ask, you'd say that the close proximity was to hear him better.
"i'm coming back to stage in a few minutes," he slurs his words. "i just need some—"
"hell no, you're not. do you see yourself?"
"as your manager, i'm not letting you back in that stage until i'm sure you're completely okay."
eventually, a few members of the crew come back and hand you a box of tissues. someone is holding an automatic fan to his naked nape, someone offers him a gulp of freezing water he accepts it this time.
you begin tenderly tapping the tissues all over his skin to collect sweat.
unexpectedly, his eyelids rise.
the lack of life in his two puddles of chocolate frighten you. you've seen jungkook stressed and worked up, you've seen him mentally unwell. but physically? never. at least not like this.
he does nothing, he says nothing. he stares, and you stare back.
what is inside his head at the very moment?
jungkook hates to be a failure. you always notice how mad at himself he gets when he makes a mistake on stage, even when it's so simple and unnoticeable, no one would know if he never brought attention to it. even as a manager you sometimes miss his accidents, but he doesn't and he never fails to punish himself for them.
is he worrying about the concert?
or maybe he is way more ill than he says and his head can't form a coherent thought?
his debilitated frame wiggles around with the touch of your tissues while his eyes are locked on you.
you then hear the director's voice inside your ears, "what is happening?"
"a member is lightheaded. he's excessively sweating and very weak. we are handling that right now and trying to get him into a better state," you respond straightforwardly.
"we need a decision now—do we hold the next segment?"
you sink your teeth into your lower lip, inhaling deep through your nose.
"he insists on coming back. tell the rest of the members to perform a song or two and if he gets better, he will perform again."
you press your palm to his front hair to move it out of the way, collecting sweat from all over his forehead.
"i have to come back, y'know," he mumbles and your eyebrows immediately rise. "i can't let the fans down like this. this is the least i can do."
you want to argue with him. you want to scold him and tell him that he's an idiot for having such a mindset, because no fan would rather see their idol collapse on stage than have them for half of the performance only, but you bite back your tongue and respond, "shh, don't speak. you'll tire yourself out."
he seals his lips tight and glances at you with sorrowful eyes that you could easily mistake for hopeful ones, just because they're so soft. but you can recognize dejection in jungkook. you spend so much time around him it's only natural for you to. he closes them again.
a few songs pass, you hear them all muffled up in the background, hoping he hears them too. maybe he'd feel better knowing the bts boys are continuing their concert without him.
a million questions claw at you you from everywhere—the earpiece, the surroundings—everyone trusts you because your face is known around here and you are a great leader, an even greater manager.
when everything's calmed down and you are sitting by jungkook's side on the couch, monitoring his state and listening to the way of his breathing, you can't help but smile at yourself. you've come a long way, seriously, like, when did you get so responsible? and how did you get a job that lets you see jungkook in his most fragile state?
time goes faster than you'd like it to, and anxiety captures you, roughly biting at your insides as you watch him put that jacket back on and walk out of the room so confidently, though that confidence is only pretend. a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of situation. he comes back to stage to finish the concert and you hate both him and yourself for it.
jungkook is like that. he always has been
the next few days are a little busy with scheduling and constant calls that sometimes overlap each other, but you manage to push through it all and enjoy a bowl of cereal as you curl up on an apartment's couch and surf through the main page of netflix, looking for a movie to watch.
the room is lit with a warmly-colored lamp and the view of são paulo outside your window is astonishing. you don't often get evenings like this, especially with the tour nearing its end, so you make sure to soak in every single second.
when suddenly, your phone dings with a notification.
your eyes dramatically roll an entire circle as you sigh and complain under your breath, "everyone's gotta need me, right? everyone. they just can't do shit on their own."
you pick up your phone and the screen flashes bright with a picture of your corgi puppy you own. you are barely ever home, so she is usually in the hands of your best friend mira.
you curl your eyebrows and pout your lip, thinking about how much you miss the both of them and the things you'd do to bring them with you to visit all the places you do.
and then, you read the notification you received:
you never get 'heys' from the bts boys. their messages are always direct and straightforward, like "when do we leave?" or "do we need to bring that?"
your thumb hesitantly taps on the notification and you enter your password.
maybe he sent it by accident?
"hello," you reply and with that, your heart begins racing.
jungkook: "you were the one in the backstage, right?"
jungkook: "when i didn't feel good."
you scrunch your eyebrows together and scoff out-loud as if anyone is listening. seriously? he doesn't know? you've been obsessed with him for years before you got this job and after you got it while he can barely differentiate his staff?
"yes. what's the matter?" you send a response.
he reads your message instantly and begins typing.
and fuck, he's a quick typer, too.
jungkook: "i didn't see you after the concert."
you respond, "i had to leave urgently for business. did you still feel dizzy?"
he types. then stops. then types again.
jungkook: "i wanted to thank you. i never got the chance to."
if your heart was racing before, then now it's hyper. you hear your own pulse inside your head. "thank me for what? i only did my job."
more typing. you consider simply calling him and quitting fucking up your nervous system. how does anyone even enjoy messaging?
jungkook: "you were very considerate."
you smile at that simple message. compliments are never a miss, and with your busy schedule and high expectations you barely ever receive them.
then, another message pops up below his previous one.
jungkook: "how about i thank you in person when we get back to korea?"
the tingly warmth that spreads inside your lower stomach is utterly embarrassing.
your brain is rotted with all the fanfictions you read when you were still in high school. this is the type of shit fanfic-jungkook would say before bending y/n down against the kitchen counter and rearranging her organs in the most vile way possible.
you press your thighs together to soothe the throb but it somehow only makes it worse. "seriously? haha, you don't need to thank me or repay me, jungkook. i'm your manager :) drink plenty of water and get some rest. busy day tomorrow."
you count the seconds that pass before he sents another message.
jungkook: "like i said, considerate."
jungkook: "we will see when we get back."
and if that message couldn't make any more emotions spiral inside your chest, he finishes it off with a gif of a cartoonish white cat tucking itself into bed.
"goodnight," you respond formally.
what the fuck just happened?
a private conversation with jungkook?
you scroll back and go through the messages five more times. you slam the phone down on the couch and stare into the tv screen that's gone idle. and then, not a single thought later, you slide down your arm inside your panties and locate your soaked entrance with your middle and index finger.
you plunge them inside, holding back a groan behind seethed teeth as you hiss. it's a good thing you can be as loud as you want, no one's home and no one from around here knows you, anyway. it's rare you get this much privacy.
you start off slow, adjusting to your own fingers, with each thrust curling harder.
then, you shut your eyes tight and in your imagination, it is no longer your own fingers.
they are replaced with jungkook's cock. his face, hair sticking to it due to sweat, so close to yours you can hear his soft, little whines enter through your ear and travel across your entire body. you watch his lips part the exact same way they did before, you feel his naked chest rise against your skin.
you arch your back and your hand crawls under your shirt to cup your breast, applying pressure to your sensitive nipple.
"jungkook," you moan gently, feeling every thrust and melting in the pleasure.
for fuck's sake, you need jungkook. you really do.
how can you continue working, being constantly in his presence, when you interact with him once and immediately rush to bury your fingers inside yourself, moaning his name like a slut?
you need to feel him, you need feel the warmth of his cum inside your walls.
you desperately need to see how he is like in bed, you need to be pounded so hard you forget your own name.
it's been such a long time since you found the time to relax yourself like this, and especially after what just happened, it doesn't take a long time before you finish.
your orgasm hits you hard—hand gripping all over the couch and cushions, stomach muscles contracting in a spasm, thighs trembling and throat repeatedly choking up jungkook's name. you drip in sweat and the couch is probably drenched now but you couldn't care less, laying there with your legs spread and your panties soaking in the aftermath of your climax.
the visualization gradually fades and a sudden, unexplainable rush of loneliness slaps you in the face.
it's not the first time you've pleasured yourself to the thoughts of jungkook. sometimes, even clips of concerts or model pictures got you all worked up. and in the very peak hormonal days of your ovulation, simply being in your room, surrounded by tiny pictures of his face, did the trick.
but after him talking to you like this, the relationship between you two feels oddly different. though it's probably all in your head.
you check the time. no more time for a movie, especially since nothing could possibly be more exciting than what happened and you just might spend the entirety of your night replaying his text messages in your head.
a therapist would classify this as psychopatic behavour, probably. or a crush. it's not like they're synonyms.
it's been a week ever since the arirang tour ended.
as a manager, you couldn't be more relieved. of course, more stuff is coming up. there's no amount of content to make up for the amount of time the bts boys were in military. but at least for a while, you all get your proper break and can focus on more personal stuff.
but from a fan's side, it's a little devastating. you loved having the "vip" place in concerts, you loved working with the crew and bts themselves to make breathtaking performances. you loved opening up twitter late at night and watching all the high-quality fancams of each member on repeat, reading the discourses and comments.
still, you can finally come back to your own little home, have a shower with your own products and lay in your own fluffy bed, hugging your kooky plush and drifting off to dreamland.
that is, until a notification startles you from under your pillow.
through half-lidded eyes, you read: "good evening."
who in the hell is wishing you a good evening in the very middle of the night?
honestly, who else could it be?
only his name can get you to rise like this. you immediately sit up and blink with force to rid of the blurriness in your vision. you read his message over and over as a thought you once had finds its way back to your head: "did he text me on purpose? or could have it been an accident?"
"hello, jungkook," you send back.
you hover your thumbs in a circle before deciding to send another message: "you're up very late. did you mean to send this to me?"
surely he would want to talk to his friends in the middle of the night, not you. why would he text you unless something is wrong?
or maybe you're thinking too deeply. maybe that one conversation you had a week ago can't leave your head and you're slowly starting to consider jungkook as more than your idol.
how absolutely stupid. and embarrassing. and weird.
you should be glad jungkook isn't aware of your obsession. if he saw your room, he'd fire you and get a restraining order immediately.
jungkook: "i can't sleep. i think my body doesn't understand that the tour is over."
this reminds you of the day he almost collapsed in your arms. the day he had the entire crew waving fans and pressing wet towels against him, the day he met you with ghostly eyes and still pushed himself to finish the concert.
a hollow hole opens up in your chest.
"not good at all. do you want me to order you food? or find a local pharmacy? i can get melatonin pills."
jungkook: "no no no, please don't. i just wanted to chat."
jungkook: "there's something i've been thinking about."
well one thing in common—you both have brains that are incapable of shutting down.
jungkook: "you should let me repay you for what you did back in são paulo."
your eyes widen and you suck in a breath.
he is speaking in riddles he definitely knows what he is doing.
or maybe that's what you think, only because you are so desperate for him to be sexually attracted to you.
"don't be crazy. goodnight."
jungkook: "i'm serious. let me take you out for drinks tomorrow night."
jungkook: "i'll reserve the entire place."
jungkook: "and pay for everything."
jungkook: "all professional, of course. i want to get to know my staff better. i can invite my hyungs and others if you don't feel comfortable."
it's not that you don't feel comfortable. it's more that the moment a drop of alcohol would enter your system and you realized that you are all alone, you'd immediately unzip his pants and slut yourself out.
fuck. horny thoughts, horny thoughts. not efficient when speaking to an idol.
reading his message again, a thought of your best friend mira appears inside your head. you remember her hopeless crush on park jimin and the devious messages she sends you about him on a daily basis.
"could my best friend come? she'd be honored to meet you and all of bts. we could invite a few other staff members too, if that's okay with you."
jungkook: "haha, of course. i'd be honored to meet your friend too."
jungkook: "i think inviting them is a good idea. so what do you say?"
that fuckass smiley face.
"okay, then. but you better let me plan the whole thing. i'm the manager."
jungkook: "oh, no no no nonononono."
jungkook: "you've been planning way too much."
jungkook: "i'll plan everything. unless you have any special requirements. if so, tell me."
jungkook: "your wish is my command."
that throb between your thighs again.
you are not staining your freshly washed sheets with sweat and other fluids. not tonight, not while you can still smell the detergent.
"no special requirements. i trust you, then."
jungkook: "yay. i'll get back to you."
a low quality gif of a baby cat covering its eyes with its paws pops up across the screen, pushing all your previous messages up.
"goodnight!" you press send and slam the phone down on the mattress, figuring that even if he were to text you one last message, you wouldn't even open it.
you release a breath you hadn't even realized you were holding and your surroundings begin to spin, all faces of the bts boys stuck to your walls getting lost in blur. you bring the soft kooky plush closer to your chest and sink deeper underneath your sheets, eyes not blinking, thoughts not running. only visuals of jungkook drinking a beverage playing in your head, flooding your body in tingles from both the inside and the outside.
you've got to call your friend.
without hesitation, you pick up your phone and scroll to find her name.
she picks up almost immediately.
"hello?" she says, concentration laced in her voice. you can tell she's busy with something.
"date with jimin and all of bts boys tomorrow night. don't know when. don't know where. you're going and we're getting ready tomorrow together."
seoul is a beautiful city, especially at night.
you and your friend had lots of fun prepping up. well, not at the beginning.
when she first came into your house, her cheeks were blushing beetroot red and she immediately reached for your shoulders, asking you over and over whether this is a joke and if you're pranking her.
after many threats of what she'd do if you weren't serious about this, you sat her down and brewed her a cup of green tea. you shared some of her situation with her and jesus, it took a lot of time to knock the reality into her brain.
of course having the jeon jungkook text you privately and organize a social gathering is a huge deal for you, you don't like to pretend it's not by saying something like "i see them everyday, it's nothing special. they're my boys."
it's got you thrilled as well, but not any less than mira. she's only seen bts a few times at concerts and she's been obsessed with them way longer than you. especially with jimin. that man is like a drug to her.
anyways, you wrap yourself up in a chic, off-the-shoulder mini dress, contrasted by a white fold-over neckline. then, you slip on a pair of black heels that you know will have your feet aching by the end of the night, and coat your lush, curled eyelashes in your favorite mascara. lastly, you make sure to pack up all your lip products in the small leather purse you carry with you.
mira wears a mini dress too, but it's painted in a majestic violet and the neckline is in the shape of a V. it goes perfectly with her silver necklace.
"i'm going to cry," you whine, gazing at the both of you through the full-body rectangle mirror in your room as you carefully style your hair.
"why?" mira chuckles. "we look gorgeous, girl!"
"that's the point! we are so fucking gorgeous. look at us. literal angels."
"we are going to bag bts."
you wavered before agreeing. it feels a little odd saying this as their manager, but honestly? you'd do anything for a chance with jungkook. a one-night stand, a date, a chance to feel his body heat against yours.
your phone dings with a notification. you quickly reach inside your purse and see jungkook's name.
jungkook: "the driver is outside your home."
jungkook: "wow, i look like a stalker."
jungkook: "take your time if you aren't ready yet."
"is it jungkook?" mira smirks at you, attempting to sneak a peek through your shoulder but you spin around and turn your phone screen away from her. "oh, so now we're hiding things? what's next, hiding relationships?"
"me and jungkook? i'm his manager, mira. don't be silly." you roll your eyes and scoff.
"girl, i know how you've been with jungkook all these years. don't play with me."
a hopeless sigh leaves your lips. "yes, i want to makeout with him, and yes, he's unattainable to me. two things can be true at once."
"makeout?" she arches a brow at you. "we both know it's more than that."
"so, what difference does it make between you and jimin, then? he's your bias, why aren't you together with him?" your hips hold your hands in a sassy, manner as your lips curl into a playful smirk. bickering with mira and coming up with arguments that make sense is more fun that it should be.
she mirrors your smirk. "maybe 'cause i don't see jimin everyday, i'm not constantly in his presence, my job isn't to tap his sweaty body with tissues when he's on the brink of fainting, and jimin himself isn't privately texting me, asking me out on dates?"
okay, maybe your arguments don't make sense all the time.
your arms pin down to your thighs. "it's not a date. i explained that already to you."
"girl, whether you like it or not, you're gonna get jungkook's attention looking like this. i'm telling you. and when you two end up going at each other like rabbits i'll call you in the middle of it and scream "i told you so." just know that i am rooting for you, that is all."
you wish you were as delusional as mira.
life would be so much easier like this. maybe you could start manifesting by the law of assumption and have your affirmations actually work. because every time you got influenced by the social media and tried to do so, the aftertaste of your negative thoughts got in the way.
you two have have kept the driver waiting for long enough, so you grab your friend by the wrist and rush in your unwalkable heels to the limo.
the gathering thing is held at a local pub, somewhere lost within the seoul city. the atmosphere is set comfortably here—gentle lighting softly warming up the place, quiet sounds of glasses clinking together and plates being set on the table, the smell of...
food, lingering in the air.
you've never actually been here before, and that's not a surprise. there are many places you haven't visited in seoul yet. it's not like you have all the time and money in the world to go around and have fun. you barely ever complain, though. following bts around the continents is enough adventures for you.
the moment you step in, you immediately notice that jungkook really did stick to his word. the entire place is empty, except for the bartender cleaning glasses behind the bar, a few workers walking by occupied with their own stuff, and two enlarged tables lively with many faces and voices, every singe one recognizable.
before you finish taking in the entire view and the reality of this exciting situation, jungkook's big eyes find yours and capture them in an instant. strewn glints sparkle in them, the ones you always end up losing yourself in and this time is no different.
a breath gets hitched in your throat and you remind yourself to be confident. be brave. act like this is normal and you're not freaking out.
step by step, your heels clank against the polished wooden floor as you make your way to one of the tables. heads get turned to you by the sound of your walk only. everyone is in the middle of conversation, you two were a little late.
the bts boys have split into two tables—jungkook, jimin, jin and namjoon on one side, yoongi, taehyung and hoseok on the other. each member is surrounded by directors and other hybe staff. there are two empty places for you and mira to sit in between the employees, right in front of jungkook and jimin.
"ah, the famous manager." jimin's eyes narrow as he grins cheekily and everyone cheers.
is this really necessary?
blush creeps up from your throat to spread all over your face. you hope the warm lighting covers up the evidence of your shyness.
"i brought my friend with me," you say as you comfortably sit down, holding mira's hand to soothe her. "her name is mira. everyone say hi."
a variety of voices greet her and you feel her tense underneath your hold. her palm is drenched in sweat but when she speaks, you realize there is nothing to be worried about. she's coordinated, her words are smooth. mira's good at handling overwhelming situations, and you know that even if she is nervous, she'll ease into this soon. honestly, it's bts we are surrounded with. how can you not feel comfortable with them?
heart skipping a beat every time your eyes get caught in jungkook's,
losing the ground beneath your feet the moment he speaks directly to you,
asking for someone to pass you your drink and having to revert to manual breathing because you forget how to do it automatically when jungkook is the one to comply to your request.
and when your fingers brush for just a split second, a moment so brief you are sure he doesn't even notice, you can't help but forget everything and everyone around you and gulp down so much alcohol at once, the dizziness doesn't even have to sneak up on you, it hits you instantly.
a few light cocktails in, you start losing control of your own actions. you are not too drunk yet, sober enough to make decisions but tipsy to not make very smart ones. one of them being occasionally gazing just too long at jungkook.
he notices, or so you think.
everyone around you is chatting loudly, chortling, the staff members are asking bts personal questions you feel superior for already knowing the answers to. even mira is busy hitting the table, crying from laughter with jimin. they seem to be getting along pleasantly.
and then, there's jungkook.
he grasps your sight in a way that doesn't feel accidental anymore. it's purposeful. it's meaningful. he intends to make you stare. then, he tilts his head toward the exit behind him, flicking his eyebrows as if it's a non-verbal question.
you give him a quick nod and watch as he stands up and excuses himself to step outside for fresh air.
your knees begin bending to step up, too, but then you realize how awkward and creepy it would look to go after him. after all, he is still an artist, even a few chat messages and drinks in, you can't be talking to him as though he's your buddy. at least not in front of everyone.
so you sit yourself back down and play it off like you were adjusting yourself.
some time passes. it's hard to keep track of it when the clock on the wall is too far for you to read, even when you squint. jungkook hasn't come back.
you whisper into mira's ear that you're going to the bathroom. did she even hear?
doesn't matter. maybe it's better she doesn't, because it's not hard to notice you going the complete opposite direction and heading towards the exit, not the bathroom.
the chilly breeze caresses your naked skin when you step outside, an immediate shiver under your breath escaping from your lips. for the first second, you are all alone and jungkook is nowhere to be found, which whisks a mixture of worry and confusion in both your head and your chest like they're connected.
you face his huge back, brief gleams of light swimming all over his black leather jacket, reflected from all the streetlights.
"jungkook," you call his name and it comes out softer than it sounded in your head.
he turns to you eagerly, like a puppy who's heard his name being called. he's covered his head with a hoodie to avoid public recognition and you see a black mask dragged down to his chin for easier access to his lips, surely because of the skinny cigarette between his two fingers.
"jungkook, are you kidding me?" you instantly snatch the cigarette from his hand because, as it is known, second thoughts don't exist when you're tipsy. "i told you to quit smoking in public. you caused a scandal last time."
"i'm a grown man," he insists, whining, almost. "you can try if you wanna."
your lazy eyes jump from his face to the cigarette. your eyebrows curl.
"try it," he crosses his hands over his masculine chest. "i won't get mad."
"oh, in contrary to me, right?" you think, but it only remains a thought and instead, you say: "why are you encouraging me to smoke?"
"have you never been curious?"
you have been. everyone is always curious about alcohol, smoking, drugs, it's natural. many people smoke in korea, seoul especially, it's deemed as the most normal thing, especially amongst people of your age.
"i've been curious about many other things as well," you tell him, handing back the cigarette before it gets too hot between your fingers. "doesn't mean i let myself try everything."
your instincts urge to immediately start apologizing and brush off whatever you just said as a drunken thought spoken out loud. but somehow, you don't care enough to do so. somehow, the way his eyes widen the slightest amount and the way the bottom of his mouth merely twitches makes you want to proudly stick to your words.
"maybe that says more about you than it says about me." jungkook shrugs and inhales a puff of the cigarette.
you watch the ball of smoke rise up from his mouth when he turns his face away to blow it out.
you've seen jungkook smoke plenty of times. not only that viral clip on social media, you've seen him do it next to you, you've seen him through the window, you've even heard him talk about that habit with the other members.
is that you are standing here together.
surrounded by seoul's flashing lights and busy street life,
head full of thoughts but none of them seem to have a proper ending, feet working twice as hard to hold your lightly wobbly figure up. you're separating your lips, trying to think of words to structure a sentence with but you have no idea what to say next.
"wanna go for a walk?" jungkook suddenly asks you.
"that's not..." you dryly swallow, "proper."
"proper?" his eyebrows jump and he briefly chuckles, that bunny-like grin twists something undeniable in your stomach. "what's proper to you?"
"we work together, jungkook." you step an inch closer to him. "what if someone sees us?"
"is that the only thing stopping you?"
that question hangs in the air for seconds.
"i don't know," you reply with hesitance. "yes, probably."
he almost closes the gap you narrowed before, his sudden movement making your heart jump. holding eye contact, he takes off the black mask from his jawline and hangs its strings on your ears. as if the close proximity wasn't enough to have chills running down your limbs, he pinches the fabric of the mask between his thumb and index finger and brings it up to your nose bridge. "there you go," he beams with delight. "you're safe from the public, if that's what you're worried about."
whatever is happening right now must be a fever dream.
the way he signals you to follow him by doing that attractive head flick again is not real. the way you two stroll along the street, him subconsciously picking the routes and shortcuts that could be more dangerous but contain fewer people is absolutely false. the way you two talk as if you've known each other for many years is nothing but fake.
well, you two have known each other for many years. but not like that. and yet, the conversations flow smoothly.
perhaps it's the alcohol.
or perhaps it's the fact that jungkook is emphatic, understanding, relatable, hilarious, attractive, considerate, masculine, and most importantly—a gentleman.
losing track of time, you two end up cheekily giggling like children, leaning against the frigid brick walls of an alley in front of each other. you don't even remember why you were laughing and what's so funny, but you're on the carousel of uncontrollable and infinite snickering and you can't seem to get off.
after some time and more meaningless conversations, jungkook lights up another cigarette and smokes it, face turned toward the narrow view of the seoul streets shimmering to his right.
you don't take seconds of this night for granted.
swimming in the comforting silence between you two, you use it to observe him—something you had forgotten to do tonight.
your eyes travel across his entire body frame as though it were a treasure map. you carefully glide over each little curve, each turn, each layer of his biker-like clothing, each piercing and its gleam, each silver ring wrapped around his masculine fingers.
even jeon jungkook has his own flaws, but they're difficult not to love. you love every part of him. it's a wicked and disgusting thing you feel towards your client, but how can you run from your feelings when they consume you entirely?
it's hard to trust what's right before you. and it's even harder to think that this night must end soon. even if you don't call it off yourself, the sun will rise anyway. and things will be different then.
"my house is not far from here," you say, voice a little hoarse from the breathless laughing. "maybe i should go now."
it's best if you quit soon. on your own terms.
making controlled decisions avoids unnecessary emotions and—
"you're sure?" you blink and jungkook is already inching closer to you. "you really wanna go?"
"i'm tired." you try your best to avoid like you're coming up with excuses. if only he knew how badly you craved to stay just a little longer. "tomorrow's hangover is going to destroy me."
"you didn't even drink that much, did you?"
"i did," you smile like an idiot. "but i've sobered up. you drank less than me, anyway."
with jungkook being so close to you, you can feel the material of your clothes brushing against his and the way his breath brings the scent of nicotine and smoke.
you wonder if he kissed you here and there, would you taste the ashy flavor?
fuck. fuck. fuck. no more thoughts like this.
"it's time for me to be considerate this time." he tilts his head and smiles so warmly, your heart immediately softens and his tapioca pearled eyes squint. "let me take you home."
"you should stop with this whole... consideration thing." you suck in a deep breath and wonder how long it takes before you forget to breathe at all. "i am not considerate. i am skilled at being a manager."
"you're right about that," he reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "you manage us very well, miss."
delayed shivers trail after his touch and your body is confusing whether to send a wave of boiling heat or chilling coldness over you.
you sink your teeth into the tip of your tongue, mentally whining, desperate for him to touch you once more. just to feel it all again—the tingles, the sudden quickening of your heartbeat, the unbearable ache in between your thighs you thought couldn't get worse than it did when you would listen to his voice or be in his presence.
being touched by jeon jungkook is an automatic libido enabler.
"miss?" you repeat like a parrot. he probably thinks it's because you're not used to these kind of nicknames. but really, your head has gotten rid of its thoughts and every cell of your body is passionately screaming jungkook's name.
a strong smell of smoke seeps through your nostrils, jungkook rises his nearly burned cigarette up in the middle of the gap between yours and his lips.
"you still don't want to try?" he offers, slightly turning his head to the side.
he's been so good to you this entire night.
would it hurt to leave him satisfied?
you never set a rule for yourself to avoid smoking. you understand it's unhealthy and probably not something you would choose to do on a daily basis, but you also understand that you are a grown adult and you are capable of not becoming addicted to anything you touch.
so you part your lips and leave your mouth agape, gazing at him through your lethargic eyelids and smudged lashes.
he slowly positions the cigarette between your teeth, setting it down on the tip of your tongue. before his fingers can exit your mouth, you manage to briefly brush your lips over his skin.
"inhale," he orders gently.
"fully." his hand wanders down to your torso. he firmly presses his palm against it. "into the lungs."
for the first second, you feel fine. despite the absolute waterfall pooling in your panties, you feel fine and you sort of understand why people become smokers so easily.
your lungs start to burn without warning and you cough repeatedly, jungkook immediately takes the cigarette out from your mouth and you can even hear him chuckle.
for fuck's sake, you're out here dying and he thinks this is funny?
"how was it?" he dares to ask.
"terrible, fuck..." you're struggling to catch your breath, tears welling up along your waterline. "how do you get used to this?"
"it just happens. gradually." you see him shrug through your blurry vision.
you leisurely bring your glassy eyes to meet his. he doesn't even need tears to have the entire galaxy reflected in them, this never fails to amaze you.
is how easily you become bothered by this disgusting habit of his. and you are glad you can finally call it disgusting, knowing you have tried it, and it was indeed disgusting.
"and that doesn't concern you?" you cock your head at him. "how damaged your lungs have to be to smoke so casually and act like it's nothing? at this rate, your vocal chords will be burnt to ash by the time you—"
everything happens so fast.
his cold, tattooed hand holding you by your chin and you thinking you are imagining things.
jungkook drawing his porcelain face so close to yours, for a moment you fully believe you two are going to immediately clash into a kiss. but he hesitates the last second, frozen in place with his lips hovering merely a centimeter above yours as he waits for your response, as he mentally curses himself out for acting so spontaneously.
his warm breath coating your lips.
this is when you realize,
that he's giving you a choice.
and you choose to go all the way in.
the noise that vibrates through your lips is a little embarrassing but you don't care when the only thing that you need in the moment is jungkook. you need him closer, you need to feel him. you quickly hook one of your hands around his nape and clutch the collar of his jacket with your other hand, as your lips finally collide into a kiss.
at first, it's only a peck.
he waits to see if you'll change your mind.
but you don't. you'd be stupid to do so.
you pull him in closer and arch your back against the wall when his big hands place themselves securely on your waist. his strong cologne, with a slight hint of smoke from the burned cigarette, fills your nostrils, intoxicating you completely. you act as if hypnotized, savoring every touch and every motion.
his warm tongue confidently enters your mouth and caresses against yours. everything about him is so fucking big—his body, his arms, his tongue—and when he presses up himself against you, you feel even more belittled.
only the thought of that ties a knot in your stomach. a knot you so desperately need to relieve.
"jungkook," you involuntarily break the kiss for a moment and whisper into his mouth. "take me home. right now."
"please," you whimper, running your fingers through his raven hair. "i need you."
that sets something inside him.
something wild. something he doesn't show often. you feel it underneath your touch, the way his demeanor shifts, the way he straightens his posture and strengthens his grip on you.
and before you know it, you're kicking off your heels and they go flying anywhere inside your hallway. you're slipping jungkook's leather jacket off of his broad shoulders and slamming it onto the floor of a room you barely recognize. you're helping him pull his black t-shirt over his head and when your palms press against the boiling heat of his skin, you fight the urge to orgasm on spot. all whilst your tongue is swirling around his.
jungkook throws you on your own bedsheets, not even bothering to close the door behind you two because there's nobody neither of you have to worry about. he positions his knee in between your thighs and, without wasting a single second, you immediately grind your needy pussy on it.
huffs, puffs, groans, quiet whines—all those pretty sounds fill the room, and they intensify the moment his hand slithers underneath your laced panties. he tenderly brushes against your wet entrance without doing anything yet.
"look at the mess you've made," he whispers in a pouting manner. "feel that? feel how wet you got for me?"
he plunges two fingers inside and you arch your back in an instant, biting onto your bottom lip. your nails dig into the naked skin of his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist and holding him locked there.
he extracts them slowly, then moves them inside again. each thrust holds more force, and with each harsh movement you whine louder.
he's so fucking good at this.
curling his fingers against the right spot as if he's already explored your body before. placing his thumb firmly on your clit and using your juices to soften his circular motions on it.
moving from your lips, he leaves a wet trail of hungry kisses down to your jawline. your neck. your collarbones. he then envelops his big hand around one of your tits and gently taps your sensitive nipple, causing it to perk up in his hold, as he wraps his soft lips around your other nipple and gently circles his warm tongue around it, before beginning to tenderly suck.
your mind fogs up and you fear that you might finish way too soon, before even getting the chance to offer to make him feel good.
jungkook feels your walls clenching around your fingers, so he pulls them out, whispering: "not yet, baby, not yet. we're not done."
the sudden pet name is dangerous to you.
he rises on his knees and starts unbuckling his belt, leaving you all messy and your your jaw hanging, trying to stabilize your breathing and mentally collect your thoughts though you eventually realize that's useless. what is there to think about, anyway? especially when you are beneath jeon jungkook and you are watching him work his way around the buttons of his jeans.
that is before something else catches your attention.
he's not looking directly at you—he's looking a little to your side.
staring, even, in an expression that's difficult to read.
you turn your head and you are faced with something soft, something pink, something that smells like your coconut hair conditioner.
following jungkook's gaze, your eyes jump around the room to every single fucking thing he shouldn't be seeing right now.
albums, posters, photocards, figurines...
the list can go on and on and you hate that. you hate yourself for it.
"jungkook—" you interrupt yourself with a gulp. "jungkook, you weren't supposed to see this."
"you're a fan?" he asks. blandly.
how do you even respond to that?
"you've been a fan this whole time?"
"i don't—no—i can explain. it's got nothing to do with why i got the job, i promise, i—i take my role very seriously—"
"you've got my face all over your walls."
the heat in between your thighs is unfortunately beginning to fade and replace itself with a haunting hollowness in your stomach. if you don't get out of here right now, you might end up puking all over yourself. this is terrible. this is fucking terrible. this is the worst night of your life and you can feel how your face is getting drained of blood as cold sweat runs down your skin.
you grab your soft, pink pillow in the shape of a heart and cover your beetroot face, only your fearful eyes peeking through the gap.
"every single day you pretended to be polite, professional, you treated me like a client and nothing more. and then, you'd get back home to this room and sit around, listening to my music, watching my content, buying my albums?"
embarrassed is a terrible understatement. you feel humiliated. your world has stopped spinning and you are unsure if it will ever move again.
"how obsessed are you?" he asks, and this question startles you. "what else do you do in your room?"
he slips off his jeans along with his calvin klein underwear, his erect cock springing free as the quietest whine quivers beneath his shut lips. he gives you time to construct a sentence before he manages to fully undress himself, and when he finds you still silent by the time he's done, he aggressively captures your agape lips into a kiss.
you feel the damp tip of his cock lightly press against your clothed clit. and fuck, here it is again, that annoying warmth. the knot in your stomach. the desperate need to feel good. feel intense.
jungkook slowly moves the pillow away, closing in the empty space with his naked chest, brushing against your naked tits.
"you've wanted me," he mutters in between the kisses. "you've wanted me for so long."
you hum into his mouth and your heartbeat intensifies the moment you feel his fingers hook around the strings of your panties, sliding them off with subtle eagerness. he breaks the kiss and moves your underwear down slowly, traveling across your legs that you're glad you shaved carefully and moisturized with your favorite vanilla-scented lotion. you love smelling like a damn bakery, but you love inhaling jungkook's expensive cologne even more.
"you should've just told me," he says calmly. "if i knew you felt like this, i would've fucked you sooner. so much sooner."
he lines the head of his cock with your dripping entrance and your body shivers in tingles. the tip enters your glistering folds slightly and you immediately bite down on your bottom lip, clutching fists around your soft blanket as you take a deep breath in.
"you probably would've just let me fuck you on the spot, right? fuck you in the backstage, fuck you in the staff rooms. you would've spread your legs open for me anywhere i wanted to."
he moves an inch forward, you immediately choke up a moan.
"j—jungkook, i don't think it will—"
he's so fucking big you don't know if you can handle this.
another inch in, you close your eyes shut as a broken moan emerges from your throat. to make things even more intense, jungkook securely presses down on the lower part of your stomach with his palm, the coldness of his silver rings bursting waves of electrifying quivers on your skin. your muscles tighten around him and you whine his name pathetically, like your vocal chords are about to shatter.
"shh, baby. breathe," he instructs, staring into your eyes. "you're okay."
you try to deepen your breaths, you try to regulate your breathing pattern. but his size is going to destroy you.
"i can't take it," you warn him, eyebrows knitting.
as if on purpose, he moves another inch, one hand remained on your stomach, another pinning your wrist down to the mattress. below him like this, you feel utterly helpless.
"you're taking me so well already," he murmurs. "my good girl."
without warning, he begins thrusting into you.
slowly at first, but hard.
your eyes forcefully roll as vehement waves of pleasure erupt inside your body over and over again, limbs going numb and tears welling up in your eyes. gradually, he picks up his pace and with each pound you worry if you'll be able to handle him without passing out. but your body adjusts to his cock, and by the time he's rearranging your organs, you're a whimpering mess and you can't do anything but drown his ears in your pretty noises.
"jungkook," you moan his name in the most erotic way possible. "i'm—i'm close, fuck, it—it feels so good... so, so good."
"yeah?" his voice is breathless.
the warmth radiating from his muscular body suffocates you, he leans closer and compresses his forehead to yours. this is the most intimate you've ever been with jungkook, and you are addicted.
when his hand moves from your hip to your other wrist, locking you down to your bed completely, he increases his force and slams into you with the strength you always had noticed when he worked out or did those impressive as hell dance moves in his choreographies, but never thought would've been used to fuck you like this.
he's close, too. you can sense it.
and it's not something he tries to hide, either. his quiet whimpers, mostly mixed with groans and murmured curses, shift into shamelessly frantic whines.
he's wailing your name like you're a goddess and he's a beggar. he's thrusting into you and breathing on your lips like you're the only thing he's even wanted to feel this close, this deep. like he's been as crazy about you as you've been about him.
your pathetic little moans dance with his sniveling and his cock stretches you out completely, hitting your g-spot repeatedly.
"you're so tight," he mumbles into your ears. "my perfect girl, my sweet baby. 'gonna fill you up so good."
you were always told to keep your relationship with him strictly professional, you two were colleagues and nothing more. but the chemistry was there. in the lingering glances, in the subtle touches none of you ever cared to acknowledge. it was hidden beneath all your interactions all along and even now it feels like he was meant for you.
"please." you struggle to resist begging, the possibility of him changing his mind makes you weak. "please, jungkook, right there—fuck."
that was the final touch.
your orgasm comes crashing over you, warmth and ecstasy spreading from between your thighs to your entire body. you arch your back like a cat and flagrantly whine his name as a single tear runs down your temple, staining your pillow.
a second after, jungkook reaches his peak too, coating your tight walls with his cum. he presses himself into you harder and buries his face into the curve between your throat and your shoulder, gently nibbling on a piece of skin like you're his biting stick.
he crumbles down on top of you, you feel his chest expanding on yours as he breathes deeply.
your surroundings spin in your sight and whenever you close your eyes, it feels as though you're up in the sky, flying on alladin's magic carpet. your legs are still enclosed around his waist, and moving your fingers to fiddle with his hair comes like an instinct, but you hesitate. your shyness conquers you. instead, your hand softly lands on the top of his head and you let it stay there for the night, just as you let him stay here in your bed.
the following morning you get woken up by the bothersome sound of your dog barking. she always barks when she sees someone walk by a window, that's why you make sure to close each curtain before going to bed. last night, you didn't get the chance to.
you open your puffy eyes and slowly rise, groaning under your breath. you were expecting to wake up with a terrible headache, have your stomach squeezing disgustingly and vomit building up your throat. this is typically how your hangovers go, even when you don't drink as much as you can. you've learned to not go hardcore on alcohol.
but somehow, you feel oddly okay. sleepy, bloated, feet aching from your heels, but okay.
your toes reach the floor and you try to stand up, and fuck—that's when an unfamiliar pain in your abdomen hits, like someone brutally kicking you with their shoe and rubbing it over your internal organs.
where would it come from, even?
did you fall down and you don't remember it? or maybe you got your period?
then, you hear the sound of two plates clattering together from your kitchen. and you realize that your room is infested with the delicious smell of chocolate pancakes.
thought after thought, you remember,
you slept with jungkook last night.
enough thinking. your only goal is to rush to the kitchen, find the source of the delectable pancakes, and make sure everything was a dream and you got home safe, decently drunk and not accompanied by your client.
and when you do, you can't tell whether you feel surprised or disappointed. but surely, the way your heartbeat stops makes you wish your heart would decide to never beat again. it'd make things easier.
there he is, jungkook. there is nothing different about him. the locations of his piercings haven't changed, every tattoo is in its right place, his eyes are still as round and puppy-like and his muscles haven't vanished.
what steals your breath, is that he's not in a studio like he usually is, or the stage of a sold-out concert. he is in your neatly cleaned, decorated with orchids and vases with tulips, kitchen. his muscular back is turned on you as he uses your spatula to flip a chocolate pancake and let it slide off into your plate full of them.
he just doesn't belong here.
this feels like some kind of hangover dream.
your dog barks again at the window, and he murmurs in a tone you've never heard before: "hey, who are you so angry with?"
his words are so... soft. there's no other way to describe it. soft in a fatherly way, kind of?
your dog barks again. and again. and then, he tells her: "come on, let it all out. i'm listening."
your mind is turning clockwise—actually, he might belong here. this imagery in front of your eyes is starting to look natural, like you could imagine a life with jungkook. you could get used to eating chocolate pancakes for breakfast and you could watch him talk to your puppy like this, especially if it meant having him around in the mornings. it's hard to admit, but as much as you wanted him to disappear immediately and have last night mean nothing, it squeezes your heart in a bittersweet way to know that he chose to stay.
feeling your presence, jungkook looks to you over his shoulder. "oh, good morning," he says, slightly smiling. "how did you sleep?"
"good..." you take a few steps closer to him, peeking through his bicep. "pancakes?"
"milk, flour and eggs are all you have. do you just eat pancakes for breakfast everyday?"
"well, no." you childishly grin. "i sometimes make scrambled eggs."
"i should start buying you groceries, then. this is absurd."
jungkook grabs the plate full with pancakes and positions it in the middle of your small, circular dinner table not too far from the kitchen. your house is quite small, but you've never been bothered by that. owning a big house would stress you out, too many corners to clean and too many floorings to scrub.
as he is setting the table, you watch him attentively. the way his muscles move below his skin, the reddened nail marks all over his shoulders, the messy hair and the shameless calvin klein underwear.
fuck. you are wearing nothing but a pair of new panties and his black shirt from yesterday. you don't remember changing clothes, and you surely wouldn't have been able to manage to surf through your underwear drawer, so you can only assume he did it. and you were wondering why amongst that sweet smell of pancakes you noticed a subtle scent of his cologne.
feels a bit personal. intimate, even.
that thought should gross you out.
blah, blah, blah. how can jungkook doing anything gross you out? even smoking, the one thing you'd enjoy for him to quit doing, isn't icky to you. it's attractive in a way. you just wish you could feed him some kind of pill that'd make him immune to every health concern that could come with it.
you two sit down facing each other and go at your food.
the pancakes taste as good as they smelled, he even brewed you coffee, too.
"this is weird," you say.
"this isn't weird," jungkook contradicts before taking a sip of his coffee from his mug. "why would it be weird?"
"everyone's gonna go crazy when they find out we slept together."
"so, we don't tell them." the corners of his lips curl into a smile. he sounds like a devious toddler.
"they'll have to know eventually." you let out a sigh and rest your heavy head inside your palm, elbow leaning on the table. "and you're... i shouldn't feel this comfortable with you. i shouldn't see you sitting in my kitchen and feeling barely anything, as if this was nothing new. because just yesterday my soul would leave my body each time you made eye contact with me."
he takes a second to take all my words in. or to chew his food.
"you'll get used to this."
"i'm already used to you."
"isn't that a good thing, then?" he glances up at you. "'cause i don't plan on leaving."
now you have to take all his words in.
jungkook lullabying you to sleep each night and greeting you in the morning?
jungkook being available not only during working hours, not only when the rest of the bts members and your entire crew is surrounding you two?
"you sounded good last night," he says like this sentence alone doesn't rotate your organs inside out. "with that voice, you could become a lead singer. we should make you a part of our band, like, the hidden eight member of bts."
you roll your eyes and hold back a sassy scoff. "yeah, right."
"so did you," you think to yourself. "so did you, jeon jungkook."
"no, i'm serious." once again, his eyes reach for yours. you love simple moments like this, you just love getting lost in each other. "i loved what happened last night. you were amazing. i mean—you've always been amazing. amazing at your job, amazing at anything you do. so, i'm not surprised."
a shatter in the ice, your phone begins ringing. you slammed it on this table last night and didn't spare it another thought after.
you pick up and mira's name flashes in your eyes. you pick it up.
you nearly choke up a piece of pancake.
"girl, you're either kidnapped or you had the best sex of your life with jeon jungkook. which one is it?"
your eyes widen and you can already tell by jungkook's expression that he's going to ask you about this soon.
"um..." you scrunch your eyebrows together and swallow dryly. "the second."
"god damn. god fucking damn!" she squeals. "yes, girl, i'm applauding you! how was it?"
"good... really fucking good. we'll talk about this later, yeah? i'm... in the middle of something."
"oh hell no, you two are at it again, aren't you?"
"okay, wait, before you go: after you left, i got jimin's number! we didn't kiss or anything, but this is huge for me. god, we're definitely going on a double date next time."
"okay, girl, i'll call you. take care."
she hangs up. seconds after, you immediately get faced with the pile of notifications stacked upon each other on your lock screen, the most recent ones being: two phone calls from mira at 1:22 AM, another on at 1:24 AM, eleven more until 1:35 AM, and one at 3:27 AM.
what were you doing at 3:27 AM, even?
jungkook is gulping down the last sip of his coffee, whilst you're barely halfway finished. it's not that it's not good, you're just so distracted by things like this + your thoughts, you can hardly concentrate on chewing food.
your corgi begins spinning around in rapid circles at jungkook's feet, barking with a high-pitched tone.
"she likes you," you slowly tilt your head down, smiling. "she does this when she wants attention."
"i like her, too." he reaches out to rub behind her ears. "i like her mom as well."
warmth spreads across your cheeks. it must be the coffee, at least that's what you tell yourself.
somehow this moment makes your brain trail back to a previous thought of this morning—having jungkook in your life.
you could definitely get used to it.
