“Have you ever touched yourself, Jungkook?” You punctuate your question with another slow grind. He whimpers in response, and the shame of it hardly registers because his cock is twitching and pulsing against his slacks, his boxers already damp with his arousal. He has never been less in control of his own body.
“Answer me.” Your nail drags across his jawline.
Jungkook can’t breathe. All he can do is grip the couch and try not to fall apart in front of a woman who looks like she has never fallen apart in her life.
“Y-yes.” he croaks, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I do.”
“Hm.” Your hips roll again, the lace of your panties catching against his slacks perfectly, perfectly, and his brain halts all coherent thoughts. “What do you think about when you touch yourself?”
He thinks about women, mostly. They’re usually abstract, faceless, nothing like you. Nothing like the warm weight of you in his lap or the way you smell. Usually the entire ordeal takes him four minutes and he goes to sleep feeling embarrassed about the whole thing.
He does not say this.
“I— I think about girls.”
“Just girls?”
Your eyes peer down at him, sparkling with wonder. Your lips graze his cheek and every single neuron in his body fires at once. He’s going to fucking pass out.
God, he’s an idiot. He should’ve been having sex years ago. What was he so busy doing? Working? He gave up this for spreadsheets and impressing his father?
“Y-yeah,” he exhales. “Just—yeah.”
A small sound escapes you, something like a moan. The thought that you could be finding pleasure from this makes his cock pulse desperately in the confines of his pants.
“Well.” Your hand finds his, lifts it, and presses his palm to the curve of your hip. Guiding his grip, guiding your own rhythm, you turn him into an active participant in his own undoing.
“Next time you touch yourself.” You pick up the pace, slowly but steadily. “Think about this. Think about me. And how bad I want to fuck you.”
Fucking hell.
His eyes squeeze tight, tight, tight. Tries, desperately, heroically, pathetically, not to cum. Jungkook groans, and he feels your fingernails dig into his broad shoulders for stability as your movements become more frantic.
“F-Fuck,” he chokes out. “That feels so good.”
“I bet it does, baby,” you purr, and your angelic voice quells the fire in his core. “Bet your cock has been hungry for female attention, hasn’t it?”
“No.” Jungkook hastily replies, “N-No, just for you.”
He’s so fucking close, precum leaking out of his tip incessantly as each grind gets him closer and closer to his orgasm. Your tits bounce in his face, and he opens his eyes to see the sight that will forever be imprinted in his brain. Probably stored in his spank bank for the rest of time. Your cheeks are ruddy, lips swollen from the amount of kissing you two have done. Your eyes pierce into his, hair moving wildly, lace hugging every curve.
Fuck.
He’s going to cum untouched, like the virgin he is.
rating: M for mature. contains explicit smut and alcohol consumption.
ᓚᘏ𑄝 gojo satoru gets off by blowing air on your clit
satoru’s got you spread out on the edge of the bed, knees hooked over his broad shoulders, your thighs already trembling from how long he’s been teasing.
he’s still fully dressed—tie loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows, looking far too composed while you’re bare and leaking onto the sheets.
he leans in close, so close you can feel the heat of his breath before anything else. then he does it: parts his lips and blows a slow, deliberate stream of cool air right against your swollen clit.
your whole body jerks. hips snap up involuntarily, a sharp little gasp ripping out of you before you can swallow it. your clit throbs hard under the sudden chill, already so sensitive from his tongue earlier that the contrast feels like a spark straight to your spine.
he hums low, amused. does it again—longer this time, lips barely brushing you, just enough to direct the air in a focused puff. your legs try to close on instinct but his hands clamp down on the insides of your thighs, keeping you open, keeping you helpless.
“look at that,” he murmurs, voice soft and lazy like he’s commenting on the weather. “twitching already. poor little thing.”
another breath—sharper, shorter bursts this time. each one lands like a flick. your clit pulses with every hit, slick dripping down to your entrance, embarrassingly obvious. you whimper, fingers twisting in the sheets, trying to grind up for more friction but he just pulls back slightly, denying you.
he tilts his head, blue eyes flicking up to watch your face while he does it again. slow drag of air this time, dragging from your entrance all the way up over your clit in one continuous exhale. your back bows, a broken sound catching in your throat.
“satoru—”
he cuts you off with one more cruel little puff, right on the tip, then drags his tongue through your folds once—just one lazy stripe to taste how wet you’ve gotten from his games.
“shh. i’m not even touching you yet.”
and then he blows again. softer. teasing. watching every tiny twitch, every helpless roll of your hips, cataloging exactly how much you fall apart from nothing more than his breath.
you’re shaking now, thighs quivering around his head, clit so puffy and red it hurts in the best way. he smiles against your skin—slow, wicked—and does it one more time.
pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader genre. established relationship. crack. smut.
jungkook and his friends are all in on the internet's most ridiculous trend: no nut november. but you’re determined to make your boyfriend lose — and you know just how to do it.
word count. 8.9k words warnings. stupid fucking nnn challenge. JUNGKOOK IS SOOO DRAMATIC IN THIS OML. competitive koo. oc being petty as fuck. oc a brat hehe. jungkook cannot lie to save his life. he fighting demons in his head. needy koo. slight crack. smut. oral (fem!receiving). MUNCH JK. dry humping. blindfolding (very brief lasts like five seconds). koo loves her boobies. unprotected sex. dom!jk (i dont usually like writing him like this but i didnt hate it).
⟡₊ ⊹ THANKSGIVING SPECIAL !
ana's notes. happy (very late) thanksgiving !!! BETTER LATE THAN NEVER RIGHT. this was supposed to be posted after thanksgiving but i got so busy and then the writers block crept up on me :\ .. ANYWAYS i am so grateful for you guys and the support you have shown for my writing, it means a lot since this is a hobby that i love. heres a little silly smutty fic for the holidays !! keep your comments positive or say nothing at all <3
There was this utterly ridiculous trend that resurfaced on the internet like clockwork every year — No Nut November.
The viral phenomenon was a joke. Honestly, who in their right mind would actually take part in such a thing?
Well... Jungkook and his friends would.
Never ones to back down from a challenge, they had turned the trend into a full-blown competition: the last man standing would walk away with a cash prize collected from everyone who failed. And Jungkook? He wasn’t about to lose. Not to his friends. Not to anyone.
It wasn’t like he needed the money. Jungkook was doing just fine in that department, thank you very much. But the satisfaction of watching his friends begrudgingly hand over their hard earned cash, faces red with defeat? Fucking priceless. Count him in.
Unbeknownst to you, the bet was in full effect. Therefore, in preparation for what promised to be a painfully unfulfilling month, Jungkook made the most of Halloween night. His desire was overwhelming as he pulled you into his arms again and again. By the time you were both utterly spent, he’d taken you three times — round after relentless round, ensuring he had no regrets before the clock struck midnight.
It was all part of his plan: to have you as many times as he possibly could before November hit and he couldn’t have you at all. He was dead serious about this challenge. Winning was secondary — what mattered most was that he didn’t lose.
By the first week of November — just five days in — Jungkook had been doing surprisingly well. His restraint was impressive, and he’d managed to keep his touches brief and calculated. The physical contact between you two had been limited to sweet, innocent moments: the kisses you shared when he left and came home from work, the soft pecks exchanged before falling asleep, or the comforting warmth of cuddling. None of it lingered too long, and Jungkook was acutely aware of how easily even the smallest touch could spiral into something much harder to resist.
But Jungkook’s plan didn’t seem to work so well after all. As the week drew closer to its end, you began to get eager.
Your arms would wrap around his waist from behind, your chest pressing against his back as you left featherlight kisses against the nape of his neck. Each one sent a shiver down his spine, your breath warm and teasing against his skin. Your fingers trailed along his arms and shoulders a little longer than usual, like they couldn’t bear to part from him. When you kissed him, your lips lingered just a second too long, brushing against his with a softness that made his heart pound and his resolve crumble.
And Jungkook — poor, stubborn Jungkook — felt the strain of holding himself back with every passing moment.
The tension in his body was unmistakable. His jaw clenched, his hands fisted at his sides, as if anchoring himself in place was the only way to resist you. But it was getting harder. Your every move — a tilt of your head, a brush of your fingers, the soft hum of your laughter — was a calculated test of his willpower.
There were times where his thumb hovered over the group chat. His mind screamed at him to type out the words, to admit defeat, to let it all go so he could have you the way he so desperately craved.
But he didn’t.
He kept his composure, though it was a battle he felt he was losing by the second. Temptation clung to him like a warm, enticing embrace, your every move a test of his self control. You were irresistible, and he knew it. Hell, even the fucking dickwad of a neighbor — the one who always found a reason to greet you while mugging Jungkook — knew it. But as much as he wanted to give in, Jungkook had to tread carefully. Ignoring you completely would be suspicious, and pulling away would be totally out of character. You’d see right through him.
So he found a fine line to walk, a delicate balance: giving you just enough to keep you satisfied while keeping his own burning desires tightly in check. A heated makeout session here, his hand squeezing your ass there — little gestures that made everything feel normal. Just enough to keep you from noticing anything was off, but never enough to let things spiral out of control.
The thought of explaining the ridiculous bet to you was out of the question — he wasn’t about to tell you he’d willingly signed up to not get his cock wet for a whole month. So instead, he silently resolved to endure.
It wasn’t easy. Hell, it was torture. But the thought of losing to his friends? That was even worse. Their smug faces, the relentless teasing — it was unthinkable. Jungkook would rather give himself the worst case of blue balls imaginable than admit defeat.
But just as the next week was about to begin, Jungkook’s willpower met its match.
At night, Jungkook stuck to his usual routine. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and climbed into bed. He scrolled aimlessly through his TikTok for you page, waiting for you to finish up in the bathroom and join him. It was the same comforting ritual as always.
Usually, when you slipped into bed, he’d put his phone down immediately. Without a word, he’d shift closer, press his chest to your back, tangle your legs together, and throw a protective arm over your waist. It was an unspoken rhythm you both loved, the closeness of his warmth pulling you both into peaceful sleep.
But tonight, something felt different.
It had been a long week — too long. You hadn’t had him, hadn’t felt his touch, hadn’t been able to drown in the comfort of him. And tonight, the ache of missing him was unbearable. You needed him, desperately.
As you stepped out of the bathroom, the soft light from the lamp illuminated him sprawled across the bed. His focus was on his phone, completely oblivious to you — but your attention was elsewhere.
The thin material of his sweatpants did nothing to hide the outline of his cock, pressing firmly against the fabric as he lay there in complete ease. It was almost unfair how effortlessly attractive he looked.
And just like that, the last of your restraint snapped.
You didn’t even try to play coy. Not tonight. Not when every fiber of your being screamed for him, for his touch, for his warmth.
You crawled onto the bed with purpose, straddling his hips in one smooth motion. Jungkook tensed beneath you, his phone slipping from his hand onto the mattress. His dark eyes met yours, wide with surprise, but the second your lips captured his, you felt him relax into the kiss.
It didn’t take long for your lips to wander. From his mouth to his jaw, each kiss slower and deeper than the last. That’s when he knew.
This wasn’t going to end with a few kisses.
“It’s getting late,” he murmured, his voice breathy, like he was trying to convince himself more than you.
“Mhm,” you hummed, your lips trailing down his neck, suckling gently at the spot you knew made him shudder.
“We should go to sleep,” he tried again, though his words sounded more like a plea than an order.
“Don’t wanna,” you whispered against his skin, your hand sliding down between your bodies, cupping the hardening length beneath his sweatpants.
The guttural moan that tore from his lips was instant, raw, and uncontrollable. His reaction was visceral, his hands flying to your hips to still you, but it was too late. That single touch had ignited something primal in him.
With a sudden movement, he flipped you onto your back, his hands capturing your wrists and pinning them firmly above your head.
“Why do you never listen to me?” he said through clenched teeth. His frustration of trying to compose his restraint thinning. Why won’t you let him win? His face was so close to yours that the tip of his nose brushed against yours, his breath warm and uneven against your lips.
“Love pissing you off,” you shot back, your grin wicked as your eyes gleamed with mischief. You tilted your head slightly, your voice dropping into something softer, sultrier. “Makes me wet.”
“Brat,” he spat. His grip on your wrists tightened just slightly, his jaw clenching as if holding himself back took everything he had.
To you, it was all in good fun — a playful game, harmless teasing. But to Jungkook? It was sweet, unrelenting torment. Every kiss you pressed to his skin, every soft laugh that spilled from your lips, and every calculated touch you offered worked to chip away at his resolve, unraveling him one agonizing piece at a time.
He wanted to be strong, to resist, to uphold his own ridiculous self imposed boundaries. But how could he? How could he lay down beside you and simply go to sleep when your every movement, every sound, every look begged him to surrender? His body betrayed him first, drawn to you like a magnet, unable to keep his distance. The tension in his muscles, the sharp hitch of his breath every time you touched him — it all screamed of a man teetering on the edge of self control.
Jungkook swallowed hard, his gaze flickering over you, taking in the way your lips curled into a smile that was equal parts innocent and dangerous. He hated how much you affected him, but at the same time, he craved it. Every fiber of his being ached for you — your warmth, your softness, the way you felt against him. He knew he was doomed the second you whispered his name, voice laced with need.
Giving in wasn’t just inevitable; it was everything he wanted. And as much as he’d tried to fight it, there was no denying you. Not now, not ever.
“Fuck,” he whispers, his voice raw, laced with a pain so desperate it borders on pitiful. His head drops, forehead pressing against your sternum, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. It’s as if he’s trying to ground himself, clinging to the fragile threads of control slipping through his fingers.
For a moment, he stays there, his breath warm against your skin, his body taut with tension. Then, slowly, he lifts his head, meeting your gaze with eyes darkened by lust and want, swirling with a need so intense it makes your stomach all jittery. His cheeks are flushed, the faintest rosy tint blooming across his face and staining the tips of his ears. He looks utterly undone, vulnerable in a way that steals the air from your lungs.
Before he could think twice, his lips crashed against yours in a feverish kiss, devouring you like you were his favorite candy — sweet, irresistible, and utterly addictive. He poured everything into that kiss, every ounce of frustration and need, as if losing himself in you was the only thing that mattered.
His lips began to trail south, brushing along the curve of your jaw before dipping down to the sensitive hollow of your neck. Each press of his lips left a trail of heat on your skin, and your breath hitched, a soft sound that sent a rush of satisfaction through him. He didn’t stop, didn’t falter as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt — no, his shirt. You always stole his shirts for bed, and as much as he teased you about it, he loved seeing you in them.
He pulled the fabric up, lifting it just beneath your chin and exposing your bare chest. Your breasts, freed from the confines of the shirt, bounced softly back into place, and Jungkook’s breath caught. His dark eyes locked onto the sight, a low groan rumbling in his chest as his hands instinctively cupped them, squeezing gently, pushing them together as if appreciating every inch of you.
Unable to stop himself, he buried his face in the softness, his nose stuffed in between your tits, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Kook!” you giggled, your voice light and teasing, pulling him back just slightly from the haze of his desire. Your hands reached down, cupping his face and tilting it upward until his eyes met yours.
“Prettiest titties ever,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. He leaned forward to press a tender kiss to one breast, his eyes never leaving yours.
Your lips curved into a warm smile, and your thumb traced softly over the scar on the apple of his cheek. The tender moment was fleeting, though, as Jungkook’s mouth found its way to your chest, his lips wrapping around one of your nipples. His tongue flicked against the sensitive peak, drawing a sharp wave of pleasure through your body. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying — and failing — to stifle the moan that bubbled in your throat.
Your hands moved instinctively, brushing back the dark strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. Your touch was soft, almost reverent, as you gazed down at him. The sight of Jungkook — cheeks flushed, lashes kissing his cheeks as he lost himself in you, his lips tugging gently at your sensitive flesh — made your heart race and your body ache with want.
He let out a low hum against your skin, the vibration sending a delicious shiver cascading down your spine. His tongue swirled around your nipple with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each motion igniting sparks of pleasure that left you breathless. His focus was unrelenting, his attention on you so singular it made your toes curl. The warmth of his saliva mixed with the heat of your skin, creating a sensation that was utterly intoxicating.
You let out a quiet gasp, your fingers tugging gently at his raven hair, earning a soft groan from him in response. Jungkook didn’t stop, his lips worshiping you like you were the only thing that mattered.
But as his mouth continued its ministrations, Jungkook couldn’t ignore the ache building in him. His cock throbbed, painfully hard and straining against his sweats, begging for relief. The urge to push everything aside and lose himself in you was overwhelming.
Maybe he could lose. Maybe he could just not tell them.
No. That wasn’t fair, and Jungkook hated lying — especially to his best friends.
But fuck, you weren’t making this easy for him.
With your pretty, soft boobs. Your sweet, irresistible lips. The way you tasted, the way you sounded.
He released your nipple with an audible pop, leaving your skin glistening and flushed from his attention. His lips lingered, warm and damp, as if tethered by an invisible string, reluctant to part. Then, slowly, he began his descent, tracing a line of soft, deliberate kisses down your stomach. Each press of his lips was unhurried, almost worshipful, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as anticipation tightened in your core.
When he reached the waistband of your panties, his movements paused. His lips hovered just above the fabric, warm breath teasing your skin. He glanced up at you, eyes hooded and dark with want, as if searching your face for permission to continue. The moment felt suspended, heavy with tension, before he shifted his attention lower, redirecting his kisses to the delicate, sensitive skin of your inner thighs.
His pace was maddening, each kiss a whisper against your skin, igniting every nerve and sending shivers rippling through you. His lips barely grazed you, his touch so featherlight it felt almost cruel, building the pressure inside you until it was nearly unbearable.
Then he saw it. The damp patch on your panties. His movements stilled for a moment, the sight pulling a soft moan from his lips, thick with need.
"Fuck me," he muttered under his breath, as if meant more for himself than for you. His voice was strained, low and raw, betraying the war raging inside him.
You were blissfully unaware of the full weight of his internal struggle, the impossible battle between his ironclad resolve and the magnetic pull of you beneath him. But for Jungkook, this wasn’t just lust; it was a consuming craving, threatening to shatter the very challenge he'd sworn to uphold.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, his touch firm yet tantalizingly gentle as he began to slide them down your thighs. The soft fabric dragged against your skin with agonizing slowness, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. When the panties finally slipped off and landed somewhere forgotten on the floor, his gaze dropped to the apex of your thighs, and a deep, guttural groan rumbled in his chest.
Your pussy glistened in the dim light, your slick coating your folds, the evidence of your desire laid bare before him. Jungkook's tongue darted out to wet his lips as impatience flickered in his eyes. Without hesitation, he leaned in, starting with slow, deliberate licks, savoring the taste of you like a man starving.
Your breath hitched, a shudder racing through you as you glanced down at him. His dark eyes locked with yours for a brief, smoldering moment before he closed his lips around your swollen clit, sucking gently yet firmly.
A moan tore from your throat as your head tipped back, your fingers instinctively finding one of your breasts. You cupped the soft mound, your palm pressing into the supple flesh. The room filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths and the wet, sinful noises of his tongue working you over.
Jungkook's hand shot up, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist as he yanked it away from your breast. He possessively replaced your hand with his own. His large, tattooed hand cupped your tit, kneading the soft flesh with a firm yet reverent touch.
He lifted his head from between your thighs, his lips glistening with your slick, and his heated gaze met yours. Without a word, his free hand slid down, his middle and ring fingers gliding through your folds with expert precision. He paused for a moment, his fingers coated in your arousal, before pressing them slowly inside you.
Your breath hitched at the delicious stretch, your sopping wet heat greedily sucking him in with ease. A low, satisfied hum rumbled in his throat as he watched your body respond to his touch.
“So fucking wet," he whispered, voice thick with lust. His fingers curled slightly, stroking your walls with an unrelenting precision that had your thighs trembling.
Jungkook leaned back down, his lips latching onto your clit with a hunger that made your thighs quiver. He sucked and flicked his tongue over your sensitive bud, the wet, rhythmic sounds driving you wild. His fingers continued to thrust in and out of you, the steady, deliberate pace sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body as he curled them just right, hitting that spot that made you see stars.
His other hand stayed on your breast, groping and kneading with a firm possessiveness that left you aching for more. His thumb brushed over your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.
He was everywhere — on you, in you, surrounding you. The intensity of his touch, his mouth, and his presence consumed you entirely, leaving you trembling under him as he worked your body like he was born to do it. You could feel the tension building, the coiling heat low in your belly threatening to snap as he devoured you like a man obsessed.
“Baby,” you whimper, your voice trembling, raw with need as your fingers twist into the sheets beneath you. “G- gonna cum.”
Jungkook doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down or falter. If anything, your words fuel him, igniting something feral inside him. He needs this — needs to feel you fall apart on his tongue, to taste every shiver and moan you can give him before he has to deny you for the rest of this painfully long month.
A low hum vibrates against your clit, and the sensation sends a fresh wave of heat surging through you, your body arching instinctively toward him. His tongue moves faster now, precise and unrelenting, flicking and circling as if the very act is his lifeline.
His fingers thrust into you, curling just right, hitting that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and your vision blur. The rhythm is perfect, practiced, like he’s mapping your body by memory, knowing exactly how to coax you to the edge.
Another hum escapes his throat, deeper this time, resonating against you with an intensity that feels almost like a plea — an unspoken command for you to let go, to surrender completely to the pressure building inside you.
And with each stroke of his tongue and every curl of his fingers, he pushes you closer, until you’re teetering on the brink, your body burning with the promise of release.
His hand on your breast squeezes more firmly, his thumb flicking and pinching your nipple with just the right pressure, as if he knows exactly how to push you over the edge. Your hand shoots up to grab his wrist, your nails digging into his skin, while your other hand fists the sheets desperately.
Your head tips back, lips parting in a silent, breathless moan as the tension inside you finally snaps. Your thighs instinctively begin to close around Jungkook’s head, trembling as your release crashes over you in wave after blissful wave.
Your body shakes beneath him, overcome by the force of your orgasm, but Jungkook doesn’t stop. His mouth continues its sinful work on your clit, sucking and licking with unrelenting precision, while his fingers maintain their steady thrusts.
Despite the painful, throbbing ache of his cock, Jungkook finds a twisted kind of satisfaction in giving you pleasure. The way your body arches, the sounds you make, the way your nails dig into the sheets — it’s intoxicating. It fuels him, spurring him on as though your ecstasy alone is enough to soothe his own torment.
He doesn’t want to stop. Not when you’re trembling beneath him, your body so responsive to his every touch. But there’s a limit to how much you can take, and he knows it. As much as he loves pushing you to the edge, watching as you surrender completely to him, overstimulation begins to creep in, your soft whimpers turning into desperate little gasps.
Still, there’s a reluctance in him, a battle between the unyielding need to give you more and the understanding that your body can only handle so much. Even as you writhe beneath him, pleading for reprieve, there’s a part of him that aches to keep going, to hold onto this connection for just a moment longer.
But he’s Jungkook, and if there’s one thing he values more than his own desires, it’s you. The sight of you trembling, your chest heaving as you fight to steady your breath, tugs at something deeper within him. He takes a deep breath, the taste of you lingering on his tongue, and finally, he pulls back.
His lips and chin are glistening with your slick, a sinful testament to his devotion. He doesn’t bother wiping it away; instead, he leans over you, his eyes dark and heavy with satisfaction as they roam your flushed face.
“Munch,” you giggle, your voice soft and teasing as your fingers brush his hair back from his forehead.
Jungkook chuckles, the sound deep and warm, scrunching his nose in playful protest. His pretty bunny-like teeth peek out in a smile so endearing it makes your heart skip a beat.
Unable to resist, you lean in, pressing your lips against his. Your tongue brushes against his, exploring him as the taste of you still lingers on his lips. The kiss grows deeper, more heated, and you feel his hard-on pressing insistently against your thigh.
Without a second thought, your hand slides down, grabbing his cock through the fabric of his pants. He groans softly against your mouth, the sound vibrating between you.
“Mmm,” Jungkook hums, breaking the kiss as he pulls away, the warmth of his lip still lingering on yours. He stands, his movements abrupt, leaving you breathless on the bed. His lips, swollen and glistening faintly in the dim light, speak to the intensity of your embrace, but his gaze doesn’t meet yours. Instead, it darts away, like a guilty child caught red-handed. He scratches the back of his head, his posture stiff as he moves toward the bathroom door. “I think I’m gonna go shower,” he blurts out, the tension in his voice betraying his attempt at casualness.
Shower? Now? Really? His dick is literally straining against his sweats, the outline unmistakable, practically begging for attention. You can still feel the heat of him pressed against you, the way he twitched beneath you just moments ago.
He’s not serious. There’s absolutely no fucking way.
“What?” Genuine confusion coats your tone, your brows furrowed. “You always shower in the mornings.”
“I- I know, baby,” he stammers, his pitch climbing an octave as his composure unravels faster than a poorly wrapped gift. Panic flashes in his wide eyes, and his mouth hangs open, grasping for an excuse he clearly doesn’t have.
“Then what’s wrong?” you ask, your softer now, a thread of worry weaving through your tone. You sit up, the oversized shirt you’d stolen from him slipping down your chest, covering your boobs he wished he could stare at for just a second longer. “Is something going on?”
“I-” His eyes dart around the room like the answer might be written on the walls. “I’m just tired.”
Your brow arches, skepticism written all over your face. “Tired?” you echo, your face scrunching in disbelief. “You’ve never not wanted to have sex.”
Jungkook visibly winces, his ears turning a bright shade of red. Rising from the bed like it might help, he sits at the edge, his hand nervously brushing your shin. “I- I had a long day at work.”
You tilt your head. “But you love having sex after a long day,” you say, your voice tinged with confusion. “Jungkook, seriously… what’s wrong?”
He freezes, like a deer caught in headlights, his lips parting in silent panic. “Nothing!” he squeaks, his voice cracking.
You lean closer, your suspicion mounting. “Well it’s clearly something! Do I not smell good?”
His head whips toward you, his face a mixture of offense and horror. “What? You smell amazing!” he practically yells, his voice high-pitched. “Honey, I could eat you all day if you’d let me!”
“Then why are you running off like this?”
“I’m not running!” he protests, though the crack in his voice suggests otherwise. “I just- uh- need to clear my head!”
“Clear your head?” you ask, squinting at him. “From what?”
“All the thinking I’ve been doing!” he exclaims, clearly grasping at straws. “It’s... exhausting.”
You narrow your eyes, unconvinced. “Thinking about what?”
His mouth opens, but words fail him. After a moment of floundering, he groans, throwing his head back and covering his face with his hands. “You’re impossible,” he mumbles, his voice muffled behind his palms.
“And you’re a terrible liar,” you fire back. “Spill it. What’s really going on?”
He exhales deeply, dragging his hands down his face in defeat before clasping them together in front of him as if in prayer. His eyes squeeze shut, his lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m trying so hard right now,” he mutters finally, his voice low and desperate, “and you’re not making it easy.”
“Trying hard to what?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.
“To not combust right now!” he exclaims, his voice rough with need. His eyes snap open, locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. “You’re killing me, babe. Just... let me shower first, and then let’s just have a good night, okay?” His breath hitches, barely able to keep his composure as he watches you, a mixture of desperation and affection in his gaze.
You blink at him, your mouth slightly open, trying to piece together his words. Before you can say anything, he kisses you once more, the movement rushed and almost sheepish.
“Go to bed, honey,” he says, practically bolting for the bathroom. “I love you!”
The door shut behind him with a sharp, decisive click, followed by the distinct sound of the lock turning. It was jarring — Jungkook never locked the door. There was no reason to; it was just the two of you living together, no one else to intrude. The realization sank in quickly, a bitter confirmation that this time, he was actively shutting you out, trying to keep you from coming in and uncovering whatever was weighing on him. You sat there, frozen, staring at the closed door in stunned silence.
Whatever it was, one thing was clear — you weren’t letting this slide. You were going to figure out what was going on with your boyfriend if it was the last thing you did.
After that night, you kept your distance.
Jungkook hated it. He hated the silence, the lack of your warmth, the way you avoided his touch. But he couldn’t blame you. He knew he was the root of the problem — he had fucked up that night. He should’ve been smoother, handled it better, but he completely blew it. Jungkook was good at many things. Lying was not one of them.
For a few days, you gave him the silent treatment. When he leaned in for a kiss before heading to work, you turned your face, leaving him with nothing but a peck on your cheek. The lack of communication was agonizing, eating away at him every time he caught your cold glances. But you were petty as fuck, and he knew it. You weren’t about to kiss his ass — not when it was obvious he’d lied to you that night. If he didn’t want to talk to you, then you weren’t going to talk to him.
When you were alone — at work, lying in bed, or just lost in thought — your mind spiraled. What could he possibly be hiding? The thought haunted you, gnawing at the edges of your sanity. Was he cheating on you? The idea felt impossible, unthinkable. Your Jungkook would never… or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe. But his strange behavior, the evasiveness, planted seeds of doubt you couldn’t ignore. The very thought made you feel sick to your stomach, but the ache of curiosity refused to leave you alone.
You needed answers. And if Jungkook wasn’t going to give them to you, you decided to go to the one person who knew him best.
you [3:15 pm]: what is wrong with my boyfriend ??
jimin [3:17 pm]: That sounds like a question you should be asking your boyfriend, don't you think?
you [3:17 pm]: I KNOW YOU KNOW SOMETHING.
jimin [3:18 pm]: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT???
you [3:18 pm]: whats her name
jimin [3:18 pm]: Who??
you [3:19 pm]: HIS SIDE BITCH
jimin [3:19 pm]: GIRL WHAT
jimin [3:19 pm]: You think he’s cheating on you?
you [3:23 pm]: is he ?? just tell me so i can save myself the humiliation pls
jimin [3:23 pm]: Bro no he would never
jimin [3:23 pm]: I’d chop his dick off and then kill the girl if he did
jimin [3:23 pm]: What makes you even think that in the first place?
you [3:24 pm]: hes acting weirdddd :(
you [3:24 pm]: i was trying to fuck him a few nights ago but he wouldnt let me touch him
jimin [3:25 pm]: First of all ew
jimin [3:25 pm]: Second of all
you [3:28 pm]: SECOND OF ALL ????
jimin [3:30 pm]: 😂😂😂
If you weren’t pissed at Jungkook before, you definitely were now.
After talking to Jimin, you finally learned the truth about the challenge. It wasn’t even the fact that Jungkook had hidden it from you that irritated you most — it was the challenge itself and his ridiculous competitive spirit. Why did he have to be such a sore loser?
According to Jimin, five of the seven participants had already been knocked out. Seokjin and Yoongi, being married men, didn’t stand a chance — they were bound to lose. Namjoon, like Jungkook, was in a committed relationship, but unlike him, Namjoon had the good sense not to put himself through that kind of pain just to preserve his pride. Hoseok and Taehyung? They were notorious party addicts — losing was inevitable for them.
Now, it was down to just Jungkook and Jimin. And, of course, Jungkook’s competitive streak wouldn’t let him back down, no matter how ridiculous the stakes were. The thought made your blood boil. How could he have dragged himself — and by extension, you — into this mess?
You didn’t confront Jungkook about what you’d learned from Jimin, though you did drop the silent treatment act. Instead, you decided to take a different approach — one far more devious than simply ignoring him.
Even with the heater running, the November chill still lingered in the air, but it didn’t stop you from dressing provocatively around the apartment. You roamed in short shorts, sometimes just your underwear, paired with a silk camisole that left little to the imagination. The thin fabric did nothing to hide your hard nipples, which poked against the material as you moved about. Jungkook would notice, of course — he’d grope your ass or give you a quick kiss goodbye before heading to work — but that was it.
When he was away, whether at work or hanging out with his friends, you upped the ante. You sent him pictures of yourself in matching lingerie sets, always in his favorite color, knowing how much he loved them. Sometimes you sent something more daring — nudes that left nothing to the imagination. Usually, those photos had him texting back immediately, promising to deal with you as soon as he got home.
But this time, his responses were different. Short. Terse. Instead of giving in, he’d simply tell you to stop.
Frustration boiled over each time you read his dismissive replies. You groaned and threw your phone onto the bed in defeat. Why wouldn’t he just give in already? You wanted him so badly, and you refused to even touch yourself because what you craved was him — his hands, his mouth, his dick.
If teasing him over the phone wasn’t working, you decided it was time to take things up a notch. One night, when you heard the shower running, you didn’t hesitate. Stripping off your clothes, you quietly stepped into the bathroom. The steam swirled around you as you opened the shower door and stepped in.
Jungkook froze the moment he saw you. His wide eyes scanned you from head to toe, lingering on your curves as if he hadn’t seen them countless times before. His jaw tightened, his chest heaving as his restraint wavered. Then, with a groan of frustration, he threw his head back against the shower wall, his eyes squeezed shut as if trying to block out the temptation in front of him.
Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Don’t give in.
Despite his impressive self-control, his body betrayed him. His cock stood stiff and proud between you, a silent plea for attention. But no matter how much you pressed closer, your skin grazing his, or how boldly you touched yourself in front of him, he didn’t break.
With a stoic determination that only fueled your frustration, he focused on washing off, his movements precise and distant, as though ignoring the tension hanging thick in the air. And just when you hoped he’d finally push past his limits, he’d step out of the shower, leaving you behind in the steam, your desire unfulfilled.
It was maddening. Teasing him was supposed to work — it always worked. And while you were determined to push him until he snapped, you had to admit, his composure was far better than you’d anticipated.
It was just days before Thanksgiving, which meant this painfully long month was finally nearing its end. But you were done waiting. Done teasing. The ache in your body had grown unbearable, a constant, gnawing need for him that no amount of patience could soothe.
You were going to have him tonight, or you were going to actually die.
Jungkook had a day off tomorrow, so he was sprawled on the couch, completely absorbed in his Nintendo game. His focus was unwavering, his brows furrowed in concentration as the soft clicks of the buttons filled the room.
Dressed in a matching lacy black set that left little to the imagination, you moved silently behind him, your determination unwavering. Gently, you placed your hands on his broad shoulders, your fingertips tracing soft patterns over the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even glance up, much too engrossed in the virtual world on his screen.
But then you leaned down, your lips brushing against the side of his neck. The soft, teasing kisses trailed along his skin, featherlight yet deliberate, leaving a warm path behind. You felt the slightest hitch in his breathing, a telltale sign that despite his effort to remain focused, you were beginning to unravel him.
His eyes fluttered shut, his focus on the game completely shattered as his head tipped to the side, exposing more of his neck to your eager lips. His lips parted, heavy breaths escaping him, each exhale laced with a vulnerability you rarely saw.
“Baby…” he moaned breathily, his voice low and strained, warning you.
“Shh,” you whispered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. Your voice was soft, commanding, and it sent a shiver rippling through him. You felt his resolve beginning to crack, the tension in his body shifting as your hands slid down, teasing the line between tenderness and temptation.
Pulling away, you reached for the tie you had stolen from his drawer earlier. With a deliberate slowness, you brought it up to his eyes, slipping it over and covering his vision.
“What-” he began, his voice tinged with confusion as his hands instinctively moved to stop you.
But you were quicker, gripping his wrists to still him. Leaning in close, your lips brushed against his ear as you whispered, “I know about your stupid challenge, Jungkook.”
His body tensed beneath you, the air between you heavy with tension. His breaths came uneven now, a mixture of guilt, surprise, and something else simmering just beneath the surface.
“Let me explain-” he started, his voice edged with desperation.
“No,” you cut him off, your tone firm but quiet. “It’s too late for that now.”
You secured the tie around his eyes, knotting it with careful precision. The soft fabric sat snugly against his skin, cloaking his vision completely. His lips parted as if to protest, but he stopped himself, seemingly caught between resisting and surrendering to whatever you had planned.
Rounding the couch, you reached down and plucked the device from his hands, setting it aside on the coffee table without a second thought. His body went rigid beneath you, his breath hitching as you settled in. The unmistakable hardness of his cock pressed against you, igniting a spark of satisfaction that curled your lips into a smirk. Slowly, you began to move, rocking your hips against his in steady, purposeful motions, grinding into him just enough to draw a reaction.
“Do you know how much I missed you, Kook?” you murmured, your voice dripping with need as your lips hovered near his ear. “Missed your pretty cock… my fingers could never give me the satisfaction you do.”
His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, the silver of his piercings glinting under the warm light, drawing your eyes like a magnet. That perfect little mole just beneath his lip was on full display, a teasing reminder of how irresistible he looked like this — teetering on the edge of control.
His lips parted as a soft, breathy moan escaped, the sound low and unrestrained. It sent a shiver straight through you. His hands, no longer hesitant, slid to your hips, gripping firmly as he guided your movements. Each roll of your hips against his was deliberate, his touch coaxing you to grind harder, deeper, until the friction was almost too much to bear.
You hooked a finger into the fabric covering his eyes, tugging it free with a teasing slowness. His lashes fluttered as he blinked, his vision gradually clearing — and then he saw you. Nothing but his favorite set of yours graced your body, clinging to your curves in all the right ways.
A low, breathless please escaped his lips, muttered more to himself than to you, as if trying desperately to maintain his composure. His eyes squeezed shut, and he turned his head away, a feeble attempt to resist you.
But you weren’t having that. Your hand shot out, firm but gentle, cupping his chin and turning his face back toward you. His eyes snapped open, dark and hungry, as you reached behind you, unclasping the delicate hook of your bra. The straps slipped from your arms, the fabric discarded behind you without a care.
Your hands came up, cupping your bare breasts, teasing yourself as his gaze darkened. His restraint frayed before your eyes as his hips bucked up into yours, seeking friction, a desperate need taking over. His jaw tightened, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, a clear sign of how much he craved you.
Those should be his hands, not yours.
His hand twitched, reaching out instinctively, but you caught his wrist, guiding it purposefully down your body. Your gaze never wavered from his, locking him in place as you slid his hand beneath the waistband of your underwear. His fingers pressed against the soaked fabric, and his breath hitched when he felt just how wet you were. The slickness coated your plush lips, a testament to how badly you wanted him.
“Honey…” he warned, his voice shaky and breathless, teetering on the edge of control.
“Please, Kook,” you whispered, your tone laced with desperation. “Fuck me tonight, or I’ll lose my mind. It’s been weeks. Don’t you miss me as much as I miss you?”
Your plea hung between you, thick with need and longing. His jaw clenched, and you could see the internal battle playing out in his dark eyes as his fingers twitched against you, his restraint unraveling with each passing second.
How was he supposed to get up and walk away with his cock straining painfully against his sweats, and you like this, laid out before him? His hand was still buried in your underwear, fingers sliding effortlessly over your slick folds, forming a V as they trailed up and found your clit. His jaw clenched at the way your body shuddered beneath his touch, the quiet moan slipping from your lips like a siren’s call.
And then there was you — your smaller hands kneading your soft, perfect tits, the ones he loved so much, the sight alone nearly undoing him. The way you whimpered, the way your body responded to him, had his restraint crumbling to dust.
This was it — his breaking point.
He didn’t care about the fucking challenge anymore. Nothing mattered except you.
It was like a switch flipped inside him. In a sudden, fluid motion, he grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly as he laid you down on the couch. His broad frame hovered above you, the way you’d missed for so long. His dark eyes were locked onto yours, blazing with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.
He didn’t waste time. You were already soaked, your body more than ready for him. No need for extra preparation — he knew he’d slide right in. With one hand, he freed his cock, giving it a few languid strokes, his eyes never leaving yours. He hooked a finger under the edge of your panties, tugging them to the side, baring your pretty, dripping pussy. He couldn’t wait to get inside it. The flushed tip glistened, teasing your entrance for a heartbeat before he pressed forward, the head sinking in.
A sharp gasp escaped both your lips, the shared sensation so overwhelming it felt as if you were experiencing each other for the first time all over again. Jungkook moved slowly at first, his cock stretching you inch by inch, filling you with deliberate care. His brows furrowed, and his jaw tightened as he savored every moment, every inch of warmth he’d been denying himself for far too long.
But restraint wasn’t his strong suit tonight. The need coursing through him was too much to bear. His movements quickened, his hips snapping forward with purpose. The wet, obscene sounds of skin meeting skin filled the room as his pelvis slapped against the back of your thighs. The steady rhythm of his thrusts deepened, each one more urgent than the last, driving both of you closer to the edge.
His upper body lifted off of you, and with a swift motion, he pulled his shirt over his head. The sight of his broad, muscular frame sent a jolt of heat straight to your core. He was absolutely stunning, every inch of him on display — his skin glowing under the dim light.
His arm was covered in intricate tattoos, the ink curling around his bicep like a story you wanted to read. His chest was thick and broad, with a layer of muscle that made your fingers itch to trace every curve. His arms were solid and meaty, a strength you could feel even from just looking at him.
You couldn’t help yourself. Your hand moved instinctively, running down the defined lines of his chest, your fingers grazing over the hard muscles of his stomach. His abs flexed beneath your touch, tense and firm, the warmth of his skin sending a wave of desire crashing through you. The simple touch made you want more, made you crave everything he had to offer.
But now it was Jungkook's turn to take control. With a swift motion, he caught your wrist, his grip firm as he seized your other arm and pinned it above your head. The dominance in his touch was undeniable, and you knew exactly what that meant. He always did this when he wanted to take over, to remind you who was in charge.
His hands moved quickly, grabbing one of your legs and effortlessly throwing it over his shoulder. You gasped at the sudden shift, your body bent in half, your chest pressed against him, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. His face hovered just inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin as he studied you.
A small whimper escaped your lips at the stretch, your body not as flexible as you'd like, but that discomfort was fleeting. It quickly morphed into something else — pleasure, intense and consuming — as his brutal thrusts began again, filling you completely.
He was relentless, each movement pulling another gasp from you. His breath came out in ragged bursts, his voice low and laced with command. "You never listen to me, do you? Huh, you brat?" His words were a breathy growl, like a warning. "Just had to get fucked."
You couldn’t find the words to respond, your mind completely consumed by the overwhelming pleasure. Every inch of your body was alive with sensation, making it impossible to form coherent thoughts. Instead, soft moans and breathless hums spilled from your lips, your chest rising and falling rapidly as his thrusts deepened, each one hitting you harder than the last.
Your body arched into him instinctively, eager to feel more, to give in to the rhythm he set. The tension was building, spiraling higher and higher with each movement, each sound leaving your mouth a mix of pleasure and need. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but the way he was making you feel, his hands and his body taking you exactly how he wanted.
"You made this so hard for me, baby." His voice was breathless, low and laced with desire as his thrusts didn’t falter. "Can’t resist you. Too fucking pretty to not touch." He spoke as though he couldn’t control himself, his words slipping out between harsh breaths, his hands gripping your body with barely restrained urgency.
“M’already so close, Kook,” you moaned, your voice shaky with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you. The pressure inside you was building, so close to release, but you needed him to push you over the edge.
“Yeah?” His gaze darkened, his hips snapping into yours with even more force. “Show me. Let me feel you, please.” His words were more than a plea — they were a command, a desperate need for you to let go so he could feel every inch of your pleasure. It’s been so long since he felt you. He wants to feel you. Needs to feel you.
With each punishing thrust, your breasts bounce uncontrollably, catching Jungkook's undivided attention. His hooded eyes are glued to them, pupils blown wide with lust, as if he's seeing something so utterly captivating it leaves him in a trance. The way they move, the way your body responds to him — it’s driving him wild. His tongue flicks over his lips as he lets out a low groan, jaw tightening, the need to mark you overwhelming every coherent thought.
You gasp sharply, a broken moan escaping your lips as your orgasm slams into you with ferocious intensity. Your body arches off the couch, your hands still pinned above your head as waves of euphoria ripple through you. Your head tilts back, exposing the long, vulnerable line of your neck, and your chest heaves as you ride out the high.
Jungkook growls when he feels your walls clench down on him, the tight grip almost sending him over the edge. “Oh, yeah,” he rasps, voice rough and deep, his hips grinding against you. “That’s it. Just like that... so fucking good.”
But he doesn’t slow down. If anything, his pace quickens, the desperate need for his own release taking over. Each thrust is brutal, precise, and deliberate, as if he’s claiming every part of you, chasing that high he knows is just within reach. His grip on your hips is bruising, holding you in place as he slams into you again and again, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room.
Finally, with a strained groan, he pulls out abruptly, his cock slick and throbbing in his hand. He strokes himself hard, the sight of your trembling, sweat slick body beneath him sending him over the edge. His release comes in hot, thick ropes, splattering across your stomach and tits in messy, deliberate streaks.
He lets out a guttural moan, chest heaving as he watches his cum paint you like a masterpiece, dripping down your skin in glistening trails. His hand slows, and his eyes never leave the sight of you — glistening, marked, and utterly his.
Once he milks every last drop of his release, he does something that shouldn't be as devastatingly sexy as it is. Leaning down, his gaze locked onto yours with a feral intensity, he drags his tongue in a slow, deliberate stripe up your stomach, collecting his own cum. The heat of his mouth follows, traveling upward until he captures a nipple between his lips, sucking and swirling his tongue with maddening precision.
You giggle, your face flushing with heat as he releases your nipple and makes his way up to your lips. The moment his mouth connects with yours, you taste his cum on his tongue, and you can't help but moan softly into the kiss. He pulls back, resting his head on your chest with a contented sigh.
“Can’t believe you made me lose. I was so close,” he sulks, his voice laced with playful frustration.
“Jimin texted me. He gave in yesterday. You won,” you tease, your fingers softly running through his hair.
His head shoots up quickly, eyes wide like a dog hearing its name. “Seriously?”
You nod, giggling softly at his excitement.
Without warning, he stands up from the couch, pulling you with him. He scoops you up by your thighs, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.
You squeal, half-laughing, half-terrified, “What are you doing?!”
“Making up,” he grins, his voice low with promise as he strides toward the bedroom. “I’m gonna fuck you all night.”
The door clicks shut behind you, the remnants of your clothes scattered haphazardly in the living room, and the night unfurls into a whirlwind of heated kisses and passion that sweeps you both away. Jungkook’s teasing words and touch keep you on edge, but it’s the way he makes you feel — desired, cherished, and completely consumed by him — that transforms the night into something unforgettable.
You knew that this Friendsgiving would be one for the books. Jungkook wasn’t going to let any of the guys forget it. Always the bragger, that one. He’d be sure to shove it in their faces every chance he got.
And he might have won the bet, but it’s you who’s the true victor tonight.
in which one drunken mistake with your two best friends since diapers leads to an unexpected shift in your relationship, and even more unexpected feelings that linger long after the hangover fades.
˖ the one with the threesome (again, oops!)
𓏲 genre/pairing — friends to fwb to ??? . love triangle au . smut . angst . fluff . slice of life
𓏲 warnings/tags — implied past sexual encounters . sexual tension . alcohol consumption . possessive behavior . jealousy . smut! masturbation . fingering . clit stimulation . threesome (m/f/m) . voyeurism/exhibitionism themes . kissing . pet names (“princess”, “babe”) . teasing . sexual reminiscing . marking . dirty talk . praise kink . oral sex (f receiving) . handjob . unprotected sex . doggy . nipple play . multiple orgasms . lots of kisses
𓏲 wc — around 6k !
you’re trying to dab glitter on your cheekbones but your hands are a little shaky. god, just breath. it’s just a party. you’re probably only going to drink some cheap beer, stand in a corner where it’s quiet, and come home before midnight. well, whatever, the pep talk isn’t really working. your stomach was a tight, nervous knot.
but to be fair, the real problem has nothing to do with the party itself. it’s about who you’re going with.
jungkook and jimin.
your two best friends since, like, forever. since sandbox fights and sharing juice boxes in the school backyard while missing second period classes. you can recognize jimin’s stupid snort laugh a mile away and jungkook’s habit of cracking his knuckles when he’s thinking. you know them better than anyone.
at least, you used to. that was before last summer. before the graduation party you three held by the lake.
you’d all had way, way too many of those sickly sweet vodka coolers. the childish truth or dare game started stupid and got stupider. from dares to jump in the lake fully clothed, to truths about failed highschool relationships.
but the real shift started with jungkook kissing you on a dare from jimin, and the latter joining in like it was the most natural thing in the world. you’d all woken up at dawn, naked and wrapped around each other in the back of jungkook’s father’s old station wagon.
it was awkward between you for weeks. you’d catch one of them looking, then quickly look away. it was basically pure torture. especially since the three of you shared the same apartment.
you’d thought that was a one-time thing, a drunken blip, a weird footnote you’d all eventually move on from and maybe even joke about someday.
but you started to realize that you were completely wrong about that.
because, not even one week later, jimin knocked on your bedroom. he needed help with his job application for some marketing company. as the good friend you were, you let him in. your were sitting at your desk while he was leaning over your shoulder, his chest warm against your back. you don’t exactly remember how it started, but you all you could recall was him turning your chair, his hands capturing your jaw and him leaning in to kiss you.
it was nothing like the hazy sloppy kiss you shared from graduation. this was sober, hot enough to mess with your brain. so you let him, and you kissed him back. one thing led to another and the last thing you know, his hands were pulling your shorts down, before he fucked you slow, then fast, until you were both sweaty and breathless, tangled in your sheets. after, he’d kissed your shoulder, got dressed, and left before jungkook got back. you never talked about it.
a week after that, jungkook came back from a double shift at the garage, exhausted and smelling like motor oil and sweat. it was just the two of you in the apartment, since jimin had a job interview to deal with. you made him his favorite grilled cheese. you were on the couch watching iron man (for the hundredth time now), and he just slumped against you, his head heavy on your shoulder. you started playing with his hair, the way you knew he liked. then, his hand was on the back of your neck, pulling towards his face. he kissed you, hard. the next thing you know, you were under him on the couch cushions. his jeans around his ankles, your leggings shoved down. you didn’t talk much, he just gripped your hips and pushed into you, his breathing ragged in your ear. you two fell asleep afterwards, his weight heavy and warm on top of you. you never discussed that, either.
and that, somehow, became the new unspoken thing. sometimes jimin would text you a dumb meme, then follow it up with a “you up?” past midnight. half an hour later, he’d be slipping into your room, making you laugh with a whispered joke before his mouth was on yours, his hands sliding under your shirt grabbing your tits. you came to know he liked it quick and dirty, against the wall, or with you bent over your desk.
sometimes jungkook would come back from a late run, all damp with sweat, muscles unfairly alluring. he’d pull you into the shower with him, push you under the spray, still in your clothes, and kiss you until you were gasping.
he liked to take his time, wash you slowly, then fuck you as much under the hot water until your legs shook.
it was never planned, not really. it was just a quick, secret release. you’d hook up, then go back to being best friends. you’d order takeout the next day, complain about shifts, watch a game on the couch. you’d sit there with jimin’s feet in your lap and jungkook’s arm around your shoulders, all pretending like the memory of their mouths between your legs wasn’t hanging thick in air surrounding you. it was like the biggest, most obvious elephant in the room, but you all just kept feeding it peanuts, pretending it wasn’t there.
you were simply best friends who, occasionally, fucked each other senseless. no labels. no conversations. just three people trying (and failing) to pretend this was a normal way to live.
and somewhere in the middle of all that, without your permission, your heart got stupidly involved.
you’d feel a ridiculous pang of jealousy if jimin mentioned a hot girl from his new job, or if jungkook said his mom was trying to set him up with her friend’s daughter. you had no right to that feeling. they were your best friends. and now, they were also the two people you’d developed a quiet, massive, all-consuming crush on. it was messy and terrifying and you had absolutely no fucking idea what to do about it, so you just kept pretending everything was fine.
“Y/N! you decent? the car’s running!” jimin’s voice came through the door, pulling you from the spiral of your thoughts.
“i’m ready! just one minute!” you call back, your eyes scanning the room.
you hear a car horn blast twice outside your apartment. yep, that’s jungkook’s beat-up jeep.
your heart does a little back flip, before you shake your head off. you quickly reached for your little black chanel bag, the one with the gold chain (the same one you’d saved three months to buy). you dropped your phone inside, then your id, a credit card, and a couple tubes of lip gloss you probably wouldn’t use but brought anyway, just in case, and finally, your keys. get it together, it’s just jimin and jungkook, your best buddies. the guys you sometimes, you know, fool around with. the guys you’re maybe just a little bit in love with. no, not love. love was too big of a word, it didn’t fit whatever feelings you had for these two.
you slung the chain over your shoulder and took one last look at the mirror. just get through the night, don’t be weird.
you headed for the door, already wondering whose hand might accidentally brush yours in the dark, crowded party first. stop it!
you walked down the short hallway to the living room, the click of your high heels on the hardwood announcing you. jimin was leaning against the wall by the front door, one hand tucked into the pocket of his dark jeans, the other scrolling absently on his phone.
the light from the ceiling lamp caught the sharp line of his jaw, the drape of his button-down shirt over his shoulders.
gosh, he looks so fucking hot. the thought casually hit you just like the way it had been doing more and more lately.
the sound of your heels made him look up. his eyes widened slightly, as an appreciative grin spread across his face.
he let out a playful wolf-whistle. “well, damn. the wait was officially worth it.” he pushed off the wall, pocketing his phone as he looked you over. “seriously, y/n. you look... gorgeous.”
his gaze travelled down, and you saw it linger for half a second on your thighs before snapping back to your face. he loves your thighs.
he’d said it once, years ago, when you wore a bikini for the first time to swim, just a joking “damn y/n, you got killer legs.”
and later, much later, when you started hooking up, he’d always make you press them together so he could slide his dick between them.
a warm fluttery feeling spread in your chest. you giggled, a little breathless. “shut up. thank you.” you give him a once-over right back. “you don’t look bad yourself– hold on, did you style that.” you reached up, pretending to inspect his hair.
he swatted your hand away playfully. “maybe. don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“you hated the idea of going to this party,” you said, leaning against the wall opposite him, crossing your arms. “you said you’d rather babysit your twin cousins than see brad or your… what did you call her? ‘the great regret of sophomore year’?”
“lisa,” he sighed, running a hand through that freshly-styled hair, threatening to ruin it. “and yes, okay, fine. i made an effort, sue me. i didn’t want to look like a schlub next to you two. jungkook’s probably wearing a full three-piece suit down there, stressing about being late.”
you laughed. “oh, he definitely is.”
jimin’s grin widened. “he’s the most awfully punctual person on the planet. remember when he tried to get us to pre-board for a six-hour road trip with a ‘structured itinerary’?”
“to be fair,” you said, “we did make all the best rest stops.” you looked him over again. “seriously, chim. you look great. lisa’s going to take one look at you and the ‘great regret’ is gonna be all hers.”
he met your eyes, the playful glint softening into something more genuine. “yeah? you think?”
you think she’d be an idiot not to.
“i know so.” you nudged his shoe with the tip of your heel. “and if she’s dumb, brad is definitely gonna buy you a drink. i saw the way he looked at you last time he came here.”
jimin snorted, shaking his head. “god, don’t remind me. i’m just here for the free bar and to make sure you don’t do any tequila-based regret of your own.” his eyes dropped to your legs again, just for a flash. “or, you know, if you do, i’m on camera duty.”
he winked at you, erasing in the proccess the silly jealousy about lisa. “well, better not let jungkook wait–”
a sharp BEEP from the street below cut him off, making you both jump and then laugh.
“–as i was saying,” jimin continued, shaking his head with a chuckle. “his majesty summons. he’s gonna give us the lecture about respect for other people’s time if we don’t hurry.”
he held out his arm, elbow crooked. “shall we? let’s go before we give him a heart attack.”
you looped your arm through his. “we’re coming, we’re coming!” you yelled towards the window, though jungkook couldn’t possibly hear. as jimin pulled the door open, the cool night air hitting you, you felt a surge of pure, giddy anticipation.
* * *
the jeep was exactly where jimin said it would be. you pulled open the heavy passenger door and climbed in, the leather seat cool against the back of your thighs.
jungkook was in the driver’s seat, both hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead. he was doing that thing where he bounced his right knee, when he’s anxious or stressed.
“hey,” you said, shutting the door. the sound made him finally look over.
he let out a long, controlled sigh. “thirty-seven minutes. i’ve been sitting here for thirty-seven minutes. we are now going to be approximately two minutes late, which means we’ll have to do a disruptive entrance.” his voice was tight, and overly... pissed.
you pouted, turning fully in your seat to face him. you knew this was going to happen. and you also knew that he wasn’t really angry, just wound up. “i’m sorry, koo. really. the glitter took forever to settle.” you gave him your best wide-eyed, apologetic look (the one you’d been using since you were fifteen and borrowed his favorite jacket without asking).
then, when he didn’t reply, you leaned across the center console and pressed a quick, smacking kiss to his cheek. his skin was so warm, and he smelled like clean cotton and the spearmint gum he always chewed when he drove.
from the backseat, jimin let out a low whistle. “whoa. she kissed you, man. you are legally required to forgive her now. it’s in the bro code, i think.”
jungkook didn’t react to jimin, he’d gone very still. you were still leaning towards him, your body twisted. from his angle, the neckline of your dress had gaped open slightly. you saw his eyes, just for a fraction of a second, drop. they lingered on the exposed curve of your breast before snapping back up to meet yours. the movement was lightning fast, but you caught it. you definitely caught it.
and you knew. jungkook was, and had always been, a self-proclaimed tits guy. and you, his best friend, just happened to possess what he’d once drunkenly slurred were “objectively the greatest pair he’d ever seen in his goddamn life.” he’d been mortified the next morning, and you’d never let him live it down.
a faint pink tinged the tops of his ears. he cleared his throat. “you know i’m not mad at you,” he said, his voice lower, softer now. the knee-bouncing had stopped. “i’m just... stressed about being late. first impressions, you know?” his gaze swept over you properly then, taking in the dress, the glitter, the whole effect. “you look... really pretty, y/n. like, stunning.”
the compliment, so plainly delivered, made your own face feel warm. “jungkook, it’s just a party. the point is to have fun and let loose.” you reached out and fiddled with the end of his dark blue silk tie, straightening it where it lay against his crisp white shirt. “and for the record, you look pretty ravishing yourself.”
the blush on his ears deepened, spreading to his cheeks. he looked away, out the windshield, trying and failing to hide a small, embarrassed smile. “shut up.”
“guys,” jimin piped up from the back, leaning forward between the two front seats. “i don’t want to be that guy, but if you two keep sitting here kissing each other’s asses, we’re gonna be so late for real.”
you and jungkook both let out a simultaneous sound of disgust. “ew, jimin!” you laughed, shoving his face back playfully.
jungkook shook his head, but the tension had completely left his shoulders. he put the jeep in drive, the smile still playing on his lips. “alright, alright. seatbelts everyone.” as he pulled away from the curb.
* * *
the jeep crunched up a long, winding driveway lined with old, towering oaks. at the end of it, noah’s “house” loomed against the night sky. it wasn’t just a house. it was a whole fucking mansion. georgian-style, probably, with more windows than your entire apartment building.
jimin let out a low, drawn-out whistle from the backseat. “okay, y/n. you failed to mention your co-worker is actual royalty. holy shit.” he leaned forward, his chin nearly on your shoulder. “is this noah guy into guys? because i would definitely hit on him.”
you swatted his arm without looking back. “absolutely not. do not even think about it. you will be on your best behavior, jimin. i work with this man. i need him to think i have normal friends.”
“i am normal,” jimin protested, laughing. “rich is my type of normal.”
beside you, jungkook turned the engine off and gave his tie one final adjustment in the rearview mirror. he’d been quiet for the last few minutes of the drive, that familiar focus settling over him. “two minutes late,” he announced, checking his watch. “on the nose.”
“which doesn’t matter,” you said, popping your door open.
“it matters to me,” he said, but there was no heat in it. he came around the jeep and, as jimin joined you on the gravel, they fell into step on either side of you. the huge double door was slightly ajar, spilling a slice of light and a thumping bassline onto the night.
jungkook and jimin moved instinctively, flanking you as you stepped inside. jimin’s hand found the small of your back, jungkook’s shoulder brushed yours.
you stepped inside, and the first thing that hit you was the music, it was so loud you could feel it in your bones. the foyer was massive (like everything else inside this goddamn mansion), and is currently serving as a dance floor for a sweaty looking crowd. to the left, through wide archways, you could see people crowded around a billiards table, shouting. straight ahead, through a set of open french doors, you could see the lit-up pool area, where someone was being cheered on to cannonball despite the likely chilly night air.
“damn,” jimin yelled directly into your ear, a grin splitting his face. “now this what i call a proper party!”
before you could answer, a shriek cut through the din. “y/n! oh my god, you made it!”
it was chloe, your coworker. she engulfed you in a hug that smelled like vodka cranberry. “the guys have been asking where you are!” she half-yelled. then her eyes, wide and immediately interested, slid over your shoulders to jungkook and jimin. she pulled back, leaning in close to your ear. her whisper was a hot, boozy shout. “are these the famous best friends? holy hell, girl. you have been holding out. introduce me right now!”
you laughed, a little overwhelmed. “chloe, this is jimin and jungkook. guys, chloe.”
jimin, ever the social chameleon, slipped right into charm mode. he took her hand, not for a handshake, but as if he might kiss it, making her giggle. “chloe! y/n talks about you all the time. says you’re the only one with taste in the whole office.”
jungkook offered a more subdued but polite smile and a nod. “nice to meet you.”
chloe looked like she’d won the lottery. “okay, we are getting drinks. all of us. right now.” she hooked her arm through yours and began dragging you through the crowd toward a massive marble bar that had been set up in what was probably a formal living room.
and just like that, you were swallowed by the party.
jimin was basically living his best life, now surrounded by a knot of people near the karaoke machine, leading a slurred yet enthusiastic rendition of a corny pop song with chloe hanging off his arm. you saw him throw his head back and laugh, completely at ease.
as for jungkook, he had moved to a quieter corner by the bookshelves, deep in conversation with a small group that included noah. he held a glass of whiskey now, gesturing with it as he made a point. oh fuck, he looked so sophisticated, so in control (just like the way it always made your knees go weak).
both of your friends were having a blast, in their own ways.
you were having fun too. you danced until your legs gave up, talked to your coworkers and other friends from college that you haven’t seen for months, laughed at jokes that weren’t even funny. but your enjoyment would sometimes get ruined by these sharp spikes of irritation, just like right now, as you saw maya from accounting (who also, used to have a massive crush on your friend back in college) sidle up to jimin, whispering something in his ear that made him lean down to hear. your smile felt stiff, and it got even worse as you watched a pretty woman in a black dress reach up to jungkook’s forearm to get his attention, the latter turned to her with that same polite interest, exactly like the gentleman you always knew he was.
your gut clenched. stop it, you told yourself. they are your friends, they are allowed to talk to other women as much as you are allowed to talk to other men, just because you fucked them doesn’t mean you have the right to feel this way? but unfortunately, the possessive heat in your chest didn’t quite listen.
by 2 am, the whole place felt more crowded and the smell of sweat and perfume mixed with alcohol made you feel suffocated. you needed a minute to breathe, just one quiet minute.
you slipped away from the main crowd, heading down a hallway lined with closed doors. you just needed to sit in the quiet, going outside was totally out of question because you knew you’ll most likely freeze to death with the light dress you were wearing. you pushed open the first door that was slightly ajar.
the sight hit you like a bucket of ice water. because there, in the soft glow of a bedside lamp, was your coworker jeffery, his pants pants around his ankles. he had stella, the fierce lead graphic designer who publicly called him an “incompetent caveman” in every meeting, pinned against a large dresser. her legs were wrapped around his waist, her head throw back, mouth open in a silent cry as he moved inside of her, the dresser rattling with each thrust.
“oh my god,” you gasped, the words barely a whisper.
jeffrey’s head snapped up and stella’s eyes flew open, meeting yours. for one horrifying, eternal second, the three of you stared at each other, the only sound in the room was the slick slap of skin and the distant thump of music.
you stumbled backward, fumbling for the door handle. “sorry! so sorry!” you blurted, yanking the door shut. you leaned against the wall opposite, your heart hammering. you were flustered, embarrassed... disgustied? yes definitely. all of it. but beneath that, a low, unwelcome thrum of something else. arousal.
you were tipsy, but painfully conscious as you made your way back towards the party. now, with your eyes wide open, you saw it for what it had become.
in the living room, couples (and some trios) were entangled on the sofas, hands shoved under clothes, mouths locked together. the dance floor was practically a sea of grinding bodies; a woman in silver dress arched her back, rubbing her ass against the crotch of the man behind her. from behind other closed doors, you could hear unmistakable moans, the sounds of headboard knock, the sharp breathy cries of someone getting fucked. you also saw chloe, giggling, being led into an other room by a tall guy you recognized from the sales department, his hands already cupping her ass.
a hot, restless ache pooled low in your belly. fuck. you did want to have sex, badly so. the pulsing between your legs was undeniable. were you ovulating? you most definitely were. that would explain the wetness soaking through your panties, the raw needy feeling that had chased away the jealousy of seeing jungkook and jimin with other women and left only the pathetic need of a release.
you so badly wanted to be pressed against a wall, or bent over a couch. you wanted to be completely taken apart.
you turned and fled down a different hallway, randomly pushing open another door. thank god, it was empty. you shut the door behind you, leaning against it, breathing heavily. the silence was a relief, but it did nothing to calm your throbbing need. you crossed the room on unsteady legs, sitting on the edge of the king sized bed. you squeezed your thighs together, but the pressure only made it worse.
fuck it. no one was hear anyway. you just needed to take the edge off, to think clearly again.
you lay back on the cool duvet, hiking up your short dress. your hand slipped under the short hem of your dress, fingers sliding easily over your slick skin, and you let out a shaky breath as you teased yourself. you were already wet, embarrassingly so. a soft groan escaped you as your fingers found your clit, already swollen and sensitive. you circled it, eyes closed, your head falling against the headboard.
your thoughts inevitably, drifted. to a strong hand, not yours. to a low, deep voice in your ear, to the feel of stubble against your neck.
the images were a blur of jungkook’s intense eyes and jimin’s playful grin. you bit your lip, your hips lifting off the bed as you worked yourself faster, lost in the fantasy of them.
you were so far gone you didn’t hear the soft click of the adjoining bathroom door opening.
“y/n?”
jungkook’s voice came out low and startled.
your eyes flew open. he was standing in the doorway to the en-suite bathroom, a hand towel in his hands. he’d clearly came to wash up. his tie was loose, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up exposing his tattoos. his gaze was locked up on you, on your dress bunched around your waist, on your hand burried between your own spread legs.
you froze, but you didn’t stop moving your fingers. a wild, drunk-bold part of you took over. you took his shocked stare, your breath coming in quick pants.
“see something you like?” you heard yourself say, your voice husky. you dragged your fingers through your wetness, arching your back slightly.
he let out a sound that was almost a growl. he pushed the bathroom door shut behind him and crossed the room in three long strides, his knees hitting the bed. “you have no idea,” he growled his voice thick. his hands landing on your thighs, pushing them wider, before he wrapped a strong hand around your wrist, pulling your hand away. he looked at your glistening fingers for a second before bringing them to his own mouth, sucking your taste off them without breaking eye contact. a jolt of pure lightning shot straight at your core from the sight.
“you’re fucking soaked,” he muttered, his voice thick. his hand replaced yours as he rubbed two fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness before sliding one finger inside of you, then a second. you cried out, your hips jerking off the bed.
he leaned then crashing his mouth to yours, deep and consuming. his fingers were rougher, more sure, sliding through your folds in a way that made you cry out into his mouth again. you tangled your hands into his hair, pulling him closer as he devoured your mouth, swallowing your moans.
“missed this,” he muttered against your lips, his fingers curling inside of you, making you gasp. “missed fucking you. thought about it every single day.”
“koo,” you panted, your hips rocking against his hand, shamelessness now. “please.”
“please what?” he growled against your skin.
“i don’t know, just... more–”
the door to the hallway swung open.
jimin stood there, frozen for a half second, taking in the scene: you sprawled on the bed, dress ruined, jungkook between your legs, his fingers working inside of you. a strange series of emotions flickered across jimin’s face; surprised, but not shocked. then, a slow, pleased smile spread on his lips, his eyes glinting with the same heat you felt.
“well, well,” he drawled, shutting the door quietly and locking it. he leaned back against it, arms crossed, watching. “look what i found. started the party without me?”
jungkook pulled back from your mouth, breathing hard. he kept his hand moving on you, his thumb circling on your clit. he tensed just slightly, but he didn’t move away from you. he looked at jimin, his jaw tight. “jimin...” before he sighed and looked from jimin to your wrecked expression. “you okay with this?” he asked you, his voice gravelly with need. “with him... watching? or more?”
jimin pushed off the door, approaching the bed. his playful facade was gone, replaced by a raw hunger. “yeah princess,” he said, his voice softer. “this what you want? both of us?”
you were beyond words, beyond thought. the ache was a screaming need now. you nodded frantically, reaching a hand out towards jimin. “yes. god, yes. please.”
jimin’s smile turned feral. he crawled onto the bed on your other side, kissing you hard, his tounge sweeping into your mouth. it was different from jungkook’s kiss, it was messier and more demanding. he broke away to mouth your neck, biting down on your sensitive skin where your shoulder met your throat. “heard you,” he murmured against your skin. “from the hall. heard you moaning. knew it was you.”
jungkook, watching jimin mark you, let out a low groan. he slowly withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth again before leaning down to replace them with his tongue. you cried out, the dual sensation of jimin sucking your neck and jungkook’s hot, wet tongue lapping your clit was overwhelming.
“fuck, kook, don’t tease her.” jimin growled, pulling back to yank his shirt over his head. he looked at you, eyes blazing. “how do you want us, huh? because i need to be in you. now.”
jungkook lifted his head, his chin glistening. “she’s mine first,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. he was already unbuckling his belt, pushing his pants and boxers down, his cock springed free, thick and hard. “i’ve waited for so long. i’m going to take my time.”
“fine,” jimin said, not arguing. he shifted, pulling your dress the rest of your dress all the way off, then your bra. his hands were everywhere, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples. “but i’m not just watching.”
jungkook positioned himself between your legs, the broad head of his cock pressing against you. he looked into your eyes, his own full of a fierce tenderness. “tell me you want this, babe.”
“i want you,” you whispered, lifting your hips. “i want both of you. please, koo.”
he pushed in, slow and deep, filling you with a stretch that made you see stars. he burried his face in your neck with a gutteral groan. “fuck. so fucking tight.”
he started to move in a steady, relentless pace. he was true to his words; he took his time, each thrust was deep and careful, angled to drag against that perfect spot inside of you. he kissed you, deep and slow, as he moved. “fuck, koo.” you whimpered clutching the duvet beside you.
jimin watched, his own cock hard and straining against his jeans. he leaned over you, capturing your mouth again. “feel good, baby?” he whispered. “feel how deep he’s fucking you?” he took your hand and guided it to his crotch, letting you feel his length through the fabric. “this is all for you too, princess. been hard for you all night.”
you fumbled with his button and zipper, freeing him. he was thick, flushed, and leaking. you wrapped your hand around him, stroking, and he hissed, bucking into your fist.
“jungkook,” jimin gritted, his eyes were on where jungkook was joined with you. “switch. i can’t wait anymore.”
jungkook didn’t stop moving, but he nodded, his thrusts becoming slightly faster, harder. “gonna make her come first,” he grunted. he hooked one of your legs over his arm, driving deeper. “come on, babe. come for me. let me feel it.”
the combined intensity of jungkook’s deep, claiming pace, and jimin’s hand tweaking your nipple, his mouth on yours shattered you completely. you came undone with sharp cry, your body clamping around jungkook, who groaned and followed you over the edge, pulling out to spill his juices all over your breasts with a shudder.
he collapsed on you for a moment, breathing heavily, before carefully pulling away. he rolled to the side, but his hand stayed possessively on your stomach.
before you could even catch a breath, jimin was there.
he flipped you on your hands and knees with a gentle urgency. “my turn,” he said, his voice rough with want. he ran his hands over your ass cheeks, spreading you. “fuck, look at you. all used and wet for me.”
he didn’t ask. he lined himself up to your still sensitive pussy. you were already slick from your own release as he pushed in with one hard, fast thrust that stole the air from your lungs. you gasped; jimin was slightly longer, and the angle was different, deliciously so.
“fuck!” you cried out.
“yeah, that’s it,” he panted, setting a fast, punishing pace from the start. he gripped your hips enough to bruise, pulling you back onto him with each drive. it was rough, frantic, exactly what you needed. “you take me so well,” he panted, his eyes locked on where his cock entered you. “look at you. fucking perfect. wanted to fuck you like this since i saw you in that dress.”
you could only moan, pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts. jungkook moved behind jimin, kneeled up to kiss your shoulders, your back. he reached around to play with your clit again, his fingers slick with both of you.
“you’re gonna come again,” jungkook murmured in your ear, his voice a dark promise. “for him. and then, if you’re a good girl, we’ll do it again.”
a second sharper orgasm tore through you, impossibly fast under jimin’s relentless pounding and jungkook’s fingers rubbing your clit.
“koo i’m gonna–jimin, i’m gonna–”
“do it,” he grunted, his pace becoming erratic. “come on my cock. now.”
you broke with a scream, your vision whiting out. jimin shouted your name, slamming into you one last time as he found his own release.
for a long moment, the only sounds were ragged breathing and distant thump of bass. then, the three of you collapsed in a tangled sweaty heap on the oversized bed, you in the middle.
jimin was the first one to speak, his voice lazy and satisfied. “so... you and kook, huh?”
you smacked his chest weakly. “shut up.”
from your other side, jungkook’s head turned. “you and jimin fuck too.” he stated, it didn’t sound like a question at all, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your stomach.
jimin laughed, a low, dirty sound. “oh, yes we fuck. seems like the both of you do as well. right princess?”
you groaned, burying your face in your arms. “you’re both so annoying, just stop. i’m tired because of you.”
“you’re the one who started playing with yourself in someone else’s bedroom,” jungkook pointed out, his voice warm with amusement. he kissed your shoulder. “you’re naughty.”
“you loved it,” you mumbled.
“yeah,” jimin said, his arms tightening around you from behind, his body spooning yours. “we really, really did.”
jungkook shifted, pulling the dovet over you. the room was basically a mess of discarded clothes and the heavy scent of sex. the party still raged on downstairs, an entire world away.
roxe’s notes — hi fam!! sooo this baby was mostly smut w a very light touch of plot 🙂↕️ it’s part of the “bad idea, right?” blurb (?) series (which, yes, is very obviously a love triangle au) i haven’t decided on an endgame yet, but honestly, that’s half the fun, right? i’ll let you all figure out based on who you’re rooting for as the story unfolds !! also… this was my first time writing a 3some scene, so please be gentle with me lols 🙏🏻 and what do you think of the mcs’ personalities so far? we only got a small glimpse of them here, but i’d love to hear your thoughts! anw, i hope you enjoyed the read! love u x
bad decisions ! ─── the one where he ruins your first day
summary. jeon jungkook is the university’s star, a baseball player—untouchable, adored, and infamous for leaving damage in his wake. and you’re just a student trying to survive lectures, deadlines, and the quiet loneliness of starting over. crossing paths with him was never part of the plan but college has a way of turning bad decisions into inevitable ones. and jungkook might be the worst you make.
pairing. baseball player!jungkook x fem!reader ﹒♡﹒ genre, au. angst, smut / college au ﹒♡﹒ wc:1k+ ﹒♡﹒ 18+ mdni! ﹒♡﹒ cw: tension, alcohol mention, power imbalance ﹒♡﹒ note: feel free to send ideas for future blurb!
⠀⤷⠀bad decisions m.post ! main m.list ! navi
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
the january air in seoul is dry and sharp, the kind that stings your lungs if you breathe too fast. winter has settled in fully, stripping the campus bare. trees stand skeletal against a pale sky, and the wind cuts through coats like it has something to prove.
you pull your scarf tighter and adjust the strap of your backpack, worn but dependable. first semester. first day. the campus stretches endlessly in front of you, too large, too busy, already filled with people who seem certain of where they’re going.
loneliness has always been a familiar companion, but here, amid the vibrant chaos, it feels sharper. a dull ache sits behind your ribs as you move with the crowd, unseen and unanchored.
your first class, an introduction to philosophy, is predictably packed. you take a seat near the back, hoping to disappear, to absorb without being noticed. the professor drones on as concepts of epistemology and metaphysics blur together, and you write diligently, the steady motion of your pen a shield against the hum of unease beneath your skin.
it happens during the break.
students pour into the hallway, voices rising, phones already in hand. you keep your head down, figuring out which way the library is, when a sudden impact sends you stumbling. your backpack slips from your shoulder and spills open, notes and pens scattering across the polished floor. something small and personal skids away with them, and heat rushes to your face.
“watch it.”
the voice is deep and careless, edged with an arrogance that immediately sets your teeth on edge. you look up, ready to snap, and your breath catches.
jeon jungkook.
you’ve seen him on posters, heard the whispers in dorm hallways. the university’s golden boy, star pitcher, untouchable. in person, he’s overwhelming. tall, solid, all sharp lines and contained power beneath a faded denim jacket. his dark hair falls into his eyes, and there’s a faint scar along his jaw that makes him look even more dangerously real.
he isn’t apologetic, if anything, he looks bored.
“you ran into me,” you say, dropping to your knees to gather your things, your fingers clumsy with embarrassment.
he doesn’t help. he just watches, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. his gaze feels heavy, deliberate, following every movement. when he finally bends, it’s only to pick up a pen near his shoes and toss it back. it lands nowhere near your pile.
“clumsy,” he says lightly, as if making an observation rather than an insult.
you bite back a response, shove everything into your bag, and stand. “thanks for nothing.”
his expression changes then. the smirk fades, replaced by something sharper, more focused. his eyes linger on your face, your mouth, tracing downward in a way that makes your skin prickle with unwanted awareness.
“you’re new,” he says.
“and you’re rude.”
a slow smile spreads across his face, devastating and entirely humorless.
he steps away, already turning back into the crowd. “see you around.”
you stand there long after he’s gone, cheeks burning, heart racing, unsettled by how thoroughly he’s managed to throw you off balance in less than a minute.
the rest of the day passes in a haze. lectures, maps, unfamiliar buildings. no matter how hard you try to focus, his voice and that knowing look keep intruding. it irritates you more than you’d like to admit.
by evening, exhausted and overstimulated, you find yourself at a welcome week party despite every instinct telling you to stay in. your roommate, rei, is relentless.
“you have to come,” she insists, dragging you along. “this is how people meet.”
the noise hits first. bass thumping through the floor, laughter and shouting layered together, the air thick with the smell of beer and bodies. fairy lights are strung carelessly overhead, casting everything in a soft, chaotic glow. you cling to her, feeling small and out of place.
she presses a red cup into your hand. “drink.”
you do. the punch is too sweet, too strong, but the warmth spreads quickly, dulling the edges of your anxiety. you start to sway with the music, just a little.
then you see him.
jungkook stands near the center of the room, surrounded, laughing easily. he looks completely at home, like the space was built around him. black t-shirt, sleeves stretched tight over his arms, fairy lights catching in his hair. when his eyes lift and find yours, his smile disappears.
he watches you openly now.
something tight coils in your chest. you look away, pretending to focus on the music, but the awareness doesn’t fade. if anything, it intensifies.
a shadow falls over you.
“still here.”
his voice is close and unmistakable. you turn, and he’s right there, heat and presence pressing into your space.
“thought you’d be hiding in your room,” he says, eyes flicking briefly to the cup in your hand.
“i’m allowed to live.”
he leans in slightly, voice dropping. “clearly.”
his gaze drifts over your face, lingering in a way that makes your breath hitch. “you look different like this.”
“you’re still irritating.”
he laughs, quiet and warm. “you don’t hide it well.”
his hand settles at your lower back. the touch is light, but it sends a shock through you anyway. you freeze, painfully aware of how close he is, how easily he draws you in.
“what do you want?” you ask.
his thumb moves in a slow, absent circle, and your pulse stutters. “hmm.”
his face is close enough that you can feel his breath against your skin. “you looked like you wanted to tear my head off earlier. i don’t think that’s all there is to you.”
your head tilts before you can stop it, betraying you. his fingers brush your neck, and heat pools low in your stomach, unwanted and undeniable.
he pauses, eyes dropping to your mouth. for a moment, you’re certain he’s going to kiss you.
instead, he pulls back, smiling slightly.
“later,” he murmurs.
then he’s gone, swallowed by the crowd, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, skin buzzing with frustration and something dangerously close to anticipation.
your first day hasn’t gone as planned.
and as you stare into your cup, trying to steady your breathing, you have the sinking realization that this is only the beginning.
⤷ you stole his heart when you met on your first day in the elevator, and from that day on, jungkook fell for you, every day a bit more
— pairing: reporter!jungkook x shy!fem. reader
— genre: friends to lovers, absolute idiots to lovers, coworkers to lovers, fake dating, fluff, and a tiny bit of smut
— rating: 18+
— words: 3,315
— warnings: strong language, swearing, heartbreak, crying, mention of sex, mention of multiple sex rounds, very brief description of penetrative sex, unprotected sex, and creampie
— author’s note: sooo this has been on my mind for quite a while and being honest, i’ve rewritten this twice because it never felt right. BUT now that i’ve started, i can’t wait to share more with you about these two!! 🤭 a special thank you to the wonderful @i02tomie for the wonderful banner 🫶🏼
You didn’t expect to meet him this way.
It was your first day at Jung Broadcasting Corporation, known as JBC, and as always, you were running late. Running after the bus, the subway, and even the train had become a significant part of your life. You were the person everybody would look at and think was crazy.
You saw people stepping inside the elevator, and you absolutely needed to get inside it, or risk waiting a long time and being late on your first day, which honestly would be tragic. So, you did what you always did: run.
But all hope faded away when you noticed the last person entering the elevator. You were too far, and it was too late. However, you still kept running as if your legs couldn’t stop. And surprisingly, you were grateful they didn’t because a gentleman had blocked the doors.
“Thanks,” you mumbled when you stepped inside.
When your eyes looked up, your heart instantly stopped. The man was none other than Jeon Jungkook, the prettiest man on earth—according to you, of course. He was one of the sports reporters at JBC, and everybody adored him. The company had made quite an interesting offer to him—one nobody could refuse a couple of months ago.
“No problem,” he said while standing next to you.
The doors closed before you, your heart pounding crazily inside your chest. It felt surreal to be this close to him. You could still remember your mother’s comment from yesterday. She was literally worshipping him, and you couldn’t help but laugh. She’d go crazy if she knew he held the door for you.
“Have a nice day,” he told you when you were leaving the elevator.
Looking behind you, you offered him your prettiest smile, then made your way to the IT department for your first day. All the stress faded away after that. It was as if his words had magically erased any worries within you.
After that, you wouldn’t see him for a while, but he was always being displayed on the TV in your department whenever he was presenting. He was definitely the kind of guy you’d dream about dating, while you always doubted yourself, thinking you could never be with someone like him—even if it does sound cliché.
Jungkook, on the other hand, had expected to see you again. You were the pretty girl of the elevator—the one who had managed to catch his eye, which was pretty new to him. Yes, he had countless people begging for his attention, but none of them ever seemed worthy except for the girl in the elevator.
He never understood what drew him to you. Maybe the running, or the way your glasses were slipping on your nose, or your natural beauty. He was still trying to figure it out. But there was one certainty: he wanted to see you again.
One day, you got a call. Nothing out of the ordinary, as you worked in the IT department. Your job was to solve people’s problems. Nevertheless, this call was different. It was Jungkook. None of you expected to hear the other on the line. Let’s be honest, you both were dying to see each other again.
However, he didn’t know you were the one picking up the phone.
“Hello, yn speaking from the IT department. How can I help you?” you repeated for the tenth time that morning.
“Hi, I’m Jungkook—”
His name made your breath catch. This couldn’t be real!
“I’m having this issue with my computer,” he explained. “It doesn’t start at all.”
Your heart began to pound extremely fast. How on earth did his call end up on you? Was it a coincidence? It definitely was, and you knew it. The calls from the employees across the offices were randomly assigned to the IT employees. Jungkook’s call could have ended up with somebody else.
When he stopped talking, a small silence settled in. Words refused to form because you didn’t know what to say. Your crush was on the phone, and suddenly you felt like a damn teenager again—the kind who didn’t know how to act once their crush finally noticed them.
“Yn?” he asked with clear confusion in his voice. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah, right…” You mumbled. “Sorry, got distracted by a colleague.”
‘What a stupid and silly lie!’ Definitely, you could have done better!
“By any chance, have you checked that all the cables are properly plugged in and connected?” you asked.
This was quite a frequent issue, and usually, it was just a matter of unplugged cables. It was silly, but most people didn’t realize it.
“Yeah, I already did that. Everything seems fine, except it still won’t start.”
Which meant only one thing. You’d have to go to his desk. A terrifying thought because you’d melt completely in front of him, but there was no way around. This was the procedure. Did you really have a choice? No. Your boss would kick you in the ass if you didn’t.
“Mmm,” you tried to think of something else, but you couldn’t. “I guess I’ll need to come take a look myself,” you began to say. “Could you tell me the floor and desk number, please?”
After he shared those details, you walked to his desk with an extremely beating heart. If you could, you would have hidden for the rest of your life, but you simply couldn’t. He needed help, and that mattered more.
When Jungkook saw you walking around his desk, he simply couldn’t believe it. Maybe this was finally his chance to learn the elevator girl’s name before she disappeared into fantasy again.
But when he noticed you were walking toward him, he quickly knew you were the girl he had on the phone seconds ago. His gaze shifted up to you once you stopped in front of him.
“Hi Jungkook,” you said with the brightest smile on your face. “I’m yn from the IT department. We were on the phone earlier.”
Jungkook simply nodded, too speechless to say anything. The elevator girl was real. His cheeks instantly turned red before he started stuttering, “Oh, yeah…” he scratched the back of his neck, the nerves getting the best of him. “Nice… Nice to meet you, yn.”
He was adorable. By reflex, your eyes look down, avoiding his intense gaze on you because you were way too shy to face him.
“Nice to meet you, as well,” you said as you rearranged your glasses.
Jungkook stood up to give you the space to take a look at the problem. His heart was racing like crazy, and he desperately wanted to speak with you, but the words were stuck in his throat.
With his hands in his pockets, he finally took his courage, “So, have you been working here for a while?”
“No,” you shook your head while looking around his desk. “I started two weeks ago.”
“Oh, so when you ran to the elevator, it was your first day?” he asked.
For a moment, your body froze completely—he remembered. You couldn’t believe it. That elevator moment was engraved in both your minds.
“Yeah,” you nodded before resuming what you were doing. “Thanks, by the way, for holding the door. You saved my day.”
A proud smile grew on his face. “It was my pleasure.”
The two of you kept talking until you solved the issue. Jungkook thanked you a million times before you left, which made you feel like a superhero.
After that day, things gradually changed between the two of you.
Jungkook would call you often to solve imaginary issues, or he’d pretend not to know how to do something just to hear your voice.
Then, he seemed to always be where you were. You’d show up at the building’s restaurant, and he’d already be there, inviting you to sit next to him. At first, you hesitated, unsure if it was a great idea to be sitting next to the most wanted man in the building.
“I won’t bite,” he teased you with the biggest smile on his face.
Your cheeks warmed as your gaze shifted down, and you quietly started eating. Not long after, Jimin—one of Jungkook’s close friends who also worked at JBC—joined you, and they just talked about all the little annoying things at work, and how Jimin got drunk two nights ago after hanging out with an old friend.
Surprisingly, you didn’t feel like an outsider. It felt like you always hung out with them—that this wasn’t your first time. Your usual shyness was nowhere to be seen as you casually interacted with everything they’d say.
With time, lunch breaks were always spent with the two of them—Jimin constantly complaining about his work, talking about his dates, and his nights out, while Jungkook would explain how much he loved his work and how he spent his last weekend cleaning his place.
Jungkook would always subtly flirt with you, Jimin always eyeing him with the biggest smirk on his face, and you’d be completely clueless. Jungkook’s friend always found it funny how the two of you would awkwardly interact. He’d always tease him whenever they were alone.
“You’re funny when you try to flirt with her,” he’d tease him as they walked to Jimin’s desk. “Should try to be more direct.”
“No,” he shook his head. “Don’t want to scare her off.”
“She likes you, Kook,” he tapped his friend on the shoulder. “She lets you call her ‘nerdy’.”
Jimin wasn’t wrong. If it wasn’t Jungkook, you would never let anyone else call you like that. You never liked it. But it was different with him. Your heart would always flutter around him. He had you wrapped around his fingers.
You weren’t even sure how you started spending more time with him. Probably it began when you exchanged numbers, and he’d send you the most random texts during the day. He’d always wait for you at the elevator, whether to go home after an intense day or to go to the restaurant for lunch.
Being around him was reassuring and comforting, and for the first time in your life, you felt seen. Your heart would skip a beat whenever his eyes landed on you; thousands of butterflies would flutter in your lower belly whenever he made a silly joke or complimented you; and you’d melt completely whenever his body brushed yours.
Sometimes, you’d hang out after work, mostly on fridays, and you’d get completely wasted. Jungkook would always drive you back home to make sure you’d arrive safely.
Other times, you’d take lunch somewhere else, which would annoy Jimin to the highest point, but he’d always forgive you because he knew how desperate you were for each other.
Falling in love with each other didn’t happen overnight. It came slowly. It came with all the small things you’d do for each other. It came with the random pics you’d send him. Could be a plant, or a book you were reading, or even a little dog you saw in the streets.
Things were shifting until Taehwan came into your life.
That man was introduced to you through a friend. At first, he was just a man you knew, but over time, he took some place inside your heart. A place that even Jungkook couldn’t compete with.
Taehwan was in love with you. He’d bring you flowers every week, would shower you with compliments and love, and would do anything to win you. And you let yourself fall in love with Taehwan.
Was Jungkook jealous? Absolutely.
Especially since your interactions together were decreasing at a speed light. There were barely any text messages exchanged after working hours. Lunch breaks were spent talking about Taehwan.
Nothing ever hurt him like this.
Your relationship with Taehwan became an invitation for Jungkook to date someone. You’d even encourage him to do it, talking about how beautiful it was to love and be loved. Ignoring totally how fucking desperate he was for you.
At first, Jimin couldn’t understand him.
How could Jungkook keep going with his day while listening to your ranting about Taehwan’s exceptional cooking skills?
Even Jimin wanted to kill that man, and he wasn’t even in love with you.
“I’m so done with this Taehwan…” Jimin complained once alone with his friend.
“Don’t even say it…” Jungkook sighed. “But we can’t blame her, she’s in love…”
“With the wrong guy!” Jimin instantly clapped back.
Completely defeated, Jungkook went on dating some girls here and there, but nothing serious. It was always casual, including sex, but it never went further than that. He wouldn’t really mention it to you, too scared you’d have a bad perception of him, even though he was doing it to keep you out of his mind.
Three years went by like that. You, happily in your relationship with Taehwan. And Jungkook, completely miserable.
Funny, right?
Well, not exactly. Towards the end of your relationship, you weren’t happy anymore. Fights with Taehwan would become more and more frequent. You’d even cry yourself to sleep almost every night. At work, you were a complete mess, barely talking to anyone.
Jungkook noticed the shift in you, texting you whenever he could to cheer you up or offer you a shoulder to cry on, if needed. Your replies were almost the same and very short.
Then, one day, his heart broke when you showed up at his place, crying. It was raining like crazy, and you were completely soaked. That sight was one he’d never forget. But despite everything, he wrapped you in his arms, under the rain.
The rain was hiding your tears, but your sobs were hitting him like a punch. It was the first time you were crying like that in front of him. Yeah, you could have done it earlier, but it never felt right until that day.
“Let’s get inside,” he whispered against your head. “It’s cold.”
Truth being told, you absolutely didn’t care to be crying in the middle of the rain, and you didn’t feel cold at all. Nevertheless, you followed him inside his place. The warmth emanating from the inside wrapped around you like a blanket.
Jungkook offered you comfort, warm clothes, a hot chocolate, and a shoulder to cry on. Hearing you talk about what had happened was heartbreaking.
Taehwan definitely was a piece of shit, but he had guessed it from the beginning. He got to meet him once or twice, and he despised him with his entire being. For obvious reasons, of course.
That night, he drove you back home, but you fell asleep in his car. Too scared to wake you up, he kept driving around. Eventually, he had to do it. He couldn’t keep driving for the entire night.
After that, things shifted.
Every day, he’d text you. At first, to make sure you were okay, but over time, it was to talk about the most random things. Somehow, it felt like everything went back to how it was before Taehwan.
Nevertheless, it wasn’t the same.
For lunch break, whenever he’d wait for you in front of the elevator, you would both stand closer to touch each other. The teasing got heavier, which would make Jimin feel left out whenever he joined you.
The two of you were holding back, too scared your feelings weren’t reciprocated, but inevitably, everything would blow up one day.
And it did.
A couple of days before valentine’s day, you invited him as your fake boyfriend to your family’s love celebration on february 13th. And that night was magical at all levels.
Jungkook didn’t hold back at all. There was no point in doing it if he wanted to be convincing in front of your parents and brother. His hands were all over you as if he truly was your boyfriend.
Pretending to be your boyfriend was easy. He knew you by heart.
Over the years, he got to know how you’d scrunch your nose whenever something was displeasing you, how you’d push your glasses up in tense situations, a nervous habit you got, and how your gaze would drop down when a compliment was thrown your way.
Loving you had always been easy, and there was no pretending.
Jungkook was in love with you, and for the first time, he got to show it. All these years, he’d hide it, but he didn’t need to that night.
And damn, he did show it to you.
Even your parents believed it.
That night, you shared your way-too-small old bed. The tension, a way-too-revealing nightie, his naked torso, and your brother and his girlfriend moaning like pornstars got the best of you. Hiding his bulge was absolutely impossible, especially with how close you were.
Resisting became impossible, and you simply succumbed to your deepest desire. Jungkook made love to you like nobody ever did before. It wasn’t just sex. Oh god, it was far from that.
It was two people finally letting their feelings speak louder than anything else. And it felt right.
The next morning, waking up next to him was pure bliss and surreal, too. Your eyes looked at the naked man, trying to realize that he was, in fact, sleeping in your bed with you.
“Good morning, nerdy,” he whispered with his deep morning voice.
When he woke up, he knew things would never be the same, and fuck, he didn’t want that.
“Good morning, Kook,” you smiled at him.
That smile was his weakness. You could make him do whatever you wanted.
“This is the best morning ever,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you.
“Couldn’t agree more with you.”
Well, let’s just say that you recreated the wild and steamy night you just had. His cock was buried deep inside you while you were biting your lip to muffle your moans. His thrusts were anything but slow, his deep voice was filthy as hell, his lips were glued to yours, and his hands were touching every single part of you.
Both your orgasms were intense, and damn, feeling him filling you up was amazing. With Taehwan, it was always about protection and being careful. But somehow, with Jungkook, your horniness got the best of you.
Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined this would happen.
Somehow, it felt like you had to compensate for the five years of yearning. His burning touch and his wet lips on yours weren’t enough. You craved more and more. But deep down, you hoped that there would be more. That this wasn’t a one-time thing.
“I love you, yn,” he confessed. “I always did.”
That’s how Jungkook fell in love with you and found the courage to say it out loud.
— author’s note: thank you sooo much for taking the time to read this!! i appreciate all the love and support you’ve always shown ❤️ don’t hesitate to let me know what you thought of this ❤️
your new neighbor is just numbingly cute, but it’s hard getting his attention. so when you find out he’s handy, you decide to sabotage every single item in your home, trying to lure him in.
⌗ pairings. jeon jungkook x female reader
⌗ word count. 20k
⌗ warnings and tags. idiots to lovers, idiot!oc and idiot!jungkook, voyeurism, just pure insanity, a lot of dumb jokes, dumbbb inner monologue, a room with a view, m!masturbation, more idiocy, fingering, oc has an inner thigh tattoo, f!masturbation, dryhumping (kinda), teasing, subby!koo, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), cowgirl, creampie.
notes ! alrighty guys, she’s here. i’ve been working on her for two months now, and i’ve grown stupidly fond of these two characters, so i couldn’t help but write a bit of a sugar-sweet ending. also, i’ve kept the synopsis kind of vague cuz i’m not spoiling shit. this wraps my part of the press rewind collab, but ana’s ‘taste the crush’ is still on the way so don’t go crying in the corner, now! it will blow ur minds <3
banner by my gf @voyter
The moving-truck pulls up at exactly 7:15 am. You know this why? Well, because the excruciating noise of the car backing up, that repetitive beep outside your window, is practically ringing in your eardrums by now.
And on a Saturday for christ’s sake. Can’t a girl sleep through the morning anymore? Are we past that point?
These last weeks have been nothing but large stacks of paperwork and overtime at the office, so you really do cling to the weekend like your life depends on it. But today, this exact morning, it doesn’t look like you’ll be getting it your way.
You roll over in bed, pulling the covers over your head before screaming into the pillow. Screaming so overwhelmingly loud that your head starts pounding. Or it might be the actual tinnitus you’ve received from this fucking monster of a moving-truck that has rolled up and ruined your entire day.
The pillow gets covered in both spit and what seems like actual tears before you breathe out, trying to calm yourself. But as your scream dies down, the sound of the truck returns, and with it comes loud noises which are seemingly two men speaking to each other. Screaming at each other might be a better description, since they can’t possibly hear a word either of them are saying over the loud beeps.
“More to the right!” one of them yells, a deep and desperate voice.
“It won’t fucking go more to the right!”
Your face is actually hurting from how hard you’re frowning, your expression turning into an exaggerated crying-face. You fold your hands together, and you actually pray to God, something you haven’t done in a while. Last time was when you forgot to pay your phone bill, and you begged to higher powers every time you had to make a phone call. It feels nice getting in touch with God again, even though you’re not much of a believer, it’s good to know he’s there. Like a free therapist.
“You have more room!” the first voice screams out, and your prayers get cut short.
After this loud exclaim, the street outside your window turns into complete mayhem. Overbearing voices layering over each other, cursing and complaining, while the repetitive sound of the truck backing up continues throughout the two men’s heated argument.
“I want my mom,” is all you’re able to cry out into the pillow, so incredibly tired and defeated that the thought of waking up at this hour has your stomach turning. Maybe you should go puke.
The noise is apparently never-ending. The guys continue to scream and shout while the truck is in park, and now comes the loud screech of the rolling back-door being opened. It sounds like metal grinding on metal, high-pitched enough to make your teeth ache.
That’s it. You’ve had enough. If these idiots are planning on waking the whole neighborhood, fine by you, but they are not about to ruin your sleep. Your oh-so-precious sleep.
You lift your torso off the bed so abruptly that your covers fly off your body. The cowlick in your hair is so prominent now that your scalp actually feels sore. A bed head so crazy that it hurts. But that’s not of importance right now, not when these morons are still loose in the street. They should be happy you don’t carry weapons in your home.
With a groan that reverberates off the walls, you get out of bed and hurry your way out of the room, down the stairs and to your hallway. In a frenzy, you search for something to cover your silken nightgown, and ultimately pull on a long, fuzzy coat, arms hugging your frame as you step into your shoes.
You fumble with the lock before the door evidently opens, and as you step out, your eyes lock with the humongous moving-truck. It’s parked outside the house facing yours. Great, you already hate your new neighbor, it’s just wonderful that they’re this close.
Your lips curl as you close in on the truck. You can’t see the two men, but you can still hear them arguing. They’re probably hidden behind the large frame of the vehicle. So you prepare yourself to scold them, without really knowing where to aim your aggression.
“Good morning to you too! Are you guys that—”
Your words die in your throat. Because as the greeting leaves your lips, one of the men step forward from behind the truck. And you think you’re about to have an aneurism.
“Sorry, sorry—I know. It’s a lot of noise.” The guy sticks his neck out, slightly bowing before you. He’s stupidly hot. Like earth-shattering attractive, the kind of guy you usually only see in magazines at the kiosk. He’s in a buttoned-up denim jacket, and it looks like he’s wearing nothing underneath, the neckline revealing just a sliver of skin. Enough for you to go mute, anyways.
Your eyes widen, and your lips curl inwards to suppress any kind of sound that might escape you. Unfortunately you’re not properly dressed for this meet, as you’re in nothing but a satin pajama set and an open coat, one you immediately wrap around yourself by crossing your arms tight over your chest. Who is this guy? Please dear god let him be your new neighbor and not just some boy helping with the unloading, some guy who works for this awful truck’s company. He’s so cute.
He stretches tall before you, his broad figure blocking out the morning sun that should be covering your face. And you stand there like some kind of idiot in a white, fuzzy coat, unable to form words. It’s fortunate that it’s early enough for you to brush this off as morning-fog, and not you actually going dense over seeing an attractive person of the opposite sex. You’ve already forgotten why you’re here, why you decided to bother this man.
“D-did I wake you?” he asks, and you almost miss his question entirely as you keep drifting away, ogling at the piercing in his lip. It’s so delicately placed, just a small silver spiral on the left side of his bottom lip.
Okay you have to speak before you come off as either incredibly creepy, or very dense. The first option is what motivates you the most. “Well… kind of—but it’s all good,” you lie. You wish you could’ve slept through the morning, at least for another hour. But hey, if you weren’t awake by now, you would’ve maybe never met this mysterious man (who please, please, please might be your new neighbor).
The truck driver steps out of the vehicle, an older man with a snap back and a fat stomach. You don’t really have the same reaction seeing him as you did the stud standing before you. “Need help?” He gestures towards the boxes inside the back of the van.
The boy turns from you, shaking his head at the driver, “No-no, I can manage.”
“Let me at least help you unload it—you’ve got a lot of shit.”
Your new neighbor laughs awkwardly, his eyes darting towards you before immediately looking away again. Awe cute, he’s having trouble keeping eye contact. You flush involuntarily, and as you’re about to speak — ask him if he does need help, if he’s moving here alone — he rolls up one of his sleeves, and you forget all questions. Dear mother of god. His forearm is covered in tattoos, a sleeve so detailed you can’t help but squint, trying to make out what they read. Not only is his arm inked, but his knuckles are covered as well.
What a beautiful man. Is it weird you want to lick them? Maybe, let’s not go there just yet.
He chuckles, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his head, “Fine you unload it, so I can apologize to this nice lady.”
Oh my god that’s you. Hello! You swallow hard, almost choking on your own saliva, eyes widening with something between surprise and flush. Trying to redeem yourself, trying not to look fucking dense, and you giggle. Fuck that might not help at all. You crease your eyebrows, straightening your posture, and try speaking.
“No, no, I was serious, don’t apologize. I needed a waking up, anyways!”
He laughs, one of his hands moving up to fiddle with the silver hoop in his ear. “I feel like I made a shit first impression.”
First impression. Oh my god — he is your new neighbor. Cue the fireworks, this might be the best day of your entire life. He’s moving into the home just above the street, and that only means one thing. His bedroom window overlooks yours, vice versa. This had up until now been quite the problem, as your past neighbor was an old unmarried woman. It was upon catching a glimpse of her through your window late one evening that you realized everything starts to sag when getting older.
So you’ve grown a habit of drawing the curtains. Maybe you don’t need to, now. Or maybe it’s even more important you do, as seeing this man undress — or maybe with another girl — might not be all that great for your sanity. But let’s not discuss voyeurism already, you should maybe start by answering him.
“You really haven’t—but if it helps I can think of many ways for you to redeem yourself.”
Why did you say it like that? It feels like someone has just spilled a bucket of ice over your shoulders, your entire body tensing after the sentence leaves you. You were just trying to sound cool, casual maybe, but instead you’ve ended up sounding like someone straight from a porno. The driver who is still standing just by the two of you, eavesdropping, chuckles as he shakes his head, turning to get back in the truck — finally leaving the two of you alone.
Eager to change the subject and flee your own embarrassment, you give him your name in a haste, trying to steer away from whatever nonsense you just told him. He nods quickly, parting his lips, about to give you his name. You on instinct bow, arms flat by your sides… which is something you should have never done.
“I’m Jungkook, nice to—”
You don’t know which one of you misread the situation, but as you bow, Jungkook stretches his hand out, presumably to shake yours — but this ends in his flat palm grazing the side of your boob. Your coat is unfortunately open, and his hand slips past the fabric as you bend, long fingertips brushing against your soft pyjamas.
Apparently you’re not very good at this ‘welcoming’ thing. Fuck.
Alright. It’s been a week since Jungkook moved in. He’s been living in the house just before yours, you’re literally facing each other.
So where the hell is he? Hopefully he hasn’t moved away out of sheer embarrassment. That would’ve just been too horrific.
You’ve been checking your mailbox a bit more often than usual, you’ve been mowing your lawn for the first time in years, you’ve found any old excuse to exit your home and move out into your yard… seemingly all for nothing.
Because every time you’re out there, every time you look out your window, every time you drive by — his lights are off.
And you’re pretty sure he’s not living some kind of nocturnal life like a creature who despises the sun, or any kind of light whatsoever. So is he hiding? Or has he just not moved in yet? After your first (and only) meet, you ran back inside just to watch him carry all the heavy boxes through his front door. Drool was practically coating your chin as you saw the way his jaw tightened with every heavy lift, how his eyebrows creased. His jean jacket was covering his muscles, but that was probably for the best… you don’t know what the sight of his biceps would do to you.
This was of course after the both of you apologized after the unfortunate boob-graze. That’s an interaction you can’t seem to forget, as it’s literally eating you alive. You have to see him again, you have to make sure he’s not sickeningly embarrassed by your presence.
Anyways: you saw him carry all his belongings into the new home… so you would assume he has moved in? He has moved in. But where on gods green earth is he?
Your glass of water overflows, coating your hand as you’ve forgotten to turn off the faucet. You click your tongue, screw the handle shut, and tip your head down. You’ve been standing by the sink, the one by the window, drifting away as you stare at Jungkook’s house.
A loud sigh escapes you. A week ago, you thought you’d finally have something exiting to focus on, a new crush in the midst of your horrible everyday life, which sadly only consists of work, work, and more work. You need a distraction, so badly it hurts… so where the hell is the cute boy-next-door?
A week and two days. Jungkook has been ‘missing’ for a week and two days. You could cry. You should’ve never gotten your hopes up, you fucking idiot.
You’ve now taken comfort in loud music, trying to drown out your thoughts after a nine hour shift, the bass in your car speaker vibrating as you’ve cranked the volume up as far as it goes. Donna Summers. She’s the only one that’s helping right now.
You’re nearing your neighborhood, singing along to Donna’s vile lyrics about pleasure and men, kind of crying on the inside. It’s been so long. Work is consuming you, and all the men around you are fucking dumb in their brains. Mushy brain activity. So you haven’t had the time… and you haven’t wanted to either. And now, you think you might’ve forgotten how to do it. Every part of it. It’s been, what, four months now? Jesus.
The next turn leads to your street. You lower the volume just a bit, as you don’t want to disturb the neighborhood. You slow as you’re about to enter your driveway… when everything inside you turns to liquid.
He’s here.
There, in his driveway, carrying a large speaker out of his trunk, is Jungkook.
As your whole body is tuned to him, you have to be careful not to run him over as excitement takes a hold of you. So you pretend you’re fine, slowly driving by as you turn in your driveway, parking your car. Your whole body is vibrating, trembling as you cut off the engine. You have to really prep your mind, calm down, before you step out.
He’s just across from you when you’re out the door, walking carefully across his yard not to drop the heavy stereo. And he’s dressed so cutely that you could cry… he’s in a beanie. Just a thick, black beanie with a small, white logo in the middle. He looks like a marble, actually. A boy with a very wide, large frame, who just happens to have a very round head, and a set of very kissable cheeks.
Okay let’s not go there, let’s clear our heads. You take a deep breath, and you swallow a scream as Jungkook locks eyes with you when you step out of your car, a tiny smile stretching across his face.
Alright, he’s smiling. He’s not hiding from you. He might’ve not let your last interaction eat him alive. You have to speak first, seem casual.
“Well, hi there, neighbor.” You hope it sounds casual, flirty. Not weird. Maybe even a bit seductive.
Unfortunately, you caught him at a bad time… the stereo is really heavy. You see him form his mouth around the word ‘sorry’ before lowering the large piece to the ground with a grunt. He wipes away a glisten of sweat before placing a hand on his hip, steadying his breathing. “Oh, hi… look who it is.”
He remembers you. If you weren’t doing everything in your power to stay cool right now, you could probably run up and down the walls of your house. But you don’t, obviously. Instead, you slowly cross the street, ready to converse (casually) with your neighbor.
“I think that’s my line,” you answer as you’re closing in on him, finally crossing the curb of his driveway. “Thought I’d lost a perfectly good neighbor.”
You’re finally back to your true self, not that sheepish, brain-dead girl from your first meet. You tiptoe your way over to him, and to your surprise he responds by scrunching his nose. His eyes narrow, and a tiny almost unnoticeable smile forms in a small line across his face.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he coos, now leaning on the tall speaker.
“Where’ve you been?”
His hand comes up to scratch the back of his head, the beanie falling slightly into is eyes, something he fixes right away with a quick tug. “Had to postpone my move… uh the—” he stops himself to chuckle, “The plumbing system needed a bit work.”
Ohhhhh. You realize you’d gotten yourself worked up over nothing, when in reality he just stumbled upon some hardship in his new home. A soft giggle escapes you, but you snap out of it, optioning for calm and collected. “Sorry, jesus, doesn’t that cost like a ton?”
Jungkook shrugs, “Not when you do the job yourself.”
Okay, so he’s handy. That’s good to know. It’s almost primal, but knowing a man is good with his hands… could it really get much better than that?
After Jungkook’s official move in, you see him more often. You engage in light conversation when the two of you leave for work, seemingly at the same time every day, around 7:30 am. Apparently, he works at a hotel, but exactly what it is he does is something you haven’t gotten to ask him yet. But you know his days are longer than yours, you can hear the sound of his car pulling up in his driveway at six o’clock.
About two weeks pass, and your relationship doesn’t move along with time. It just stays kind of still, just casual chatter. And you think you’re about to lose your mind.
That’s when you have the brilliant idea of summoning him. He said himself he was handy, that he could fix things. So why not fix shit at your place?
The problem is that nothing in your home needs fixing, everything works annoyingly smooth. But you can fake a leakage, fake a power-out. Anything, really, if you put your mind to it. So you strut down from your bedroom one cool and dark Sunday morning, and make your way to the radiator. You look at the screw-handle, look at the temperature.
With one quick and kind of painful pull, you twist the knob off entirely, and the temperature drops.
Tihi — oh no! How will you manage without a heater during this cold weather? How ever will you fix this?
It’s eleven in the morning, not too early that you’ll be a disturbance. You slip into a pair of slippers, let your hair stay a bit ruffled (it’s better if it looks unplanned, and not like you’ve cleaned yourself up), and wobble out the door in your large fuzzy coat.
A tiny, borderline evil smile stretches across your face when you see his lights are turned on. He’s awake. Your small slippers sink into the newly fallen snow beneath you, leaving a trail of your evil plan behind you. And as you reach his doorstep, you brush your soles off on the doormat, because you never know if he might invite you inside and kiss you and ask for your hand? You can’t rule anything out here, it’s better to be safe than sorry. After your feet are all clean, you ball up a fist, breathe in deep… and let your knuckle meet his door in a row of rhythmic knocks.
It takes a while before the door opens, so while you wait — you prepare a distraught and helpless expression, Bambi on ice, chased bunny, anything to make you look adorable and unprotected. Something that might invite him to take care of you. If this sounds insane, do not worry! You are checking yourself straight into a mental facility after this.
The door opens.
“Oh, hi.”
You have to try your hardest to keep face, to hold onto your helpless expression, but it’s not easy… because before you stands bed-head-Jungkook. A sight that is wild enough to send you straight into psychosis. His hair is kind of everywhere, a large piece of loose strands sticking straight up from his dark, thick locks. His eyes appear smaller than they usually are, sleep coated over his glowering expression. It could seem like you caught him at a bad time as he doesn’t smile, doesn’t bother asking why you’re here… but you gather he might just not be fully awake. The lights coming from inside his house deceived him, betrayed him, he might’ve been napping.
“Sorry,” you whisper through grit teeth, almost winching. Your eyebrows curl gently as you form your mouth around a pout, wanting him to feel bad for you. It immediately works, thank god, as his eyes widen and posture straightens. “I’m so sorry to disturb, but I’m kinda in a crisis.”
“Wait, what?” he takes a step forward, his bare feet meeting the cold of the doorstep. His arms wrap tightly around himself, shielding the exposed skin from the cold. He’s only in slacks, a pair of sweatpants that you can’t bring yourself to look at, and a white, all-too-tight t-shirt. “What’s wrong?”
It’s like a slot machine goes off in your brain, hitting jackpot once you know he’s in your trap. Your nostrils flare as you try imitating a subtle cry, and your hidden hand retracts from your pocket. In your palm lies the free knob of your radiator, which you show Jungkook, almost like you’ve come bearing a gift. And with a sharp intake of breath, you continue.
“It was really cold, so I wanted to turn up the heat, but the handle was stuck—like really stuck—so I twisted too hard, I think… and the whole thing just—” you lift the knob higher, almost shoving it in Jungkook’s face… which fortunately looks completely consumed by your story. You continue with a whine, “—it just poof, flew right off.”
You tell him you remembered he said he fixed his plumbing system, that you had pissed off your every electrician before, that you’d pay him if necessary: anything, trying to sound desperate. He immediately brushes off your suggestions, and with a hand on your shoulder, he tells you: Of course I’ll take a look at it. Don’t worry.
It feels almost surreal finally having him in your home. You haven’t cleaned or anything, everything feels unprepared, you should’ve maybe thought this through a bit further. But he’s here, and that’s all that matters.
As he crouches down before your broken radiator, you walk in a slow trail back and forth behind him, studying everything he’s doing. Looking at the way his muscles strain underneath his tight tee, the white fabric almost going sheer as he stretches further down. It feels almost illegal watching it, so you let your thumb fly to your mouth, and you bite down at the tip of your soft fingernail.
“Uh, that knob is useless,” he tells you, letting his fingertips brush underneath the radiator, chuckling. And with that, he gets to his feet. You frown, look down at the temperature reader, and frown even harder. It’s back on… just like that. He fixed it in under a minute — he might be a wizard. Jungkook turns to you, brushing off imaginable dust off his knees. “There’s a tiny wheel underneath your radiator, you can use that until I figure out how to get you a new screw-handle.”
Completely defeated, you huff, eyes darting down to your feet, “No, that’s okay—you’ve done… so much.”
Jungkook laughs, “I haven’t really done anything, you asked for my help. I can still help, there’s just not a lot to do right now.”
First attempted seduction: Unsuccessful.
Jungkook came over two days ago with a brand spanking new radiator. He hadn’t told you about it, he just rang your doorbell and there he stood: with a humorously large box in his arms. Also, he was wearing that beanie again, which didn’t help. All you could focus was on the pair of black marbles he had for eyes, which were now way more prominent as everything else way more or less hidden. But the thing was, the new radiator seemed more like a friendly act of service rather than something suggestive. He told you installing it would be easy, so after he left, he let you do that yourself (although it took about three hours and an absurd amount of tears… turns out it wasn’t so easy after all).
Of course you Venmoed him, but if he was trying to flirt… he’d tell you: no, no, my treat, or don’t worry about paying me back, I’m just glad I could help. But he gladly took your money (that’s not what made you so mad, you obviously didn’t expect him to spend hundreds of dollars on you… you’re not that insane), the thing was — he fled your home like his ass was on fire. Like, fully power-walking out your door. He almost forgot to say his goodbyes.
And it doesn’t get any better. That same night, you caught your first glimpse of him through your bedroom window. You’d tried to stay away from peeking, keeping your curtains closed, but you were careless that night, you’d forgotten completely. And you have now become victim of your own, self-inflicted hell. You didn’t see much, he was out of frame before you knew it, almost like he dodged your eyes. But you saw enough.
You had been on the phone with one of your girlfriends, conversing about nothing and everything… when you turned your head to see the curtains undrawn. What worried you first was the fact that you were fresh out the shower, so you tiptoed over your floor, quicky reaching out for the draperies to shield yourself from the outside street — when you saw him. Just a flash of him, a flash of torso, a flash of chest. You drew the curtains right away.
There was already a part of you that was already insane about him, but having seen him, just a flash of him in the window, seemingly facing you… it sent you into a spiral. The way his tattoos curled perfectly around his bicep and up to his chest, that plump, big chest. And why was he looking at you? He disappeared immediately, before you could draw your curtains. You were certain you imagined it, especially when you told your girlfriend who was still on the other line. Because when you described what you just saw, you realized you sounded schizophrenic.
“My hot new neighbor who I’ve been plotting on for weeks was just in his window naked waist up and he looked at me.”
But even if it was just your imagination running wild, nothing can stop you now. You’ve gone completely insane. You have to have him, it’s all you can think of. So now, you’re standing by the bathroom sink, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You’ve done your make-up prettier than usual, you’ve coated your eyelids in a shimmering, pearly shadow, just something to make you look a bit more glistening. Your hair frames your face perfectly, softly, you look cute. It’s all a ploy.
You crouch, getting down on your knees, resting on the warm bathroom tiles as you open the small cabinet underneath the sink. There, built into the wall, is a long pipe, a few screws, all kinds of stuff you have no idea how works. You’ve unclogged the drain before, so you know you can screw the pipe open, get your hands dirty, stuff them far down to fish for whatever’s stuck at the bottom. But right now, you’ve planned to do the inverse. In your left hand rests a tiny lipliner, something so small it could’ve easily slipped in your hands and through the narrow drain in your sink. At that thought, you wrap your hand around the pipe, turning and twisting on the screws until it pops open… and you shove the lipliner inside.
Oh no!
You cover up your tracks, slip into a very revealing, white-lace dress, a pair of kitten heels, and run down the stairs. Hehe.
Once again you pull on your fuzzy coat and make your way out the door, barging out on a journey you know all too well now. You don’t care that your heels dig into the muddy snow, you’re walking too fast to take notice of it. His lights are on, and this time it’s the evening — if he’s napping now, then that’s his problem.
He opens the door right away this time, you only get in about two good knocks before the surface is removed from underneath your knuckles. Jungkook’s breath comes out a bit staggered as his eyes land on you: you in that teeny-tiny dress, your coat hanging open to reveal your soft breasts pressing together with every intake of breath, the gentle, untouched skin of your thighs blooming with goosebumps. And just as you’d like, it seems like a lump gets stuck in his throat as he’s about to swallow, his primal, man-brain going blank at the sight of a pretty girl.
“You won’t believe what just happened!”
You lie your way through it all, tell him you were getting ready (what for, you don’t say, mainly because it’s all an act, but also because you want him to ask), that you were touching up your makeup before the mirror when the lipliner just slipped, swoosh, just like that! Fell down the drain. And you have to have it back, it’s the only one you’ve got, so could he please help you?
If you were Pinocchio, your nose would by now be long enough to reach out for the doorhandle, do Jungkook a favor and slam it shut. Thankfully, you’re not, and of course Jungkook abides, although he seems to hesitate a bit.
He's even weirder this time than he was the last, the time he bought you a new radiator and ran out your door. He’s having a hard time holding eye contact. And as you slip past him, walk before him up the stairs, you hear him actually trip in his steps. Him being nervous just makes you bolder, so you turn to check up on him.
“Oh my god, do you need a hand?” you say as you see him bracing one arm on the step before him, the other on the handrail. His head is tipped down, dark strands of hair covering his face before he lifts his gaze just a bit, looking up at you through the silken fringe. Those eyes show absolutely no mercy, they’ve gone dark, making him look something between furious and humiliated.
“I think I’m the one that’s here to help you, not the other way around.”
You almost chuckle at his response, but you keep your cool, raise your eyebrows to remain that effortless, innocent expression, before you return to your journey up the stairs. Jungkook does the same… that is after breathing out a loud sigh.
There’s no telling why Jungkook is acting like this. He went from very sweet and helpful boy-next-door to seemingly being extremely annoyed by your demands. But he carries them out, nevertheless.
“You think it’s stuck at the bottom?” he asks, now down on his knees on your bathroom floor, crouching to get a better look at the pipe. You nod behind him before answering.
“I hope so—or it’s long gone in the ocean,” you joke, but Jungkook doesn’t laugh. He just carries out his task, never looking back at you, staring straight ahead while twisting on the screws. It’s again over in just a minute, he reaches down for the lipliner and his fingertips find it immediately.
“Got it.”
He braces his hands on his thighs to straighten and raise from the bathroom floor, still not facing you, but moving forward to turn on the sink, washing both your lipliner and his hands. You try not to look disappointed as Jungkook can easily lift his gaze and see you behind him in the mirror, so you try smiling instead. Your reflection stares back at you, and you cringe… it doesn’t look like the most convincing smile out there. So you option for verbal praise instead, “Now, what would I do without you?”
Jungkook tongues his cheek, giving his head a single jerk while still washing his hands. Still not looking at you.
This is getting annoying, you didn’t dress up, fake a crisis, drag him over here — for his eyes to be glued to the god damn sink. You sigh, pouting as you’re about to speak, “Isn’t it weird using a lipliner that has been down the drain?”
“Don’t know.”
Ugh, he’s giving you nothing. Still, you don’t give up.
“Maybe I don’t need more liner, what do you think?”
“Don’t know.”
“Come on,” you reach out, grabbing his wrist, droplets splashing over the edge of the sink, onto both you and Jungkook, but it doesn’t matter. You angle him so that he’s facing you, his nostrils flaring when his eyes finally meet yours. You poke your chin further out, instigating for him to study your lips, your lips which are coated in pink, shimmering lip-gloss… your lips who look very inviting. “What do you think, do they need any lip-liner?”
Jungkook’s eyes flick frantically over your face, unsure of where to look, but knowing exactly what you want. And before you know it, your hand is suddenly empty. Your fingers unclasp around his wrist, because Jungkook rips free of your grip, stepping back with a groan, “Stop it, please. I beg you.”
What? Your eyes widen.
Oh my god, you fucking idiot. What have you done. You’ve scared him shitless, just because you have a stupid crush on him. Oh my god. Embarrassment rushes through your veins and appears as dark flush across your soft cheeks. And before you, Jungkook stands with a heaving chest, looking over at you with wide eyes like you just tried eating him alive… which in all fairness you kind of did. But his breath wavers, and his eyebrows crease, and it looks like something’s breaking inside him.
“I’m embarrassed by it enough as it is… it was awful and I’m sorry… but stop. Stop fucking playing with me. It’s mean.”
Huh? Okay it seems as if he’s gone completely off the rails here, because what on earth is he talking about? What was so awful? What is he sorry about?
Your face changes, going from embarrassment to just pure and utter confusion, your eyebrows knotting while your mouth hangs open, “… What are you talking about?”
This seems to have caught Jungkook off guard, his eyebrows lifting high on his face. He seems just as lost as you are, but something behind his expressions reminds more of humiliation rather than shock. “What?” he asks, his voice a higher pitch than usual, obviously stating his flush. “You mean you didn’t—” he stops himself before he can get any further, a mortified look blooming on his face.
You just stand completely lost before him, because what the fuck is he talking about? So you ask him just that, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Everything just got very, very, extremely weird. Also very confusing. The two of you look at one another like lost sheep, trying to search for answers in each other. And ultimately, with a loud sigh, Jungkook speaks.
“Fuck.”
Jungkook loved the thought of finally living alone.
He had been living in a cramped apartment with three buddies of him for what felt like an eternity, so finally being able to have some peace and quiet seemed almost surreal. Finally being able to use the bathroom without disturbances, to watch whatever he’d like on the television without being interrupted or getting the remote control hogged… finally being able to bring girls over.
It had been a while since he had gotten his hands on someone of the opposite sex — it was kind of awkward bringing them over when all the guys were there (which they always were). They seemingly had no problem with this whatsoever, and Jungkook suffered many sleepless nights while some girl got her world rocked in whatever room was available.
Jungkook wasn’t like that. He felt sex should be more private, more intimate, not something for others to tune into. He never bothered listening to any of the ‘conquests’ his friends talked about, it didn’t concern him.
But, he was still a man, he had his urges… he just hadn’t indulged in them lately. And he wasn’t all that good with women either. He looked good, it wasn’t that — girls were practically flinging themselves at him. But he got nervous, didn’t know what to say, where to put his hands, the usual worries. So he was hoping to maybe channel a different man within him for his quest to find a woman to sleep with… finally.
It was then rather unfortunate that the quest got cut short day one of moving in.
“Good morning to you too! Are you guys that—”
Jungkook flinched at the sound, a young woman, a gentle voice straining with anger. He immediately popped out from behind the moving truck, and was at first pleasantly surprised.
There you stood, in a long fuzzy coat, arms hugging your frame. You were easy on the eyes, to downplay it. Soft where it mattered, a face so enchanting he was sure you knew it yourself. Therefore, Jungkook had a hard time composing himself. He could tell you were mad, probably because of all the noise he and the driver were causing, so he immediately apologized, wanting to make a good first impression.
Within probably five minutes, he had already made a name for himself as the noisy new idiot neighbor who also managed to grab the-girl-next-door’s boob.
He of course didn’t mean to, you moved when he moved, his hand accidentally brushing against the side of your breast. It wasn’t like he felt anything, he removed his hand at once, and his entire body got scorching hot. His ears turned this tomato-y color, which only made him all the more embarrassed. He had only one mission moving into a new home — getting a girl back to his place. But he had within a day managed to sexually harass his neighbor, so he shelved the idea as he felt he needed to redeem himself as a man.
He spent the whole first night overthinking the graze. His fingers against your body (involuntarily, not on purpose, he cannot stress this enough). He was all alone, which just sent him further into a spiral than necessary. Maybe living alone proved to be way more difficult than he had imagined. So the boxes remained unpacked, as he pranced around his living room, thinking of you the entire day. After a while, when the thoughts were growing loud enough to eat him alive, he picked up his phone and dialed the number of one of his old roommates.
“What?” Yoongi responded after a few rings, his voice husky.
“I’m kinda going crazy over here, think I can come over for a bit?” Jungkook immediately folded, searching comfort in what’s familiar, wanting to get the hell out of this neighborhood and run from his humiliation.
“Miss us already?” Yoongi teased, but ultimately gave Jungkook what he wanted.
He stayed at his old apartment longer than he intended, trying to muster up the courage to face you again. It was also kind of scary living all alone, he didn’t really know how the new washing machine worked. But he was kicked out after a week, since Taehyung decided it was time for Jungkook to grow some balls and quote “just fuck his neighbor senseless”.
So he had been prepped, how to act cash around you, maybe apologize again. And as he was moving his new speaker from his car to his door, you pulled up into your driveway.
Okay, stay calm. Speak before you think, unless what you’re going to say is stupid. Then don’t say it.
He was surprised when you stepped out of your car and immediately went to him, lightly running over the street in your tiny, polished shoes to reach him. That it didn’t seem like you were planning on ignoring him. And he was even more surprised by the fact that you had taken note of his absence. You didn’t hate him: he had been going insane for nothing. It calmed him, and he managed to actually converse normally, even make you smile. But he was caught off guard.
“Where’ve you been?”
Shit, he hadn’t planned a response to that question. Okay, stay calm. Speak before you think, unless what you’re going to say is stupid. Then don’t say it.
“Had to postpone my move… uh the—” Jungkook stilled, trying out his speak-before-thinking-system, but having a hard time, “The plumbing system needed a bit work.”
He had no idea where that came from. Also, it sounded like a gross excuse, mentioning plumbing to the pretty girl who stood wondering before him. He was an idiot. Speak before you think, unless what you´re going to say is stupid. What he said was stupid, he wished he could take it back.
“Doesn’t that cost, like, a ton?”
Another question he wasn’t prepared for. He actually had no idea, he had never had any pluming work done before, and he especially hadn’t paid for it. So once again, he spoke without thinking, trying to brush off any more questions, also sound a bit manly and cool.
“Not when you do the job yourself.”
He was a fucking dumb idiot. Why on heavens earth did he tell you he did the job himself? He had never even held a screwdriver. And fixing the entire plumbing system of a new and unknown home was probably a task he could never carry out… ever. It was probably that he was so nervous around you, and all these questions made it even worse.
Okay, that was a dumb slip up. He just had to make sure you never took him up on it… ever, until he had lived there long enough to maybe one day joke about it. And it went smooth at first, he only saw you when he headed to work, and fortunately you were already home when he pulled into his driveway — so he didn’t have to pain himself through any more small talk that made his brain go foggy.
Unfortunately, his stupid lie followed him, haunted him. Because one Sunday morning there was a knock on his door. And to his surprise, there you stood, in that same fuzzy coat, completely mortified. Jungkook was shocked, worried that something might’ve happened to you, immediately wanting to help.
Of course your radiator broke. What the hell was he supposed to do about that? He could of course tell you he was busy… or even better tell you he lied earlier, and that he quite frankly knew nothing about handiwork. But your eyes were so doe-like, staring up at him, begging for his help. His gaze darted to your parted lips without him even noticing, the way they quivered after speaking. He couldn’t bring himself to turn you down. Who would ever turn you down?
So Jungkook ended up in your home. He looked for signs that would reveal you lived alone, and he immediately found them. The shoes in your hallway: tiny, mostly heels and hopefully yours. Your interior was everything he expected, soft colors and old, personal decoration. Some child-like drawings postered on the refrigerator, hopefully yours from when you were young. It would be rather unfortunate if you had kids, he didn’t even know how to take care of himself, how would he manage with children?
Maybe already fantasizing about step-father-hood was a bit optimistic.
You stood behind him as he studied the heater, thankfully. He had no idea what he was doing down there, brushing his fingers both over and under the radiator to maybe detect a magic button. Weirdly enough… he actually stumbled upon one. There, on the bottom, just a tiny little wheel. He screwed it more to the right, saw the temperature rise, and thanked god. Beginners luck, probably.
But he knew it was just a temporary fix, and he had absolutely no idea how to get that ‘handle’ or whatever back onto the radiator. He told you he would figure it out, because he was stupid and you were so pretty. You were so pretty. When you lead him through your living room, towards the door, he watched the way your hair fell over your back, the way your shoulder blades poked through your thin sweater when you reached for the door. Everything you did looked so elegant, so graceful, even when you let him slip past you in the doorframe, pressing your back against the hardwood while holding in a small breath.
As he worked as a bellhop at a hotel a bit outside town, his days were boring, not a lot going on. So he had all the time in the world to think. Think about how the hell he would fix your radiator. He could maybe have you leave the house, then pay for an actual electrician to take action… but that would be too risky. He could of course just glue the handle back on — but then the whole thing would probably just break again and he’d be called right back to fix the stupid heater once more.
He ended up just buying a brand new one, showing up at your door with a big box in hand.
Why did you have to wear those jeans? Those light-washed jeans that cut right where your tiny, white t-shirt ended. Those jeans that hugged your frame so precisely. He imagined how it would feel to have his hands on you, to wrap his fingers around your waist, just where the jean fabric stopped, and curl his fingertips inward to feel your soft skin on his.
“That’s too kind, I can’t accept that,” you gasped upon seeing the big box.
“It’s nothing,” Jungkook lied, this was everything. He had wracked his brain over this, he had done everything in his power to help you. He didn’t know what else to do, so a new radiator might just be fair… he had no idea what women liked, but a kind gesture could never hurt, right?
You turned, walking back into your hallway to make room for Jungkook, letting both him and the box enter your home, and Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes off you. It might’ve been those jeans. The way the tight fabric hugged your butt when you walked, the way they creased under your cheeks with every step you took. It didn’t help when you turned to face him, finally un-crossing your arms, and he realized you weren’t wearing a bra. This rattled his brain so badly that he forgot taking off both shoes, jacket and beanie once fully inside your home.
He couldn’t stay there for a minute longer, this was a bit overwhelming. So he told you installing it would be an easy task (it probably wouldn’t) and when he ran out your door, you yelled out your gratitude along with a promise of payment. He couldn’t even hear what you were saying as his feet carried him at a speed so frantic he almost tripped on the icy pavement.
And that’s the night it happened.
It was probably all the pent-up tension. He had gone straight to the gym after your interaction, staying there all night while sweating out all his worries, all his thoughts, everything that was eating him up. But it didn’t work. His mind stayed fogged. He knew what would work, he had known for weeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It would feel to shameful… and he would probably think about you the whole time, which made it even worse, even more humiliating.
But he broke. It was something primal in him, something in his body telling him to just give in. Let go.
Because when he got home, late at night, getting ready for bed, he realized something striking. The window across the street, facing his, the one in your house, the one that was always draped, always covered, was now somehow… not. And there, opposite of him, were you. In your own little world, on the phone, completely clueless, pacing around in your bedroom — wearing nothing but a towel.
Fuck.
He knew how disgusting this was, how creepy he was, but it was an organic reaction. And in a matter of no time, stopping completely in his step, watching over at you, he could feel himself hardening in his boxers. So much that it was starting to hurt. You had been doing this to him for weeks, so this had to have been some sort of breaking point, Jungkook just losing it completely.
He didn’t even think about drawing the curtains, not even turning off the lights behind him. He was frozen, no glued to the floor in front of his window, as though the ache between his legs had hijacked his entire body, whispering don’t move don’t you dare look away. His heart was pounding in his ears, his blood hot and thick in his veins… he was utterly lost in you. The way you tucked the towel tighter around your chest, shifting your phone between your ear and your shoulder, left him paralyzed.
You were smiling, those pretty teeth of yours flashing brightly when revealed, talking to someone. Laughing a little too loud as you reached over to your vanity… and that slight reach caused the towel to slip just a teeny tiny inch, revealing the curve of your breast. How could anyone be so beautiful?
Everything worsened when you decided to sit. The towel rose dangerously high on your thighs as you perched at the edge of your bed, knees falling slightly open as you continued your conversation: oblivious to the desperate, possibly insane man across the street, living and dying with every shift of fabric.
His cock throbbed inside his boxers, heavy and angry, twitching against the waistband. It didn’t take long, as you tipped your head backwards with your next laugh, baring your sweet, wonderful neck to poor Jungkook.
That was it, he needed relief. And with his jaw clenched, his hand already inside his briefs, he gave in. Guilt filled his bloodstreams as his fingers wrapped tight around his length, starting out with slow strokes from the sensitive tip and all the way down to his girthy shaft. Each drag of his palm over hot, pulsing flesh matched to your every movement.
He had to steer away from all the shame, how illegal this was, so he let his mind wander. And with that, you took over. He could imagine your skin under his touch. How soft your thighs would be, how warm you’d feel against his mouth. The exact pitch you’d make when he’d finally taste you. How your breath would stutter under him, hips writhing, fingers clenching the sheets when his tongue reached a spot so deep within you that your vision blurred.
As his strokes turned more frantic, his abs moving in ripples on his torso, a deep pleasure building low in his stomach, Jungkook’s mind played every fantasy he’d ever had about you in perfect clarity. The way you’d sigh his name when he finally breached you. How tight you were. The way you’d ride him, how his hands would grab onto the silky-smooth flesh of your ass, let you fuck yourself silly on his cock. The way you’d grab his hair, clench around him, bite into his shoulder just as you came, your sweet juices coating his cock, his thighs, the sheets.
Just the thought of you was enough to send him off the edge, but as you sat just a few feet away, locked away from him, looking so fucking cute — Jungkook couldn’t hold it in anymore, so his eyes shut close, and he let go.
His hips jerked forward as he came hard, all over himself. The first spurt hit his stomach, warm and slick, and he gasped for air as he stroked himself through it. His legs trembled slightly as he milked every single drop that was still leaking from his cock, his eyes clenched shut as soft moans started escaping his throat.
Once he was finally emptied out, he collapsed against the side of the bed. A heavy silence filled the room, the air now thick with shame and sweat. Fuck, what a fucking creep he was. What a fucking awful human being he was. This was possibly the worst post-nut-clarity he had ever experienced. He shouldn’t have done that. You didn’t deserve that.
With guilt still curling deep in his chest, he rose to his feet again, reaching for the tissue box by his bedside table… when he once again laid eyes on you.
Shitshitshitshit. You had gotten up from the bed, and you were fucking facing him now, your fingers curling around the curtains. Oh my god. Oh my god. How long had you been standing there? Did you see? What did you see?
Jungkook’s face turned white before he threw himself away from the window, stilling in the corner of his room, his chest heaving as panic took ahold of him. Holy fuck.
Hopefully you didn’t see. You hadn’t come over later in the evening, you hadn’t called the police. Thank god, maybe you hadn’t seen enough of the act to make you realize what was going on. Still incredibly embarrassed, Jungkook let the days pass. But he tried steering away from you, leaving for work earlier to not run into you.
It worked perfectly, he managed to stay clear of you, and the humiliation started withering. That was of course until he heard a knock on his door late at night.
The first knock came about five minutes ago, and Jungkook has now been standing completely still in his kitchen, hoping whoever’s out there might go away. But they don’t. He almost trips down the stairs to answer the door, already knowing who’s on the other side.
And, okay, you’ve decided to be a bitch tonight. You’re fully entitled to, of course… Jungkook had violated your privacy so viscerally you could probably file some sort of lawsuit. But showing up at his door with your coat hanging open… with those sweet breasts of yours on full display in your all-too-revealing dress. Bitch move.
After about a minute into the conversation, Jungkook gathers alright, you know. Because there’s a shift in you, you’re teasingly seducing him. You ask for his help yet again, but Jungkook knows it’s not about handiwork this time. But he begrudgingly follows you, agreeing to take a look at your sink. And you keep being a fucking bitch.
Of course you take off your coat, you’re in your own home, but you remove it differently than you’ve done before. The fuzzy fabric slips off your bare shoulders, sliding down your soft arms before you catch it with one hand, caressing it before threading it over a hanger. You’re teasing him. You like that, Jungkook? Want to touch yourself again, you sick pervert?
He can just imagine the scolding, the humiliating confrontation. He’ll have to move, because of the obvious restraining order you’ll file for. This was a good run. He has lived an alright life, but it ends here. He has to go die, this is too embarrassing.
And when you take him to the bathroom, when you walk up the stairs, Jungkook’s eyes have a hard time finding a constant to focus on as he’s just a step behind you. The tiny skirt of your dress rides up with every single step you take, and as his eyes follow, he catches a glimpse of the pink lace between your thighs. Fuck. He tries looking away, but as his eyes roam, his feet knot together — and he fucking trips behind you.
“Oh my god, do you need a hand?”
Fuck you.
You make him get down on his knees on the bathroom floor. What is this, some kind of humiliation ritual? Maybe you’re just as sick, getting off at the sight of this poor boy before you, crouching down and trembling beneath your gaze. Jungkook sticks his hand out underneath the sink, deep inside the cabinet, and tries to get a feel on what he’s working with here. You haven’t said anything revealing yet, so he tries acting normal, although he’s a bit more cautious than usual.
He manages to fish out your lipliner, glad this whole thing is finally over. But you won’t give it a fucking rest. You force him to turn, teasing him by shoving your lips in his face, so close he can feel your breathing. Jungkook can’t take it. The way they’re coated in an inviting gloss, your lips plush and soft (imagine how they’d feel against his body), your lips parting and the bottom one giving a tiny quiver in the motion. This is just mean, he knows your agenda, he knows you know. So those stupid, delicate lips of yours are what makes Jungkook break.
But as he cries out for you to stop it, for you to quit terrorizing him… he realizes you in fact don’t know… you hadn’t seen. Fuck. And as he’s just so exhausted, so tired by all the secrecy: faking an occupation as handyman, pleasuring himself to the sight of you... he just can’t take it anymore. He has been stressed out for weeks, unable to rest. He has to get it off his chest.
So, with a loud sigh… he tells you everything.
Well… this was quite the revelation… to say the least.
You’re practically gaping before Jungkook, who after coming clean about his sins is having a hard time meeting your eyes. It might also not help him that you’re breathing so hard that your breasts are pressing together in a soft cleavage with each intake of breath. So he keeps his eyes glued to the bathroom tiles.
“You—you’re—” you try, not knowing what the hell you’re about to say… because what does one say to this piece of information? Not only had he faked being handy just to help you, just to be near you… but you had him so out of his mind that he had resorted to pleasuring himself to the sight of you. And here you thought you were insane. Jesus, you’re both nut-jobs, maybe you’re made for each other.
“Yeah… I’m sor—”
You interrupt him right away, “You like me?”
He finally meets your eyes, this is to say it’s not very romantic… he kind of frowns, actually. Because is this really what you have to say about this horrific story? That’s all you got from him lying his way into your home, jerking off to you from several feet away? What about stranger danger?
Yeah, there’s no warning signs flashing off in your eyes, there are instead big, red, cartoon-like hearts pulsating in your pupils. It’s like you’ve suddenly grown wings. Your hands come up to cover your mouth as you can’t seem to stop your jaw from hanging open, as you can’t stop grinning like a madman. It looks kind of like you’ve just entered the doors to Disneyland.
“I—” Jungkook starts, his hand flying to scratch the back of his head, his eyes shutting closed as he thinks of what to say. He can’t really understand why this doesn’t seem to put you off. “I kinda feel like y-you’re still fucking with me.”
“Gosh no!” you gasp, throwing your hands out and waving them in front of Jungkook, trying to visibly tell him you’re not just playing in his face. When you’re done waving off the accusation, your right hand begins rubbing circles to your temple. “I mean—obviously you’re crazy—like, a very bizarre boy—really… very weird—” You swear you’re going somewhere with this, although it all comes out very fast and Jungkook now frowns so hard that it looks like he might cry really, incredibly ugly tears all over your bathroom floor. So you make sure to finish your sentence just as fast as you’ve started it. “—but so am I!”
Jungkook can’t seem to wipe the utterly confused look off his face, staring at you with a pair of lost, black-marble eyes that take up almost his entire face. He sticks his neck out, “Huh?”
“Just—look,” you giggle, snagging the lipliner from Jungkook’s grip before getting down on your knees. This almost makes Jungkook’s own knees give out, but thankfully you make your way to the pipe underneath the sink and not somewhere sinister. Your eyes leave him as you once again unscrew the drain, but you look back when there’s enough room for you to shove the lipliner right inside the tiny slit — and you do just so, while your eyes are glued to his. “See? All just a big plot.”
His mouth hangs open as he realizes you’ve sabotaged your own drain just for his presence, just for his help, and he has a hard time forming words, “What—so… huh?” His voice is a bit higher in pitch now, cracking halfway through his botched sentence.
“I’ve been luring you into my home like the witch in Hansel and Gretel—I don’t think you have to worry about coming off as creepy here.”
“So… the radiator?”
You shake your head, “Ruined it myself and ended up paying you 175 bucks for a new one.”
A disbelieving chuckle escapes Jungkook as he continues scratching the back of his head. If there was anything he expected, it was sure as hell not this. His eyes never leave yours as you get up from the bathroom floor, pulling down your dress a bit as you rise to your feet. You’ve almost forgotten how inappropriately dressed you are in the midst of Jungkook’s confession, so feeling your skirt itching up your thighs really pulls this absurd situation together.
“You…” Jungkook starts, his hands falling down his sides while he continues watching you, his cheeks blossoming with flush. “… like me?”
You nod, “And you like me.”
Thank god you’ve gotten that out of the way, it was only a matter of time before the both of you moved out of the neighborhood out of sheer embarrassment. And finally, everything just goes quiet. The two of you stand with only a few feet between you, both with heaving chests and no words left to say. The silence goes on for a little while, and as you shift a bit in your stance, Jungkook tucks his bottom lip in with his top one, not showing teeth, just nibbling at it while his eyes glisten in your direction. He breathes through his nose.
“I’m still so sorry,” he says, his voice cracking at the ends.
Your smile tugs on only one side of your face, “Don’t be—I weirdly enough find it kind of flattering.”
Jungkook laughs in return, but not for long. You can tell he’s having a hard time, processing everything that just happened, his mind working overtime, so you decide to be a bit bolder than him — taking just a few steps towards him. Your kitten heels click gently against the tiles as you walk in his direction, stopping right as you see Jungkook’s breath coming out as a shaky exhale. He straightens his posture while looking down at you, stumbling back just an inch, not necessarily because he’s trying to get away, but purely because his nerves are taking over.
“I won’t bite you,” you chuckle. It’s cute seeing him like this. Before, you thought he might be pushing you away because you were clinically insane, but now that you know he’s just nervous — it’s all the more admirable.
He smiles, although it seems a bit forced, “I know that but—” his eyes flick over your dress, that napkin you’re wearing, and they quickly move back up to your face. “Don’t you have some place to be?”
Oh, he’s so slow… cute. You tilt your head as your eyebrows almost reach your hairline, your way of saying: After all this, you really think me dressing like this isn’t just for show? But since Jungkook might need a little push, you smile comforting, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jungkook breathes out through his nose, trying his hardest to keep eye contact, but it’s hard as your almost completely exposed chest keeps moving in heaves right underneath his gaze. Okay, you quickly understand you have to be the one who takes action here — otherwise the two of you will stand in this tiny bathroom staring at each other all night.
“You know, Kook—is it okay if I call you that?” you ask, letting your hand lift, just so your fingertips can brush over his shoulder, down the curve and trace gently over his biceps. You have to hold back a squirm as you feel his skin quiver under your featherlight touch, his entire body freezing as you caress him. And just to be extra mean, you widen your eyes, looking up at him like a lost puppy. “—You have me all to yourself now.”
There seems to be no one home. Jungkook has left the building. What stands in front of you is simply his soulless body, because he can’t for the life of him produce any word or sound whatsoever.
You try again, arching your toes to better meet his height, leaning in to repeat yourself with a whisper in his ear, “I’m all yours.”
The sweet warmth of your breath brushes against his cheek, and his knees nearly buckle. And just as you suspected, it’s enough for him to give in — but not all the way. You feel him shift, his arms lifting only to hover near your waist, fingers curling inwards as he trembles, trying to compose himself but failing miserably.
Oh, playing with a boy this gentle will be fun.
So, seeing how far you can go before he cracks, you lean in further, parting your lips, letting them meet the salty skin of his neck. And boy, oh boy, the reaction it pulls from Jungkook is enough to cause a blackout.
He breathes in, his entire chest rising in a quivering motion, and as he exhales, the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard escapes from him. It’s something between a moan and a whimper, a sound Jungkook is immediately terrified by, pressing his lips together and shutting his eyes closed as you continue lavishing his neck in wet, open-mouthed kisses.
It’s adorable, the way he acts, almost like he can’t believe this is happening. And when you start tracing higher, your lips traveling towards his sharp jaw — he beats you to it.
His hands finally attach to your waist, soft fingernails digging into your skin, and his head turns, just so that his lips meet yours. You gasp as you feel him against you, kissing you with such a hunger that you have to cling to him in order to stand upright, your arms flinging over his shoulders.
He pulls you further into him, arching your back and letting your body melt with his. And you fit him like a glove actually, his large frame swallowing you, letting you slip perfectly in between him, bending your neck as far as it can go just to meet his kisses.
“Mm—thank you,” Jungkook blurts out in a breath, lips quivering against yours. He’s almost whispering, but you catch his words anyways, pulling back slightly to look at him. His brows are drawn, lips parted and quickly searching for yours again as you retreat. God, he’s adorable. You could just eat him up — and you intend to.
Your lips meet his again, and now there’s no stopping you. Jungkook’s breath hitches as he feels your fingers come up to cup his neck, pulling him tighter against your wet lips as you start walking, backing him up and guiding him out of the tiny, cramped bathroom. He clings to you, fingertips digging into your sides as if there’s even the slightest possibility of you leaving him.
It’s a clumsy road you embark on, shoving this large man out the narrow door, into the hallway, trying to turn and twist him as you’re about to lead him into your bedroom. His back hits the staircase, “Ah—”
“No—m-more to the right,” you giggle, having a hard time speaking as he swallows every word you say. One of the hands on your waist brushes upwards, and soon his large palm cups your cheek, his thumb stroking your soft skin. You almost can’t breathe with the way you’re so tightly pressed against him, his heavy chest pushed so neatly against yours, making you feel every breath he takes.
The two of you continue your little dance until you’ve made your way to your bedroom, and as he trips backwards over the doorframe, the hand on your cheek moves out to the side in order to steady him. He lets his palm slide across the wall until there is none, as you keep shoving him further and further into the room.
Alright, you have him exactly where you want him now, and with a last, wet kiss, one last roll of your tongue, you shove him backwards. His ass meets the soft mattress of your bed, confusion blooming across his face as he wonders how on earth he ended up here this fast… and why you just pushed him away.
“You saw me here, didn’t you?” you ask, trying your best to sound sultry even though you have to catch your breath after the heavy make-out-sesh you just indulged in.
Jungkook beams at you, his puppy-dog-eyes glistening and pupil-swallowed. His ears have already gone red, and you wonder what might happen when you finally let him have what he’s been aching for. As you take a step back, then another, Jungkook shifts on the bed, his hands falling to his lap, before moving to steady him flat on the mattress, unsure of what to do with himself. So he just sits before you, breathing unsteadily as your eyes sink into his.
You giggle as you see his throat working, “Me, in just a towel.”
He gulps once again, almost as if every single word you say, every single move you make, is enough to drive him off the edge. He’s literally holding himself back, now shifting to sit down on his fingertips. Jesus, he’s actually restraining himself. Let’s see how long he’ll be able to keep this up.
“Imagine if I was naked.”
“You weren’t—” he snaps back, still trying to ensure you of the fact that he didn’t mean it, that it was a fragile break, something within him snapping at the sight of you barely dressed.
“I could’ve been,” you say, voice low. You’re still trying to see how much he can take, and as cruel as it might seem, you detect anticipation alongside the obvious flush in Jungkook’s cheeks. You push further on, “My towel could’ve slipped.”
Your hand slowly brushed up your side, before coming up to your chest, and at last, you let your thumb hook the thin, almost invisible strap of your tiny dress. Jungkook’s breath hitches as you toy with the white fabric. He gulps, letting his eyes roam quickly over your body, unsure of where to look because everything is just so fucking good right now.
He’s about to have a naked girl in front of him (he hopes), and the naked girl is you. That’s something he only thought could happen in his dreams, his sick and sinful dreams.
“Like this,” you continue, and with a short, quivering breath, you let your other thumb hook the opposite strap. With a quick pull, the two strings fall off your shoulders. It’s not an extremely promiscuous move, but your dress is loose. Very loose, and just like that, with just the removal of two straps, the entire piece slips off your frame and pools at your feet.
You’re left standing before Jungkook in just a strapless bra, and a matching pair of panties, your dress a tangled mess around your kitten heels.
Poor Jungkook. That poor, poor boy. He has no idea how to react to this. So without speaking, trying to repress any kind of sound, he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, fiddling with his lip ring while scanning over your almost bare body.
He wants to cry, kind of. It’s all too much for him — the way your waist curves inward right above your smooth hips, hips he can’t wait to have his hands on, hips he hopes you’ll let him touch. The way the pink lace, the only barrier left, hugs your sweet curves, how the fabric stretches, stops just above the part that aches for him. He presses his lips together and lets out a low hum slash whine, it’s a muffled and broken sound.
You’re having a hard time breathing as well, your exposed chest moving in heaves as you’re now on display before the boy you’ve been pining after for weeks. He looks so adorable in his seat, shifting on top of his fingertips, unsure of what to do with himself. And with a last, long heave, you step out of the dress that’s circled around your feet, along with your heels, moving your bare feet across the carpeted floor.
The two of you have gone radio silent. It’s probably the nerves, both of yours. You try breathing through your nose as you make your way over to him, biting down on your bottom lip, brushing your tongue over it, finally leaving it alone. Your heart is hammering in your chest, but you try keeping your cool, imagining him being just as nervous, if not more.
And you’re right about that. Jungkook is a flustered mess. But to your surprise, as you’re just a breath away from him, he manages to get out a few words. Or, they rather slip for him.
“You’re—you’re so pretty.”
You flush instantly. “Did I meet your expectations?” you tease, already knowing his answer. But before he speaks, his hips lift, and his fingers slip out from underneath him — to stretch out. His eyes flick away from yours, and move along with the path his hands take on, hovering around your waist, before finally attaching to your bare skin.
He gulps… again, this time actually making a sound. His hands travel upwards, brushing against your side until his palms reach the lace fabric of your bra. One of his thumbs brushes underneath the curve of your breast, and his eyebrows lift high on his forehead.
“You have…” he starts, slowly and almost unnoticeably shaking his head, breathing in once again. “… no idea.”
Well, the thing is — you kind of do. It’s not hard to tell, as your eyes keep falling to where his pants crease in his lap, to the bulge straining against the jean fabric. He must be big, you say to yourself, as his jeans are more on the baggy side, but you’re still able peep the outline of him. Especially when he shifts, the fabric clinging to his muscular thighs, enhancing the aching shape of him.
Okay, here’s the deal. He has watched you before, although you didn’t know that time. You didn’t put on a show for him. So, you kind of feel like you owe him that much.
“Did you think of anything while watching me?”
Your hands come up before you, gently brushing down Jungkook’s biceps through his shirt.
He nods in return, looking up to meet your eyes. They glisten, like two black pearls, taking up most of his face. He’s so cute you could eat him whole. You nod with him, pouting, “Yeah? What did you think of?”
“You, of course.”
You giggle, letting one of your hands meet his cheek for the first time, finally cupping the soft skin, “I kinda got that part—what did you imagine?”
This is too hard of a question for Jungkook. His eyes flick from one side of your face to the other, then back, frantically sweeping over your features.
Your free hand grabs ahold of his, the hand that’s still placed on your waist, pushing it lower, letting him caress the soft curve of your hips before traveling lower. His eyes are glued to how you move his hand, and they flutter shut as you position his palm on your bare ass. You’re standing between his knees, so close to him that you’re aching with anticipation, aching for him to touch you.
“Did you think about what you’d do to me?” you ask, batting your lashes at him, trying to appear unaware of the effect you have on him. “Or maybe what I’d do to you?”
Jungkook licks his lips, now removing the hand caressing the side of your bra, only for it to cup your other butt cheek — and as both hands are on you, he boldly pulls you closer to him. “All of it,” he breathes.
Showtime.
You can tell he’s about to stick his neck out, kiss your stomach, lick your stomach, do whatever he can — but you have another idea. So you slowly turn your back to him… and sink into his lap.
He breathes out heavily in your ear, his hands roaming all over you, one ending up spread flat across your stomach, the other brushing hair away from you neck to make room for his lips. He deliciously attaches to the free area of skin, licking, sucking, biting and kissing down on the sensitive spot that has you squirming.
His legs are spread wide, so you’re sitting perched on one of his thick, rock-hard thighs. And as he so perfectly nips and sucks down on your neck, you can’t help but shift in your seat. The friction is just enough, his thighs are muscular enough to provide pleasure, and in no time you start rocking back and forth, feeling your panties cling to you with slick. You’re probably making a mess out of his jeans, but neither of you care right now.
“I’ve thought about you too,” you blurt out, a breathy row of words that almost go unnoticed. But it doesn’t, and upon hearing this, Jungkook whimpers into the skin of your neck, biting down on the bruise he’s been working on, hard enough that it makes you moan in his lap. “Your arms—your hands—your lips,” you breathe, letting your head fall to his shoulder.
“You’re insane,” he moans. With the way you’re rocking back and forth on his thigh, you keep brushing against the growing bulge in his jeans, and it’s enough for him to lose his mind. You’re so close, yet so fucking far. He needs to touch you, he needs to feel more of you, anything. He needs to make you cry for him, beg him for more, beg him to stop. He wants everything you’ll give him, and right now he’s just one big pussy-drunk boy.
You gasp when you suddenly feel one of his hands on your back, fiddling with the clasp of your bra — although only for a moment, as it pops open almost instantly. Well well well, boy-next-door, you might not be as innocent as you seem.
As the lace slips from your chest, Jungkook immediately palms your breasts with both hands, kneading the soft flesh. He moans at the feel of your warm, supple skin, how it fits so perfectly in his palms, and his head tips backwards as his eyelids flutter shut. But he doesn’t let them stay closed for long, as he has to actually see what he’s doing to you. He lets his chin meet your shoulder, and he almost comes in his pants at the sight before him.
Your legs are spread on each side of his thigh, and there, on your own thigh, the right one, is something that looks like a scribble. Holy fuck. An inner thigh tattoo. He almost forgets that he’s pinching and rolling your hardened nipples with his fingers, as he has completely lost himself in the sight of your soft, tender thighs. The way you rock yourself back and forth, the way you’ve left a wet patch on his jeans, the way your hips roll so delicately.
As you seem to be lost on top of him, just a big mewling mess, Jungkook squints, trying to work out the cursive words that curl right besides your covered heat.
𝒮𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝒮𝓅𝑜𝓉
Straight to it. Okay… alright. That might just be the hottest fucking tattoo he’s ever seen.
“Don’t—don’t you wanna touch me, Kookie?” you gasp, as you’ve been continuously rubbing your clothed clit against the rough fabric of his jeans, and you quite frankly can’t take it anymore. Your panties are sticking to your skin, completely ruined and soaked through, so slippery that the friction isn’t even helping anymore.
Kookie. He pinches your nipple between his index and middle finger, making you choke on your next moan. Fuck, what a sweet-talker you are. It’s driving him insane. Of course he wants to touch you, it’s all he wants.
“Mhmm—so bad,” he whines, kissing his way up your neck until he meets the gentle skin behind your ear. He bites down on your earlobe, breathing heavily. And in a haste, he lets go of one of your breasts, searching for the hem of your panties.
Unfortunately, you beat him to it.
You grab ahold of his wrist, still rubbing yourself dumb on his thigh, turning your head just enough to meet his eyes. “Ah, but Kookie—I thought you liked to watch… isn’t that right?”
Fuck off, what do you mean?
His eyebrows knot together, and he’s practically breathing like a raging fucking bull behind you. But he’s not left in the dark for long, because as you let go of his wrist, as you stop rocking back and forth, your fingers move to your panties. And with a single slide, you rush the fabric to the side, finallybaring your sweet, dripping cunt to Jungkook.
“Ohhfuck,” he blurts out, voice low and nothing above a raspy whisper. His mouth waters at the sight. You’re fully on display now, your bare pussy leaking onto his pants, just begging for attention.
Since you’ve finally let go of him, he reaches out once again — this time without any resistance. His middle fingers slips easily through your folds, something that has the two of you moaning simultaneously.
“Oh my fuck you’re wet,” Jungkook gasps, sliding his finger further down, gathering your slick before tracing upwards again. You twitch in his lap as the pad of his finger teasingly circles your clit — but as you have something else planned entirely, you once again reach for his wrist.
“Baby…” you breathe, lifting his hand. At first, he tries his best not to move, resisting your grip, but gives in with a groan at last. You once again turn your head, locking your eyes with his. “I said watch.”
He whines behind you, but obeys, watching as you let go of his hand, as your fingers move further down.
And with your pointer and middle fingers, you spread your folds, letting Jungkook watch the way you glisten and drip all over him. His chin drops to your shoulder, and he whimpers when seeing your clit completely exposed, pulsating like a tiny heart. Oh how he wants to taste you, how he wants to lick, kiss, suck and drink in your juices until you spasm around him, until tears run down your face and ruin your pretty makeup.
“Think you can replace my fingers, baby?” you ask, giving him a tiny peck, just a soft kiss to his cheek.
“Fuck yeah.”
His fingers actually shove yours out of the way, just for him to feel you, even though all he’s allowed to do is keep you open, spread before him. The two fingers form in a ‘V’-shape as he parts your lips, letting your juices stick to his digits, letting your warmth wrap around them.
You continue with your kisses, letting your soft lips trail along his temple, right by his ear, everywhere you can reach with your neck bent towards him.
Just when Jungkook thinks you’ve got no more tricks up your sleeve — that you’ll just let him have this, just feel your wetness on his fingers — you start taking matters into own hands.
His jaw slacks, and a broken noise escapes from him, because as he watches you over your shoulder, he sees your fingers make their way to your dripping pussy. And with a slow stroke, you let your middle finger drag all the way from your sopping core to your tiny, neglected clit.
“Mmpf,” your head tips backwards, falling to Jungkook’s shoulder while he rests on yours.
“Jesus christ,” Jungkook sighs, completely spellbound by the way you’re playing with yourself in his lap, the way your smaller fingers bump against his with every single long and painfully slow stroke. You skillfully flick the pad of your finger over your twitching nub, adding in another as you start applying slow circles to your highpoint.
You’re so incredibly wet, so pliant, that every single stroke draws pornographic moans from you — which works quite well in your favor right now.
Behind you, Jungkook has lost all ability to speak. He’s so fucking lost in you, eyes glued to the way your fingers have started to glisten with your own juices. Completely tuned to the noises that both you and your cunt make. And all he’s allowed to do is be the fucking middleman. The fucking doorman, who just stands there all day, opening the door without ever entering himself.
He’s still allowed to hold your tits, to cup them, knead them, pinch your nipples — whatfuckingever. He’s on the verge of getting very, very whiny here. He wants to touch you, make you moan himself. When he rolls your nipple in between two of his fingers, you whimper, of course, but he wants to make you sob. This is ridiculous.
“Like what you see, Kookie?” you sigh deeply, panting against his chest.
“Mm—yes, b-but—” he mumbles, biting down on his bottom lip, almost crying at the sight of your pretty fingers circling your clit so precisely. How more and more of your juices continue to seep out of you, forming in wet streaks that trail down the slit of your still covered ass, and down onto his thigh. “—but I want—”
He’s cut off by one of your moans, a sound so pretty he wished he could swallow it whole. By now, his cock is practically screaming your name, crying, hidden away in his pants. He’s so hard it physicallyhurts him.
Fuck it.
He removes his hand from your breast, wraps his arm around your waist, and hikes your body higher up into his lap — all the while his fingers keep you spread, open. You gasp at the new position, as Jungkook has placed you directly on top of his hardened length, a cock you already know is big enough to fucking wreck you.
“Oh my god, Kook,” you cry, still working yourself over with your soft fingertips.
Jungkook buries his forehead into your shoulder blade, looking down at the way you curve on top of him, the way you’re placed so perfectly over his cock. He feels everything, even through the rough and thick jean fabric, his cock a leaking mess in his boxers.
And as his arm is still wrapped around your waist, he slowly starts rocking you back and forth in his lap, your dripping, pulsating and bare pussy dragging over his clothed cock.
You cry out at the new stimulation, the pace of your fingertips faltering as you’re being slid back and forth in Jungkook’s lap. Your hips instinctively roll down to better meet his bulge, and as you feel the fabric slip through your folds, your eyes roll into the back of your head.
“You feel—ah—so big—” you gasp, Jungkook now dumbing you down to a moaning, breathy mess with only the outline of his dick.
His head plops back onto your shoulder, almost crying as he once again lays eyes on the way you rub your own clit. He grinds up to meet every roll of your hips, his breath stuttering with every single drag, gasping and sighing as he continues watching you play with yourself so delicately.
He can’t fucking take it anymore. He has to feel you, he has to have you drip all over his fingers. Your name falls from his lips.
“Please—” he sighs, almost out of breath from all the withholding he’s been doing. Poor guy. “Please—just let me touch you.”
Thankfully, with the way you’ve been edging yourself — with the way Jungkook’s clothed cock keeps sliding through your folds — you’re now downright drugged. There’s actually no restraint left in your body, and hearing Jungkook beg behind you… actually beg to have his hands on you… there’s nothing to do but grant his wish.
“Y-yes, please—need your fingers so bad,” you cry, removing the hand from your clit to place a firm grip around one of Jungkook’s thighs.
Jungkook lets out the most broken sound you’ve ever heard. It comes from deep in his chest, a throaty gasp that dissolved into a soft moan as he surges forward, wrapping both arms around your waist to pull you flush to him. He’s shaking with anticipation and want, every primal thing that’s been clawing at him since the day he saw you in that fuzzy coat for the first time. You’re in his arms, all his — holy shit.
His thumbs hook the waistband of your soaked through panties, and he yanks them off you in a hurried motion, not caring if the fabric might rip.
One hand slides down immediately, and you arch into him, spreading your legs a little wider to give him space. His fingertips are hesitant for half a second, brushing delicately between your folds, like he can’t believe that you’re actually allowing him to touch you, before they dip in. Two of them, pressing into your dripping cunt with an ease that makes the both of you cry out in tandem.
Your entire body jolts against him, mouth falling open, hands flying up to grab at his shoulders, nails digging through the fabric of his shirt. “F-fuck, Kook—”
“Holy f-fuck—how are you this wet?” he gasps over your shoulder, eyes glued to the way your slick covers his fingers, the way you greedily suck him in with every deep thrust he bestows upon you. He has never seen anything like it, anything so beautiful. You’ve bewitched him, body and soul.
You can’t even answer him properly — you just mewl against him, jaw slack and lips parted, every breath now a high-pitched moan. You’re gasping, twitching in his lap, your hips already rolling to meet his strokes as his fingers retract, starting to apply circles to your clit. He pinches the nub between his middle- and ring-finger, rubbing you with such precision you can do nothing but tremble against him, mindlessly let out his name in a row of breathless moans. Maybe it’s the wait that has you coming undone so easily for him, or maybe he’s just that good — but as he works you over with his fingers, you swear your brain activity cuts short.
“Kookie—please—just like that—” you cry out, back arching against him, your head falling to his shoulder. “Keep going, don’t stop—god, don’t stop!”
Only an idiot would stop upon hearing such wonderful pleas. And as of now, Jungkook is no idiot, just completely drunk on the feel of you, the sound of you, the way you writhe and tremble in his lap. One hand stays locked around your waist, holding you tight to his chest, while his other hand works between your thighs, rubbing tight, perfect circles against your clit as your wetness coats his fingers, his jeans, everything. He couldn’t care less.
If he wasn’t so nervous about pleasuring you, he’d throw you off his lap, lay down flat on the bed and have you straddle his face. He’d happily suffocate on your pussy, drink in all your juices, suck down on your clit until your legs trembled so hard that he’d have to hold you upright. But as stated, he is a bit flustered, and won’t do anything rash — so his fingers will have to do for now.
“Shhit,” he whispers, his forehead falling to your shoulder as if this, him working your clit over, is pleasuring him somehow. He musters up the courage to call you a gooey pet-name. “Is that good, baby?”
There’s no way you can find words in the state you’re in, especially not when he calls you baby. Your hips buck in response, and Jungkook feels the way your thighs begin to shake, the way your breath comes in ragged gasps, the way you’re pulsating beneath his fingers — he knows you’re so close, oh so close.
His words come out pathetic, like a whimper. “You gonna cum for me? Ah—cum all in my lap?”
You nod again, whimpering, unable to do anything else as your body builds toward the edge. The pressure between your legs is unbearable, every nerve ending begging, every muscle tightening. And when Jungkook rolls your clit while pinched between his fingers, so agonizingly so that your eyes go to the back of your head — you have no idea how you’re going to survive this.
Behind you, Jungkook still can’t lift his forehead from your shoulder. His eyes are shut tight, and he’s panting like he’s already buried balls deep inside you, although he doesn’t need to be. He’s quite frankly about to cum right there, in his pants, just by hearing the pretty moans that leave you, by hearing you beg for him with words that don’t even make sense. He can’t fucking believe it — he’s the one making you feel like this. He’s about to make you cum, he’s about to have you cum all over his fingers, spasm in his lap, arch into him and roll your hips over his aching cock, hidden away in his jeans.
He chokes on a moan when he hears you speak again. “Oh my—fuck, Kookie—don’t you dare stop—I’m—”
Jungkook rubs tighter, faster, the hand on your hip starting to rock you back and forth in his lap as his hips follow, chasing the wetness that drips over his jeans. Suddenly, he feels your entire body lock.
You come undone with a row of sharp gasps, gentle inhales, completely wiped out, eyes fluttering shut. Your thighs clamp around his hands, and your body jerks in his lap as wave after wave crashes through you. In a haste, your hands fall from his shoulders and to his lap, your long nails digging into his thighs, your breath stolen from your lungs and your voice tangled in a moan that you couldn’t even stop if you tried. Because Jungkook keeps rocking you back and forth, keeps rubbing you through the orgasm and out on the other side until stars and sparkles appear in your eyelids.
He feels so big in his jeans, that’s really all you can think of as you keep gliding so easily over the bulge that’s hidden underneath you.
As you came, Jungkook managed to lift his head from your shoulder and look at your face in awe as you leaned against his shoulder — where you now still lie. Your eyebrows crease gently on your forehead, your lips parted just slightly as small and broken gasps make their way out. He can’t make his fingers stop, not until he’s sure he has managed to squeeze out every drop of pleasure you have left. With his eyes glued to you.
“Fuck,” he whispers as he looks at you resting on his shoulder. “You—you look so pretty when you cum.”
You whimper something that’s almost a laugh, dazed and gasping as you feel his heart hammering against your back. His fingers finally slow down, and he looks at the view of them leaving your dripping and overstimulated cunt, how your slick sticks to his digits, how it glistens. He looks so spellbound, you can’t contain yourself.
So you stretch your neck and fight every tremble in your body to plant a kiss on his soft cheek. He hums in response, turning his head immediately to meet your lips. His hands go to your waist, not even bothering to wipe away your slick, and with your help he manages to turn you fully, have you straddle his lap.
His skin is so warm, he feels so soft and gentle — it drives you fucking nuts. You smother him in tiny pecks, leaving his lips to eagerly mark his entire face with wet kisses. “You did so good,” you purr, still coating him with what’s left of your shimmering lip-gloss. Even though you didn’t intend it, it does sound like a ‘good boy-comment’, something Jungkook isn’t all that familiar with.
“Thank you?” he says a bit shyly, but thinks no more of it when he feels your hands starting to fiddle with his belt-buckle. Fuck. His hips jolt upwards with surprise, absolutely dying for you to rid him of his clothes. He actually can’t wait anymore, so he catches one of the kisses you’re about to plant on his nose with his lips and rolls his tongue into your mouth. Both his hands go to the hem of his shirt, crossing them to pull the fabric over his torso.
You don’t stop kissing him, even as he lifts his arms to tug the shirt over his head. You chase his mouth, starving kisses, all tongue and lips and the soft, desperate gasps of a man coming undone. You catch the groan he releases when your teeth graze his bottom lip, when your nails drag slightly over the now bare skin of his chest. He’s chiseled to perfection, you feel to under your fingers who now drag down his torso, the pads running over his rock-hard abs. What a man.
Your hands move lower, and you tug at his belt again while your lips stay locked to his, fingers fumbling with the buckle, and he’s so helpful about it. He shifts his hips to assist, letting you slide the leather free from its loops, and the second you pop the button of his jeans, he breaks the kiss to pants softly into your cheek. “I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”
“Haven’t we already established you’re a bit crazy?” you purr, pushing his jeans down his thighs.
He huffs a breathless laugh, but chokes on it when you decide to cup him through his boxers. His cock jumps at the contact, the wet fabric clinging to every line of him, and his head tips back with a soft gasp. He whines when you lift yourself off his lap, fingers trying to tug you back, but helpless as he’s so damn horny he could die.
You stand before him as he sits back on the edge of the bed, jeans pushed down his thighs, abs moving in waves as he breathes in and out. His eyes are wild, locked to your, praying that you might give him some attention now.
“Take these off,” you murmur, looking down at the jeans. “And scoot back.”
“Yes—fuck—yes,” he nods too quickly, lifting his hips to peel off his jeans. You help him kick them down his legs, your hands sliding over the taut muscle and soft skin, and the moment they’re off, he tugs off his socks with rushed, shaky hands. He does exactly as asked, and scoots back until his back hits the plush headboard, shoulders pressed to the padding, legs spread open in the most inviting way. His thighs flex as he settles, every muscle rolling and tightening underneath his thick and golden skin. He looks painted by the gods, unbelievably beautiful, built like something out of a dream. You went crazy over him by just seeing his face, his height, so now seeing him undressed, straining in his boxers, all for you, has your thighs going slick as more arousal seeps out of you.
“Like this?” he asks with one brow cocked, arms resting on his thighs. He asks as if he’s nervous, pressing harder down on his thighs, rubbing over them twice with his eyes getting lost in yours. He looks delicious enough to eat up, you could gobble him up whole. Still watching you, he bites down on the skin in his cheek, eying your bare body, the way there’s still glisten lingering between your legs. How your tits perk in his direction, how there seems to be goosebumps by your nipples. What a fucking view — and he’s got this all to himself?
You start moving to the bed, crawling forward slowly, and soon your naked body settles above him until you’re climbing back into his lap. His breath hitches, and his hands hover, waiting for permission until you take ahold of his wrists and guide them to your hips. “Hold me there,” you whisper. “And don’t move yet.”
He moans at that, eyebrows knotting high on his forehead as his fingers squeeze your skin. How can he not fucking move? You settle in his lap, your bare heat meeting his cock which now pulsates and twitches in his boxers. He moans yet again, which only spurs you on. So you grind once over his cock, arms resting on his chest, letting the clothed bulge slip in between your wet folds.
Jungkook’s head thuds against the headboard, his jaw slack. “Fuuck me.” His eyes nearly roll back, and he grips your hips harder as you rock yourself back and forth over his cock. Your clit grinds directly against the ridge of him, and your breath catches when he twitches beneath you. And when you look down, you see a new, dark patch starting to form, as he leaks against his stomach, through his boxers.
“Oh fuck—please—” he whines, his voice unraveling as you rub yourself over his hard length. His neck goes back to its upright position, and he locks eyes with your puffy folds, how they slide back and forth over his erection, how it makes small, wet sounds with every delicate roll of your hips. “Holy fuuck—you’re gonna make me cum.”
His thighs start to tremble under yours, his grip tightening again, and suddenly, without warning, he sits upright. His spine leaves the headboard completely as he surges forward, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest, mouth brushing against your shoulder. He moans into your skin, “I need—need to feel you,” he chokes. “I can’t—need to move, please—”
There’s no way you can say no to that, so you invite his request by wrapping your arms around his neck, continuing the move of your hips. Jungkook meets the rolls this time, grinding up into you, matching your rhythm as his breath goes shallow. He rocks beneath you with a choked groan, his boxers soaked through and clinging to your slick folds as you both set a perfect and messy pace. Chest to chest, sweat-slicked, already fucked out.
“Fuck—Jungkook—” you gasp, nails digging into your shoulders. You’re so close again, your clit catching with every press of his cock. Fuck, this can’t be happening, how easy can you be? Get it together, woman. “You feel—s-so good—”
He nods frantically against your neck. “You’re perfect—oh my god—you’re so wet and soft and perfect.”
His hips start bucking up into you with in a more desperate pace, gasping for air as he feels himself tightening, every nerve in his body ready to be ignited. You feel too good, he can’t fucking think. Although he wants nothing more but to bury himself deep inside your pretty cunt, he can’t seem to stop whatever it is he’s doing now. Because you feel too good. His arms tighten, one hand splaying across your back, the other dragging down to cup your ass, shoving you down harder against him. His hips snap upwards, rutting into your soaked heat like he’s praying for release.
“Fuck—ah—I’m gonna cum—” he gasps, his head moving to your chest, nuzzling his face in between your swell, perfect, soft, wonderful cleavage. He could live there probably, although now he can’t seem to breathe. “I’m gonna cum—I’m gonna cum—I’m gonna cum—”
You’re both gasping for air, moving in perfect desperation, caught in a rhythm none of you dares to break, slick friction and wet, breathless please.
But you’re stronger than him — you don’t want him to cum anywhere but inside you, deep inside you. So you stop. Right at the height of it, when his cock is throbbing beneath you, twitching in his boxers, when your hips are already grinding out trembling whimpers, you still yourself. You hug him tighter against your body, holding him in place as you freeze.
Jungkook jolts, his breath catching like you’ve stolen it right out of his lungs. “W-what—no—why’d you—”
You tug on his hair, lifting his face from where its pressed against your tits, and you lean in, brushing your nose against his, lips ghosting his mouth. “You’re not cumming in your boxers tonight.”
Jesus fucking christ, if Jungkook wasn’t completely spellbound by the way you speak so seductively, the way his cock is still nuzzled between your folds, he would be running up and down the walls. He almost completely forgot about the fact that he could actually fuck you, like for real — he was too lost in pleasure.
His eyes flicker, wide and absolutely lost in you, suddenly kissing you with such desperation that you have to gasp for air.
“Take them off,” you manage to breathe into his mouth.
He shifts beneath you as his eyebrows twitch and his breath stutters. He shifts just enough to hook his thumbs into the waistband off his boxers, lifting his hips. You lift too, just barely, your knees bracing the mattress as he shoves the last fabric down and off, kicking it frantically off with his feet, something that has you giggling against his lips. His cock springs free, completely soaked. The tip glistens, already beading at the slit, twitching helplessly as it rests against his stomach.
You both groan. Your hips are still hovering above him, your heat just barely brushing the length of him. This is enough to kill you, actually. But you need him so bad you almost can’t think — you’ve been needing him for weeks now.
“Are you clean?” you ask, your fingertips dragging slowly down his chest, the barest tease.
Jungkook swallows hard, looking right into your eyes while his hands clench the sheets, too nervous to actually touch you. He’s clean, of course, he tests himself every time he has slept with someone. It has been months now, but his last test came out negative, so he can’t possibly have caught something in any other way. He doesn’t really sit down naked in public places, so he has to be clean. “Yeah. Yeah—you’re the first I’ve touched in months.”
“Good—same here,” you confess with a giggle. A beat passes, and you push him further down, letting his back meet the headrest again, watching as his tongue fiddles with the piercing in his bottom lip. This is finally happening, dear god. You’re so unbelievably thankful for the fact that the two of you are both insane, that you’ve both been spiraling for weeks. Because now you have him at your mercy, after all this time.
The room is quiet for a minute, up until Jungkook lets out a desperate whisper. “Then please—please let me feel all of it. I’ve never needed anything more.”
You’d scream out ‘me neither’ if it weren’t for the fact that you’re trying to keep your cool, assert some kind of dominance here. So instead you rise slightly onto your knees, one hand reaching between your bodies to wrap around his cock, which instantly twitches in your grip. Jungkook curses low in his throat, his eyes locked on yours, completely still beneath you as you guide him to your entrance. So you lower yourself, and the moment the swollen head pushes past your folds, both of you gasp.
Your walls stretch to accommodate him, inch by inch, taking him in with a slow ache that feels has your thighs trembling. He’s incredibly thick, but your body opens for him anyway, desperate to take him whole.
His head drops back against the headboard with a thud as his lips part beautifully. “Oh my god,” he groans with a wrecked voice, fists buried and clenched in the sheets. “Shitshitshit—you’re tight.”
You keep sinking deeper, biting your lip, nails dragging down his chest as your pussy stretched tight around his cock. He’s shaking under you, knuckles white where his hands grip the duvet, breath coming in short, punched-out gasps. And when you’re finally seated, flush against him, both of you let out a loud moan. You’re both completely still, trembling and panting as the fit is obscenely snug. When Jungkook looks up at you, his eyes are heavy-lidded. “Oh my god,” he says the moment he lays his eyes on you. What a wonderful view, he thinks. How can anyone look so beautiful while taking his cock. Your mouth is parted in such a gentle way, your lips swollen for all your shared kisses. Your arms look so delicate as you straddle him, soft muscles spasming slightly underneath your skin.
As you try keeping eye contact, you settle fully in his lap with trembling thighs, the weight of him buried so deep inside you it feels like you might never be able to walk again after this. His cock pulses thickly within your heat, and he shudders visibly beneath you.
“Holy fuck…” Jungkook breathes out, his head now tipped back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling in shaky gasps. His throat bobs as he swallows, his lashes flutter shut as he can’t for the life of him look at you for too long. He’s going to come right away if so.
“You okay, baby?” you purr, fingers brushing up his chest in featherlight strokes.
He nods desperately with his eyes still clenched shut. “Mm-hm,” he hums in response, not daring to look at you for even a second more. Fuck, he’s going to come so hard.
You smile softly, grinding your hips in the smallest, slowest circle. The movement makes him gasp, hips jerking helplessly upward before you pin him back down with your thighs. He shudders and twitches, hands still not touching you, but clenching the fabric of the sheets so hard it looks as if it might hurt. He just fucking lays there, terrified that he might come embarrassingly quick if he lets himself go, so he stays still, choking on his own moans as you once again roll your hips.
The rhythm you’ve built is smooth, just enough to leave him gasping, trembling underneath you as he lets out small, broken moans. His cock fills you perfectly, every slow drag inside you grazing nerves that make your toes curl and your walls clench around him. Whenever you roll forward, your clit brushes against his abdomen, and you can’t help but gasp.
Jungkook’s head is tipped back, his throat bared, chest heaving as he’s barely keeping it together. His eyes, fuck — they’re still closed. His beautiful, dark eyes who you could spend hours looking into.
You stare down at him, straddling his hips, the slick sound of your bodies echoing in your bedroom, and it kills you that he isn’t looking at you. Not even for a second. His eyes are actually shut closed ridiculously hard, his eyelids creasing with the effort of not looking at you. He keeps gasping for air, especially when you start lifting your hips, only for them to roll down and forward again, a move which rips all the air from his lungs.
“Jungkook,” you whisper, still grinding down in perfect circles. Your voice is soft, nothing more but pleading. “Look at me.”
He shakes his head weakly, brows drawn tight, breath hitching with every thrust. “I can’t,” he breathes in desperation. “Can’t—I can’t.”
You grind down deeper, letting your walls squeeze around him, making his whole body jerk. “Baby,” you murmur again, letting your hands trail down his chest to his stomach, your voice turning sugar-sweet. “Please? Just for a second? I wanna see you. Wanna see those pretty eyes, Kookie.”
He swears under his breath, biting down on his lip. His fists tremble where they grip the sheets. He’s fighting it, really fighting it. Of course he wishes to look at you, grip you, make your pretty tits bounce as he makes you ride his cock. Oh how he’d love the sight of it. But it would only last a second, as he would come so unbelievably fast. Instead, he options for defiance… but you know he’s seconds from giving in. You can see it in the way he his eyelids un-crinkle.
So you say it again, looking down at him with heavy-lidded eyes as his cock keeps hitting the delicate spot buried deep inside you. “Please, Jungkook… look at me, baby.”
Oh my god. Jungkook shudders, lashes fluttering — and then he cracks. His eyes open, and fuck, the look in them nearly has your knees giving out over him. They’re blown wide with lust, flicking over your flushed face, your chest, the way his cock keeps disappearing inside your puffy folds. How they suck him in so greedily, how his entire abdomen is coated in your slick.
“Fuuck,” he whispers, and just like that, he decides to let go. Fuck it.
His hands shoot up to your hips, grabbing you hard and pulling you down onto him with a strength he’s been holding back for too long. He’s been dying to fuck you, thought he never would, so he won’t go easy now that he’s finally been granted his one true wish. You gasp, pleasure jolting through you as his grip anchors you against him. Finally, he starts thrusting up into you, matching your rhythm, reaching so much deeper than when you were doing all the work yourself. And oh god, it feels so incredible. He feels like a dream.
“Oh my god—” you choke out, your head tipping back. The new pace is punishing, but so unbelievably perfect. You’re so full, every thrust slamming his cock into you at just the right angle, so deep you can’t breathe. All you can do is splay flat palms over his sweat-slick chest, trying to steady yourself as your thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably. “Yes—yes—oh god, Jungkook, don’t stop—”
Jungkook groans, holding your hips, fucking into you with a madness that punched the air out your lungs. “You’re gonna—ah—” he gasps, eyebrows creasing, eyes flicking over you as he has no idea where to look. It’s all too good, the wonderful expression on your face, the perfect bounce of your tits, how your cunt keeping sucking him in with every thrust. “You’re gonna make me cum so hard—fuck, fuck—”
There’s no way you can answer him right now. Your moans come out broken, each one hitched around the feeling of his cock pounding into you, his hips slapping against your ass, your thighs, your slick dripping down his length as he fills you over and over. And when he shoves you down onto his cock, your swollen clit nudges against him, just enough for it to provide pleasure. Your mouth falls open on a gasp, hips stuttering as the pressure inside you coils tighter, white-fucking-hot.
Jungkook moans high-pitched, completely losing control, one of his hands sliding up your back with awe, the other gripping your hip with bruising force as he keeps you locked in his rhythm. “You’re perfect—so wet—you feel so—ah—soft—” The praise tumbles out of his parted lips, something he soon shuts up by biting down on his lips. His nose crinkles, as does his eyebrows, and he keeps his eyes locked on where his cock keeps disappearing inside you.
Your entire body twitches upon hearing his words, your head falling forward as you brace yourself with both hands on his chest. Your nails dig into the swell skin there, and you swear you can feel his heart hammering through his ribs. Fuck, it makes it even hotter, and you clench around him uncontrollably.
“Jungkook—” you gasp, a high and choked moan following the way he hits your sweet spot again and again and again. Your whole body jerks, with every thrust, thighs shaking, mouth hanging open as heat spreads through your belly like wildfire. You don’t even notice how bad you’re trembling until he suddenly presses his forehead to yours.
He gasps, “I’m gonna cum.” The hand running up your back comes to your neck, which he grabs to shove you against his lips, muffling both your outcries. You moan into each other’s mouth, sweat and spit mingling on your tongues as they tangle together. He lets up from the kiss for only a second, a moan breaking in his throat, “A-ah—baby, I’m gonna cum—please cum. You’re clenching so hard—fuck, baby, are you gonna cum?”
You nod erratically as all words are lost on your tongue, the pleasure pulsing though every inch of your body. Desperate to find both your releases, you grind down harder, chasing pleasure and all of him. His hand shoves your lips back onto his, and he gasps into your mouth as he feels you clenching viscerally around him. After a few more grinds, you come undone all over him, crying out in pleasure, grabbing onto his neck to release your moans into his mouth. You walls flutter and spasm around his cock as your thighs give in, unable to move or do any work yourself.
Jungkook lets both hands move to your back instead, pushing you flush to his sweat-slick body, lifting his hips off the bed to take matters into own hands instead. He thrusts harder and faster, hugging you against his chiseled frame. “Oh my god,” he chokes out, his hands holding you down tight as he fucks you through your orgasm, the way your walls squeeze around him, dragging him over the edge right behind you. “I’m cumming—I’m gonna cum so hard—I’m—”
He slams up into you one last time, hips jerking as his cock throbs deep inside you, spilling into you with a groan that sounds almost painful. He fills you, heat spreading inside you as he comes hard, gasping your name continuously, completely wrecked.
As the two of you pulsate, gasp for air pressed flush to each other, he wraps his arms around your back as you both shake from the aftershocks. His cock twitches inside you one more time, still buried deep, and you both let out weak, breathless sounds as the last of it fades. Your foreheads are pressed together, and your eyes are both shut as you catch your breaths. The room is quiet, but your heart pounds in your ears.
What makes you tingle is when his hand starts running slowly up your spine. Holy fuck. This was definitely worth the wait, worth going insane over.
You hear him breathe out his name, and your eyes open, so close to his that his two eyes blend together. You blink, leaning in to press a lazy kiss to his lips, so tired that you actually just stay there, gasping against him as he kisses you back. The hand cradling your back moves, coming to brush your wild hair out of your face, stroking the back of your head. “Thank you,” he breathes, kissing you once more.
So subtle you almost don’t notice it, he turns with you still pressed flush to him, rolling the two of you over to your sides all the while he’s still buried inside you, his release seeping out from you and ruining your sheets. You don’t care, you can fix it later. He’s here now, and he’s hugging you, tugging you closer so your head can rest against his chest. He gives a small kiss to the top of your head, breathing out heavily, repeating his words. “Thank you.”
You fall asleep like this, still intertwined and utterly exhausted, him hugging you while he listens to the way your breathing settles.
Jungkook had one mission when moving for himself — finding a girl to sleep with. He did so, not without struggle that is, but what he didn’t imagine was finding a girl to fall in love with. Finding a girl he would love with all his heart, so deeply it would hurt whenever she wasn’t around.
But he did. He met a girl who made him go crazy.
There’s an unwritten rule that goes something like this: Do not fall in love with your roommate, do not get involved with your roommate in any way. It will ruin the relationship that you are financially bound to. You will have to move.
Thankfully, Jungkook has found a loophole. He has fallen in love with his neighbor, a girl who he practically lives with now. Because you can’t keep your hands off each other. Not even for a second. He hates it when he has to work on weekends, he hates when he has to leave you while you sleep so peacefully in whatever bed the two of you slept in the night before.
He tries making up for it while leaving you small notes around the house, pink post-it notes filled with what could be just meaningless scribbles. But you love his drawings, you love it when he leaves a weirdly drawn bunny on the fridge. And what Jungkook doesn’t know is that on your bedside table, there’s a small, porcelain casket, where you pocket all his post-it notes. There are probably about a hundred of them now, buried in the casket. You look at them when he’s away, smiling by yourself, wondering how you could ever get so lucky.
One night, while you were laying in his lap over the sofa, you found out he knew how to braid. You felt a slight tug on your hair as your eyes were glued to the television, and stretched your neck to see what was going on with the man behind you.
Nothing in particular was going on, actually. Because there he sat, watching TV, just like you, only with your hair in his hands, braiding a perfect fish-tail without even needing to look at it. Your hand came up to get a feel on it, and your cheeks flushed. Without tying it, you turned your entire body and leaped forward, kissing him all over until he started giggling.
What did the two of you do in your past lives, to be this insane — but somehow find each other in all the chaos?
jen. im sucking your dick tonight. bc what the fuck? this was so funny and smutty, i loved both reader and jk's inner dialogue. they were both so insane LMFAO
reader the entire time: I NEED HIM TO FUCK ME RIGHT NOW, jungkook the entire time: im so stupid and she’s so pretty
also... that was some of the most divine smut i've ever read. #bringbackdryhumping.
(line by line below the cut.)
You fold your hands together, and you actually pray to God, something you haven’t done in a while. Last time was when you forgot to pay your phone bill, and you begged to higher powers every time you had to make a phone call. It feels nice getting in touch with God again, even though you’re not much of a believer, it’s good to know he’s there. Like a free therapist.
This made me lol
“I want my mom,” is all you’re able to cry out into the pillow
I love this oc’s inner monologue so much HELPPP
Your words die in your throat. Because as the greeting leaves your lips, one of the men step forward from behind the truck. And you think you’re about to have an aneurism.
GAHAHAHAHAHA ohhh i love a man that makes me speechless
But hey, if you weren’t awake by now, you would’ve maybe never met this mysterious man (who please, please, please might be your new neighbor).
EEK i’ll say it again i love her inner monologue she’s so funny and real
Dear mother of god. His forearm is covered in tattoos, a sleeve so detailed you can’t help but squint, trying to make out what they read. Not only is his arm inked, but his knuckles are covered as well.
WOOOF WOOOF WOOOF
“Fine you unload it, so I can apologize to this nice lady.”
Oh my god that’s you. Hello!
FHAHDSJHFDSF JEN IM IN LOVE WITH YOUR LINE DELIVERY??!!1
But let’s not discuss voyeurism already, you should maybe start by answering him.
Oh my god i love her
You don’t know which one of you misread the situation, but as you bow, Jungkook stretches his hand out, presumably to shake yours — but this ends in his flat palm grazing the side of your boob. Your coat is unfortunately open, and his hand slips past the fabric as you bend, long fingertips brushing against your soft pyjamas.
Oh bROTHERRRRR!!1 JFDSJF:LSJFK:JSDKFJDSKLFJDSF SDJF DSJf;s fjk i actually screamed OUT LOUD oh my god how do you even come up with this
Okay, so he’s handy. That’s good to know. It’s almost primal, but knowing a man is good with his hands… could it really get much better than that?
Hehehehe. Me knowing the plot beforehand makes this SOOO fun to read.
That’s when you have the brilliant idea of summoning him. He said himself he was handy, that he could fix things. So why not fix shit at your place?
The problem is that nothing in your home needs fixing, everything works annoyingly smooth. But you can fake a leakage, fake a power-out. Anything, really, if you put your mind to i
Oh she’s so insane i love her.
Tihi — oh no! How will you manage without a heater during this cold weather? How ever will you fix this?
She’s insane i love her pt 2
. If this sounds insane, do not worry! You are checking yourself straight into a mental facility after this.
CACKLING
Jungkook came over two days ago with a brand spanking new radiator. He hadn’t told you about it, he just rang your doorbell and there he stood: with a humorously large box in his arms.
Oh jungkook. My pookie. You little idiot.
He told you installing it would be easy, so after he left, he let you do that yourself (although it took about three hours and an absurd amount of tears… turns out it wasn’t so easy after all).
JFDKSJFLSDJFJSD LMFAOOOO NOT HIM TELLING HER TO DO IT bC he probably can’t even do it himself oh my god
. The way his tattoos curled perfectly around his bicep and up to his chest, that plump, big chest. And why was he looking at you? He disappeared immediately, before you could draw your curtains.
Bring voyeurism back. Need that
At that thought, you wrap your hand around the pipe, turning and twisting on the screws until it pops open… and you shove the lipliner inside.
Oh no!
You cover up your tracks, slip into a very revealing, white-lace dress, a pair of kitten heels, and run down the stairs. Hehe.
She’s insane i love her pt 3
And as you slip past him, walk before him up the stairs, you hear him actually trip in his steps. Him being nervous just makes you bolder, so you turn to check up on him.
Oh my god this little sweet stupid boy
“I’m embarrassed by it enough as it is… it was awful and I’m sorry… but stop. Stop fucking playing with me. It’s mean.”
JFSJDFKJDSKLJFS DKFJS FGAHAGAGAAHAHAHAHHAHFSDJFDSFJDKSJF HE’S SO CUTEEEEEEEE
Jungkook wasn’t like that. He felt sex should be more private, more intimate, not something for others to tune into.
Oh i love him
He had only one mission moving into a new home — getting a girl back to his place. But he had within a day managed to sexually harass his neighbor, so he shelved the idea as he felt he needed to redeem himself as a man.
Im actually crying at this. Stupid nerdy dorky pathetic jungkook will always do it for me.
But he was kicked out after a week, since Taehyung decided it was time for Jungkook to grow some balls and quote “just fuck his neighbor senseless”.
Taehyung knows what’s up
Okay, stay calm. Speak before you think, unless what you’re going to say is stupid. Then don’t say it.
I love jk’s inner monologue too he’s so stupid
“Not when you do the job yourself.”
He was a fucking dumb idiot. Why on heavens earth did he tell you he did the job himself? He had never even held a screwdriver. And fixing the entire plumbing system of a new and unknown home was probably a task he could never carry out… ever. It was probably that he was so nervous around you, and all these questions made it even worse.
MY SHAYLA LMFAOIOJSIDJFSJDFJ oh he’s so dumb.
Maybe already fantasizing about step-father-hood was a bit optimistic.
Ok so they are both insane . nice
Everything worsened when you decided to sit. The towel rose dangerously high on your thighs as you perched at the edge of your bed, knees falling slightly open as you continued your conversation: oblivious to the desperate, possibly insane man across the street, living and dying with every shift of fabric.
Ok if my comments disappear for a bit its because im gooning don’t play…
You’re teasing him. You like that, Jungkook? Want to touch yourself again, you sick pervert?
Oh my god.
“Oh my god, do you need a hand?”
Fuck you.
HHFHHSDFJSDFSJDf
“I mean—obviously you’re crazy—like, a very bizarre boy—really… very weird—” You swear you’re going somewhere with this, although it all comes out very fast and Jungkook now frowns so hard that it looks like he might cry really, incredibly ugly tears all over your bathroom floor. So you make sure to finish your sentence just as fast as you’ve started it. “—but so am I!”
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH oh my god the dialogue in this is fucking top tear im actually cackling one moment and extremely horny the next what the fuck
You try again, arching your toes to better meet his height, leaning in to repeat yourself with a whisper in his ear, “I’m all yours.”
She’s so hot
“You’re—you’re so pretty.”
Omg imagining him saying this all breathless and in awe…. Your mind…
The friction is just enough, his thighs are muscular enough to provide pleasure, and in no time you start rocking back and forth, feeling your panties cling to you with slick. You’re probably making a mess out of his jeans, but neither of you care right now.
Im thigh riding’s number one fan. Give me 14 of these
As you seem to be lost on top of him, just a big mewling mess, Jungkook squints, trying to work out the cursive words that curl right besides your covered heat.
𝒮𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝒮𝓅𝑜𝓉
Straight to it. Okay… alright. That might just be the hottest fucking tattoo he’s ever seen.
Oh my god, jen u r insane for ghis
Oh fuck—please—” he whines, his voice unraveling as you rub yourself over his hard length. His neck goes back to its upright position, and he locks eyes with your puffy folds, how they slide back and forth over his erection, how it makes small, wet sounds with every delicate roll of your hips. “Holy fuuck—you’re gonna make me cum.”
This is dry humping heaven. Gna disappear. Locking in. toes curled.
\He tries making up for it while leaving you small notes around the house, pink post-it notes filled with what could be just meaningless scribbles. But you love his drawings, you love it when he leaves a weirdly drawn bunny on the fridge.
Ok wtf not u following up the most divine smut with this domestic relationship fluff i haven’t recovered yet hello
BLURB WARNINGS oc is 4 months pregnant !! pregnancy sex, reader is moody bc no dick :/, jungkook being annoying, praise kink, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving)
ANG’S NOTE uhhh,. we are NAWT discussing the fact that i’m changing my layout for the 2838383th time. i’m trying something new as one does .. if you hate it take it up with the judge, not i! anyways this was written in the trenches of my hangover yesterday (i was getting depressed as i wrote iwwu lol) so pls enjoy this random mess of words, oc is pregnant n needy and jungkook’s dick is there to save her i said the other day that there was a drought of pregnancy fics so i came to deliver. honestly might need to continue the pregnancy chronicles because these two are oh so fucking sweet .. enjoy my cuties 🩷
You’ve always been horny. You were the queen of one-night stands before you met Jeon Jungkook. Hell, you ran an OnlyFans page (although now you post sparingly ever since your recent development).
But this is different, you’ve told your best friend and anyone else who’ll listen. This is a level of need you didn’t even know existed. Ever since that little pink line appeared on the pregnancy test four months ago and ever since you found out you were having a girl, you’ve been absolutely insatiable.
It’s like your body has decided that Jungkook isn’t just your husband, but your sole reason to live. You want to crawl inside his skin and live there. You want him touching you constantly, want his hands on your growing bump, want his mouth on yours, want him closer, closer, closer even when he’s already pressed against you.
The rational part of your brain knows it’s the hormones, are well aware it’s your daughter making you crave her daddy like he’s the only thing that can satisfy this aching, desperate hunger. But the irrational part, the part that’s currently running the show, doesn’t give two shits about logic. It just knows that when he walks into a room, your entire body sparks like fireworks. When he touches you casually, a hand on your lower back or fingers threading through your hair, it takes everything in you not to drag him to the nearest surface. He thinks it’s cute, the way you’ve become his little shadow, following him around the apartment with hearts in your eyes. What he doesn’t realize is that you’re two seconds away from combusting at any given moment.
So it’s truly no surprise that you’ve made a habit of interrupting his day-to-day activities. You do it all the time, can’t help yourself.
Last month, you ambushed him in the kitchen while he was making protein shakes, and it ended up with your back against the counter and his face between your thighs before he even finished blending.
Two Wednesdays ago, you crawled under his desk during a Zoom meeting with his manager—he had to pretend he was coughing to cover the groan when your mouth found him through his sweatpants. Yesterday, you pulled him into the shower when he was supposed to be editing a YouTube video, and he was two hours late posting it. And most mornings, you don’t even make it out of bed before you reach for him, and he’s inside you before either of you are fully conscious.
You know, you know you both agreed to keep things PG during his streams. It was a mutual decision, a boundary you set together after that one time you got a little too handsy off-camera and the chat room noticed his ears turning a bright shade of crimson, his voice breathy and strained. But right now, watching him from the bed with his floppy brown hair falling into his eyes, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he worries that silver lip ring, thick fingers moving across the controller, that agreement feels impossible to honor.
Honestly, those fingers should be inside you.
Stretching you out and making you cum the way only he knows how to.
You lean up from the king sized bed, staring at him with cavemen-like focus. The wedding band on his left hand snags on the light from his monitors, looking shinier than usual, and a swell of possessiveness and primal desire twists in your chest. Mine, your hindbrain purrs. Father of my baby. Mine.
“Koo,” you hum, your tone teetering on sheer neediness.
You’re adorned in a pink babydoll dress he bought you last week. It was $1400 for a single dress, silky and coquetteish, with an empire waist that makes your growing bump look ethereal. The fabric drapes over your curves, making you feel like some fertility goddess. He’d taken one look at you in it at the store and handed over his credit card without even looking at the price tag, a dopey look on his face.
You’ve always thought he spends too much on you, especially ever since you quit OnlyFans once you got pregnant and he insisted on paying for everything. But somehow, you already know it’s going to get worse once your little girl arrives. He’s already insane about baby clothes, coming home every other day with designer onesies and sneakers that cost more than adult shoes. He’s purchased infinite amounts of dresses from Burberry, sets from Marc Jacobs. Your little angel won’t even be able to hold her head up and she’ll be donning clothes only seen on runways. You’ve had to physically stop him from buying a tiny leather jacket because his only reasoning was “babe, she’s gonna be the coolest baby ever, she needs it.” The nursery closet is overflowing and you’re only four months along.
Crawling over to the edge of the bed, your knees sink into the mattress as you lean forward to press your lips to the curve of his neck, right over his pulse. His head shrugs you off dismissively, not even a glance in your direction.
Your body jerks back like he’s just slapped you right across the cheek.
“Bro I’m saying your build is trash for the fight,” he argues into the mic. “Joon, I need you to dodge. Tae, back him up, what the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m trying, it’s broken—” you hear Taehyung whine.
Your husband snorts. “It’s not broken, you just suck dick.”
The aforementioned man is just talking to his friends like you’re not even there. As if you didn’t try to plant a kiss on him, wearing the dress he spent over a thousand dollars on, carrying his seed.
Oh god. Oh no.
There’s a tight feeling knotting in your chest, tears brimming your eyes. These stupid fucking hormones. You have no backbone anymore, no ability to regulate your emotions like a normal adult person. Everything feels devastating, especially rejection from the one person you need most.
You sit back on the bed, crossing your legs like a petulant toddler. A sob escapes you that sounds pathetic even to your own ears.
He doesn’t turn around at the sound.
Your pink, supple lips wobble. Tears spill onto your cheeks, saltwater dripping onto the dress. How could he ignore you, especially when you need him like this? When your entire body is screaming for him, when you’re so wet you can feel it, when all you can think about is the weight of him over you, inside you, filling you the way you’re desperate to be filled?
You need his cock nestled deep inside you. You want his hands on your belly while he fucks you, calling you beautiful and remindingy you that you’re not some hormonal mess but the woman he married, the woman he chose.
Jungkook gets one last fucking chance before you lose your mind completely. Before you pack your bags and move in with your mother and file for divorce and put your shared million-dollar mansion on the market and change your last name back and raise this baby as a single mother and maybe join a convent because clearly men are trash and you are oh-so-fucking done.
You lean in again and kiss his cheek. Then his jaw, lingering a little, letting them drag across his skin.
Mid-game, he turns to you, tilting his head. “Baby, you okay?”
How dare he ask that question. You’ve been throwing yourself at him for the past ten minutes, wearing the dress he got you because you were so certain he’d fold like a lawn chair upon seeing it.
“Sorry guys, hold on,” he says into the mic, pulling it away from his face. “My pregnant wife needs some attention real quick.”
“Bro, you’re fucking whipped,” Namjoon’s voice echoes through the headset. Funny coming from him considering at your wedding, he spent half the night crying over his ex-girlfriend.
Taehyung’s voice follows, “Wrapped around her finger.”
Oh, you’re going to murder them. You’re going to reach through that microphone and strangle both of them. You cross your arms over your chest, which is difficult considering your boobs are huge now and your belly gets in the way, but you manage. The pink fabric of your dress billows out as you sit back hard on the balls of your feet, bottom lip jutting out in what you know is probably the world’s most pathetic pout.
He’s a sick, evil man.
“Just checking up on her, guys,” Jungkook simply says, and then doesn’t even argue with his friends. Just turns back to the stream, conversation over.
“What’s the strategy here?” he asks, fingers moving on the controller. “Joon, you take left side, Tae, you’re on my right.”
There’s some chatter on the mic, the chat blowing up with commentary from teenagers and adults alike. Through all this, Jungkook reaches behind him blindly, hand finding your thigh and giving it a little pat like you’re a dog. Like a condescending little there-there pat is going to do anything except make you want to commit actual homicide.
Getting up from the bed in a huff, you almost topple over, since you’re pregnant to the point where your center of gravity is completely fucked. You stand there for a second before you start pacing the room like a woman gone mad.
“Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath, loud enough that he could hear if he was paying attention, which he’s not. “Absolutely unbelievable. I’m done. I’m so done. I’m gonna pack my shit and leave and he won’t even notice because he’ll be too busy playing his stupid fucking game.”
The tears make their way back, trickling down your face in an idiotic way that makes you hate yourself even more. You hate this. Hate that you can’t control your emotions anymore, that everything feels like the end of the world, so much so you’re genuinely considering divorce over a video game.
“LET’S FUCKING GO!” Jungkook suddenly shouts, controller raised in a way you assume means victory. “That’s what I’m talking about, boys.”
“Chat, thank you so much,” Jungkook grins at his monitor, all cocky. Normally, that smile makes you want to suck his cock, but right now you want to throw him off the top of a tall building. “Thank you for the subs, thank you for the donations, yo, ‘JKGoldenFan1’ with the hundred dollar donation, you’re insane, thank you so much.”
Sure, you’re happy he’s successful, that people love watching him, that he makes more in one stream than people do working as lawyers and doctors. Yeah, you should be thrilled that your husband is fucking loaded, that you’ll never have to worry about money, that your daughter will have everything she could ever want.
But honestly, you want to close the fucking banks. Shut down his entire operation. You’re going to burn Fortnite to the ground. You’re going to find the Epic Games headquarters and set it on fire. Hacking into Twitch and deleting his godforsaken account.
“Can’t believe he ignored me,” you mumble, resuming your pacing at the foot of your bed. “I cannot believe I married someone who cares more about a video game than his pregnant wife. That’s fine. No worries, Koo. I hear you loud and fucking clear. I’ll just go find someone else. I'll download Tinder right now. I’m sure there are plenty of men who would actually want to fuck me.”
“Y’all are crazy today with these donations today—wait what?”
Your head swivels and he’s staring at you, headphones pushed off his ear, taking in your tear-stained face and manic pacing.
“Uh… guys, I gotta go.”
“WHAT?” Namjoon shrieks. “We’re literally on a winning streak.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” Jungkook pulls off his headphones, eyes glinting with worry. “I’ll be back later, okay? Thanks for watching, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
He ends the stream before his friends can finish protesting, monitors going dark, and the room is quiet save for your sniffling.
By this point, you’re in full-on tears. It’s not cute crying, but rather the very ugly kind, where your face is blotchy, your nose is running and you can barely catch your breath between sobs. Because what the fuck. Does he even love you anymore? Does he want you? Maybe you’ve gotten too big and he’s tired of you always being so pathetically desperate for his attention. Maybe he regrets getting you pregnant. Maybe he looks at you now and doesn’t see his wife anymore.
“Baby…” he begins, standing from his chair.
“Don’t,” you choke out, holding up a hand as you continue to cry your eyeballs out. “Don’t ‘baby’ me. You ignored me. You-you patted my leg like I’m a fucking dog and then just went back to your game like I wasn’t even there.”
He owlishly blinks a few times. His white hoodie is unzipped a bit so you can see his muscular collarbones and you somehow feel more physically ill than you did before. You’re much too pretty to lose your man to a video game, you think.
“All day, you’ve ignored me,” you sniffle. “All day, Jungkook. I tried to cuddle you this morning and you said you had to edit a video. Fine. Okay. I tried to sit with you during lunch and you were on a call with your manager. FINE. I came in here looking like THIS, with this stupid dress you got me, and you couldn’t even spare me a glance. I kissed your neck. Your neck, Koo, you love when I kiss your neck, and you shrugged me off like I was some kind of fly buzzing around your head. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is? To throw yourself at someone and get treated like you're an inconvenience? I’m pregnant with your daughter, I’m horny 24/7, my body doesn’t feel like mine anymore, I cry at diaper commercials, and the one person who’s supposed to make me feel wanted can’t be bothered to pay attention to me.”
Jungkook lets out a laugh. It’s a small huff of air, but you hear it.
A fresh wave of sobs hits you. You press your palms to your eyes, trying to muffle the tears that wrack through you. “Are you—” you gasp, “Are you laughing at me?”
“No! No, baby, I’m not laughing,” But even as he says it, there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
“You are laughing at me!” you cry. You’re sobbing in a babydoll dress in a mansion. You have to beg the question: what is your life?
He moves toward you, hands outstretched, ready to tug you into his warm embrace. “Baby, baby, hey. What’s wrong? I don’t understand, what do you need from me?”
“What do I need?” you scream, and okay, you’re being ridiculous, you know you’re being ridiculous, but you can’t stop. “I NEED you to want me! I NEED you to look at me like you used to!”
Jungkook tries to wrap his arms around you but you push him away. He deeply inhales, trying to remain calm despite your outburst. “I was on stream. But I’m with you now, princess. I’m right here.”
“I told you what I needed!” You swipe angrily at your tears, but they keep pouring out in buckets. “I kissed you, I—do I need to spell it out? Do I have to just say ‘Jungkook, I want you to fuck me’ like some kind of nymphomaniac?”
“You… want me to fuck you?” he repeats, and his brows furrow together, obviously confused by all this. Of course a man could never understand.
“Yes, I’ve wanted you all day.” You sniff.
You’re being pissy, crossing your arms again and turning away. Part of you wants to keep fighting, keep being mad, make him really work for it. But the truth is that you’re not even that angry anymore. You’re not actually mad that he was gaming. It’s just these stupid pregnancy hormones that make your desire for him visceral. “And another thing,” you begin. “Do you know what it’s like to be this horny? I don’t think you do. I eat breakfast thinking about you. I watch you make those gross ass protein shakes and want to climb you like a tree. You could be taking out the trash and I’d want to fuck you. I’ve tried to be good and respect our boundaries. I haven’t interrupted your streams, well, I hadn’t until today, and I’ve been patient when you have calls or when you need to edit or when you want to spend time with your friends but I’m pregnant with your daughter and that means I have the self-control of a feral kitten in heat.”
Abruptly, you pause, trying to catch your breath and stop the incessant tear-flow. But it’s no use. You’re beyond saving. “Honestly? I’m not even fucking angry anymore.”
Jungkook stares at you, not expecting the turn of events.
You slap his chest to punctuate your point. “I just want your dick. That’s literally all I want! I want you inside me and I want you to make me cum. I want to feel close to you. Why on god’s green earth do I have to have a full mental breakdown just to tell you that I need you to fuck me?”
Great. Now the bastard is standing there with a cheeky smile on his face, bunny teeth poking out. He really is gorgeous. Even through your tears, you can see it.
“All you had to do was ask, princess,” His voice drops an octave, and your knees almost fail to work, wobbling. “You didn’t have to work yourself up into a whole thing.”
“Koo, I did ask you,” you whine, stomping your feet. “I kissed you, I’m wearing this dumbass dress—”
“No, angel,” he interrupts, cupping your cheeks with his warm hands, thumbing away at your tears. “You tried to seduce me while I was live with 10,000 people watching. That’s different from asking.”
You stifle another sob. He’s a cruel, cruel man, and you’re quite easy to break.
“I didn’t realize our baby girl was making her mama so needy. Is that what this is? Pregnancy hormones got you all worked up?” He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.
“Don’t tease me,” you protest. His chest presses against your stomach and a flutter of butterflies erupt inside you.
“What, I can’t point out that my beautiful, sexy wife is so desperate for me that she’s crying about it?” His hands drift to rest on your hip, fingers playing with the silk hem of your dress.
“I hate you,” you grumble, averting your gaze from his eager eyes.
“No you don’t,” he confidently argues, “You love me so much you made yourself crazy trying to get my attention.”
The hands on your hip travel, both smoothing over your ass and pulling your body flush to his. “You should’ve told me, baby. I would’ve ended that stream in a heartbeat.”
He picks you up like you weigh nothing—you do not weigh nothing anymore and are acutely aware of every pound you’ve gained—but he lifts you, hands secure under your thighs as he carries you over to the bed. “Koo, I’m heavy,” you argue, fingers digging into the skin of his broad shoulders.
Jungkook laughs at that, a chuckle that sends shockwaves to your soaking core. “You’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect and I’m gonna spend the next hour proving it to you.” He lays you down on the mattress gently.
“An hour?” You perk up, a big, goofy grin plastered on your face.
“At least.” He hovers over you, one knee pressed between your thighs. “I’m taking my time with you. I’ll make sure you remember exactly how much I want you.”
His deft fingers find the thin strap of your babydoll dress, drags it down your shoulder slowly. His lips follow the path immediately, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, shoulder, the curve where your neck meets your arm. “This dress,” he murmurs against your warm skin. “Do you have any idea what you do to me in this dress? Thought I was gonna have to end the stream early just from seeing you in it.”
“You didn’t even look at me,” you pout. You realize you’re giving in to your penchant for the melodramatic, but the pity helps.
“Trust me baby, I always look.” He pulls back, meeting your eyes and giving you a sloppy kiss. “You look like a fucking dream. Saw our baby right here—” His hand spreads across your bump, “—and it took everything in me not to say fuck it and take you right there.”
“You should have,” you whisper.
“Mm, probably,” He works on the other strap now, dragging it down to reveal more of your smooth skin. “But then I wouldn’t get to have you like this, all needy and so fucking beautiful.”
The fabric of the dress slips lower until cool air hits your swollen, sensitive breasts that have been growing almost daily. You used to be a comfortable bra size, but now you’re spilling out of D’s and heading rapidly toward double D territory. You’ve been self-conscious about it, about how different your body looks and whether he still finds you attractive when everything is changing so fast, but Jungkook’s eyes always go dark when his eyes catch on them, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. And when he goes, “Fuck, baby. You look so stunning,” it makes you feel like you’re the sexiest woman on this planet.
He cups your breasts, thumb brushing over the pebbled nipple. The relief of his touch makes you arch into his palms. “So sensitive,” he mutters, and you muster a whimper in response. “Are they sore, princess? Have they been hurting?”
You eagerly nod.
“My poor baby,” He leans down, pressing a kiss to the swell of your right breast, then your left. “You’re doing so much work growing our baby, making sure our daughter has everything she needs.” Another kiss, this one with the barest hint of his sharp teeth. “You’re fucking incredible, you know that?”
You moan, fingers coming up to grasp his bicep that’s holding onto your tit gently. “Koo, please.”
“I love watching your body change and seeing what pregnancy does to you. These—” he cups your breasts again, thumbs circling your hardened nipples until you’re squirming beneath him, “—drive me fucking crazy. You’re getting curvier everywhere.”
“I don’t want you to have self-control,” you gasp as his mouth finally closes around your nipple, sucking despite the sensitivity. “Just—oh god—”
His tongue swirls around the peak and you thread your fingers through his hair, holding him there, silently begging for more. “Responsive today, hmm? I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” His teeth graze your nipple and you practically sob his name.
Jungkook’s free hand slides down your body, past the silk of your dress that’s bunched around your waist and over the bump on your belly that he pauses to caress with a doting tenderness. “You’ve been as patient as you can be,” he coos, pressing chaste kisses down your breasts and across the curve of your bump. “So good for me, trying to respect our boundaries even when you were going crazy. But you don’t have to be patient anymore, princess.”
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, a matching set to the dress you have on. Dragging them down your legs slowly, he watches your face contort into several different expressions. “Fuck,” he exhales, tossing them somewhere over his shoulder. His hands move to your inner thighs, spreading them wider, and your soaked cunt is exposed to him. “You weren’t kidding about being needy, were you?”
“I told you,” you whine, eyes closed tightly until you can see floating stars behind your eyelids.
“I know, I know.” he settles between your legs, broad shoulders forcing your thighs even wider, and presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “I’ll make it all better.”
Each kiss on your skin gets closer to where you need him but not close enough, never close enough. His breath ghosts over your center and you whimper, hips lifting off the bed. “Koo… please.”
“Please what?” he teases. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”
“Your mouth.” Your fingers paw at the sheets, holding onto whatever spare fabric is available. “Need your mouth on me, need you to—fuuuck—”
Mid-plea, Jungkook licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, your hand flying to his hair and fisting in the dark strands. “So wet,” he murmurs, marveling mostly to himself. “Missed this? Missed my tongue?”
“Yes,” you cry, and you’re already so worked up from hours of wanting him that you know you’re not going to last long. "Yes, missed it so much Koo.”
He’s no longer in the business of teasing you, especially not when you’re growing his beautiful daughter. His tongue finds your clit, circling it, a perfect rhythm he’s learned from years and years of learning your body. You think he knows it better than he knows the back of his hands. “Oh god, oh god,” you moan desperately, hips rolling into his face. He lets you, encourages it even, hands gripping your thighs with a bruising hold to ensure they remain spread for him. Alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and suckling your clit, his lip ring brushes against your entrance, causing your entire body to erupt in goosebumps. If you weren’t pregnant and in the beginning of your love story, you would be embarrassed of the sounds you were eliciting, but the pleasure coils in your core and you barrel toward your release.
“That’s it, darling. Keep letting me know you feel good.” The vibration of his voice against your cunt sends explosions shooting up your spine.
One of his hands leaves your thigh and you feel his fingers teasing your entrance, gathering the wetness there, and as he finally slides one finger inside you, you keen into him, belly bump pressing against his forehead. “Easy, baby,” he soothes while adding a second finger, curling them until he reaches your g-spot. “I’ve got you. Just relax for me.”
“Koo, I can’t—I’m gonna—” It’s too much, especially when your oversensitive clit has been tumbling toward release since the moment you woke up. “Can’t—”
“Good,” he groans, doubling his efforts, tongue working you relentlessly while fingers pump in and out. “Cum for me, baby. Cum on my tongue like a good girl.”
“Fuck, fuck, right there, baby,” Your hips slam into his cheeks, trying to get him to swallow you whole. The orgasm barrels into you. Knocks you over, pulls you under, your vision sizzling at the edges. Your thighs clamp around his head but he’s pushing you open, your cunt clenching around his fingers until your entire body convulses. Doesn’t give up until you stop pulsating around his digits, chin glistening with your arousal, looking absolutely fucking pleased with himself. “Doing okay?”
“Kinda,” you admit. But one orgasm isn’t enough, not when you can see how hard he is in his sweatpants, the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric. “But I want more.”
He unzips his sweatshirt, revealing his golden skin. “I’ll give you whatever you want. I know what you need.” Jungkook shoves his sweatpants down, cock angrily pulsating. He wraps a hand around his length, stroking slowly. “See what you do to me? You always make me this wound up, angel.”
He strokes himself a few more times, the head of his cock dragging through your arousal, catching on your achy clit. “I’ll take care of you. You deserve it.”
Jungkook pushes his full length inside, all nine inches of him, until he’s so, so deep. You both groan in unison, the feeling of him sinking into you otherworldly. It’s exactly what you’ve been craving all day. You wrap your legs around his waist, struggling to pull him closer as your bump creates this little gap between your bodies. “Fuck,” he whimspers, forehead dropping to yours. “Baby, you feel—god, you feel so fucking good.”
“Oh, Koo, please move,” you beg, nails digging crescent moons into his biceps.
Jungkook pulls out, slamming back into you sloppily. Somehow you’re even slicker than you’ve ever been. A mix of his saliva and your arousal, Jungkook struggles to keep himself buried inside you for more than three strokes before slipping out. “Uh-huh,” you angrily say, lining him up to your entrance.
He chuckles at your desperation, the way your brows furrow as you make sure he’s lined up perfectly to settle inside you. “Sorry, baby, you’re just so fucking wet. How do you even get this wet?”
You moan, wiggling under his grasp. “Fuck, I don’t know, don’t care, just put it in Koo,” you whine. You’re actually well-versed on the topic of your arousal. The other day, you learned in a book that women actually get more aroused during pregnancy, so it’s no wonder that you’re mimicking a human slip-n-slide down there.
Slowly, carefully, Jungkook sinks back in. In unison, you both let out a moan. Your walls vacuum-seal around his cock, trying to milk him of anything he has. One hand braces beside your head while the other slides to your belly, palm spreading wide where your daughter is growing. His hips move back, his next thrust squelching as it enters your sopping cunt. His face falls into your neck, little puffs of air falling from his lips. “Ah—shit, baby, you’re so fucking wet and tight, I’m gonna cum really fast.”
“I don’t care,” you furiously retort, “Just make me cum, now.”
His eyes travel to where his hand rests on you, hips pistoning in and out of you at a devastatingly slow pace. Enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull, your hands trembling. “You’re so beautiful,” his thrusts pick up, his hips slamming flush against yours. The tip of his cock hits your cervix, you’re sure of it. “Carrying our baby, making her safe and warm. You’re incredible, honey. Doing all this work growing her.”
He picks up the pace, rocking back and forth into your cunt. Your sensitive tits bounce with each thrust, and his eyes move from your belly to those, and his mouth waters at the sight. You both have tunnel vision, locked in on one thing and one thing only: orgasming. “Oh, Koo baby, right fucking there,” you keen.
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed in with your breathy moans. “It feels so good when you’re pregnant. Pussy’s so perfect, baby, squeezing me tight.” Your bump keeps you from being completely flush against him but someway, that makes it better, makes you more aware of it, of the physical proof of what you’ve created together.
His thumb brushes over your nipple, and your walls clamp around his cock again, tightening. He lets out a groan at the sensation. “I love knowing I did this to you. Made you mine in every single possible way.”
“Yours,” you agree breathlessly. “Always yours, fuck, keep going.” Carding your fingers through his brown locks, he ruts into you like he’s a teenager losing his virginity. You’re certain you’ve never been more desperate for him, haven’t ever been in your years of dating or marriage.
“Gonna fill you up and give you another baby, hm? Then I’ll have two that look just like you… fucking luckiest guy in the world, I love you so much,” When your eyes meet his, you see the undying affection, the unwavering admiration he has for you through it all. Despite his cock pounding into you so filthily, your heart grows three sizes bigger.
A silent moan falls from your lips, features scrunching as you barrel toward your high. Again, your cunt pulses around him, trying to coax every last drop of cum he wants to give you. “You gonna cum for me again, baby? I can feel you getting close.”
“Yes, yes, oh god, yes,” you babble, mind reeling, a tape unspooling, a film caught on fire. Your second orgasm grows slower than your first but slams into you with all the same power, your entire body shaking and tensing. Your nails leave cherry-red marks trailing down his toned back. He doesn't seem to mind; if anything, it spurs him on.
“Fuck, that’s good, baby,” he groans, fucking you through your release. He pulls out, and you shiver at the loss of him inside you, but he maneuvers your legs the way he knows how. “Gonna make you feel even better,” he promises, and then he’s lifting your legs, guiding them up until your ankles are resting on his shoulders. Jungkook wraps his arms around your thighs, hugging them to his chest.
His bicep veins bulge as he re-enters you, sinking so deep you feel him in your chest. Close the fucking gyms.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Galaxies float behind your shut eyelids, and it’s a primal desire, the one that wracks through you.
“You good?” he asks, but he knows the answer, can see it written all over your delicate features. Your hands fist in the sheets, panting, begging for more.
“Oh, fuck, Koo, you’re so deep inside me,” you writhe, legs trembling in his hold.
“I know, baby. You like it when I fuck you like this, right?” You can’t even form words anymore, just nodding frantically, and he’s watching you with such intensity it makes you feel exposed in the best way. His arms are strong around your legs, holding them securely against him.
One hand releases your leg briefly to trace down your body—over your breast, your bump, down to where you’re stretched around him. “Mine. Our baby’s gonna have the best life, princess.”
“More,” you plead, because even though you’ve already come twice you’re still needy, still yearning. . “Please, Koo, I need you.”
His thumb finds your bundle of nerves, and the combination of his cock pistoning in and out of you, and the stimulation on your clit has you hurtling toward a third orgasm embarrassingly fast. “That's my girl,” he praises, getting close too, you can tell from the way his rhythm is less controlled, a scarlet flush spreading across his chest and neck. “Gonna cum with me? Gonna let me fill you up with my seed while you cum on my cock?”
You don’t even know what you say, maybe something equally as impatient as before, but none of it matters. “Love you so much,” he says. “I love you and our baby so fucking much. Gonna take care of you both forever. Gonna—fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum.”
Jungkook’s hips stutter as he empties inside you, your third orgasm following close behind. He collapses forward, careful to keep the weight off your belly, but you don’t notice or care about his sweaty body melded with yours. Your legs slide off his shoulders and he gathers you close, pressing kisses to your face, specifically your forehead, your cheeks, your lips.
It takes a few moments to catch your breath again, to finally rid your eyes of the black spots floating behind your vision. “Better?” he asks, his tone soft.
You nod against his chest. “Much.”
“Good.” He kisses your forehead tenderly. “For the record, you can interrupt my streams anytime if it means I get to do that.”
You swat at his chest weakly. “You told me not to. Don’t encourage me, Koo, you know I’m a sex menace.”
“I know what I said. And now I’m taking it back because my wife is just too fucking beautiful to deny.” He strokes your hair, and you feel so utterly safe in his arms, surrounded by his adoration ,with yours and his seed growing in your belly. There’s so much to be thankful for, and yet you never feel like you could put it into words. “I love you, [Y/N].”
“Love you too.’ You nuzzle your face into his neck, inhaling his musk. “Even when you ignore me for video games.”
“I never ignore you,” he corrects, feeling your bump for any kicks from baby girl. Recently, she’s made it a habit to appear after your escapades, and it softens you both everytime. “I just didn’t realize how bad you needed me. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” he confirms, kissing your swollen lips sloppily. “Now let’s get you all cleaned up so we can nap. Growing our daughter is hard work.”
Yeah. This is exactly what you needed.
And three months later, when you’re seven months pregnant, and even more insatiable (which you didn’t think was possible, but your body took that as a challenge), you pad into your shared bedroom during another stream wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt. And this time, he takes one look at your big, sad eyes and pouty lips and doesn’t even hesitate, just mutes his mic, pats his lap as an invitation and lets you sink onto his cock, while Namjoon and Taehyung wonder why he’s so quiet and why his gameplay has gotten significantly worse. You spend the next two hours keeping his hardened cock warm, occasionally squirming just to hear his breath hitch, feeling nothing but satisfaction when he cums inside you without even moving.
Turns out, this entire time, all you had to do was train him properly. Sometimes, the best compromises happen when you’re both too horny to argue.
Summary: With a decade’s distance between Jungkook and you, your paths cross on the same island you deemed your second home years ago. And you realise once again – the ocean can never compare to the twinkle in his starry eyes.
➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader
➳ rating: 18+
➳ genre: estranged best friends to lovers, vacation/beach!au; angst, fluff, smut
➳ warnings: so so much yearning and pining, gentle fuckboy jk cos i’ve no control over myself, a bit of jealousy, the first kiss, arguments/fighting, unresolved issues, heartbreak, angry confessions; explicit sexual content: making out, asking for permission, dom & big dick jk, handjob in the shower, oral (m. & f. receiving), some clit slapping, some biting, squirting, jk loves her tits… and her ass even more, fingering, protected sex, soft and rough sex, body worship !!, jk is SUCHHH a goner, he comes on her ass, aftercare, praises; so many emotions; lmk if i forgot smth!
➳ wc: 22.7k
➳ a/n: here we gooo !! @missgeniality & @voiceswithoutlips my angel betas, as usual, i’d be lost without you 😔 i’m really happy with how this one came out, so i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i did writing it !! as always, don’t forget to drop a message in my inbox – it makes my day <33
➳ yaila’s beach art 💙
➳ listen to the SBW playlist for the full experience 💙
TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs
There is a long lost beach somewhere at the end of the world.
It belongs to a blooming, floating island, pleasant and hot. Wildlife chirps hidden behind trees, calm and welcoming. There are waterfalls that must be somewhere in the middle of the island – you’re not quite certain anymore, since your memory of the place has weakened over time.
You do remember the sun that descended there, though – you always used to say it wasn’t the same as the one you admired at home, watching from your garden.
Jungkook would always reprimand you, tut at you, throw tiny little shells at your bare thighs until you, furied and irritated, abandoned him at the beach. He would stay there until the moon rose from the east, and you would watch him from afar.
synopsis: all you, former figure skating prodigy, want is to confess to your crush. but jeon jungkook, volleyball ace and self-proclaimed killer of joys, keeps getting in your way.
❅ pairing: volleyball captain!kim namjoon x figure skater!oc (aria vale) x volleyball ace!jeon jungkook
❅ genre/warning: college sports au, injury recovery, winter romance kinda, love triangle, e2l sports rivalry, slow burn, heavy angst, themes of mental health struggles, implied ed, emotional repression, soft tension, family issues
❅ dedication note: for those with ambitions, and those with the ambition to find an ambition. for those hurting from wounds that can't be seen, but felt more than the wounds that can be. for those who fell, and are scared of getting up. for those like oc—whose intrepid heart and courage never cease to inspire me. i put a little bit of me in here. hoping one day, maybe, i will find bits of you in me.
❅ total word count: est. 80k~
❅ status: ongoing
* ˚₊⋆❅ playlist ❅ main masterlist ❅
The ice used to be the only place that made sense. You used to cut edges sharp enough to silence a crowd; breathe applause like it was oxygen. Until the jump that nearly ended your career—and your life.
Now, every step on the rink feels borrowed, every spin haunted by the question of whether you belong there at all.
You tell yourself that you can survive on fragments: the smell of cold air, the sting of practice, the promise that maybe one day you won’t flinch when blades leave the ground.
But even fragments can’t hold you together forever.
Then there’s Kim Namjoon. Volleyball captain, campus favourite, untouchable in ways that only make him harder to look away from. His easy kindness, the steadiness in his hands, the dimples that arrive with permission.
To you, he’s the one anchor you might still trust—except he was never yours to begin with.
And in the spaces between, other shadows move. Friends who refuse to let you drift. Rivals who see through your armour. A game you no longer know if you can play.
You think love might be easier than chasing Nationals again. You’re about to learn that neither is simple—not when it snows, and the ice starts demanding answers you aren’t ready to give.
❅･ﾟ: * chapters * :･ﾟ❅
one | machine vs human * ˚₊⋆❅ (eta 06/02)
two | the price of a body * ˚₊⋆❅ (eta 20/02)
three | almost * ˚₊⋆❅ (eta 06/03)
four | strawberry milk * ˚₊⋆❅ (eta 20/03)
five | grab the sky * ˚₊⋆❅ (eta 03/04)
six | become dust * ˚₊⋆❅ (eta 17/04)
seven | fragile truce * ˚₊⋆❅ (eta 01/05)
eight | a door closing * ˚₊⋆❅ (eta 15/05)
nine | threat & mercy * ˚₊⋆❅ (eta 29/05)
ten | when it snows * ˚₊⋆❅ (eta 12/06)
❅⋆·˚༘ *a fallen figure skater. an untouchable captain. a storm of first love.* ˚₊⋆❅
* ˚₊⋆❅ available on wattpad & ao3
review your experience, thoughts, or unhinged feelings here
banner by @matchastwb
a/n: hiii my loves!! so so excited to share my baby, my one and only, wis!! i started this back in 2021 (can you believe it?) and it is complete and available to read on wattpad. this is the tumblr-friendly version, rewritten with love for you guys!! i'll be consistent with the updates as per the above schedule, but if you would like the chapters sooner, spam me! reblogs, comments, asks fuel my fingers!! the first chapter will be up on 06/02 or when we hit 150 notes (if we do, I have no idea how this will perform). anyways my lovelies, see you soon. much love <33
synopsis. ten years after leaving his quiet hometown, jungkook finally returns home for the holidays at his mother’s request. he’s built himself into a man feared for his fists and known for his trouble, but the only person he’s ever cared about is the one he left behind: you, his childhood sweetheart. as old memories resurface and buried feelings ignite, jungkook finds himself fighting the one battle he never learned to win: earning back the trust and heart of the girl he’s loved since they were kids.
pairing/genre. biker!jungkook x fem!oc, grumpy x sunshine, “he hates everyone but her + she loves everyone but him”, childhood frienemies to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, eventual smut
tags/warnings. gym-owner!jk, biker!jk, french-teacher!oc, v slight age gap (jk is 28, oc is 25), oc is the sweetest, jk is an asshole (not w oc tho (kinda??)), he’s lwk a bit toxic, city boy returns to hometown, not so cute reunion, jk is confusing (lwk giving mixed signals), jealous jk, painfully oblivious oc, possessive/protective behaviors (from jk and oc’s bestie awe), a lil miscommunication, use of pet names, jealous oc??, jk’s never beating the fuckboy allegations fr but hey he’s trying.., slow burn (more tba!)
the bass thrummed through the bar’s speakers, low and heavy. jungkook sat hunched over his drink, the lights catching the ink on his knuckles as he rolled the cold glass of vodka between his tattooed fingers.
the bar smelled oddly like cigarette smoke and cheap perfume, and the sign flickering behind him painted the edge of his sharp jaw in violent red.
he didn’t smile. he barely even blinked. and yet every woman in the damn place kept glancing his way.
jungkook didn’t do anything to invite them, he never needed to. he had that permanent scowl and cold eyes that made it very clear he didn’t fuck with anyone unless he felt like it. and when he did feel like it, he chose recklessly and without a shred of apology.
tonight though, he was just drinking. until a palm slapped the back of his shoulder.
“dude–” jimin’s voice cut through the music. “i swear on my grandma’s ashes this super hot chick’s been eye-fucking you since we walked in! like, full-on porno stare. how the hell do you do it, bro?”
jungkook didn’t bother turning at first. just tilted his head lazily, let his eyes follow the direction jimin jerked his chin toward.
and yeah. there she was indeed. a gorgeous woman with long, dark hair and a short tight dress that left no room for imagination. confident posture, bold makeup. she was everything but subtle with the way her gaze dragged over him from head to toe, shameless as she bit her lip, slow and deliberate.
jungkook’s tongue pressed into his cheek, a smirk cutting across his mouth. “what can i say, man?” he murmured, voice deep and lazy. “it’s no news chicks be thirsting over me all the damn time.” he lifted his glass and sent her a wink.
jimin held up his beer like he wanted to smash it over jungkook’s head. “you need to bury your ego so far up your asshole no one can find it.”
jungkook shrugged. “sounds like jealousy to me.”
jimin opened his mouth in disbelief. “jealous? of you? bro, the only thing you attract is thirty ass hoes.”
jungkook’s smirk sharpened. “at least i’m getting pussy. what you got, huh?”
jimin didn’t even hesitate. he swung a playful punch at jungkook’s shoulder. “i’m getting fucking flowers, man. flowers. and you’ll never, NEVER dream of getting any.”
jungkook snorted. “i don’t fuck with flowers. only petals i’m interested in are good girls’ pussies.”
jimin gagged so dramatically he almost fell off the stool. “bro you’re DISGUSTING.”
jungkook lifted his glass, unbothered. “i’m honest.”
“oh my god,” jimin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “why am i even friends with your nasty ass?”
“because you love me dude.”
“i really fuckin’ don’t.”
jungkook raised a brow. jimin cracked and the two of them burst out laughing at the same time.
just on cue, a couple of snorts came from behind them, three dudes from their crew strolling up like they owned the place. guys jungkook trained with, fought with, and drank with. loud as hell, but loyal until death.
“yo, jaykay! jim!” kai slapped jimin’s back, then jungkook’s shoulder. hard enough that any normal person would’ve winced. jungkook didn’t even flinch.
“wassup, my guys?” jackson grinned, fist-bumping them both.
“same shit, different night,” jimin muttered.
mark leaned in. “ay, jeon– there’s somebody asking for you near the entrance.”
jungkook didn’t even look up from his drink. “girl?”
“nah,” the guy said with a shrug. “just some dude.”
jungkook’s expression twisted into instant annoyance. “then tell him to fuck off.”
all three guys whistled like he’d just thrown a punch. they were so used to his moodiness. used to the fact jungkook tolerated exactly five people on the planet, and four of them were standing around him right now.
jimin barked out a laugh. “bro’s allergic to anything that’s not his bike or doesn’t have a vagina.”
the guys hollered, pointing at jungkook because yeah, that was true as hell.
“facts,” jackson snickered. “ain’t nobody grumpier than this man.”
“for real,” kai added. “jungkook talks with his fists more than his mouth. last week he knocked out a dude before even hearing what he wanted.”
“didn’t like his face,” jungkook muttered flatly, taking another drink.
jimin rolled his eyes. “you’re a menace.”
jungkook shrugged. “i’m not here to mingle with some dude who thinks he got something to say to me.”
jimin snorted. “yeah you’re only down to get your dick sucked.”
jungkook smirked. “please. i get my dick sucked for free and still walk out with a pussy bonus. that’s a loyalty program to die for.”
the guys lost it, elbowing each other, doing stupid obscene gestures with their hands.
“jaykay jeon!! ladies and gentlemen!” mark cackled.
“bro, this man’s dick got more mileage than his bike,” jackson joked, making a two-handed gesture that earned him a shove from jimin.
“shut the fuck up,” jimin groaned, rubbing his forehead. “you’re all disgusting as hell.”
jungkook leaned back lazily in his stool, smirk deepening. “he knows me so well.”
jimin flicked him off. “unfortunately.”
they all cracked up again.
the guys eventually drifted off. kai headed to the pool tables, mark to the back hallway for whatever bullshit he was planning, and jackson toward the girls who’d been eyeing him since he walked in. the noise swallowed them up with heavy bass, clinking glasses, and someone shouting for shots.
jungkook finally had a moment of quiet. or he would’ve if his phone hadn’t started vibrating like it was getting possessed.
jimin lifted a brow. “dude… that’s gotta be your mom. no girl blows up your phone like that unless she’s sending nudes, and we both know you’d be smiling if that were the case.”
jungkook groaned, rubbing a hand over his face like the headache was physically crawling out of his skull. “she’s been on my ass all week.”
jungkook’s glare could’ve melted steel. but he still dug the phone out of his pocket because ignoring her would only make things worse.
another loud buzz made jungkook exhale hard. “for fuck’s sake,” he muttered and lifted the phone to his ear.
“what’s good ma,” he said, scanning the bar lazily; girls leaning into guys, low lights bleeding across figures, the smell of alcohol and sweat mixing thick in the air.
jimin snickered loudly behind him. jungkook didn’t even look; he just threw a side punch blindly, forcing jimin to dodge it with a laugh.
then his mother’s voice erupted through the speaker. sharp, stressed, and overly pissed.
“gguk! why aren’t you answering your phone? i’ve been calling all day! do you ever check anything? i swear, you disappear like you don’t care about your poor old mo–”
jungkook tilted his head back, closing his eyes. “mom…”
“are you still outside? what’s that noise? it’s too late! don’t tell me you’re still out at this hour!”
jungkook’s eyes snapped open. oh shit. he’s twenty eight for fucks sake, but he somehow needs to make his mom believe he’s still a prude.
“nah, nah,” he said quickly, straightening in his seat. “i’m home with the guys, we’re just blasting music.”
jimin burst out laughing into his fist. jungkook elbowed him in the stomach to shut him up.
“oh! jiminie is there?” his mom perked up immediately, her voice glowing like a damn sunrise.
jungkook handed jimin the phone with a dead stare. “here. say hi so she stops thinking i’m snorting coke in an alley.”
jimin grinned and leaned in. “hi, mom!”
“jimin! oh my god, sweetheart, it’s been so long! how are you?!”
“living my best life, mom!! how have you been?”
jungkook wanted to throttle him. he sometimes hates how soft his mom gets with jimin, she thinks he’s an angel, which is a total lie.
mrs jeon returned to jungkook with a sigh that hit him right where he hated it. “jungkookie… i miss you. i miss my baby.”
everything in him stilled. he tried to hide the subtle drop in his shoulders, the moment his jaw loosened, the way he suddenly looked away from the crowd like the noise was getting too loud.
“…yeah,” he murmured. “miss you too mom.”
a small pause, not even longer than a minute, before she went for the kill. “so that means you’ll come home for the holidays, right? everyone in the village misses you.”
jungkook choked on air. the village? the holidays? “ma what– no, i never said– ”
“good! so it’s all settled! i’ll cook your favorite. love you baby!”
“ma wait–”
and the call ended just like that.
jungkook stared at his phone like it had just sentenced him to prison time.
jimin was already cackling at his terrified face. “what’d she say? bro, you look like someone told you your bike got repossessed.”
jungkook pushed his fingers into his hair and groaned. a long, deep and defeated groan. “looks like i’m spending the holidays in my hometown.”
jimin slapped the table. “nahh bro we had parties lined up all december! you’re missing out on that?”
jungkook flipped him off without looking. but jimin wasn’t done. “you’re telling me you’re trading strippers and tequila for goats and old people?”
jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to think too hard about it.
but he did. and he couldn’t help it.
the village. the mountains. that stupid freezing air. his childhood home. and more importantly, you.
it’s funny how his mind went there faster than he could stop it.
he hadn’t seen you since he walked out of that place. freshly eighteen, angry at the world, convinced he needed to run or suffocate.
you were only fifteen then. but hell, he remembered.
you, sitting on the old wooden steps with a sketchbook balanced on your knees.
you, with paint on your fingers and your little pigtails tugged with a ribbon you always fixed with your teeth.
you, scolding him when he stole your brushes.
you, shoving him when he made fun of the way you blushed.
it’s been ten years. ten years of bars and girls and mistakes. ten years of fast rides and faster nights. ten years of pretending the past didn’t exist.
but every once in a while, your face would flash in his head.
he wasn’t a saint. he’d slept with more women than he could count. dated girls the way he smoked cigarettes; quickly, carelessly, burning out halfway through.
but a man always remembers his first love. and fuck, you were his.
his mom had slipped your name a few times in conversation. “she’s still here!” she’d said casually. “she helps kids at the school sometimes!”
jungkook never asked for more. but only because he didn’t trust what answers would do to him.
a slow heat curled in his stomach from the thought. maybe going home wasn’t the worst idea after all.
a slight shift in the room pulled him back. followed by the sound of heels clicking, and the smell of strong perfume.
jungkook blinked once, settling back into the present as the girl from earlier strutted toward him. her hips swaying, eyes locked on him like she’d already picked him out and unwrapped him.
her red painted lips parted in a sweet little smirk. her dress glimmered under the lights, tight and short and very intentionally dangerous.
jungkook’s expression changed instantly. something darker sliding behind his eyes, something lazy and wicked curling into his mouth.
he forced every thought of you deep, deep down where nothing could reach it.
not tonight. tonight, he wanted to go numb. tonight, he wanted easy. tonight, he wanted to bury himself in someone who didn’t know a single real thing about him.
and she looked exactly like that.
jungkook leaned back in his seat, licking his lower lip slowly as she approached.
a slow, dirty smirk spread across his face. the kind that meant trouble for whoever was dumb enough to fall for it.
yeah. tonight had been a rough night for him. and he really, really needed to get laid.
. . .
you scrunched your face, as something tickled you at the very tip of your nose. you swatted the air with a lazy hand, half-asleep and very much not interested in waking up yet.
you let out a small whine, rolling onto your side. “hmm… stop…” the sensation didn’t go away. instead, it came back again followed by something warm and sticky pressing against your lips.
a groan, rumbled in your chest. “rocky… stoppp,” you mumbled, the words turning into a breathy giggle as sleep finally began to fade away.
the weight on your chest suddenly doubled as something small jumped softly onto you. your eyes fluttered open, blinking against the pale morning light. the first thing you saw was fur, scruffy, brown, and very much in your face.
little rocky stood proudly on your chest, tail wagging so hard his whole body shook.
“you’re unbelievable,” you whispered fondly, your lips curling into a sleepy smile as you reached up to cradle his head. your fingers slipped behind his ears, scratching gently. he melted instantly, leaning into your touch with a pleased little bark, one back leg thumping against the blanket.
“such a pretty boy. did you miss me? hmm?” you scratched under his chin, and he tipped his head back, offering his belly without any hesitation. “yes, you did, my love. yes, you did.”
with another giggle, you pushed yourself upright, carefully scooping the wriggling bundle of joy into your arms. he was full of affection, licking at your jaw, his tiny heart beating against your palm. “okay, okay, rockyyy, you lil’ boy, i’ll put you down,” you cooed and crouched, setting him down gently. the moment his paws hit the ground, he took off, nails clicking excitedly as he disappeared down the hallway. you watched him go, a fond smile playing on your lips.
you walked towards the window. a yawn escaped you as you grasped the edges of the floral curtains, you drew them back letting the cold air rush in.
it smelled like rain-soaked earth and damp leaves.
the late november sky was pale but bright, the sun peeking through low clouds.
movement below caught your eye. in the muddy lane between the cottages, two of the henderson children, wrapped in bright wellingtons and matching yellow raincoats, were jumping happily into puddles, shrieking with laughter every time water splashed up their boots. you giggled, resting your chin on your hands, watching them with quiet amusement.
today was saturday.
a small, familiar pang of disappointment touched you. no classroom today, no little voices struggling through french vowels or proudly showing off new words they’d memorized just for you. teaching the village children was your favorite part of the week. you loved their curiosity, their eagerness, the proud spark in their eyes when they mastered “bonjour” or “merci”
still, you shook the thought away. the day was too beautiful to waste on longing.
after getting dressed in your soft cream sweater and a long skirt, leaving your hair loose, the strands still holding the slight wave from yesterday’s braid, you headed into the living room. the smell of fresh orange juice and something sweet filled the air.
the low murmur of familiar voices greeted you as you approached the living room. it was a comforting sound to your ears that you grew up with. your mother’s home was a warm welcoming place where friends and neighbors drifted in and out with the ease of family.
“…and she said the ring was huge,” mrs. jeon was saying. “just one stone, but so shiny you could barely look at it.”
your mother laughed from her armchair. “barbara’s been glowing ever since. she told me all about his apartment before i even asked!”
you smiled as you entered the sunny room. your mother sat in her favorite armchair, a half-knitted scarf pooling in her lap. mrs. jeon was perched on the sofa, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug. both women radiated a comfortable, decades-old friendship.
“good morning,” you sang softly, your voice like honey in the room.
your mother’s face immediately brightened. “good morning sweetheart, did you sleep well?”
you drifted over, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “like a baby! the sound of the rain was the best lullaby.” you then turned to mrs. jeon, opening your arms. “good morning, auntie.”
“ah, my darling girl!” mrs. jeon enveloped you in a warm hug, she held you at arm’s length, her eyes crinkling. “look at you. you brighten a room just by walking into it. how do you do it?”
you felt a blush warm your cheeks and shook your head, dismissing the praise with a wave of your hand. “it’s all the sunshine you and mama bring in. i just reflect it.”
you made your way to the small kitchen table, where a plate of fluffy golden pancakes waited under a cloth. the buttery scent was just irresistible.
mrs. jeon turned back to your mother, sighing. “elisa, really. how did you manage to give birth to such an angel? was there a special prayer?”
your mother laughed, the sound warm and soothing. “what can i say, hae-un? it takes one to know one. only an angel could raise another, don’t you think?”
the two women burst into easy, familiar laughter. you smiled softly, spreading a generous dollop of your mother’s homemade strawberry jam that you’d helped pick and prepare, the berries from old mr. sakamoto’s patch at the edge of the village, onto a pancake.
you loved their friendship. fifty years of shared secrets, hardships, and joys. you hoped your own friendship with your best friend mandy, would be as enduring, something to grow old and gossipy with.
mrs. jeon’s gaze shifted back to you, her expression turning kindly curious. “barbara’s daughter, phoebe… she’s a friend of yours, isn’t she, dear?”
you nodded, swallowing a tender, sweet bite. “she is! we were in the same year at school. phoebe’s always been such a sweet person.” your words were genuine. you remembered a quiet girl with a nice smile, though your paths hadn’t crossed deeply since childhood. you held no space for negativity in your heart; if someone was kind, you remembered them as such.
mrs. jeon let out a fond ‘aww’, as if your sweetness physically pained her. “you truly are an angel walking this earth.”
your mother leaned forward. “apparently, the man phoebe’s marrying is some big businessman in georgia. barbara was telling me all about his company and how much money he earns a year!”
mrs. jeon laughed. “that’s barbara for you.”
you took a sip of orange juice, smiling along, and nodding gently. “i’m just so happy for phoebe,” you said, meaning it fully. “i hope they’ll be very happy together. may god bless their marriage!”
what you didn’t say out loud (but thought about briefly) was the version maddy had told you weeks ago. about phoebe going to the city for the first time, her night out at a club, and how she’d met a man there, how one thing led to another, and how it turned out he was wealthy, very wealthy. a millionaire, apparently.
maddy had made it sound so scandalous. you’d listened, surprised more than anything, but not judgmental. phoebe had told her mother eventually, leaving the part where she lost her virginity to him, maddy said she’d had to, or her mother would’ve worried herself sick.
thinking back on it now, you didn’t feel anything negative. just a quiet sense of relief that things had worked out. people found love in all sorts of unexpected ways. not every story looked the same, and that was okay. love didn’t have to be perfect to be real. what mattered was that phoebe seemed safe, cared for, and happy.
mrs. jeon sighed. “it’ll be your turn before we know it. such a treasure won’t stay hidden forever.”
your mother’s smile turned wistful, a little fragile. “oh goodness don’t remind me! i’m not ready to have my only baby taken away by some… some stranger.”
you giggled. “mama, i’m not going anywhere, anytime soon. this village, this house, you… this is my heart, and i plan on sticking here, bothering you, for a very, very long time!”
mrs. jeon’s eyes twinkled. “what a die-for daughter-in-law, then.” she took a sip of her tea, and then her expression shifted, brightening with a sudden, proud remembrance. “speaking of which! my jungkook is coming home for the holidays! he confirmed last week.”
something stiffened inside of you at the mention of the name. you blinked, your smile faltering just slightly before you caught yourself.
jungkook. the boy with the bunny-like features that were a complete lie, because there had been nothing soft or cute about him. he was coming back here? to spend the holidays?
a vivid memory flashed in your mind; the two of you, maybe twelve and fifteen, on your front steps. you’d been sketching the old oak tree, he’d snatched your pencil, his grin wide, and before you could grab it back, he’d added a ridiculous squirrel with bulging eyes to the corner of your beautiful paper.
jeon jungkook had left a decade ago, following mr. jeon to the city for a new job, and your primary emotion had been relief. while the other girls in the village had cried and whined over his departure, you had simply been glad to see the annoying boy who seemed to exist only to get under your skin, leave you in peace.
you were never a person who held grudges. you believed in forgiveness, in the inherent goodness of people. but jungkook… jungkook had felt like a personal challenge to that belief. and now he was returning.
your mother perked up immediately, clapping her hands together. “little jungkook! oh hae-un, that’s wonderful! it’s been an age. he must be so grown now.”
“grown and too stuck on city life with his father,” mrs. jeon said, though her pride was evident beneath the gentle scold. “that boy… he rarely answers my calls. too busy with his gym and his motorbike friends, i suppose. needs a little lesson in remembering his roots.”
your mother laughed, reaching over to pat her friend’s hand. “he’s a man now, hae-un. let him live his life. he’ll find his way back to what matters in his own time.”
mrs. jeon sighed, a mother’s eternal sigh. “i know, i know. but he’s still my baby. i just want to feed him properly and see his face.”
you kept your eyes on your plate, carefully cutting another piece of pancake, trying to will the strange tightness in your chest away. it was silly. he was just a boy from your past, now a man you didn’t know. there was no reason for this odd sense of foreboding.
just then, your mom’s warm voice cuts gently through your thoughts. “honey, would you be a dear and run to the market for me? we’re running low on fruits, and i need some more vegetables for the stew tonight.”
you lifted your head, your sunny smile effortlessly returning. “of course, mama.”
she smiled, wiping her hands on a towel. “there’s a list on the fridge door,” she added. “take your time and enjoy the air. it’s a beautiful morning!”
you nodded, rising and taking your plate to the sink. as you passed the fridge, you pulled the small notepad free. apples, pears, sweet potatoes, carrots, ginger, a large pumpkin if they look good, and… beets? the last item had a question mark, as if she’d been debating.
you tucked the list into the pocket of your skirt. the mention of jungkook felt like a dark cloud momentarily passing over your sunlit morning, but you were determined not to let it linger. you had a beautiful village to walk through and warm greetings to exchange. the past, and a boy who belonged to it, could wait.
. . .
the market had been busy; quiet chatter, soft laughter, the scrape of crates being dragged. you took your time, like you always did. you stopped at each stall, greeting people by name, listening when they talked a little longer than necessary.
mr. sakamoto insisted you take the pumpkin closest to the front, knocking on it twice and declaring it “a good one” before you could even ask. mrs. lee slipped an extra pear into your bag when she thought you weren’t looking, but you did, and you thanked her anyway. you’d also helped little annette, the florist’s daughter, re-tie her apron, her small fingers fumbling with the strings. by the time you left, both cloth bags were heavy in your hands; apples, carrots, sweet potatoes, ginger, and a huge pumpkin tucked awkwardly under your arm.
the road home was calm. the air was cold but fresh, the kind that made your cheeks sting just a little. you hummed under your breath, not even realizing you were doing it, stepping carefully over damp patches where the rain hadn’t quite dried yet.
you were halfway down the lane when the sound hit. an engine, loud, sudden, completely wrong and unusual for a place like this.
you turned just as a motorcycle came into view, moving fast, far too fast. your stomach dropped. there wasn’t enough time to react properly, only enough to freeze.
the bike swerved sharply at the last second, tires skidding over loose gravel as the rider slammed on the brakes. it stopped only a few feet ahead of you. the shock knocked you backward.
your foot caught on a stone and you went down hard, landing on the damp ground with a breathless gasp. the bags slipped from your hands. fruit rolled everywhere. apples bounced into the ditch, carrots scattered, and the pumpkin hit the ground splitting open.
for a moment, you just sat there, stunned, your chest tight as you tried to breathe properly again. your palms stung. cold soaked through your skirt.
“are you fucking serious?” a voice snapped. “what the hell were you doing standing in the middle of the road like that?”
black boots came into your line of sight. big heavy ones. you slowly looked up.
the man towering over you was nothing like anyone from the village; leather jacket, black jeans, a white tank stretched over broad shoulders, tattoos crept down his arms and across his hands. he pulled his helmet off with a sharp movement, clearly irritated, running a hand through his hair.
your eyes finally reached his face, and your breath hitched for a whole new reason.
he was still cursing under his breath, his glare fierce. “do you fucking hear me, or what? you just–”
his words cut off sharply. he stopped in his tracks, his imposing figure going completely still. his furious gaze snapped back to your face, really seeing you for the first time.
his expression shifted, like something had slammed into him headfirst. a low mutter escaped him, more to himself than to you. “…little bear?”
your body stiffened immediately. that nickname.
you knew it before your mind fully caught up. you looked at him properly now, really looked. the familiar eyes hit you first. dark, wide, unmistakable doe eyes. everything else had changed. he was taller, broader, and more buff somehow. piercings glinted under the pale sunlight. he looked like someone who didn’t belong here anymore.
jungkook.
it was really him. jeon jungkook. the bane of your childhood. the boy you’d danced with joy to see leave.
you swallowed, pushing yourself up off the ground, brushing dirt from your skirt with quick, embarrassed movements. “mrs. jeon didn’t tell us he was coming today,” you muttered to yourself, more annoyed than surprised.
he just stared at you, disbelief giving way to something far more unsettling. he’d always known you were a pretty girl. hell, you’d been the prettiest thing in his shitty little world back then. but now? fuck, you’d grown into something that made his mouth go completely dry.
a smirk, lazy and confident, began to play at the corner of his mouth, changing his face from intimidating to dangerously appealing.
“well, well,” he drawled, his voice dropping an octave deeper, into something more teasing. “little bear. seems like you fell for me already? damn, could’ve just said hello.”
heat flooded your cheeks as you completely ignored him and turned with a soft ‘oof’ to the mess on the ground. “awee, no…” you sighed, the sound soft and genuinely disappointed, crouching down to salvage what you could. you wiped dirt off an apple, checking it carefully before setting it aside.
jungkook just watched you, the smirk now fully formed. fuck. fuck. fuck. you were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. you hadn’t changed one bit in the way you dealt with him; ignoring the main point (him), muttering about minor details, that adorable pout. it sent a ridiculous, warm thrill through his cold veins.
after a moment, he crouched too, picking up a pear. his large hands looked completely wrong doing something so gentle.
“what?” he finally said, his voice a low rumble. “you’re just gonna ignore me now? after ten years, little bear? not even a little happy to see me?” the old nickname slipped out again, laced with a mocking charm he’d perfected on a hundred other women. it never failed to get a reaction.
and yet, you ignored him. you simply finished gathering the last carrot, stood up, and held out your now-half-full bag. you reached for the bag he’d been filling.
“give me the bag, please,” you said, your voice soft, the utter opposite of him. it was even softer than he remembered, and it did something strange to his insides.
he straightened to his full height, holding the bag just out of your reach. he shrugged. “nah. how about a welcome hug first? for old time’s sake, or a kiss. i don’t mind which.” he tilted his head, the smirk turning wicked, his eyes blatantly dropping to your lips for a heartbeat.
you looked up at him, truly stunned. your eyes widened, your soft frown deepening. he’d grown bolder. more arrogant. you finally addressed him directly, your tone firmer, though it still lacked any real sharpness. “jungkook. give me my bag. now.”
“fuck,” he breathed out, not at your demand, but at the sound of his name on your tongue. it was both a prayer and a curse. he shook his head slowly, the smirk never wavering. “that’s all i get? ‘give me my bag’ ? you didn’t miss me? too bad.” he tsked, playing with the bag’s handle. “and here i was so excited to see you, hm?”
your patience, which turned thin by the fall, the mess, and his overwhelming presence, finally snapped. a soft, frustrated groan escaped you, louder than your usual murmurs. “it’s cold,” you stated. “and i need to get home now. give it!” you extended your hand again, stamping one foot lightly on the gravel. the gesture was so childishly impatient, so utterly you, that it stunned him for a second. “you and your stupid, scary bike are already the reason all my fruits are ruined and my pumpkin is… is dead! and now you want to keep them hostage? just give them back!”
he looked at you, utterly amused. your little show of temper was better than any city nightclub, any bar fight. the way your nose scrunched, the way your wide eyes flashed, it was a fire he hadn’t known you could still spark. he wanted to poke it, to see how bright it could burn.
he cocked his head, his expression one of feigned innocence. “hostage? that’s a bit dramatic, little bear. see, from where i was riding, it looked an awful lot like you were walking in the middle of the lane without looking around you.” he said, then added with an amused smirk. “so whose fault is it, really? mine? or yours?” he took a step closer, invading your space, the scent of leather, and something uniquely, dangerously male enveloping you.
you huffed, an exasperated sound that made his smirk widen. you’d had enough. of him, of his bike, of his smirk, of the way his presence made you feel claustrophobic.
“you can do whatever you want,” you said, your voice tight. and with that, you turned on your heel, clutching your single bag to your chest, and began to march down the lane towards home, your steps quick.
jungkook watched you go, a slow, genuine laugh shaking his shoulders. he shook his head, a strange, unfamiliar feeling stirring in his chest, something far more interesting than irritation or lust.
he didn’t call after you. instead, he walked back to his monstrous motorcycle, swung a leg over it, and settled your bag of fruits securely in front of him. he turned the key, and the engine roared back to life, that same terrifying sound that had started it all. but this time, he didn’t speed off.
he rolled forward at a walking pace behind your rapidly retreating form. he didn’t try to pull alongside you; he just followed, making sure you knew he was there, that he was watching, and that he had no intention of letting you (or your groceries) disappear so easily. but most importantly, he was finally home.
. . .
the sound of the motorcycle stayed behind you longer than it should have.
even after you turned onto the familiar path leading home, the engine was still there. you didn’t look back. you kept walking, eyes fixed ahead. the familiar roof of your house came into view through the bare branches, and you focused on that instead of the noise following you like it had a right to.
the cold air bit at your cheeks, your fingers stiff around the grocery bag. you told yourself not to react. don’t give him the satisfaction.
you reached the small white gate and fumbled with the latch, irritation making your movements clumsy. you pushed through, and grabbed the front door handle just as the engine shut off behind you.
you stepped inside and closed the door firmly, exhaling as warmth wrapped around you. you could already smell something sweet baking in the kitchen. voices drifted from the living room.
you were halfway through pulling off your boots when the door opened again.
jungkook stepped inside, grocery bag in hand, shutting the door behind him with quiet confidence. you froze.
for a moment, he just stood there, taking in the entryway. the walls hadn’t changed. the small table by the door was still there. he glanced around once, then looked at you.
from the living room, your mother’s warm and curious voice floated. “sweetheart, is that you? that was quick!” she appeared, wiping her hands on a checkered apron, her smile fading into pleasant confusion as she saw you once half full bag. “oh! where are all the–?”
“got them,” jungkook said easily as he stepped forward and stood beside you.
your mother’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her chest. “jungkook? little jungkook? is that really you?”
mrs. jeon sprang up with a speed that belied her years, her face a storm of emotions, shock, joy and maternal fury. “jungkook! my son!” she rushed across the room, not for a hug, but to swat at his arm. “you! you said you’d call when you reached the town! do you know how worried i’ve been? riding that death machine in this cold! and you walk in here like a… a gangster!”
jungkook, looked momentarily chastised, a faint pink covering the tip of his ears. he gently set the bag down by the umbrella stand and endured his mother’s fluttering, scolding hands. “ma, i’m fine. the bike’s fine too. stop.” he submitted to her pulling him down for a tearful, tight hug, his own arms coming around her stiffly, his eyes squeezed shut for a second in a mix of affection and profound embarrassment at being dressed down in front of you and your mother.
“look at you,” your mother breathed, her initial surprise melting into delight. she came closer, her eyes misty. “little jungkook, all grown up. so tall! so handsome!” she reached out and pinched his cheek, and you saw his jaw tighten, a grunt of tolerance escaping him.
“hey, aunt elisa,” he said, his voice a rough scrape of politeness. he extracted himself from his mother’s grasp, giving a short nod. his posture was stiff with tension, shoulders tight under the leather, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional display. this was the grumpy prick who hated small talk and familial doting.
but his eyes, those beautiful doe-like eyes, weren’t on the two women surrouding him. they instead found you, standing by the stairs, watching the spectacle. his gaze was sweeping from where your long skirt ends up to your flustered face, and a corner of his mouth twitched.
mrs. jeon held him at arm’s length, her critical mother’s eye analysing every change. her focus lingered on the silver glint at his eyebrow, lips and the stud in his ear. “and what is this?” she gasped, poking a finger near his eyebrow. “you are putting holes in your face? trying to ruin god’s good work? aish, this city life!”
your mother chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. “oh, hae-un, leave the boy be. he looks very modern. very charming! it’s what all the young people do nowadays.” she winked at jungkook, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
jungkook’s mind drifted to the sprawling ink that covered half his torso and down his arm. damn. if she’s having a meltdown over a couple of piercings, she’s gonna have a coronary when she sees the new tattoos. he shoved the thought away.
“it’s just metal, ma,” he muttered, shifting his weight. “forget it.”
“forget it? how can i ‘forget’ when my son’s looking like a street thug?”
“he looks strong and stylish!” your mother countered loyally, beaming. “you should be proud he turned out so striking!”
the two mothers launched into a familiar, loving debate, their voices layering over each other, scolding and defending, a duet of care and exasperation. jungkook used the distraction as his exit. his eyes never left you as he took a few deliberate steps towards the kitchen.
your mother, mid-sentence, noticed your stillness. “darling, be a sweetheart and put the kettle on, will you? jungkook must be frozen through. we’ll have some tea!”
flustered, you nodded, grateful for a task before you slipped into the kitchen. you filled the old copper kettle at the sink, your hands trembling slightly. you were so focused on calming your own chaotic heartbeat that you didn’t hear his approach.
you only felt the shift in the air, the subtle heat from the door being blocked, the alarming sense of his presence. you turned.
he was leaning against the doorframe, one shoulder propped against the wood, his arms crossed over his broad chest. he completely filled the space, his body stood like a barrier between you and the cheerful chatter in the living room. he was studying you carefully, the way your sweater sleeves were pushed up your forearms, the nervous flutter of your fingers, the way you worried your bottom lip between your teeth.
a slow, utterly shameless smirk spread across his face at the sight.
you quickly turned back to the stove, fumbling with the knobs. the silence between you was thick.
“still jumpy around me, little bear?”
you stiffened, your back to him. you could feel his intense gaze on you.
“or is it just my general effect on women?” he continued, his tone dripping with a lazy, arrogant amusement. “can’t decide if you want to run or throw something at me. that’s cute.”
you spun around, the tea towel in your hands clenched into a soft ball. “i am not ‘jumpy’,” you hissed, keeping your voice low to match his. “i am trying to make tea because my mother asked me to. and you are blocking the doorway.”
he didn’t move. his smirk only deepened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he looked you up and down, that alone made heat bloom under your skin. “yeah, i am. problem?” he uncrossed his arms, planting his palms on either side of the doorframe, caging you in even more effectively. “ten years and you still get that little wrinkle right here,” he murmured, nodding toward the space between your brows. “when you’re annoyed with me. some things never change.”
“some things do,” you retorted, lifting your chin, refusing to be cowed. “most people learn to knock before entering someone’s home.”
a dark chuckle escaped him. “well, it’s my second home. always was.” his gaze softened for a fraction of a second, before it was shuttered away. “besides, i was carrying your groceries. you’re welcome, by the way.”
“you were the reason they were on the ground in the first place!”
“debatable.”
the whistle of the kettle screamed to life behind you. you jumped, and his smirk returned in full force.
jumpy.
you turned off the stove with more force than necessary. “the tea is ready,” you announced, your voice politely cold. “if you would please move.”
he held your gaze for a long minute and with a slight tilt of his head, he pushed off the doorframe. he didn’t move aside to let you pass. instead, he turned and walked back toward the living room, throwing one last comment over his shoulder, his voice a low promise that made your stomach twist.
“this is gonna be a fun holiday, little bear.”
. . .
the café was the kind of place where everything felt at peace. the smell of fresh croissants filled the space, mixed with a faint hint of paint from the small art corner. you sat at your usual table near the bay window, where the afternoon light came in just right, a small canvas set up on its easel in front of you.
you were painting the chrysanthemums in a jar on the counter.
across from you, mandy was halfway through a slice of mille-feuille, clearly enjoying herself. flakes of pastry clung to her sweater, and a bit of cream lingered at the corner of her mouth. still, her attention wasn’t on the dessert. her eyes kept drifting around the café, which was more crowded than usual for a saturday afternoon.
“okay, don’t look now,” she whispered, leaning so far forward she almost knocked over your water cup. “but jessica kim just walked in. and i swear to you, she is wearing false eyelashes. to get a damn latte. jessica, who considers tinted lip balm as ‘too bold.’ ”
you didn’t glance up, focusing on mixing a shade of burnt umber on your palette. “maybe she has a… date later?” you offered, your voice soft, trying to cling to giving everyone the benefit of the doubt.
mandy snorted, almost un-ladylike. “a date with her own reflection in the window of jeon’s house maybe.” she took another huge bite, talking around it. “it’s not just her. i passed by the hairdresser’s on the way here, it was fully booked. mrs. martinez said she’s done three ‘last minute emergencies’ since noon. for what? brave the november drizzle? please.”
you sighed, as you dipped your brush, but your strokes were slower now. the village had a quiet familiar rhythm you understood deeply. but now it was moving with a strange energy that you couldn’t shake off.
“and janette at the flower shop, told me she delivered flowers to mrs. jeon’s house this morning,” mandy continued, her voice dropping to a scandalized whisper. “very early, and apparently mrs. jeon’s son answered the door shirtless. she’s still not over it by the way.” mandy fanned herself dramatically with a napkin. “the drama! i haven’t seen this much of it ever since mr. johnson cheated on his 6 month pregnant wife with that twenty-something waitress.”
you finally looked up from your canvas, your brow creasing. “that’s a bit… much, don’t you think? he’s just a boy.” your words were naive, and you knew it the moment they left your lips.
mandy paused, her fork hovering mid-air. she looked at you with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. “sweetie, honey, light of my life. he is not ‘just a boy’ he’s a walking, talking, motorcycle riding monument to sinful city dreams. he left here a cute, troublesome bunny-boy and came back looking like… well, like that.” she gestured vaguely. “i heard the lee sisters whispering by the bread stand. they said he looks like the kind of man who’d ruin you for all other men, and you’d thank him for the privilege while he walked away without a backward glance.”
a strange drop of something unpleasant settled in your stomach. you didn’t like that description. it felt cheap and dismissive. it reduced the infuriating boy you remembered, and the even more infuriating man he’d become, to a villain from one of amanda’s city-girl romance novels. “that’s a horrible thing to say about someone,” you murmured, your hand tightening on your brush.
mandy shook her head, a soft, knowing smile on her lips. she reached over and patted your hand, her gesture leaving a tiny smudge of sugar on your skin. “you sweet, summer child. you wouldn’t understand. your idea of a dangerous man is mr. henderson when he’s had one too many at the harvest festival and tries to waltz with the prize pumpkin.”
you huffed, a puff of air that stirred your bangs. “he’s not all of that,” you muttered, more to the painting than to mandy. “he’s just… jungkook. but worse.”
mandy’s eyes lit up as she put her fork down. “ah ha! there it is. i was wondering when we’d get to the real tea, spill. you’ve been painting like you’re trying to murder those innocent flowers.”
you sighted before you told her about the terrifying roar of his bike, the spilled groceries, the humiliating fall. you described his towering presence, the mocking ‘little bear,’ the way he’d followed you home like a dark cloud. “and he just walked in, mandy! didn’t even knock! he stood in our kitchen doorway, with that… that smirk on his face. like he owned– ” you cut yourself off, your cheeks flushing. “he’s so arrogant. it’s doubled since we were kids. he’s like a giant, tattooed mosquito, and i’m the only one he wants to bother.”
mandy listened, her chin propped in her hand. as you finished, a slow, cheshire-cat grin spread across her face. she sucked a bit of cream from her thumb, her gaze shrewd.
“so…” she drawled, drawing the word out. “let me get this straight. he nearly scares you half to death, helps pick up your groceries, carries your bag, walks into your house without hesitation, and spends the whole time his mom’s crying over him staring at you, specifically teasing you.” she leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “he’s still an annoying prick. but he’s your annoying prick, hm? interesting.”
you blinked. “what? no! mandy, he’s not ‘my’ anything! he was probably doing all that to figure out new ways to irritate me, that’s what he has been doing ever since we were kids.”
“or,” mandy said, her tone playful, “he was a stupid, hormone-addled boy who had a crush on the sweetest girl in town and his only way of dealing with it was to pull her pigtails and ruin her drawings.”
you shook your head, sending your hair swinging. “no mandy, that’s a children’s story. this is a grown man. a grown man who looks like he… like he…” you struggled for the right phrase, “he looks like a walking red flag. you know, the kind amanda warns us about.” the words felt foreign and a little too harsh in your mouth, but they fit the image of the man who’d winked at you and demanded a welcome kiss. a kiss??!
mandy’s grin didn’t falter. “oh, he’s absolutely a red flag from what i’ve heard. i don’t doubt that for a second.” she picked up her fork again, twirling it. “but here’s the thing about flags, sunshine. they only warn you about the danger. they don’t stop you from walking right into the bullring.” she took a final, satisfied bite. “and from what you’ve told me, that bull only has eyes for one particular little matador. everyone else just gets the snort and the dust.”
you didn’t like the way that landed. you glanced back at your painting, the colors had muddied, the petals ended up sharper than you intended. it reflected exactly how you felt; unsettled and totally thrown off balance.
you cleaned your brush slowly, watching the paint swirl away. jungkook being back wasn’t just inconvenient. it felt like something had been disrupted, and whether you liked it or not, you were right in the middle of it.
. . .
the morning air was cold enough to sting your cheeks as you stepped outside. you pulled your thickest wool cardigan tighter around yourself, and tucked the basket of chicken feed under your arm. rocky trotted at your heels, tail wagging, his breath puffing faintly in the air.
beautiful late novembre morning.
or it was, until you stepped into the small, fenced garden beside your house.
you heard it before you saw anything. the steady clink of metal, followed by low voices. you scattered grain for the hens and glanced past your fence, toward the jeon’s house.
jungkook was in the driveway.
he was bent over his motorcycle. he wore worn jeans and a black tank top, nothing heavy enough for the cold, but he didn’t seem bothered by it. his shoulders and arms flexed as he tightened something with a ratchet, tattoos fully visible now that his jacket was gone. his hair fell into his eyes as he worked, focused, completely at ease in a place he hadn’t lived in for years.
of course, you thought, a flush of heat creeping up your neck that had nothing to do with the cold. of course this is what you see first thing in the morning. you tried to look away, to focus on little nino pecking diligently at your feet, but your eyes were your biggest traitors.
a giggle, high and affected, sliced through the quiet from down the lane. you turned your head slightly. there, gathered near the old stone well about fifty yards away, were the lee sisters, and emily from the bakery. they were huddled together, clutching paper coffee cups, but their bodies were angled unmistakably towards the jeon’s driveway. they weren’t even pretending to look at each other. one of the twin sisters was whispering behind her hand, her eyes wide, while her twin had a gloved hand pressed to her cheek, fanning herself dramatically despite the cold weather. emily was openly staring, her mouth slightly agape.
the whole thing made your stomach twist. it was embarrassing, to him for providing it, them for gawking, and yourself for standing there pretending not to notice while noticing everything.
with an irritated huff, you dumped the rest of the feed into the trough and turned back toward the house. rocky barked once in confusion, then followed you inside.
jungkook’s hands stilled on the bike’s engine. without lifting his head, his eyes, which had been fixed on a carburetor, flicked upward, following your retreating body. he’d clocked you the second you stepped outside. he’d felt your movement; the way you’d stopped once you noticed his presence, your reluctant glances. a faint, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, unseen by the giggling girls down the lane. he’d made you look. even when you wished you hadn’t. he wiped his hands slowly on a rag, before returning to his work, unbothered.
the days that followed only got worse.
jungkook became the village’s main topic of conversation without ever trying to be. people followed his appearances like news.
at the market, he stood out immediately; taller than most, darker clothes, sharp presence. mrs. lee insisted on giving him fruit, fussing over how thin he looked. he accepted it with a short nod and a rough thanks, then gave an illusion of a smile just enough to leave her flustered.
at the pub, he kept to himself, nursing a drink in the corner. the men stayed away. the women, on the other hand, didn’t. janette from the flower shop found excuses to stop by. jessica kim laughed too loudly whenever she passed his table. he never encouraged them, never fully shut them down either. he stayed detached, amused at best, distant at worst.
and somehow, he was always where you were.
at the post office, you’d be filling out a shipping label when the doorbell rang behind you. you’d feel him being too close, standing right at your back.
“little bear,” he’d say quietly. “sending love letters to your city boyfriend?”
you’d ignore him, focusing intently on your task.
he’d lean in, his breath stirring the hair near your ear. “bet they’re not as good as the ones you used to write me. what was it? ‘dear stupid jungkook, you are a toad. give me my pencil back.’ hm?”
a hot flush would crawl up your neck. “i was twelve,” you’d mutter through clenched teeth.
“and i was fifteen,” he’d counter, as if that explained everything. then he’d reach around you, his tattooed arm brushing yours, to grab a blank customs form he didn’t even need before walking away, leaving you flustered and the postmistress fanning herself.
at the market, you’d carefully pick apples, placing them one by one into your basket, only for his hand to slip in front of yours and grab the shiniest red delicious one you’d just chosen.
“hey!” you’d protest, turning to find him already taking a loud, crisp bite of the stolen fruit. juice gleamed on his lower lip.
he’d chew slowly, his eyes locked on yours, a challenge in their dark depths. “what? it looked good.” he’d take another bite. “tastes good, too. so sweet.” the way he said it made it sound like he wasn’t talking about the apple.
“that’s stealing,” you’d say, trying for stern but your voice coming out breathless.
he’d shrug. “put it on my tab.” he’d finish the apple in two more bites and toss the core perfectly into a trash bin several feet away. “see you around, little bear.”
the most infuriating encounter was at the library. you were in the quiet kids section, reaching for a french book about fairytales on a high shelf. you were on your tiptoes, fingertips brushing the edges.
“need a hand, short stuff?”
you yelped, stumbling back, only to be steadied by two large hands on your shoulders. he was right behind you, having moved with a practiced silence. he didn’t let go. he simply reached up, easily retrieved the book, and handed it to you, his body caging you against the bookshelf.
“you’re… you’re in a library,” you whispered, aware of the silence, of the librarian watching with owl eyes from her desk.
“noticed,” he murmured, he wasn’t looking at the book. he was looking at your face, his gaze dropping to your lips, then back to your eyes. “came in for a good nap, but found something better.” he leaned a fraction closer. “you know, for a teacher, you ask a lot of pointless questions. like ‘what are you doing here?’ seems pretty obvious.”
his proximity was overwhelming. “it’s not obvious,” you managed.
“it is to me.” he finally released your shoulders, taking a half-step back that felt no less invasive. he took the book from your soft grasp, glanced at the title, and snorted. “figures.” he handed it back. “still living in fairy tales.” he turned and walked away, the sound of his boots on the woody floor echoing in the hushed room.
it kept happening. everywhere. the park, the bakery, even outside the school where you taught. always close enough to unsettle you, always just teasing enough to make it worse. and the worst part was the sick, thrill that shot through you every time you heard that low voice say “little bear,” a thrill you refused to acknowledge, buried under irritation and annoyance. jungkook was a problem with a leather jacket and a motorcycle, and he wasn’t just disrupting the peaceful rhythm of your village, he was disrupting you. and you had no idea how to make it stop.
. . .
the walk home from the schoolhouse always put you in a good mood. you found yourself smiling for no real reason, your steps light as you followed the familiar path leading to your home. class had gone well, even more wonderful than usual. little mathew, had finally, perfectly pronounced “merci beaucoup” after weeks of struggling with his ‘r’ sounds, and the whole room had erupted when he got it right. you kept replaying his proud grin in your head, along with the small, crumpled hand written “merci, mademoiselle!” card now tucked safely in your bag.
you opened the front door. “mama, i’m home!” you called, slipping off your boots.
your mother stood by the fireplace, not in her usual comfortable house clothes, but in her favorite floral-print dress, the one she reserved for special visits. a soft cardigan was draped over her shoulders. the air was fragrant with the sweet scent of vanilla and butter.
“there’s my sunshine!” she beamed, her face crinkling into a smile that mirrored your own. she came over, cupping your cold cheeks in her warm hands. “look at you, glowing. the children were good today?”
“the best,” you sighed happily, leaning into her touch. “mathew said the whole phrase! and amirah wrote a little poem. it was wonderful.” you sniffed the air dramatically. “is that your honey butter cake? it smells like heaven.”
“it is,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead with tender care. “and it just came out of the oven to cool. i was thinking… it’s been a few days. we should take a slice over to hae-un. the poor thing must be exhausted from fussing over jungkook. she could use some company and a sweet treat.”
the warmth in your chest dimmed immediately. go to the jeon’s house, now. your first instinct was to say no. to claim you were tired, busy, anything.
but then you looked at your mother’s face, she meant well. mrs. jeon had always been family in everything but name, she was like a second mother to you. you’d spent countless afternoons in her house. to refuse now, to let your silly, personal discomfort with jungkook ruin this… it felt horribly wrong, selfish.
the conflict must have shown on your face for a fleeting second, because your mother’s smile softened. “what is it, darling? did you have other plans?”
“no, no plans,” you said quickly, your voice a little too bright. you forced your own smile back, pushing the unease down where it couldn’t spoil the sweetness of the day. “that’s a wonderful idea, mama. auntie hae-un loves your cake. let me just put my bag away.”
the jeon’s house looked the same but felt slightly different. the blue door, the familiar smell of tea, the furniture you’d grown up around. but now there were signs of jungkook everywhere. his helmet by the door, a leather jacket tossed over the couch.
“elisa! aigoo, and my sweet girl!” mrs. jeon enveloped you both in a warm hug. she held you at arm’s length, her eyes misty. “you brought light with you. this old house has been too dark and loud lately.” she ushered you into the living room, fussing over the cake, exclaiming over its beauty.
your mother laughed as they settled in. “and where is the cause of all that noise?” she asked, her tone gently teasing. “is our city boy hiding?”
you busied yourself with accepting a cup of tea, focusing intently on the steam rising from the mug.
mrs. jeon waved a hand, a mixture of pride and exasperation on her face. “bah. that boy! he said the quiet was driving him crazy so he went out for a ride on that metal beast of his.” but her affection was clear.
relief loosened something tight in your chest. he wasn’t here. you could finally relax. you could actually enjoy this visit. you took a sip of tea, the familiar comfort of the two mothers’ chatter beginning to soothe your nerves. they fell into their easy conversation, talking about the upcoming winter festival, the cake recipe, you mom’s new knitting project.
then, mrs. jeon glanced out the window at the grey, woolen sky. “oh, dear god. i just remembered. i left the last of the laundry on the line. jungkook’s things from this morning. if it snows tonight, they’ll be frozen stiff.”
without a second thought, you set your cup down. “i’ll get it, auntie. it’ll only take a moment.” it was a reflex, as natural as breathing.
both women turned their warm, approving gazes on you. “ah, you angel,” mrs. jeon sighed, patting your hand. “what would we do without you?”
your mother beamed, pride shining in her eyes. “my thoughtful baby.”
outside, the air was colder than before. you worked quickly, folding towels and sheets. then you picked up an unfamiliar grey cotton t-shirt, the fabric thin from many washes. it smelled faintly of detergent and something else, something unmistakably male, a clean, musky scent that was all jungkook. a flush crept up your neck. finally, your fingers brushed against black cotton boxer briefs. you snatched your hand back as if burned, a hot wave of embarrassment and annoyance crashing over you. this was so… intimate. so wrong. he felt like an intruder to your peace, and now you were handling his underwear.
gritting your teeth, you grabbed the last item with two fingers, hastily adding it to the pile in your arms, wanting nothing more than to be rid of it all.
that was when you heard the motorcycle approaching fast from the main road. you froze, then edged toward the corner of the house without meaning to as the bike pulled into the driveway.
there he was, jungkook, swinging off the bike, removing his helmet. but he wasn’t alone.
a woman followed from behind him. you could only see her back; a sleek, dark ponytail, a wool coat and heeled boots that were utterly impractical for the village lanes. she let out a bright, tinkling laugh as she reached out, placing a hand on his leather-clad arm. she said something you couldn’t hear, leaning into his space.
you could only see jungkook’s side profile. he wasn’t smirking. he looked… relaxed. he gave a short nod in response to whatever she said.
something twisted sharply in your chest.
it didn’t make any sense, why were you feeling like this? he wasn’t yours. you knew exactly what kind of man he was and you hated him anyway, didn’t you? but the feeling still hit, sudden and unpleasant. you’d just been handling his laundry, and he’d just been off with her.
you didn’t watch any longer. clutching the laundry, you turned and went back inside, closing the door quietly behind you. the cake, the tea, the warmth inside the house all felt kind of distant now.
and no matter how hard you told yourself it shouldn’t matter, it still, somehow, did..?
. . .
the cold hit hard as soon as he reached the higher road. it burned his lungs and cut straight through his jacket. this was the only place his head ever really cleared. no noise, no people, just the road and what came next.
fuck, he missed the city. everything about it. his gym, he’d left it with jimin, the only fucker he trusted not to run it into the ground or sell the equipment for coke money. he missed the club nights too, the bass, the easy, nameless women who wanted nothing but a good fuck and understood the rules; no strings attached, no questions, no next morning breakfast bullshit.
here, everything felt watched. his mother noticed everything.heck he’d kill for a smoke. a cigarette would be a minor miracle, he’d have to ride halfway to the next province to get one. his mother would smell it on him from a mile away, have a full-blown heart attack, complete with clutching her chest and calling all her ancestors. it wasn’t worth the fucking lecture.
the bike ate up the empty road, carrying him aimlessly. his thoughts, however, kept circling back to the same person. you.
he slowed as he passed the village school just as the final bell rang. the bike idled quietly as he watched from across the road.
there you were. wrapped in a soft, cream sweater, and that long yellow skirt that swirled around your ankles. you were kneeling to tie a kid’s shoe, laughing at something a little girl said. you waved as the kids scattered to their parents, your smile so genuine it was almost painful to look at.
fuck. you were a walking, talking ball of sunshine in this grey, suffocating town.
he wanted to go over there. wanted to see that smile disappear and be replaced by that delicious, flustered pout. wanted to hear you huff his name in that soft, annoyed voice. he’d picture that look sometimes, late at night, but in those fantasies, the pout was for other reasons; his mouth on your neck, his hands on your hips, your eyes rolling back not in annoyance, but in pleasure. the thought alone sent a bolt of heat straight to his dick.
he was just about to roll his bike forward, a taunt already forming on his lips, when a voice sliced through the engine’s rumble.
“jungkook? oh my god, jeon jungkook! is that you?”
he turned his head, already irritated. a woman was hurrying toward him, her heels clicking on the pavement. pretty. sleek dark hair in a low ponytail, a coat that looked expensive.
he didn’t know her. or maybe he did. he didn’t care enough to remember anyway.
“hi!” she breathed, stopping too close to the bike, her eyes wide as they drank him in, the bike, the tattoos peeking from his collar, the permanent scowl. “it’s me, cynthia! we were in the same year? well, you were a few years ahead, but still!” she talked fast, her gaze raking over him with open appreciation.
jungkook grunted in response. his eyes didn’t stay on her. they trailed over her shoulder, back to the school steps. where you’d been. you were gone now, leaving him with this chattering stranger.
his attention snapped back to cynta? only because she was still talking. “...and honestly, these boots were a terrible idea,” she was saying with a practiced laugh, lifting a foot clad in a heeled leather boot. “the lanes are so slippery! i feel like i’m going to break my ankle.”
jungkook’s gaze dropped to her feet, then dragged slowly back up her body. yeah, the boots were stupid. who the fuck wore that here unless they were trying to get noticed?
she misinterpreted the look entirely. her smile turned coy, and she took a half-step closer, lowering her voice. “maybe… you could give me a ride? it would be a lifesaver.”
he held back a snort. his eyes drifted once more to the now-empty schoolyard. you were the only reason he was even lingering in this part of the village. the only thing that held any interest in this whole fucking trip. a bleak boredom settled over him. what did it matter?
“get on,” he said, his voice flat. it wasn’t an offer; it was his way of stopping the need for further conversation.
cynthia’s face lit up with victory. she let out a little squeal as she swung a leg over the bike behind him, settling in. immediately, her arms wrapped around his waist, tight. too tight. her hands didn’t stay still; they slid lower, fingers playing at the waistband of his jeans. she pressed her body against his back, and he could feel the soft shape of her breasts through their layers of clothing.
he didn’t shift, didn’t even tell her to back off. he simply kicked the bike back to life, and pointed it toward the only destination that made sense, home.
she held on tightly the whole way, pressing against him, talking into his ear over the engine noise. he barely listened. his mind wasn’t on her.
after some time, he pulled into the driveway and shut the bike off, the sudden silence ringing in his ears. he didn’t move, just waited.
cynthia, laughing breathlessly, as she slid off. “wow, that was… so cool,” she said, smoothing her hair. the laugh was bright, but her eyes were dark with intention as she stepped closer. her hand came up, her fingers tracing the hard curve of his bicep through his jacket in a gesture that was anything but casual.
“you know,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, seductive purr. “i feel like i owe you for the rescue.” her gaze was blatant, hungry. “a girl could think of a few ways to say thank you. just name it.”
the offer hung in the cold air between them. cynthia’s eyes were wide, pupils dilated. it was a look he knew intimately; the sharp, hungry anticipation of a woman who’d already decided how the night would end.
his body recognized the opportunity. muscle memory twitched with the ease of it; a rough grip on her hip, steering her into the garage. the usual rythme of a quick, meaningless fuck against the cold wall, her expensive coat shoved out of the way. or maybe better, just her on her knees right here in the gravel, his hand fisted in that perfect ponytail while he stared blankly at the frost on the kitchen window as she chokes on the length of his cock. it would be fast. efficient. a way to bleed off the restless energy this town coiled inside him. she was clearly down for it. and who was he to deny such an offer?
he’d smirk, say something crude and inviting like, “yeah? how ‘bout you start by getting on your knees, and we’ll see how grateful you are.” because he’d done it before. more times than he could count.
but as the words formed in his throat, they tasted like ash. instead of the familiar heat, a cold wave of… distaste washed over him.
this wasn’t a grimy alley where you could disappear afterward. this was his mother’s driveway. the kitchen light was on; he could see her silhouette moving behind the curtain. a few houses down, old mrs. ahn was probably watching from her parlor window. this was the village square, the same one where he’d get groceries tomorrow, where he’d have to see this stranger again at the market or the winter festival.
he had a fucked-up way to go through life, but one rule was clear: you don’t shit where you eat. and for all his complaints, this was still, technically, where he was from.
hooking up with his hometown girls only meant drama, awkward encounters and potential tears on his mother’s doorstep. it was messy. and the only mess he had any interest in navigating is the one that would involve you.
which is why fucking cyndi (or whatever her name was) would be pointless, ugly, and a pain in the ass to deal with later.
so, the smirk that usually came so easily died before it reached his lips. he looked at her eager face and felt nothing but a profound sense of get the fuck away from me.
he gave a single, slow nod. “nah it’s chill,” he said, his voice flat, like a door slamming shut. he didn’t say thanks or maybe another time nor did he offer a fake smile. he simply turned his back and walked toward the house, leaving her standing in the cold.
. . .
the final bell rang, and one by one your students pulled on their coats and scarves, filing out of the classroom in a rush of chatter and laughter. you waited until the room was empty before erasing the chalkboard, taking your time, enjoying the quiet that always followed a long day. the late afternoon light came in through the windows, making you feel settled. a little tired, but in a good way.
“mademoiselle!”
you turned at the sound of a familiar voice. jayden stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with an easy smile. he was the elder brother of one of your students, matthew, a man with the gentle manners and kind eyes. you’d known him for over a year now, mostly through chance meetings at the bakery after work. sometimes you shared a croissant and talked about his projects or your lesson plans.
“jayden! hello!” you greeted him, your smile soft and genuine.
“haven’t seen much of you lately,” he said, stepping inside. his presence didn’t feel intrusive, just calm. “everything alright?”
you laughed softly. “yeah, everything’s fine, just a little busy! my mom’s got me helping with baking and knitting. with the winter festival and christmas coming up, our house looks like it’s been taken over.”
he chuckled. “i know the feeling. i’ve been going crazy trying to carve these wooden snowmen for the festival stall. my workshop is knee-deep in wood shavings.”
before you could reply, little matthew came charging back into the room, his blue coat half-zipped and his cheeks pink from the cold.
“jay!” he shouted, running straight into his brother.
jayden scooped him up effortlessly. “hey, buddy. how was school?”
matthew didn’t even pause for breath as he started talking, holding up his hands and counting loudly. “un, deux, trois...”
you watched them with a fond smile. “he’s doing really well,” you said. “he picks things up quickly.”
jayden looked at you as he adjusted his brother on his hip. “that’s because of you.” his tone held a note of something softer, a gentle flirtation that sailed right over your innocent, oblivious head.
you simply beamed, accepting the praise as a compliment to your work. “he makes it easy for me.”
“i’m hungry!” matthew declared.
“dad made your favorite soup,” jayden told him, earning a gleeful “yay!” he then shifted his attention back to you, his voice dropping back to that warm, intentional register. “so, i’ll see you later, maybe? we could grab that snack we’ve been missing.”
“of course!” you agreed readily. “that would be lovely! au revoir, matthew! bon appétit!”
you waved as they left, jayden giving you one last, lingering look. you didn’t think much of it, assuming it was just his usual friendliness.
the walk home was quiet, the air was cold enough to sting your lungs when you breathed in, and the sun was already sinking low behind the trees. you were lost in thoughts, replaying the kids’ proud little faces, when a sudden sound shattered the peace.
you jumped, a small gasp escaping you as a familiar black motorcycle rolled to a stop right in front of you, blocking the narrow lane. your heart hammered against your ribs.
jungkook sat on the bike one foot down, the other resting casually on the peg. he was already smirking, clearly pleased with how much he’d startled you.
“get on,” he said, voice low and steady over the engine. “it’s getting dark. could use a ride, little bear. yeah?” he made it sound like a casual suggestion, but his eyes were anything but casual, they stayed fixed on you, sharp and unreadable.
you looked around the empty lane, then back at him, gathering your composure. you sighed, the sound a soft cloud in the cold air. “no, thank you,” you said politely. “i enjoy walking home.”
his smirk deepened, carving a dimple in his cheek that you refused to find distracting. “enjoy it all you want. but with those little short legs,” his gaze dropped pointedly to your boots, “you won’t make it home ‘til the sun comes up again.”
you looked down at yourself and then back up at him, utterly offended and flustered. “they are not short? they’re… normal.”
he didn’t argue. he just let out a long sigh, the picture of a man burdened by a great duty. “look, your mom asked me to check on you. said you were late. she’s worried sick about her only daughter out here in the dark.” he delivered the lie with perfect sincerity, knowing the exact chord it would strike.
your stomach dropped. “what?”
mama was worried? the guilt hit immediately, washing over you. you shouldn’t have stayed to sketch those frost flowers on the school window pane. you’d caused your mother distress. the thought alone was unbearable.
as jungkook made a show of revving the engine slightly, preparing to leave you to your fate, you panicked. “w- wait!” you called out, your voice soft and laced with concern.
he turned back at you, expression blank. “yeah?”
you looked away, cheeks heating despite the cold, fingers twisting together. “you… you can take me home. i don’t want her to worry.”
the triumph that flashed in his eyes was barely concealed. his smirk threatened to split his face. so fucking adorable with your little pout and worried fingers. wordlessly, he reached behind him, pulling out a second, smaller helmet. he shoved it onto your head. it was heavy, too big, and smelled faintly of him. “get on.”
for a moment, you froze. the reality of the situation crashed into you. you were about to get on a motorcycle. with jungkook. the same motorcycle you’d seen that woman clinging to. a strange, hollow feeling twisted in your stomach.
he noticed your hesitation. “what now?” he grumbled, though his voice was less sharp than usual.
“i don’t… i don’t know how,” you admitted quietly.
fuck. the words, your shy confession, hit him like a physical blow. he wanted to pull you into his arms right then, to feel how you’d fit against his chest. instead, he swung off the bike. “here.”
his hands were surprisingly steady as he guided you, his grip firm on your waist as he helped you swing a leg over the seat. you squeaked, wobbling dangerously, and grabbed into his arms without thinking. he was solid beneath your fingers. he climbed back on, settling in front of you.
“hold on,” he commanded, his voice gruff. “tight.”
“no, thank you,” you whispered, your hands gripping the edge of the seat behind you instead.
he didn’t argue. he just started the bike and eased it forward slightly.
you let out a small, terrified cry and wrapped your arms around his waist, clinging for dear life. you were pressed flush against his leather jacket, helmet knocking gently against his shoulder blade.
“better,” was all he said.
he didn’t take you home. you noticed almost right away that the route was wrong. “jungkook, this isn’t–” you started.
he twisted the throttle. the bike surged forward, speed snapping your breath away. a scream was ripped from your throat, pure instinctive fear. but the fear quickly turned into laughter, breathless and surprised. the wind was sharp, the road rushing beneath you, and the only stable thing was the man you were holding onto. for the first time, you understood why he loved this so much. you understood a piece of him.
when he finally slowed and stopped at the cliff’s edge, your ears were ringing. he helped you off, your legs felt unsteady, and your breath coming in shallow. you pulled the helmet off, your hair a mess, and your cheeks flushed. the soft, breathless sounds of your laughter filled the silent space between you.
jungkook swore his heart stopped. it was the softest, most genuine sound he’d ever heard. and he can’t believe he’d made that sound happen.
below, the village lights glowed, quiet and distant.
“the view’s so beautiful,” you breathed.
“used to come up here when i was a kid,” he said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “when i needed to get away from everyone.”
the words slipped out before you could stop them. “so, when you weren’t busy bothering me.”
he glanced at you, a flicker of something (amusement maybe?) in his dark eyes. “just to break it to you, you were part of the ‘everyone.’ sometimes even the loudest part.”
“hey!” you protested, turning fully to face him. “i was not loud!”
“you were. always humming, or talking to yourself about your drawings.” he kicked a loose stone with his boot. “drove me crazy.” you drove him crazy for other reasons too but you didn’t need to know.
you hugged yourself against the creeping cold. “well, you drove me crazy, too. always bothering me, pulling my hair.”
“you had those little ribbons,” he said, his smile turning into a faint smirk. “they were just… there. asking to be tugged.”
“they were not!” you insisted, but you were smiling now too, the old grievance feeling strangely fond in the fading light. “everyone had those and you only choose mine to tug!”
“yours were more outstanding,” he shrugged but in reality, his younger self had his eyes only set on you to ever notice the other girls’ ribbons anyway.
you both eventually fell quiet after a while, the easy laughter settling into a comfortable silence. it was a new space between you, one without barbs or tension. you looked back at the view, hugging your arms as a sharp gust of wind cut through your sweater.
he noticed the movement almost immediately. his eyes dropped to your arms, then back to your face. the softness from a second ago vanished, replaced by gruffness. “you’re shivering.”
“it’s getting a little colder.” you admitted.
“yeah. let’s go.” he turned and walked back to the bike, the moment of shared memory officially over. “cmon, before you freeze.”
the ride back was different. it was slower and deliberate. you kept your arms around his middle, and this time you didn’t fight it. it just felt like the right way to stay on. you even let your head rest against the cold leather of his jacket. he didn’t speed up or try to scare you, he just drove ahead carefully.
when he dropped you at your gate, you slid off, feeling strangely unmoored. you handed him the helmet, your fingers brushing slightly. “thank you,” you murmured, not quite meeting his eyes. the experience had thrown you. the annoying boy had shown you something beautiful, shared a piece of his world, and had been… quiet. it was disorienting.
he took the helmet, his eyes scanning your face, lingering on your flushed cheeks and still-bright eyes. but then, the corner of his mouth tugged up into that arrogant smirk you knew too well.
he leaned in just a fraction, his voice a low. “don’t go wandering off alone in the dark again, little bear.” he said, his voice dropping into a teasing drawl. “might start thinking you like my company.”
and just like that, the nice moment was over. you huffed, rolling your eyes. “i don’t need a ride. and i don’t like your company, anyway. you’re annoying.”
he chuckled, a low, knowing sound. his eyes swept over you from head to toe, slow and deliberate, making your face grow warm. “sure you don’t,” he said, his voice full of mocking doubt. he swung his leg over the bike. “keep telling yourself that, little bear.”
and with a loud, unnecessary rev of the engine, he took off down the lane, leaving you standing there.
you stomped your foot in frustration, but you couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. he was infuriating. but for a few minutes up on that cliff, he hadn’t been. and that was the part you couldn’t stop thinking about.
. . .
the bakery was packed, especially since it was the day before the winter festival. it was warm, and the air smelled like fresh bread and sugar. you held your number, 42, while mandy tried to see over the crowd.
“we need more red bean buns,” mandy said. “at least ten. my aunts are coming, and trust me when i say they will eat everything.”
you giggled, the sound soft and warm against the bustling noise. “mandy, we already have two bags full. and the ginger cookies your mom made.”
“cookies are for snacks,” mandy said, very seriously. “this is for the festival. it’s different.”
finally, your number was called. you left with your arms full of warm paper bags. the cold outside felt sharp after the bakery’s heat.
“okay, we have the food,” mandy said, adjusting her grip. “now we just need to–”
you weren’t looking, and you walked right into someone coming out of the bakery. you stumbled back, and mandy quickly grabbed your arm to steady you.
“whoa! you okay?” mandy asked.
“i’m so sorry!” you said quickly, trying to balance the bags. “i wasn’t watching where–”
a sharp voice cut you off. “obviously. can’t you look where you’re going?”
your gaze snapped up. standing before you, wrapped in a nice cream coat, was cynthia. when she saw it was you, her face immediately twisted in something like disgust.
“oh,” she said. “it’s you.”
you smiled, happy to see a familiar face. “cynthia! hi! i’m really sorry i was completely distracted.” you let out a soft laugh, gesturing with your chin to the bags. “the smell in there is just… overwhelming.”
cynthia didn’t laugh. she looked you up and down, from your messy braid to your winter boots. “of course you’d get distracted by food,” she said, her voice sweet in a way that didn’t feel nice.
you just nodded. “it does smell amazing in there. anyway, sorry again. your boots are really pretty. are they new?”
mandy made an annoyed sound next to you.
“yeah and you almost stepped on them,” cynthia said coldly. “they’re expensive. you should pay more attention.”
“maybe you should watch where you’re going, too,” mandy snapped.
you gently squeezed mandy’s arm. “it was my fault, mandy.” you looked back at cynthia. “i’m really sorry. they’re lovely boots! i think i have a pair that’s kind of similar.”
cynthia looked at you like you’d said something disgusting. “i doubt that,” she sneered. then she pushed past you and went into the bakery.
you blinked, watching the door swing shut. a faint, confused frown touched your brow.
“what a bitch,” mandy said, her face red. “why did you apologize to her? she was so rude to you!”
you turned to your friend, the frown melting into a look of gentle concern. you placed a calming hand on her arm. “oh, don’t be mad. maybe she’s just stressed? the festival is tomorrow and heard she’s helping with the decorations. that’s a big job!”
mandy just stared at you. “you are too nice. seriously. someone could punch you, and you’d ask if their hand was okay.”
you laughed. “stop, don’t be silly.” you shifted the bags and linked your arm with hers. “come on, we have more important things to do, our dresses! i finished the embroidery. and i found a ribbon for your hair. we should try everything on tonight, tomorrow is going to be so fun.”
as you talked about the festival, you forgot about cynthia’s mean look. you were already thinking about the lights and the music and seeing everyone happy. you always believed people were good, even when they weren’t. and you never held onto bad feelings.
. . .
the hall was in utter chaos. people were moving tables, hanging banners, everyone talking over each other. jungkook carried two heavy boxes of decorations in one hand like they weighed nothing. with his other hand, he scrolled through his phone.
a message from jimin popped up with a blurry photo from a club, the bass probably so loud that jungkook could almost feel it through the screen. missing this yet? the text read.
jungkook scoffed and typed back a quick fuck off before opening another message. it was from a woman whose name he barely remembered, was it lana? kylie? a picture loaded. it was a mirror selfie, taken in what looked like a fancy bathroom. she was wearing a black lace bra and matching panties. one of her breasts were spilling out, her nipple pinched between her thumb and forefinger, it was already hard and perky.
thinking of you… and your big hands on me, the caption said.
he looked at the photo. his eyes moved over the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, the arc of her back. it was a nice body, one he’d fucked months ago.
it was supposed to be an invitation, but he supposedly felt nothing.
and just like that he closed the app, shoved the phone in his pocket, and dropped the boxes on the designated table with a loud thud.
“thank you, son!” old mr. henderson said, clapping him on the shoulder. “don’t know what we’d do without those strong arms!”
jungkook just gave a short nod. “need anything else?”
“well,” mr. henderson said, pointing across the room. “the girls are struggling with the lights over the stage. can’t reach. could you lend them a hand?”
jungkook looked over. a small group of familiar women were standing on chairs, trying to untangle a string of lights. as he casually walked toward them, their conversation drifted over.
“...saw it myself,” jessica was saying, voice hushed but excited. “he gave her a ride home last night on his bike. pulled right up to her gate.”
sophia let out a mocking little laugh. “so what? he gave cynthia a ride too the other day. it doesn’t mean anything. he probably just feels sorry for her because their moms are friends.”
another girl chimed in. “right! it’s nothing but a pity ride. he’d never actually look twice at someone like her.”
jessica lowered her voice further. “you know, sometimes i think she’s not even real, all that sweetness, no one is that nice. she’s probably just pretending, thinking it’ll make her seem interesting.”
“totally,” sophia agreed. “it’s so fake. like, just stop trying so hard.”
they were so engrossed in their gossip they didn’t hear him stop right behind them.
“need help with those?” jungkook’s voice was flat.
all four girls jumped, letting out little shrieks. sophia almost fell off her chair. they whirled around, their faces flushing deep red, eyes wide with horror.
“j-jungkook!” jessica stammered, her hand flying to her chest. “we didn’t– you startled us!”
he just looked at them, his face blank. he didn’t look angry or anything, he just seemed… unimpressed. like he’d found something mildly distasteful on his bike’s seat.
“the lights,” he repeated, not acknowledging their panic. “you need them hung?”
“y-yes! please!” sophia said, her voice too high. she quickly scrambled off the chair, nearly tripping.
he didn’t say another word to them. he just took the string of lights from jessica’s trembling hands, easily reached up, and hooked them over the beam in two swift motions. the task that had stumped them for twenty minutes took him less than twenty seconds.
he glanced down at the group of them, who were now huddled together, silent and mortified.
“there,” he simply said. then he turned and walked away, leaving them standing there, the cruel words they’d just spoken hanging in the air around them, feeling uglier and cheaper by the second.
their whispers were still ringing in his ears. fake. pity ride. no one is that nice.
he felt a hot, unfamiliar anger tightening in his chest. it was about you. those girls. he’d seen you with them just earlier, not even an hour ago, laughing like you were all friends. were you seriously that blind? that naive? did you walk through life actually believing everyone had a heart like yours? it made him furious. the world was a selfish, shitty place. he knew that better than anyone. he’d built his whole life around that fact.
but you. you were the only person he’d ever met who was just… genuinely good. it was frustrating. it was infuriating. because you saw the best in everyone. you gave everyone that soft smile, that benefit of the doubt.
everyone except him.
you always looked right at him and saw the worst. you saw the act, the grumpiness, the trouble. and maybe that’s what pissed him off the most. you were kind to the whole damn village, even to snakes like those girls who talked shit about you behind your back, but with him, you were always ready with an eye-roll, a huff, a scowl.
he hated that you were so stupidly trusting of people who didn’t deserve it. and he hated, even more, that you were the only one who ever looked at him and didn’t buy his bullshit for a second.
the music started then, a familiar, cheesy folk song that they played every single year. he hated this song. he hated all these songs actually. he remembered standing at these festivals as a teenager, pretending he didn’t mind the music, leaning against a wall trying to look cool. he’d pretended to like it back then because he’d seen your face light up when the music started. he’d hoped, stupidly, that you might eventually want to dance, but you never did.
he scanned the crowded hall, his eyes looking for you out of reflex. he’d last seen you by the buffet tables, carefully arranging cookies on a platter.
then he spotted you. you weren’t by the food anymore. instead, you were standing near the fireplace, talking to a guy.
jungkook’s gaze sharpened. he knew that guy, he’d seen him sitting at the bar in the village pub a few nights ago, nursing a beer. the guy had been staring at him with a hard, unwelcome glare the whole night. jungkook had noticed but hadn’t cared enough to wonder why. just another local who didn’t like his look.
now, seeing him leaning close to you, it clicked. the guy’s name was jayden, he was pretty sure. and the dirty looks he sent him made perfect sense now. jayden was definitely into you. of course he was, who wouldn’t be? the guy had probably seen him near you, or heard some village gossip, and saw him as competition. he was probably scared he didn’t stand a chance.
watching them now, jungkook felt that thought like a punch. jayden was saying something, his whole body turned toward you like you were the only person in the room. and you… you laughed. you tipped your head back, and your whole face lit up with that smile jungkook hated how much he noticed. that soft, happy laugh of yours floated across the noise of the hall.
a hot, sharp twist pulled tight in jungkook’s chest. he loved that sound, it was the best thing he’d heard in this whole damn town. and it was being pulled out of you by some guy who carved wood for a living and glared at people in bars.
he started moving toward you without thinking, ready to cut in and put an end to whatever was happening.
“jungkook!”
the voice was bright, sharp. it cut through his focus. he stopped in his tracks and turned.
cynthia was practically gliding toward him, a perfect smile on her lips. she was wearing a tight red dress that had no business being at a village winter festival. she stopped so close he could smell her perfume.
“there you are,” she said, her voice sugary. “i’ve been looking for you.” she didn’t wait for a response. “they’re about to start the couples’ snowshoe race. we should partner up. with you strength and my... guidance,” she said, letting the word hang with a little laugh, “we’d win for sure. it’ll be so much fun!”
she reached out and put a hand on his arm, her fingers pressing in. her touch was confident, expecting a ‘yes’.
jungkook looked from her hand on his jacket back to her expectant face. then his eyes flickered over her shoulder, back to you. you were still talking to that jayden guy, your head tilted as you listened to him. you looked… happy. comfortable. a sharp and unpleasant pang hit him right in the ribs. he didn’t understand it. he just knew he didn’t like seeing it.
he looked back down at cynthia. her offer was simple. a game. a little distraction. no thinking required. maybe that’s what he needed. maybe if he was out there racing, he wouldn’t be in here watching you smile at someone else. he wouldn’t have to think about why it bothered him so much.
“whatever,” he muttered, giving a short, indifferent shrug. “fine.”
cynthia’s face lit up like she’d just won a prize. “perfect!” she said, linking her arm through his before he could pull away. “let’s go get ready. we’re so going to win this!”
as she led him toward the door, chattering about the rules of the race, jungkook let himself be pulled along. he focused on the simple task ahead; winning a stupid race. it was easier than thinking about the confusing, tight feeling in his chest, or the way your laugh had sounded from across the room when it wasn’t meant for him.
. . .
you were laughing with jayden. he’d been telling you about the wooden snowman he carved for his little cousin.
“so i was trying to make it jolly, you know? with a smile,” jayden said, shaking his head. “but the knife slipped. now it’s got this permanent grimace. my aunt said it looks more like gargamel than frosty.”
you covered your mouth, trying to stifle your giggle. “oh no! the poor thing.”
“the poor thing? you mean the poor kid! he took one look at it and hid behind the sofa.”
you laughed again, the sound warm. “i’m sure he’ll love it when he’s older. it’ll be a funny story.”
jayden smiled, his eyes on your face. “you always see the good side, don’t you?” he reached out then, his fingers gently touching the end of the braid mandy had woven into your hair. “this is cute, it suits you.”
you felt your cheeks get a little warm. the touch was… sudden. not in a weird way, it was nice, just... sudden. “oh, thanks! mandy did it. we wanted to match.”
his hand dropped, but he didn’t step back. if anything, he seemed to stand a little closer. his smile turned more serious. “hey, listen, after the festival ends tonight, i was wondering if you wanted to–”
a huge roar of cheering and applause cut him off. it came from outside the main hall doors.
both of you turned to look. jayden looked a little annoyed at the interruption, while you were just curious.
through the open doors, you could see the crowd gathered outside for the couples’ snowshoe race. and the first thing your eyes spotted was jungkook.
he was crossing the finish line, his long legs eating up the snow. he looked so focused, almost grim. and right behind him, attached to the same rope, was cynthia. she crossed the line a second after him and immediately let out a shriek of victory. she jumped toward him, throwing her arms out.
jungkook turned, and his hands came up to catch her by the waist, steadying her so she didn’t fall over in the snow. she was laughing, saying something up at him, her face flushed with victory and cold.
something inside your stomach dropped. it felt heavy and cold.
they were partners. for the couples’ race. of course they were. cynthia was pretty and fashionable and from the city, just like he was now. it made perfect sense, they probably had a lot in common.
you watched as cynthia kept one hand on his arm, smiling up at him. jungkook gave a short nod, not really smiling back, but he wasn’t pushing her away either. they looked… so comfortable together. were they dating? maybe that’s why he gave her a ride that day as you heard from jessica. the thought shouldn’t have bothered you, he could date whoever he wanted. he was annoying and rude and he flirted with everyone. it was none of your business.
but the heavy, unsettled feeling in your chest didn’t go away. it was only then that you realized you’d stopped smiling.
“looks like jeon won,” jayden said beside you, his tone flat.
“oh, yeah,” you said softly, forcing your eyes away from the scene outside. “i guess he did.” you tried to find your smile again for jayden, but it felt a little shaky. “sorry, what were you saying before?”
jayden leaned in a bit, his voice dropping so only you could hear. “i was saying… after the festival ends tonight, maybe you and i could go somewhere. just the two of us. maybe to the pub, or… my place.” he paused, letting the offer hang in the air. his eyes held a certain look you didn’t quite grasp. he meant his place. he meant drinks, then maybe moving to the couch, seeing where the night went. he’d liked you for a while, and he thought this was his clear shot.
your mind, however, was still stuck outside. you were seeing jungkook’s hands on cynthia’s waist, the easy way he’d caught her. you felt flustered and confused by your own reaction to it. so when jayden spoke, you heard the words but not the intention behind them. going somewhere after the festival with a friend? that sounded normal. nice, even.
you gave a small absent minded nod. “sure, that sounds nice,” you said, your voice polite and a little distant.
jayden’s whole face brightened. he leaned back, a confident, pleased smile spreading across his features.
just then, your mother hurried over, her brow pinched with worry. “sweetheart, have you seen rocky? they’re saying on the radio a big storm is rolling in fast. we need to get him inside.”
you blinked, your focus snapping back. “oh, no. he was with the kids outside.”
your mother just noticed jayden. “oh hello, jayden. how are your parents, son?”
“they’re doing well, thank you, auntie,” he said, ever the polite son.
you were already turning toward the door. “i’ll go find him right now, mama.”
you slipped out the main doors into the cold. the party was shifting inside as the first real flakes began to fall, thick and fast. you tried not to look toward the area where the race had been, where you could still hear cynthia’s bright laughter. you scanned the thinning crowd for a flash of scruffy brown fur.
then your eyes caught little kiki, the baker’s youngest. she was standing by the empty cookie table, her shoulders hunched and shaking with sobs.
your heart immediately softened. you rushed over and knelt in front of her, ignoring the cold seeping through your skirt. “kiki? angel, what’s wrong?”
she looked up, her face wet with tears. “i was p-playing with rocky,” she hiccupped. “i… i tried to give him my mitten, and i moved too fast. i scared him and he ran away!”
your eyes widened with concern, not blame. “oh, sweetie. it’s okay. where did he go?”
she pointed a trembling finger toward the dark line of trees. “that way. i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to!”
you pulled her into a quick, warm hug. “it’s not your fault baby, these things happen. i’ll go find him, okay? you go inside where it’s warm. we can all play together when i bring him back, yeah?”
kiki sniffled and gave you a wobbly smile, nodding. you wiped a tear from her cheek with your thumb. “go on, baby. inside.”
you watched her scamper toward the hall doors before you turned to face the treeline. the wind had picked up, howling now, and the snow was coming down in earnest, blurring the shapes of the houses. a deep worry settled in your stomach. rocky was so little, the wind would sound like monsters to him. he’d be so terrified and alone in this.
without another thought, you pulled your coat collar up over your mouth, bowed your head against the blast, and started to run toward the trees. the swirling snow had swallowed you up, and your footprint disappearing almost as soon as you made them.
. . .
jungkook held a beer he wasn’t drinking. the noise of the party felt oddly too loud for him. cynthia was still glued to his side, talking about a rooftop bar she went.
“...and the cocktails were, like, twenty dollars each, but the view was totally worth it. you probably know the place, right? it’s exactly your scene.”
he grunted, his eyes moving over the crowd, looking for you. he’d completely lost sight of you after the race. he scanned the groups by the food, the people dancing, the ones sitting by the fire. no sign of your yellow dress or that soft smile.
cynthia kept talking, but he wasn’t listening at some point. a cold feeling, different from the storm outside, started to creep into his gut, and he didn’t know why.
just then, someone called his name. he looked over and saw mandy, your best friend, pushing through the crowd toward him. he was weirdly relieved to see her.
“jungkook,” she said, ignoring cynthia completely. “have you seen y/n? i can’t find her anywhere.”
his frown deepened, a small knot of tension formed between his shoulders. he’d been unconsciously looking for you for the last ten minutes. “no,” he said, his voice flat. “i haven’t.”
the knot tightened. it wasn’t like you to just vanish. you were the type to be helping in the kitchen, or talking to the elders, or dancing with the kids. disappearing wasn’t in your nature.
cynthia let out a short, mean laugh. “she’s probably in the kitchen stuffing her face. she’s always hanging around the food.”
jungkook barely heard her. his mind was clicking through possibilities, each one making the knot pull tighter. maybe you had gone home early? but you wouldn’t leave without telling your mom or mandy. maybe you were outside getting some air? but the storm had gone from bad to dangerous in minutes. no one with any sense was out there now. worry began to cut through his usual irritation. something wasn’t right.
mandy turned her head slowly toward cynthia, her eyes hard. “maybe you should go join her. you look like you could use a few good meals.”
cynthia gasped, choking on her own drink. jungkook couldn’t help it; a sharp, approving smirk tugged at his lips. he liked your friend.
mandy turned back to him, dismissing cynthia. “if you see her, tell her i’m looking for her, okay?”
jungkook gave her a short nod. “yeah.”
as mandy walked away, the cold feeling in his stomach turned to ice. yeah, something was definitely wrong. he cut cynthia off mid-sentence. “i’m getting another drink.” he didn’t even wait for her reply, just walked away, leaving her standing there.
he started moving through the hall, his eyes darting everywhere. he finally spotted jayden by the old stone fireplace, talking with a couple of other guys. jungkook hated the sight of him, but he was the last person he’d seen you with.
as he got closer, their voices cut through the noise.
“...she said yes, man! finally!” jayden was saying, taking a swig of his beer. a smug grin spread across his face. “after the festival, she’s all mine.”
one of his friends, a guy jungkook recognized from the hardware store, nudged him. “no way, seriously? you finally scored a date with the fine teacher?”
“more than a date,” jayden said, lowering his voice but not enough. he leaned in, his tone full of arrogant confidence. “she agreed to come back to my place. just the two of us, man. tonight’s the night.”
the other guy let out a low whistle and clapped jayden hard on the shoulder. “hell yeah! fucking the prettiest girl in town? i knew you’d wear her down man. have fun, you lucky bastard.”
the words hit jungkook like fucking hard blow, making him stop dead. how dare they talk this low about you. a wave of pure fury washed over him so fast it blinded him for a second. his vision tunneled on jayden’s grinning face. his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles turned white, hot rage exploded behind his eyes. he took a step forward, his body coiled to launch himself at jayden and break that smug smile right off his chopped face.
but before he could move, a small weight crashed into his legs. he looked down; a little girl had stumbled into him and now sat on the floor, crying.
oh shit. he hated kids. did he just make one cry? he had absolutely no fucking idea what to do. he just crouched down awkwardly, cursing as his big hands hovering near her little shoulders. “hey, uh kid. stop crying. uh, what’s wrong?”
the little girl, kiki, hiccupped through her tears. “i’m sorry… i– i scared her dog and he ran away. she went to find him but she’s not back yet!”
jungkook went completely still. “she? who you talking about, kid?”
“the nice teacher lady with the yellow dress. she went into the woods to get rocky a long time ago!”
everything else in the room snapped into silence. a cold, sheer terror, sharper than any he’d ever known, shot down his spine and locked his lungs.
you were outside. in the fucking woods. alone.
his little bear; who got flustered when the wind blew too hard, who smiled at everyone, who was too damn sweet and trusting for her own good, was outside in the terrifying storm right at this moment.
the image of you, small and scared in that swallowing whiteness, flashed behind his eyes. it was all he could see. the thought of you cold, lost, hurt, was like a fist squeezing his heart so tight he couldn’t breathe.
he jerked upright, so fast that he didn’t notice he made the little girl flinch. he was already moving, shoving past bodies, his only target was the heavy doors leading outside.
he hit the doors at a run, bursting into the violent roar of the storm. the cold wind slapped him, the snow blinded him, but he didn’t hesitate. he plunged forward, your name a desperate, silent chant in his mind, the only thing that mattered in the entire fucking world.
pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader genre. paperboy!jungkook. fuckboy!jungkook. milf!reader. age gap. infidelity. smut. college au. 2000s au.
getting a new job as a newspaper delivery boy to earn some extra cash wasn't exactly ideal for jungkook's busy college schedule. but the MILF he delivers papers to every wednesday? absolutely essential.
word count. 11.4k words warnings. big age gap .. click out if ur uncomfortable. jungkook 20. oc 30. so much flirting and sexual tension its sickening. pure erotica. indications of oc not being in a happy marriage. HORNY WOMEN EPIDEMIC. scenes where he has sex and kisses other girls SMFH. mention of jk and tae having threesomes together. smut. switch!jungkook. dry humping. jk cums in his pants. oc watching jk jerk off. handjob. titty fuck. unprotected sex. cowgirl. rough doggy. cum swapping + cum eating.
✭ PART OF THE PRESS REWIND COLLAB !
ana’s notes. hello girlies ! welcome to the first baby of the press rewind collab hehe .. THE PRESSURE IS ON. i hope i dont disappoint too much while we wait for the absolute masterpiece jen holds until tomorrow. this is just a bunch of porn without plot idk i was horny. anyway ! we are so excited to share this with you guys hehe ♡
Ever since he started this job, Jungkook’s schedule had been nothing but brutal to him.
Work began at four in the goddamn morning, forcing him to cut hours out of his already fragile sleep schedule just so he could get out of bed earlier and send out newspapers while everyone else was still dreaming. By the time he was wrapped up around seven, he didn’t even have time to get coffee — let alone breakfast — before rushing back to campus, trying to get to his first class on time.
It’s not like his job was the hardest job in the world. But still, the hours were inconvenient, and the exhaustion was real. And hell, Jungkook had been so fucking busy he hadn’t had sex in two months.
Two whole months.
He was usually having sex twice a month. A respectable amount, nothing outrageous, just enough to keep him sane. But now, he felt like he was dying. He was losing himself. Is this what celibacy feels like?
He went through his roster — the girls he usually hooked up with.
Evelyn stopped calling him, cold out of nowhere. He sure as hell wasn’t going to call her first. Vanessa had called it quits the second she got a boyfriend. Fucking dweeb. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she came crawling back, begging him to fuck her the way she actually liked.
As for now, the only girl he could think of who was both available and interested was also the one he least wanted to touch. What was her name again? Myra? Maia? Who fucking knows. She was clingy, annoying, and always talked to him like he was her boyfriend. Quite frankly, he didn’t have the time — or patience — for all of that.
Whatever, his hand will have to do.
He exhaled deeply. All that walking, legs burning, blood pumping through his veins like he’d just run a damn marathon — and yet, he still felt like collapsing. His body was moving, sure, but his brain was dead. Gosh, he was so glad he didn’t have classes today.
Rubbing at his heavy eyes, he trudged forward, shoes scraping against the pavement as he made his way to the last house on his route. Just one more.
He was so ready to throw this stupid fucking paper at this persons door, call it a day, and crawl back to his bed for a much needed nap. His arm was already mid-swing, prepared to launch it and walk away without a second thought.
But the door opens.
And… oh. Hello.
“Ah, perfect timing,” you said with a soft smile, all bright-eyed and cheerful like it wasn’t eight-something in the morning.
Jungkook blinked. Once. Twice. Maybe even a third time, he lost count.
Maybe it was your face that caught him off guard — pretty in that effortlessly annoying way, your hair pulled back with a clip that made your features stand out more. Or maybe it was the fact that you were very clearly wearing absolutely nothing underneath that silk robe, stepping out onto the porch like it was no big deal.
So casually. So revealing.
You tilted your head, reaching out for the paper. “Thank you,” you said, fingers brushing against his for a second.
Jungkook blames it on his lack of sex — or hell, just the physical touch in general — for the way a shiver shot down his spine.
“Yeah. No problem,” he said, clearing his throat, but not even bothering to be subtle as his eyes dragged up and down shamelessly.
You didn’t seem to notice the way he was checking you out, or maybe you did, but you didn’t mention it. Either way, you just smiled, glancing down at the front page of the paper, skimming the headlines.
“Having a good morning?” he asks, noting the complete lack of exhaustion or irritation on your face this early.
You chuckled, clearly amused by the contrast between you and him. “I slept well. You caught me on a good day.”
Jungkook smirked, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shoulders loose and relaxed. “Must be nice. I haven’t gotten more than four hours of sleep these days.”
“Poor thing. Guess someone’s been working too hard.” you said, your voice dipping into something teasing, almost sultry as you pouted at him playfully.
Jungkook liked that. Oh, he liked that a lot. His tongue darted out to licks his lips, his gaze locked dead on you. Jungkook had always been such a flirt — never the type to get shy when it came to hitting on a girl. It’s no different with you, a beautiful, grown woman. But he does find it a little more exciting.
“You pay for these newspapers?” he asked, titling his head, still ogling you.
You shook your head, “No, my husband does. But it gets pretty lonely when he’s off to work and my kids are at school. These keep me busy until it’s time to make lunch and pick them up.”
Jungkook nodded slowly, lips twitching like he was holding back a smirk.
Husband. Kids.
Should’ve been enough to put him in check.
Should’ve been enough for him to back off.
But instead, Jungkook found himself even more intrigued.
“You know,” he said, voice low and a little rough, “if it gets that lonely… I wouldn’t mind keeping you company.”
You raised an eyebrow, a slow smile tugging at your lips. “You flirting with me, paperboy?”
He chuckled under his breath, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Depends,” he said, eyes glinting with something mischievous. “Is it working?”
Your eyes dropped into a warning glare, but the smile tugging at your lips told a different story.
“How old are you?” you asked, voice light but edged with curiosity.
“Twenty-one, ma’am,” he said. “In nine months… but basically twenty-one.”
You blink slowly, clearly unimpressed. “So… twenty.”
“Not in nine months,” he says back, that cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You scoffed. “You’re just a baby.”
“I’m not quite sure babies can drink legally,” he said looking up, brows furrowed in mock confusion.
“You can’t,” you pointed out.
“I can in nine months,” he repeated, grinning.
You exhale, glancing off to the side like maybe the breeze would carry this boy away. “You in college?”
“Yup,” he said proudly. “Heading into my third year,”
You nodded slowly, sizing him up. “So, you’re young, probably have plenty of girls your age lining up...”
“What if I don’t want girls my age?”
You tilt your head at him, narrowing your eyes just slightly. “And what is it exactly that you want from me?”
He didn’t answer right away. He just smiled, slow and unapologetic, eyes dragging down your figure for the briefest moment before flicking back up to your face.
“I don’t know,” he said, voice low. “But I wouldn’t mind finding out.”
He stares at you, that flirt still dancing in his eyes, tongue pressing into his cheek as he waits for your response.
But you don’t give him one.
Instead, you turn, stepping back toward your doorway.
“See you next Wednesday,” you teased, your words light and playful, floating over your shoulder as the door clicked softly shut.
Jungkook bit his lip, a slow grin spreading across his face.
Yeah. Wednesday might’ve been his favorite day of the week now.
With the semester coming to an end, Jungkook was drowning in final exams. Studying was all he knew. Ask him how his day was, and he’d reply with something he learned in his fucking English course. Still, somewhere buried beneath all the notes and reading, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.
He continued delivering newspapers to regular subscribers, and even though you weren’t due for another until Wednesday, he still found himself walking past your house anyway.
Maybe he’d catch you coming back from dropping your kids off at school. Maybe you’d be standing near the large windows in nothing but that silk robe. But he didn’t see you — not once.
The wait for Wednesday was unbearable, and the rest of the week was torture.
But eventually, the day came.
For the first time ever, Jungkook didn’t hate the sound of his alarm. The annoying beep from his bedside table felt almost like a victory bell. He was up before it could go off a second time, out of bed and getting dressed with more enthusiasm than he’d shown all semester.
He threw on a bomber jacket — dressing much nicer than he had last Wednesday — and stepped out into the chilly morning air. The streets were still quiet, the cold air nipped at his cheeks, and his stomach was already growling, but his mind was only focused on one thing. One house. One door.
And one woman who had no business looking that damn good so early in the morning.
Wanting to be considerate of everyone else’s time before he lingered on your doorstep and took his time hitting on you, he rushed through the rest of his deliveries — saving the best for last.
By the time he turned the corner onto your block, it was nearing ten. He slowed his pace as he walked down the familiar sidewalk, the excitement jittering in his stomach as your house came into view.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about someone else perhaps opening the door… or worse, you not answering at all.
Because there you were — in the driveway, back turned to him, bent slightly as you grabbed a few paper bags from the trunk of your car.
“Let me help!” he called out, jogging up the driveway.
You straightened, looking over your shoulder — unintentionally robbing him of the very nice view of your ass he was enjoying. But the smile that curled on your pretty glossy lips more than made up for it.
“Ah, paperboy,” you teased, voice warm and teasing. “Perfect timing again… you have my schedule written down somewhere?”
Jungkook chuckles, taking the bag from your arm before reaching into the trunk for the rest. “Name’s Jungkook,” he says with a grin. “And yeah, I named it Pretty Woman in the Silk Robe.”
You giggle, closing the trunk and locking your car. “Sounds like a porno.”
“Could be one,” he says with a shrug, smirking. “I’m pretty good with a camera.”
You shoot him a look, cheeks feeling warm despite yourself. “You really shouldn’t flirt with me.”
Jungkook shifts the grocery bags in his arms, no signs of struggle. “C’mon, you don’t like it?”
“You’re twenty,” you reply, but your tone is more amused than scolding.
“That doesn’t answer my question though, does it?”
You roll your eyes, lips twitching into a smile as you turn and head toward the house. Jungkook trails behind closely, eyes shamelessly glued to the sway of your hips. Damn, those jeans were doing it for you — and him.
“Oh, c’mon, I gave you my name!” he whines, a pretty smile tugging at his lips.
You glance over your shoulder, your voice soft as you finally offer yours — slipping from your tongue just as smoothly as the silk robe you wore last week. Pretty, Jungkook thinks. Real pretty.
“You flirt with other customers like this?” you ask, brow arched, tone teasing.
“Only pretty ones like you,” he flirts again without a second wasted.
You let out a soft snort, shaking your head as you push the door open. “Set the bags down on the counter and don’t get comfortable.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, following you in.
He steps in further, eyes roaming with quiet curiosity. The scent of vanilla lingers faintly in the air, cozy and homely. There’s a pair of small sneakers by the door, a doll under the coffee table, a sweatshirt draped over the arm of the couch. Signs of your life when you aren’t home alone.
You’re a mother.
He has to remember that. He needs to remember that.
“Kitchen’s this way,” you say over your shoulder, motioning with a tilt of your head.
He follows you down the hall, the sound of your footsteps leading him into the open kitchen. Sunlight spills from the windows, reflecting against the tile floors and countertops. The space feels lived-in, but clean and comfortable — just like you.
He sets the bags down on the counter, watching as you move with ease, starting to unpack the groceries and restock the refrigerator. There’s something oddly domestic about it. Something strangely intimate.
Jungkook lingers, unsure if he should take the hint and head out — or wait to be dismissed. But you don’t say anything, and the silence stretches just enough to feel like an invitation.
“So…” he starts. “How many little ones we talkin’?”
You glance back at him over your shoulder as you shut the fridge. “Three. A girl and two boys.”
He lets out a low whistle, settling onto the stool at the kitchen island. “Damn. Busy house.”
“Too busy,” you reply, leaning your elbows on the other side of the counter. “Why do you think I don’t wanna put up with you?”
“Well,” he chuckles softly. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”
You raise a brow. “Only because you won’t back off.”
“I do when I’m told.”
There’s a pause. Your gaze lingers on him for a second too long.
“And I haven’t…” you say, voice quiet.
His smile grows, slow and knowingly. “Exactly.”
You lift your left hand, slowly, deliberately — the diamond glinting in the sunlight. “You forgetting I’m married?”
He doesn’t flinch. Just tilts his head, eyes locked on yours. “Are you?”
Jungkook wasn’t wrong. You hadn’t exactly drawn a line. Hadn’t shut him down when he flirted. Hadn't told him to stop calling you pretty, or stop looking at you like that. You’d let him in — quite literally — and you hadn’t made it hard for him to do so either.
But he wasn’t right in this situation either. Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing. Knew you were married. Knew there were kids in the picture. And he was still sitting there, shooting his shot like none of it mattered.
But then again… you hadn’t told him to stop.
And maybe, deep down, you didn’t want to.
You clear your throat, inhaling deeply as if that’ll cool the heat crawling up your neck. “Alright,” you say, tapping the counter. “You’ve been here long enough.”
Jungkook raises a brow, smirk already pulling at his lips. “Kicking me out already?”
“You weren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” you say, walking away from the counter gesturing for him to follow. “Come on,”
He whines dramatically, throwing his head back playfully. Nonetheless, he follows — reluctantly, like a well-trained dog — eyes fixed on your hair bouncing with each step behind you, the sway of your hips, down to your ass in those jeans. God, he loved those jeans.
You open the door, letting the morning breeze waft in, but he doesn’t walk away right away. He lingers, standing close. You lean your head against the side of the door, meeting his gaze.
“So,” Jungkook starts, sporting a troubled grin, “when can I come over again?”
You chuckle softly. “This isn’t happening again. I told you… I’m married.”
“Happily?” he asks, bold, the cocky tilt of his head showing he already knows the answer.
You don’t deny it. You don’t say anything at all — and that alone tells him everything.
“Goodbye, Jungkook,” you sing, closing the door.
It shuts with a soft click — the familiar scent of vanilla still lingering in the air, your voice echoing in his head, your lips and figure burned into his memory.
Fuck… he’s so down bad, it’s not even funny.
Jungkook can’t stop thinking about you. You’ve clouded his mind like the damn plague.
And even now, as he pounds into Katarina Rose — insufferable, snobby princess with a trust fund and a daddy who buys her the world — you’re all he can think about.
His hair sticks to his forehead, damp with sweat, strands falling into his eyes. His hands clamp around her waist hard enough to bruise as he holds her down and drives his hips into her. She's already, somehow, been on her third orgasm.
Meanwhile Jungkook hasn’t even gotten close.
He loves pussy. Loves tits. Loves women! He’s never been ashamed of that — never had a reason to be. And still, here he is, fucking the girl that every fraternity would sell their souls to get inside of… and he feels nothing.
He’s never been this turned off in his life.
Maybe it’s her obnoxiously loud moaning.
Maybe it’s the way she keeps screaming daddy instead of his actual name.
Whatever it is, Jungkook can’t drag himself anywhere to his release.
His mind slips — not to the feline arch of Katarina’s body beneath him — but straight back to you.
He thinks about the last time he saw you — the effortless seduction you carry without even trying, the glittery gloss shining on your lips, the little heart necklace resting just above your cleavage, your ass hugged tight in those jeans. And your voice… soft, feminine, sultry — the kind of sound that could get him hard without you even having to touch him.
Then his memory drifts further, to the first time he ever laid eyes on you.
That pink silky robe. Nothing underneath. Your nipples pressing through the fabric. You didn’t bother covering up, not for him, a complete stranger standing on your property. Your husband must have a hard time dealing with a woman like you.
Jungkook’s certain he wouldn’t. He could handle every last bit.
And the thought alone makes his fingers dig harder into Katarina’s hips, knuckles whitening as he drags her back into him. His thrusts pick up, sharp and punishing, the wet slap of his pelvis against her ass echoing through her tiny dorm room. Her moans somehow get louder than they already are — loud and dramatic — but he can’t hear a damn thing.
Because he’s thinking about you while he’s fucking another girl.
And as messed up as that is, he doesn’t even try to stop it. He doesn’t acknowledge it. Not when fantasizing about you is finally pushing him towards his edge.
He yanks out at the last second, mouth gaped open, hand wrapping around his length. He strokes himself fast, desperate, chasing the only thing that’s made him feel anything all night — you.
And you weren’t even here.
A moan escapes his throat as warm ropes of cum shoot across Katarina’s bare back, coating her skin. His entire body tightens, shudders, your face burned behind his eyelids with every pulse of pleasure until the very last drop leaves him.
Katarina squeals, snapping Jungkook back into reality. He swears he feels himself soften the second her voice hits his ears.
“You know you could’ve came inside… I’m on birth control, remember?” she purrs, glancing over her shoulder at him.
Jungkook forces a polite expression onto his face. He tries — really tries — not to grimace while she’s looking at him.
“I told you. I don’t do that,” he mutters, planting his feet on the ground as he scans the floor for his jeans.
And it’s true. Jungkook doesn’t cum inside of girls he’s not dating — especially not randoms… or girls like Katarina.
She’s been throwing herself at him for months. The only reason he finally caved tonight was because he hadn’t had sex in forever and needed something — anything — for that release. This was actually his first time hanging out with her — if you could even call it that. And he already regrets it.
He doesn’t even bother handing her a towel, doesn’t even glance at the mess he left on her back. Post-nut clarity hits him like a slap in the face, and all he knows is that he needs to get the fuck out of here.
Jungkook fumbles for his boxers on the floor, yanking them up in one swift motion, the waistband snapping hard against his hips. He drags his jeans on right after, not even bothering to tighten his belt — that would take too much time, and he’s already halfway out of the moment.
“You’re not gonna stay?” Katarina asks, still on all fours on the bed like she’s waiting for another round.
“Nope,” Jungkook mutters, already pulling his hoodie over his head, smoothing his beanie down after. He doesn’t look at her.
“Why not?” she presses, genuinely confused.
“Can’t. Gotta go.” His voice is flat, emotionless — exactly how he feels towards her.
And then he leaves — walking out the door without another word, without a second glance, heading straight back to his own dorm with only one thought.
You.
It’s Wednesday again. And like every other Wednesday lately, Jungkook dresses like he’s got some modeling gig to go to.
It’s also another morning where he takes the exact same route straight to one specific house on Hot Milf Avenue.
He rings the doorbell, pulse already picking up, and a couple seconds later you’re opening the door. If Jungkook weren’t so delusional, he’d swear you were just as eager for him as he is for you.
And it sure as hell isn’t the newspaper he thinks you’re excited to see.
“Morning,” you say, voice soft but unmistakably flirty — and you don’t bother hiding the way your eyes drift down his chest, over the fitted tee, the chain at his neck, the way his jeans sit low on his hips.
“Morning,” Jungkook repeats, a slow smirk forming like he knows exactly what you were looking at.
“You know,” you tease, tilting your head toward the mailbox by the walkway, “you don’t always have to personally hand me this. The mailbox is right over there.”
He shrugs, casual, cocky, eyes dragging over you shamelessly. “I like seeing who opens the door.”
You hum, arching a brow. “That’s bold of you to assume it’s always me.”
“I don’t assume,” he says, confidence dripping from every word. “I know.”
You let out a soft laugh, stepping just a little closer, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re lucky he isn’t here.”
“Mmm,” Jungkook hums, biting back the comment he really wants to make — something dangerously close to when is he ever? Biting back his tongue, he shifts his weight, eyes locked on yours as he flashes you a boyish smile. “You need company?"
You consider the question — just for a second — but he doesn’t get an answer. Instead, you give him your version of yes.
“Ten minutes,” you say lightly. “I’m waiting on a call.”
Jungkook smiles slowly. “Enough for me.”
You roll your eyes, stepping aside and opening the door wider for him. Jungkook slips past you, shoulder brushing yours just enough to feel intentional, and the door clicks shut behind him.
The familiar scent of your house wraps around him instantly — warm vanilla softened by something sharper, piney, clean.
There are no scattered toys this time. No tiny shoes kicked off by the door. A half-finished glass of wine rests on the coffee table beside a stack of glossy magazines, last week’s newspaper folded neatly underneath them. Evidence of an evening spent alone.
Jungkook’s gaze drifts, taking it all in far too carefully.
“So,” he says casually, like he isn’t cataloging every detail, “where exactly is your husband?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, already turning away and dropping onto the couch.
Jungkook’s mouth quirks instantly — very obviously — he thinks he’s slick, but he’s far from. He follows you without hesitation. But instead of taking the opposite cushion like a sane person, he settles right in the middle, invading your space on purpose. His knee bumps your shin where your legs are tucked onto the couch, as if he’s trying to touch you in any way he can.
“Just being careful,” he says.
You laugh quietly. “He’s in Chicago for a work trip. Won’t be back for another week.”
Jungkook blinks. Then, brows lifting, “He left you alone with three kids? Doesn't seem very practical.”
You narrow your eyes at him, amused more than offended. “Mind yourself, paperboy. They’re angels,” you warn, tone playful but carrying just enough bite. “I do just fine on my own.”
He only hums, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Jungkook wasn’t fully aware of your relationship with your husband — he’s never asked, never pressed you about it — but he’s not stupid either. Whatever your relationship with your husband is, it’s clearly not a healthy one.
You tilt your head, bringing your legs closer against his. “But they’ll be with my mom this week.”
Jungkook’s eyes light up — bright, eager, like a puppy that’s just been promised a treat. The corner of his mouth tugs upward as he bites down on his lip, barely containing the spark of excitement.
“Well,” he says slowly, dragging it out, “Chicago’s pretty far from here… and a week is a long time.”
You hum, lifting a brow as you lean back into the couch. “Is it?”
“Couple thousand miles,” he shrugs. “Give or take.”
“And what exactly are you implying?” you ask, already knowing the answer.
He tilts his head, gaze flicking briefly around the quiet house before settling back on you. “Pretty woman. Big house. All alone.” His voice drops, softer now, a faint rasp threading through it. “What if it gets too lonely?”
You laugh under your breath, the sound warm, indulgent. “I wouldn’t mind a certain someone’s company…”
“And that is?” Jungkook asks, already leaning in, like he knows the answer but wants to hear you say it anyway.
“You might know him,” you tease. “He delivers newspapers every Wednesday. Cute face.” Your eyes drag slowly over his. “But he’s a bit… young.”
Jungkook chuckles, low and quiet, his piercing glinting in the sunlight as he catches his bottom lip between his teeth. “Is he?”
“Very,” you say, gaze betraying you as it dips — just briefly — to his lips.
“What’s that saying?” he murmurs. “Age ain’t nothing but a number.”
“Mmm.” You tilt your head, studying him like you’re weighing a bad decision you already want to make. “I’m not sure ten years should be dismissed that easily.”
He inches closer anyway, his torso brushing your knee — more confident this time. “I’m sure he knows what he wants,” Jungkook murmurs, leaning closer, voice low and steady. “As long as you do.”
“I’m not sure I do,” you admit.
“Are you willing to find out?”
He’s good. Too good. And it has you caving with ease — embarrassingly so.
You don’t say anything. Instead, you close the space yourself, your body moving on instinct.
It starts as a soft peck, your glossy lips brushing his in a tentative press. A shiver spikes through your spine — maybe from the cold graze of his lip piercing grazing your plump mouth, or perhaps from the thrill of a touch you haven’t felt in so damn long. It could be both, you can’t even tell.
Jungkook’s hand finds your ass immediately, fingers digging into the firm flesh through your jeans before his cold palm slips under your shirt. The chill of his palm against your warm back makes you gasp softly into his mouth, but he doesn’t stop there. He grips tighter, pulling you flush against him as he moves you backward, laying you down onto the soft surface beneath.
He hovers over you now, his broad frame caging you.You taste his regular lip balm mixed with your lip gloss, which smears messily across his mouth as his tongue pushes past your lips, invading your mouth.
Your legs part automatically, an invitation he accepts without hesitation. He slots himself between your thighs and he’s already rock hard, his cock straining solid and heavy against the confines of his baggiest jeans, the outline pressing insistently against your core.
Unintentionally — kind of — he sinks his weight down, grinding his heavy bulge right between your legs. The friction is rough, the coarse denim scraping against your own jeans, creating a delicious ache that borders on discomfort. But it hurts so good, that building pressure making your pussy throb with need.
Jungkook can’t help it. He rolls his hips again, rubbing his stiff length into you for some semblance of relief, his breath hitching against your lips. The teasing drag sends jolts of pleasure and pain through you both, your clit pulsing under the barrier of clothes.
He pulls away from the kiss, panting, his face dropping to the crook of your neck. His hot breath fans over your skin, lips brushing just below your ear. “Fuck,” he whispers, the word almost a whine, filled with raw desire and desperation.
“This was not what I meant by company,” you tease, your voice breathy and playful, even as your hand threads through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly to keep him close.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters against your throat, his voice muffled and husky, vibrating through you. His teeth graze your pulse point, nipping just hard enough to make you arch. “Can’t help it. Fucking irresistible.”
You smile, your lower lip catching between your teeth as he ruts into you harder, his cock throbbing violently inside his jeans. The sensation makes your hips buck up to meet him, chasing that friction despite the denim’s resistance.
“Can I help you?” you whisper into his ear, your lips grazing over the shell, warm breath teasing the lip before you nip at it gently.
“Please,” he begs, the word so sweet and pleading.
You push him off you slowly, handling his weight back until he’s sitting upright against the cushions, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Straddling him now, you settle your weight across his lap, your legs on each side of his thighs.
Your hands move with purpose, fingers unbuckling his belt before you tug his jeans down his thighs, bunching the denim just above his knees. His boxers remain, the thin cotton stretched over his arousal, the tent blatant and straining.
Jungkook throws his head back, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as the shift in pressure hits him. It’s painful now, his cock throbbing profusely against the confines, every pulse making the material pull tighter. His fists tighten at his sides, fingers digging into his palm.
“Stay with me now,” you tease, your voice sultry yet playful.
“Gonna fucking kill me,” he chuckles breathily, but then his brows knit together sharply, a hiss escaping through clenched teeth. His hips twitch upward involuntarily, seeking friction against the barrier.
“Just wanna tease you a bit, baby,” you say, your fingers trailing lightly over the waistband of his boxers, not dipping inside, just hovering there to further torment him.
He lifts his head up slowly, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson that spreads down his neck, those dark eyes hooded and low as they lock onto yours from below. There’s vulnerability in his gaze, mixed with hunger, making your pulse quicken.
You slide your hand down again, palming his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. The material clings to his length, damp from his pre-cum, and he jolts beneath you like he’s been shocked, his hips bucking up involuntarily into your touch.
He’s so sensitive now, every stroke sending a twitch through his body. You press the heel of your hand firmly against his clothed shaft, rubbing in slow circles. The friction makes him throb under your palm.
Jungkook is vocal — surprisingly so, his usual composed demeanor shatters. Low groans spill from his lips, turning into breathy whimpers as you work him over. And well… you just figured out something new about yourself.
The sounds he lets out make your thighs clench, a dominant thrill lighting up inside of you. His eyes squeeze shut, brows knitting together in that perfect expression of overwhelmed pleasure, his mouth gaping open as soft moans escape — high and needy, nothing like you’d expected from him. Each sound vibrates straight to your core, and you feel a light pulse throbbing between your legs, your pussy growing slick and aching in response, soaking through your panties.
His head begins to loll forward as if he can’t hold it up anymore, lost in the sensation. You pull your hand away from his cock just as the pain was starting to subdue. Instead, you cup his jaw with both hands, your fingers firm and his warm, flushed cheeks, tilting his face up to meet your eyes. His gaze is hazy, pupils blown wide with lust, and you hold him there, making him watch you as you sink down fully. Your crotch connects with his clothed shaft, the rough denim of your jeans pressing against his bulge as you grind down, rolling your hips in a slow, teasing drag.
The sound he lets out is guttural, a deep rumble that starts in his chest and rips from his throat — like music to your ears. His hands shoot up immediately, fingers digging into your hips with force. You lean down, crashing your lips against his in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, tongues sliding together wetly. He moans right into your mouth, the vibration humming against your lips, his breath hot and ragged.
His hands slide from your hips, palming your ass through your jeans, squeezing hard before he yanks you closer. He pushes you into him more forcefully, bucking his hips up into you. You can feel exactly how hard he is, hard even through the layers, the pressure against your clothed core sending pleasure throughout your body.
Jungkook breaks the kiss first, pulling back with a gasp, his lips shiny and swollen from yours. “Fuck, already so close,” he pants, voice wrecked and strained, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Yeah?” you muse, your tone light and teasing, even as you keep grinding into him.
He hums in affirmation, a low, desperate sound, biting down hard on his lower lip as he stares up at you in awe. From this angle, he gets a full view — your lips swollen, that glittery lip gloss somehow still clinging despite how messily you two were kissing. Your necklace sways with every movement, the heart pendant dragging lightly across his face, cool metal teasing his heated skin. And your tits right in his face, straining against your shirt. As bad as he wants to rip your top down and suck on one of your nipples, he knows he’s far too gone. He’s creaming in his boxers already like some hormonal teenage boy.
Suddenly, he freezes up beneath you, his whole body tensing. Then it snaps — a guttural moan tears from him as he starts panting wildly. His hips thrust up erratically, rocking into you with short, desperate jerks. Your hips slow down, riding out his orgasm, feeling his release starting to seep through onto your jeans. You watch him unfold completely — eyes shut, mouth slack, every muscle quivering in release — and it only makes your own around spike higher.
And as if the universe has impeccable timing, the phone rings, the shrill tone cutting through the moment. It’s the call you’ve been waiting for.
You quickly lift off Jungkook’s lap, the sudden absence making him whine softly, his spent cock softening beneath his boxers. “Alright, your time is up, paperboy,” you say, a playful smirk tugging at your lips despite the interruption.
“Seriously?” he asks, his chest heaving up and down, voice hoarse and disbelieving, looking wrecked and adorable.
“Mhm, quickly! I gotta take this call,” you urge, snatching the phone from the nearby table but holding off on answering just yet, the ringing growing more insistent.
Jungkook moves fast despite his post-orgasm daze, yanking his boxers back into place over his softening length before tugging his jeans up his thighs. His fingers fumble with the belt buckle at light speed, the metal clinking as he secures it.
You grab his arm, leading him toward the door on slightly shaky legs of your own, the phone still shrieking in your other hand. He doesn’t protest, just follows obediently, stepping out into the cool evening air.
“Jungkook!” you call out after him. He turns, that boyish smile already creeping onto his lips, eyes sparkling. “I might get lonely this week.”
Before he can respond, you finally answer the call, the voice on the other end stealing your attention. You shut the door with a soft click, no goodbye offered.
But it’s alright, he’ll just be back again.
“Come on, bro!” Jimin whines through the phone. “When’s the last time you, me, and the guys have hung out?”
“I don’t know, dude… a while?” Jungkook mutters, phone wedged between his cheek and shoulder as he digs through his dresser.
When Jungkook left your house yesterday, he hadn’t wasted a second. Barely slept. Barely thought about anything else. It was already the next night, and all he knew was that he needed to see you again. He’d showered longer than usual, scrubbed away the lingering scent of your house only to replace it with his best body gel, his favorite cologne. Even his hair had gotten extra attention — still damp now, towel slung low around his waist as he stood half-naked in his dorm, clothes throw everywhere.
“Exactly!” Jimin says, way too loud, making Jungkook squeeze his eyes shut and pause for a second. “So why don’t you wanna come? You’re always down to party. I heard Vanessa’s gonna be there…”
Jungkook scoffs, rolling his eyes hard at the mention of her. Even more so at the inevitable image of her stupid fucking boyfriend glued to her side — a loud, irritating reminder that she had chose that over him. And for a split second, it almost pisses him off again.
Almost.
Because he doesn’t actually give a shit about Vanessa. Or the party.
He has somewhere else he wants to be.
“I was planning on going somewhere tonight…” Jungkook admits, still rifling through his clothes.
There’s a brief pause on the line. Then Jimin chuckles knowingly. “Ah. Little Jungkookie thinks he’s gonna get laid by a MILF…”
Jungkook snorts, rolling his eyes even though Jimin can’t see it. There’s a smirk tugging at his mouth despite himself. “Fuck you.”
“Aw, c’mon,” Jimin presses. “She’s not gonna let someone ten years younger than her fuck-”
Jungkook cuts him off before he can finish the sentence. He still hasn’t told Jimin about yesterday. About the way you touched him. The way his body had betrayed him so easily, jizzing in his pants like some pubescent teenage boy with no self-control.
“Yeah, you’re getting blocked,” Jungkook mutters, yanking the phone from his shoulder so he could find Jimin’s contact.
“I’m joking! I’m joking!” Jimin blurts out. “Please. Just come out tonight. You said she’s got the house to herself all week, right? Just miss one night. Please?”
Jungkook exhales slowly, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. The idea of a party already exhausts him — drunk people doing stupid shit, loud music vibrating through his skull, girls leaning too close and pretending to care about what his tattoos mean or whatever excuse they need to get him to fuck them.
He doesn’t want any of it.
He wants you.
Wants to hear your voice again. Wants to feel your hands all over him, taste your lips. Repeat yesterday, or take it further. He doesn’t even care what you do. As long as it’s you.
But it has been a while since he’s seen the guys. And break is still months away.
Another sigh slips from him, quieter this time.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll see you there.”
People were already scattered in the front yard, the bass of the loud music thumping loudly even from outside of the house. Jungkook shoulders his way through the front door, adjusting his jacket. The place is already full — hazy air, stinks of weed, and too many people he doesn’t care about.
He spots his friends instantly in the living room. Red solo cups in hand, voices loud, laughter louder.
“Look who actually showed up,” Taehyung grins, sprawled on the couch with a cigarette lazily hanging between his fingers.
“You made it!” Jimin shouts over the music, hopping up from a chair to pull Jungkook into a hug. “Thought you’d be too busy playing stepdad.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes, patting Jimin’s back. “Shut the fuck up.”
“So, when are you gonna let us meet her?” Hobi calls out from the other couch, leaning forward to pour himself a shot, grin tugging at his lips.
“Oh, I will need a taste if I see her,” Taehyung adds with a smirk, the cigarette between his fingers glowing faintly before he blows out smoke.
Jungkook and Taehyung had shared a few girls in the past. It was something unspoken between them, easy and never messy. It was just harmless fun.
But you were different.
Taehyung wasn’t going to go near you ever. You were off limits.
“She’s married, dude,” Jungkook mutters, plopping down next to Namjoon and pouring a shot before tossing it back.
Taehyung gasps, sitting up from his slouched position. “No fucking way. You didn’t tell us that part!”
Namjoon doesn’t hesitate, smacking Jungkook’s shoulder in disappointment.
“Listen,” Jungkook says quickly, arms raised in defense. “I can tell she’s not getting what she needs from her husband!”
“But why are you even talking to her if she’s married?” Namjoon asks, voice calm but laced with concern. He’s not judging — just genuinely trying to understand.
Jungkook exhales through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t know…” he groans. “She’s interesting. It’s different with her.”
“MILF fever,” Taehyung sings, leaning back again, bringing his cigarette to his lips.
“There’s so many girls here tonight, Kook,” Jimin adds, motioning toward the kitchen where a group of girls sit around laughing and drinking. “Talk to one of them.”
Jungkook barely glances that way. Doesn't even want to entertain the idea. Doesn’t even want to be here.
But he knows his friends are right.
So he downs another shot. And a few more.
“Where’s your head at?”
If Jungkook was completely honest… he was zoned out.
His body felt warm all over, face flushed and slightly dizzy from all the shots he’d thrown back nearly an hour ago. For a second, he even forgot he pulled one of the girls from that group. She was sitting next to him now — legs crossed, hand very high on his thigh. And although it should have excited him, sparked something inside of him, it didn’t.
Because he wasn’t thinking about her. Not her perfume, not her leg kicking at his slightly, not the way her nails lightly scratched at his thigh like she was trying to get his attention.
He was thinking about you.
About your perfume, the way your nails scratched against him, your voice — low, teasing, seductive like you were luring him in.
He turned his head, blinked once at the girl beside him. She looked good. Objectively, anyone else would’ve killed for a moment like this — a pretty girl practically crawling into his lap at a party, willing and ready.
But she wasn’t you.
He only called her over because his friends encouraged him to — trying to get his mind off a married woman, for fuck’s sake.
As if some drunk girl in a miniskirt could erase the image of you from his head. As if her laugh could drown out the sound of your voice, or her touch could make him forget the way your hands felt against his chest.
He wasn’t even here for this.
He was here because he wanted to spend time with his friends. That was the plan. A few drinks, laughter, talking and catching up on each other's lives.
But now he’s sunk into this couch, surrounded by everything he didn’t want to be near — drunk idiots, loud music, and this girl trying to start a conversation with him.
“Just… thinking,” Jungkook finally mutters, his voice low and distant. He throws an arm across the back of the couch, the other settling on her bare thigh, giving it a light squeeze like he’s interested in her. Like maybe it’ll make him feel something.
But it doesn’t.
Nothing.
She giggles, misreading his silence for teasing, leaning closer into him until her lips nearly graze his jaw. Her fingers curl into the hem of his shirt, tugging slightly.
“About…” she whispers, soft and breathy, looking up at him through lashes too thick, eyes too expecting.
But Jungkook doesn’t say anything else.
He just moved.
His hand slides up to her jaw, fingers pressing softly under her chin as he tilts her face toward his. Then he leans in and kisses her.
It’s slow, calculated. The kind of kiss that could be mistaken for something real. His hand cradles her cheek like she means something to him, like this moment is more than a distraction. She melts into it easily, moaning into his mouth as her hand fists his shirt.
But all Jungkook can think about is that he’s not kissing you.
That your mouth would taste different. That your fingers would feel differently tangled in his hair. That your lips wouldn’t move this fast or rough — you’d tease him, take your time.
And that if he kissed you, he’d actually feel something.
He pulls away, lips pink and swollen, jaw tense. He doesn’t meet her eyes right away — just leans back, putting distance between them. His hand slips from her thigh, settling in his lap like he was suddenly disgusted.
She’s still leaning into him obliviously, eyes half-closed, lips parted. “You gonna take me upstairs?” she asks, voice forcefully seductive, not as natural nor sexy as yours.
He doesn’t cringe — doesn’t want to embarrass her. She hadn’t done anything wrong.
But he does anyway when he gets up.
“I can’t do this,” he says, quiet but firm.
She blinks, confused for a second before her expression shifts. “Are you serious?”
“I’m sorry,” he says again, backing away.
But he’s already turning, weaving through everybody, the music turning into static. He doesn’t even remember the shots he took — feels stone cold fucking sober now.
And he drives. Not to clear his head.
Straight to your house.
Your home is empty, quiet — oddly comforting in the way silence can be after a long day. You loved your children to pieces, wouldn’t even trade the world for them, but you needed your alone time.
The bathroom glows in soft candlelight, enough to see the words on your book. The tub is full, bubbles floating at the top. You take a slow sip of red wine, the glass cool against your fingers. You let the bitterness settle before swallowing, then place the glass gently on the edge of the tub.
You sink deeper into the warmth, the tension in your muscles slowly melting. No crying or fighting, no toys or shoes scattered all over the place, no spilled beverages on the carpets. Just the sound of water moving around in the porcelain, and your own breathing.
Then the doorbell rings, echoing throughout the house.
Normally, the sound would’ve set you off — slicing through your unsavored moment of peace, shattering the rare quietness you had fought so hard to find.
But not tonight.
Because somehow, you already know who it is. And the interruption doesn’t upset you in the slightest.
You set your book down gently, the pages slightly wet from your hands, and rise from the bath — water cascading from your skin. You grab a towel, patting yourself dry.
Then you reach for that piece of silk — the one he’s already seen once, the one you have no idea drives him insane — and let it slip over your skin. It clings to your damp body, the strings tying easily at the front, just barely holding the fabric together.
You make your way down the stairs, each step careful, letting your bare feet get used to the cold tiles. Your fingers find the lock, twist it, and then you open the door.
And there he is.
His face is flushed, a deep pink that covers him from his cheeks down to his neck. He doesn’t say anything — he just stares. Eyes drag slowly down the curve of your body, drinking in every inch of you draped in that thin silk robe.
Then he pounces on you.
There’s no hesitation — no pause, no words. His hands grab your waist, pulling you in against him like he’s starved. His mouth crashes into yours, messy and desperate, tongue touching tongue, breath hitching as you stumble back a step with the force of it.
It’s not gentle. Not careful.
You pull away, breath catching in your throat, and for a split second, Jungkook stiffens. His eyes search yours, heart skipping, scared he might’ve crossed a boundary.
“You’ve been drinking,” you say softly, tasting the sharpness of alcohol still lingering on his tongue.
“So have you,” he counters, lips brushing yours as he speaks. He tasted the wine — expensive, sweet, addictive. Just like you.
“Mmm, I’m not the one feeling it though,” you murmur, brushing his hair back from his face. Your fingers linger a second too long against his skin, knuckles grazing his temple, your thumb tracing the edge of his brow.
His eyes flutter, jaw clenching as if he’s physically holding himself back. When he finally speaks, it’s a whisper — husky and low.
“I don’t care,” he says, almost like a confession he’s been carrying around for weeks. “I just want you.”
You grab the front of his jacket and pull him inside, shutting the door with a click. When you turn around, he’s already there — mouth on yours in a heartbeat, needy and rough, kissing you like his lips have missed you for years.
His hands roam greedily. Shoulder blades, then your waist, and finally down to your ass — where he gives a firm, possessive squeeze. Just because he finally can. Just because he’s been thinking about it nonstop. Just because it’s you.
“Went to a party earlier,” he mutters between kisses, lips brushing over yours before trailing lower, to the curve of your jaw, then your neck.
“Yeah?” you breathe, head tilting back to give him more access. Your fingers slip into his hair as his mouth traces along your skin.
“Mhm,” he hums, the sound vibrating against your throat. “Was fucking boring. My friends tried to get me to talk to this girl.”
“Did you?” you ask, voice soft.
“Yeah,” he admits, pulling back just enough to look at you.
Without another word, you take his hand and lead him upstairs. He follows, like he’d go anywhere you pulled him to. In your room, you turn suddenly and push him back onto the bed.
“Take your clothes off,” you demand, voice low and commanding as you stand before him.
Jungkook glances up at you from where he sits on the edge of the bed, his cheeks burning with a deep flush. His dark eyes dart away briefly, strands of his tousled raven hair falling across his forehead. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in his expression. He’s stripped naked before, yes, but never watched under anyone’s gaze like this.
He swallows hard, throat bobbing, and starts with his jacket. He shrugs it off his broad shoulders, letting the fabric slide down his arms before he throws it on the floor. Then comes his shirt — he grips the hem and pulls it over his head in one motion, revealing the faint lines of his abs. His skin is like honey, smooth except for the full sleeve going up his entire arm. He kicks off his boots, then reaches down to unbuckle his belt. His pants follow, shoved down and pooling on the floor, leaving him in nothing but his black Calvin’s.
“Everything,” you say, a teasing edge sharpening the words as you tilt your head.
Jungkook pauses, his hands hovering at the waistband. He meets your eyes again, before he hooks his thumbs in and tugs the boxers down. His cock springs free, already thick and firm, the head flushed a deep pink and glistening with a bead of precum at the tip. He kicks everything aside, his body on display for you.
“I want you to touch yourself,” you command, voice laced with that dominance that gets him excited.
Jungkook’s never been shy about his body. Nudity has always been effortless for him. But this — stroking his own cock while you watch, clothed while he was fully exposed — it’s different. He finds it to be intimidating, the way it strips away his usual boldness, leaving him vulnerable under your gaze.
His hand trembles just a fraction as he wraps his fingers around his shaft, his grip loose and hesitant at first. He strokes upward slowly, thumb brushing over the sensitive head, smearing that precum down the length.
You watch him intently, letting him see the pride in your eyes. It encourages him, his stroke gaining a subtle rhythm, but his brows furrow, eyes squeezing shut as a soft, breathy moan escapes his lips.
“Keep your eyes open, Jungkook. Don’t stop,” you say softly. He obeys instantly, eyelids fluttering open to meet your stare, his hand pumping steadily from shaft to tip. “Did you have fun at the party?”
“N- no,” he stutters, his voice cracking as his fist tightens, sliding faster along his cock.
“No? Did you kiss that girl?” you press, your eyes tracing the way his bicep flexes, the subtle twitch of his hips urging his hand on.
“I- yes! Yes I did,” he moans, the confession spilling out raggedly, his free hand gripping the bedsheet to steady himself. You can see how conflicted he really is — the mix of embarrassment and arousal at admitting this while you command his pleasure, his body betraying how much this turns him on.
“You did. Was she cute? Did you fuck her?” you tease, your voice dripping with mock curiosity that only heightens his arousal.
You don’t really care about what he does with other girls. It’s the rush from getting him all riled up like this — watching him unravel piece by piece, that soaks your panties, your own arousal building as his moans grow deeper, more desperate.
“No!” Jungkook shouts, his voice cracking again with frustration, his hand instinctively slowing on his cock.
“Don’t slow down,” you demand sharply. “No, she wasn’t cute, or no, you didn’t hook up with her?”
“Both!” he exclaims, grunting through clenched teeth, his fist pumping faster now, the slick slide of his palm over his throbbing shaft echoing in the room. “I- I couldn’t stop thinking about you! W- wanted to come here but… my friends told me I shouldn’t!”
A smile curves at your lips at his confession, the desperate need in his voice sending a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs. You finally close the gap, walking right up to him. You kneel down in front of him, reaching out and pushing his hand away from his cock.
You lean in close, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss — your tongue invading, tasting the faint bitterness of alcohol again. He moans into it, his hands twitching at his sides, desperate to touch but holding back under your control. You pull back slowly, nipping at his lower lip before pressing one more soft peck to the corner of his mouth.
“What were you thinking about?” you ask, your voice sultry and low.
Your hand wraps around his cock this time, fingers wrapping around his stiff shaft. You smear the precum from the swollen tip down the length in slow strokes, twisting your wrist as you go. Jungkook throws his head back, a low, guttural moan ripping from his throat as his hips jerk involuntarily into your touch.
You press your other hand against his sweaty chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart under your palm, then slide it down over his abs — hard and flexing under your exploration. “Hey, baby, stay with me,” you murmur, your tone teasing but insistent.
He lifts his head with effort, eyes hazy and dark as they lock onto yours, then drop to where your hand works his cock. Your fingers look so pretty around his pink, flushed length — nails painted a matching soft pink. The cool metal of your wedding ring and band drags along his skin with each stroke, a forbidden chill that sends a twisted thrill through him, as sick and intoxicating as it feels. And that robe — the silk one that started this — hangs loose on your shoulders, open just enough at the chest to reveal the swell of your cleavage, your breasts jiggling softly with every motion of your arm as you pump him.
“Can’t stop… can’t stop thinking about your voice, your lips, ah- fuck-” he cuts himself off with a curse, his breath hitching as you tighten your grip. “You might’ve… ruined everyone else for me,” he laughs breathlessly, the sound turning into a sharp gasp that rips through his throat. “Oh fuck,”
You don’t respond with words, but a satisfied smile tugs at your lips. It’s like music to you, and you’ll show him just how much you love hearing it.
Your free hand moves to the tie of your robe, fingers deftly loosening the knot until the fabric falls open completely, exposing your bare body beneath.
Jungkook’s mouth falls open, a low moan spilling from his lips as his gaze devours you, wide-eyed and ravenous. You hold his stare, making sure he watches every second as you guide his cock between your breasts, the heat of his shaft pressing into the soft space between your cleavage. The contrast of his hard length against your warm flesh makes him whimper.
“Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely, his hands fisting the sheets beside him.
You look down at his cock nestled there, and let a thick string of spit fall from your lips, landing right on his tip before it drips down between your breasts. The lubrication makes everything slick and warm as you push your tits together firmly, trapping his cock in the tight, plush grip. You start moving, sliding up and down in a steady rhythm, the head of his cock peeking out with each thrust.
Jungkook’s breath comes in ragged pants, his eyes glued to the obscene display — your breasts sliding around his shaft, the wet sounds of skin filling the silence. He looks like he might pass out from the overload, his abs clenching, fists tightening around the sheets.
You giggle softly, the sound light and teasing, keeping your pace slow and torturous. “You like it?”
“Yeah, baby,” he whispers, his head lolling back for a moment before he forces it up again, unwilling to break the view.
“So your friends,” you start casually, as if you’re not currently tit-fucking him senseless. “They know about me?”
“Sorry,” he says breathily, the apology falling into a moan. “Can’t keep my mouth shut.”
“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “What do they think?”
“Namjoon and Jimin… t- they don’t think I should be talking t- to you because you’re married,” he struggles to get out, his stare fixed on your breasts enveloping his cock.
“Maybe they’re right,” you point out lightly, testing him, your hands pressing your tits tighter to heighten the sensation.
“Fuck them,” he says defiantly, the words growled through a groan. “Taehyung said h- he might want a turn with you.”
You chuckle, the idea sparking a wicked curiosity, but you keep your focus on him, on drawing out more of that possessive edge you like so much.
You pull back abruptly, releasing his cock from between your breasts, leaving it slick and straining in the air, bobbing against his stomach. “Can you get on the bed? Lay down for me?” you ask, eyes locked on his as you stand, the robe slipping further.
Obedience floods him instantly, the submissiveness peeking through as he nods and scrambles onto the bed full, stretching out on his back with his head sinking into the pillows. The same pillows your husband rests on every night — but now Jungkook lies there, cock hard and leaking.
You shrug the robe off completely, letting it pool on the floor, your body fully exposed now. Crawling onto the bed, you straddle his hips, your wet pussy hovering just above his cock, the heat of him radiating up to tease your folds without touching yet. His hands come up instinctively to grip your thighs, fingers digging in as he looks up at you.
“Are you clean?” you ask, eyes narrowing on him as you hover above his cock, the tip brushing your slick folds, teasing with no mercy.
He nods eagerly, his gaze locked on your pussy, glistening under the dim lamp light.
“Put it in,” you say, giving him the green light.
Jungkook’s hand reaches down without hesitation, wrapping around his thick cock to steady it as he nudges the swollen head against your sopping entrance. You sink down slowly, enveloping him inch by inch, a sharp gasp escaping both your lips at the sudden fullness. He stretches you perfectly, his girth filling you up until you bottom out, seated fully on him. The delicious burn makes your thighs quiver as you adjust, clenching around his length before lifting up just enough to pull off slowly.
You sink down again, harder this time, starting to ride him with rolls of your hips. His hands fly up to grip your waist, fingers digging into your skin, holding on as you maintain the pace, your breasts bouncing with each drop.
“So this Taehyung? He cute like you?” you tease, wanting to rile him up again.
“No,” Jungkook moans, the answer tumbling out way too quickly, laced with jealousy. “He’s ugly as shit. You can only have me.”
“Only you, huh?” you laugh breathlessly, still riding him. “And the girls you hook up with?”
“Getting jealous?” he shoots back, sly smirk creeping on his lips even as his hips buck up to meet yours.
“You can do whatever you want,” you say, bouncing up and down faster now, the wet slap of your bodies echoing. “But if Taehyung still wants his turn, give him my address.”
A growl rumbles from his chest, possessive and annoyed, and in a quick motion, he changes the positions. You giggle at the sudden shift, but he’s too fast, manhandling you onto your stomach. He yanks your hips up, positioning you on all fours. From behind, he lines up and thrusts in deep, burying his cock to the brim, then starts fucking you at a slow, torturous pace.
“Maybe I should tell your husband, huh?” Jungkook teases, his chest pressing against your back, lips grazing your ear with each word. “Tell him you like fucking guys way younger than you? Yeah? Would you want that?”
“Go ahead,” you moan, pushing back against him. “I’ll tell him he fucks me better than any of you do, anyway.”
Jungkook’s nose scrunches in irritation, that attitude sparking something feral in him. Fucking brat.
He lifts himself off you, delivering a sharp slap to your ass with his heavy palm. You cry out a loud moan, the sting igniting fresh arousal that soaks his cock. He shoves your upper body down flat against the mattress, keeping your ass high, and heightens the speed, slamming into you with quick, punishing thrusts. His pelvis smacks against your ass, the force jolting you forward.
You’re moaning wildly now, face buried in the pillows that smell of you and your husband, muffling the sounds as Jungkook fucks the life out of you, his cock driving into you relentlessly.
“Your husband fuck you like this?” he dares, voice rough, hips snapping harder to emphasize the point, balls slapping against your clit.
He definitely doesn’t. Hell, he doesn’t fuck you at all these days. But you bite your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction, too lost in the pleasure after so long without it to stroke his ego just yet.
“Don’t wanna answer, you brat?” he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. He leans down again, draping his body over yours, skin slick with sweat sliding against each other. But this time, he snakes his beefy arm around your neck in a loose hold — not at all choking you, just holding you there. “It’s fine,” he murmurs right in your ear, lips brushing the sensitive lobe, nipping lightly. “I’ll fuck it out of you. That what you want?”
You twist your head toward him, capturing his mouth in a messy kiss as his cock continues to pound into your pussy from behind. But when his free hand snakes between your legs, fingers finding your swollen clit and starting to rub circle, you break away from his lips with a sharp moan.
At this point, words fail you entirely. Jungkook doesn’t need them anyway — he feels the answer in the way your pussy clenches desperately around him, milking him with every snap of his hips.
You’re near the edge, so close already, the coil in your tummy winding tighter from the assault of his fingers on your clit and his relentless fucking. Your body betrays you, thighs shaking, breaths coming in ragged whimpers as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, his arm still loosely around you, holding you right where he wants you.
He moans low in your ear. Sweat beads on his skin, and you feel the heat radiating from him, your own body glistening under the dim light. He’s close too — you can tell by the way his thrusts grow erratic, his fingers pressing harder against your clit.
“J- Jungkook, I-“ you stammer, voice breaking as tears form at the corners of your eyes, the overwhelming pleasure making everything blur.
“I know, baby,” he husks, breath hot against your neck, not letting up for a second. He thrusts deeper, hips slamming forward, chasing your release with everything he’s got.
It hits you like a wave crashing over, shattering completely. A moan rips from your throat, loud and unrestrained — fuck the neighbors, let them hear how good he’s fucking you. You gasp for air, chest heaving as the orgasm wrecks through you, leaving your limbs weak. Jungkook’s arm keeps you propped up, his strength the only thing holding you together as you ride out the aftershocks, your juices flooding around him.
But he’s close too, his control thinning. With a swift move, he pulls out — your pussy clenching emptily at the loss — and flips you onto your back. You’re spent, body going limp against the rumpled sheets, gazing up at him through heavy eyes. Jungkook hovers above, eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight. Your swollen folds glistening, creamy white from the intense friction, your arousal coating his cock in a shiny gloss.
He wraps his fist around his dick, stroking fast and rough, the wet sounds filling the room. His abs tense, thighs quivering, and then he comes undone — thick ropes of warm cum spurting across your stomach, painting your skin white. He groans deep in his chest, hips jerking forward into his grip as he milks every last drop.
Panting hard, he collapses forward slightly, resting his forehead against your knee. The air smells with the scent of sex and your mingled fluids.
“My husband has nothing on you,” you tease, a lazy smile curving your lips.
“No?” He lifts his head, smirking at you, eyes shining with that cocky satisfaction.
Before you can respond, he bends lower, tongue darting out to lick a broad stripe through his own cum on your stomach. The sight sends a fresh throb to your heat, your pussy tingling again already, aching for more despite the exhaustion. Holy fuck.
Then he straightens, grabbing your chin firmly, tilting your head back. His fingers pry your mouth open, and he leans in, spitting the salty load right onto your tongue. The taste hits you — sweet yet salty at the same time — and you swallow it without hesitation.
“Definitely not,” you murmur.
He chuckles, already shifting closer, his softening cock twitching back to its previous stiffness again. That look in his eyes promises he’s nowhere near done. This week was going to be a lot of fun and a lot of endless fucking.
Thank your husband for flying out to that business trip, your mother for watching the kids, and Jungkook’s stupid fucking paperboy job for dropping him right at your door.
i wanted to put together a list of all my favorite fics in one place, so here it is. these are the stories i would gladly read again and again without a second thought. every single one of them holds a special place in my heart. i also want to sincerely thank all the incredibly talented writers who put so much time, effort, and creativity into crafting these works!! your writing has brought so much joy, comfort, and excitement to so many people, including me, and i’m truly grateful for that <3
this list isn’t final and will be updated over time. there are more fics i want to add as i revisit old favorites, and there are also a few i’m still trying to find, so i’ll continue adding to this list whenever i can.
if you haven’t read any of these yet, i genuinely urge you to give them a chance. every single one is worth it!!!
note: the banner and dividers used here are not mine!!! all credits go to their respective owners. the banner is from @tigerjk22jk via this pin on pinterest, and the dividers are from @inklore via this post.
⤷ f2l, arranged marriage au, ceo kids; fluff, angst, smut.
⤷ jungkook x fem reader.
⤷ wc: 64.3k (series).
➤ fight for you by @ahundredtimesover
⤷ e2l, bodyguard au: angst, smut.
⤷ bodyguard!jk x heiress!reader.
⤷ wc: 80k (series).
➤ make you mine by @mercurygguk
⤷ f2l, college au; fluff, angst, smut.
⤷ jungkook x female reader.
⤷ wc: 37k (oneshot).
➤ sanative by @untaemedqueen
⤷ marriage au; angst, smut, healing.
⤷ husband!jeongguk x pregnant wife!reader.
⤷ wc: 19.8k (oneshot).
➤ love to hate by @kpopfanfictrash
⤷ e2l, fuck buddies au; fluff, angst, smut.
⤷ jungkook x reader
⤷ wc: 100k+ (series)
➤ bad decisions by @alphabetboyluvr
⤷s2f2l, fwb au; fluff, angst, smut.
⤷ bartender!jungkook x female reader
⤷ wc: 584k (ongoing series)
section II: youtube
i’ve never really read youtube fics and i still don’t, for the VERY obvious reasons. but someone recommended jaz fics, and i completely fell in love. she’s the only writer i read on youtube and the only reason i ever go there for fics. her writing is genuinely so good, the plot and storyline are solid, and i’d 100% recommend her channel.
⤷ e2l, unrequited love (at first), contract marriage, smut.
⤷ completed.
section III: wattpad
i stopped reading wattpad fics because the app didn’t work in my country without a vpn for a long time, which made it frustrating. i recently found out (literally rn) that it works now, but i don’t really want to read there anymore lol. i do have a lot of favorites and even a reading list on wattpad, but if i included them here, this list would be very long. and since most of the fics here are tumblr-focused, i’m trying to keep this very minimal.
✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.
✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat
✧ CHAPTER WARNINGS: recreational drinking, yoongi is an asshole (see series masterlist for series warnings)
✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 6.1k words
✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: NEW ERA NEW ERA NEW ERA! whew!!! i’m excited for this one! this is going to be a loooong ride, so buckle up and enjoy! please note the slow burn tag on this one, because i’m not joking around with it. trust me, it’s going to hurt me just as much as it hurts you.
a HUGE thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for continuing to beta read for me <3 your commentary never fails to make me laugh and your edits save my life.
P.S. everything i know about the korean music industry is informed by my years as a kpop fan. i don’t know much about the rock scene there, so expect inaccuracies galore going forward. i do my due diligence where i can, but that can only help so much.
CH. 01: ALL YOU PEOPLE ARE VAMPIRES!
You aren’t entirely sure when you stopped feeling at home in places like this. There has to be some kind of defining event, some kind of indicator of The Before and The After, but every time you try and figure it out you come up short.
In The Before, not all that long ago, you would be scrounging for the bus fare rattling around in your pockets to get to a place like this as soon as you punched out from your shift at the Speedy Mart.
During your short stint in college, your friends didn’t understand your obsession. Music venues, to them, were fun for a weekend’s night out. The thrill of flashing a fake ID, of flirting with the musicians after their set, of getting said musicians to buy them drinks—it was a satisfying rebellion, a fun story to tell people at school and hide from their parents.
But you were there every day, even after classes and graveyard shifts under fluorescent lights, always racing to the nearest show without even changing out of your polo. It was never a rebellion to you. The lights, the thumping bass, the secondhand smoke—it made every nerve ending in your body light up.
You were born in this smoke, as far as you’re concerned.
Maybe it’s different now because it’s work to be here. But what isn’t work, these days? Your life is micromanaged down to the minutiae—the meals you eat, the products you use in your hair, your goddamn piss breaks. There’s no clocking out for you, no gasp of relief that comes after. Such is life for one of Seoul’s many playthings.
Even in the dead of winter, your stylist, Hyerin, has you in a dress that begs to be pulled down every five minutes like clockwork.
You learned a long time ago to bite your tongue on matters like this. The brands you work for pay you for the exposure you give them, after all. The chill that settles in your bones from the ten steps you take from your paid car to the venue door will be well worth it next time you count the zeroes in your bank account. At least, that’s what Hyerin told you as she pushed you out of the car and into the cold.
Wasteland looks the same as it did the very first night you ever stepped foot inside. Same red, glowing guitar sign above the entrance. Same shitty overpriced drinks. Same sticky floors. It’s nice that some things never change even when you do.
You’ve never been on the balcony, though. You’ve gotta hand it to Jeongguk—he’s really pulling out all the stops. To your knowledge, the balcony is normally reserved for VIPs. Close friends and family of the band, other celebrities, lucky and well-connected fans. Significant others. You suppose you fall under more than one of those categories now.
The crowd gathered on this side of the stage buzzes incessantly around you, waiting for the set to start. The excitement is palpable, and you understand why. It’s the very last show of Burn The Stage’s very first world tour following the release of their third studio album, and they’re ending it here: in Seoul. At Wasteland no less, the venue that housed the show that got them signed in the first place. Of course people are excited.
If you were the same person you were in The Before, you would be, too.
Instead, as the stage lights go down and the crowd roars around you, you down the rest of your drink and pray it’ll do its job and calm your fidgeting. For a split second, the thought that maybe you shouldn’t be drunk tonight passes through your brain, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. Your hopes of making a good first impression were squandered as soon as Hyerin zipped up your dress.
Besides, it’s not as if Jeongguk picked you for your shining reputation. More like the opposite.
With a flash of lights and a cacophony of sound, Burn The Stage launches into their first song on the setlist. The crowd roars around you, but you’re not here as a fan, so you try to remember everything Jeongguk taught you in preparation for tonight.
If you weren’t already close, most everything there is to learn about Jeon Jeongguk himself could easily be found with a simple Naver search.
Not only is Jeongguk the lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist of Burn The Stage, but he’s also the de facto face of the band, and he couldn’t be better suited for the job. He’s beautiful. Like, seriously beautiful. Well-built and knows it, sings songs about love and sex and anger with the sweetest voice known to man, covered in tattoos and piercings that eommas everywhere pretend to disapprove of when they’re actually ogling just as much as their daughters. He’s a teenage girl’s wet dream, and with that comes hordes of them using the deductive skills of the NIS to figure out the last time he took a shit. Very little in his life is a secret, whether he likes it or not.
The rest of the band, in turn, gets the luxury of a little bit of mystery.
Park Jimin, the drummer, and Kim Taehyung, the bassist. Jeongguk’s best friends in the world. You’ve met them both in passing before, at industry events here and there, and they both seemed nice enough.
Jimin has a bit of a reputation for being temperamental, angry, but the way Jeongguk describes him paints him as something gentle. Childhood friends who’ve known each other since scraped knees and runny noses.
It’s public knowledge that Jimin wanted to be a dancer, before this—that when he was in college, he suffered an injury that ended his dancing career before it even started. One moment he was one of the most promising ballet students in Seoul, and the next he was retired at nineteen. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but every time the band is interviewed the question is inevitably asked. Do you have any regrets? You’ve watched the videos, seen the way he shakes with anger even as he answers with a saccharine smile. You have a feeling getting along with Jimin won’t pose any challenges for you. You know a thing or two about regrets.
Taehyung is a bit harder to figure out, but not in any way that sparks concern. He’s just an interesting guy that way.
He was the last to join the band, the first to answer a ‘BASS PLAYER NEEDED’ ad posted around the city. Apparently, he was so good that they didn’t feel the need to call anyone else.
He lives in his own world, does his own thing. Posts very artistic photo dumps on his Instagram with concerningly cryptic captions. He’s quiet when he’s around people he doesn’t know, but when he’s put in a room with Jimin and Jeongguk he becomes the loudest person there. He’s kind, caring, always seems to know the right thing to say even if it’s delivered in the strangest manner possible.
Jimin and Taehyung won’t cause any problems for you. Jeongguk assured you that they’d be easy to win over, that as long as Jeongguk likes you, you’re in with them.
The real wild card is the guitarist. Min Yoongi.
According to Jeongguk, Burn The Stage wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for Yoongi. When the band formed, they were just dumb kids with a shared dream, but Yoongi was the one to set it all in motion.
When they didn’t have anywhere to practice, Yoongi convinced the ajumma he worked for to let him cram as much equipment as he could fit into a tiny noraebang room. When venues wouldn’t book them without the guarantee that they would draw a crowd, Yoongi burned hundreds of CDs and stood on the streets of Hongdae begging people to listen. When shady entertainment companies started offering them laughable contracts, Yoongi found Namjoon and somehow convinced him to manage them for dirt cheap. When they finally got an offer worth taking, Yoongi made them mull it over for as long as they possibly could. Weigh the pros and cons and decide if it was what they really wanted.
If Jeongguk is the face of the band, Yoongi is the heart. Unfortunately for you, this particular heart is very well-guarded.
Yoongi takes his privacy seriously. He refuses to answer interview questions he deems too personal, he doesn’t use social media. When asked why, his answer is always that he wants the music to speak for him.
Because that’s another thing: every single song that Burn The Stage has ever released has been penned by Yoongi. To his credit, it’s kind of what they’re known for. His lyrics have a raw honesty to them that’s gotten the band into trouble more than once.
You finally tune into the show that’s unfolded below you, the words spilling from Jeongguk’s lips loud and clear in your ears now that you’re paying attention.
Well, I ain't got no dollar signs in my eyes
That might be a surprise but it's true
Said, "I'm not like you and I don't want your advice
Or your praise or to move in the ways you do and I never will"
'Cause all you people are vampires
And all your stories are stale
And though you pretend to stand by us
I know you're certain we'll fail
It’s rock music. It’s polarizing, controversial, edgy. Biting the hand that feeds them—especially in the eyes of the executives lining the band’s pockets, you’re sure. And yet everyone eats it up.
Still, Yoongi wouldn’t get away with half of it if he wasn’t attractive, you’re sure of it.
Because he is. Attractive. They all are, and he’s no exception. He checks all of the boxes annoyingly well. The long hair, the signature smirk, the little silver barbell on a tongue that he seems all too happy to flash at a moment’s notice. Too bad he seems like one of those pretentious, tortured artist types that take themselves way too seriously. That’s never done it for you.
Jeongguk is the one singing Yoongi’s words, and he might as well be Korea’s sweetheart—if it weren’t for all the tattoos. He conveys the message of Yoongi’s songs exactly as intended, but he doesn’t have to act like an egotistical gatekeeper to do it.
Maybe it’s a preference on your part. You’ve always had a thing for sweetness.
★ ★ ★
After the concert, you’re ushered off of the balcony by one of the band’s security guards. It’s the same guy who escorted you up when you arrived, and you note to yourself that he’s very polite. Eunwoo, according to his nametag.
It tracks, given Burn The Stage’s reputation for making sure the women at their concerts feel comfortable in the crowd. You’ve heard stories about them stopping mid-song to have handsy men kicked out, and it’s nice to know their commitment extends to the people they employ for themselves.
Eunwoo offers you his hand palm-up as you descend down the balcony stairs, and you take it with a grateful smile. You’re feeling wobbly in these shoes, and the drinks you’ve downed since your arrival aren’t helping matters. Even with the assistance, you still feel like a baby giraffe as you step down, but thanks to Eunwoo, you don’t eat shit.
Eunwoo dutifully guides you backstage, to a grimy, graffitied hallway housing the dressing rooms for Wasteland’s talent of the night. Jeongguk waits outside of one of them, guzzling down a bottle of water as a female staff member dabs sweat off of his forehead with a pristine white towel. She’s only there for a moment before slipping back through the dressing room door. Finally noticing your approach, Jeongguk turns his head and grins at you, and you feel your nerves ebb away instantly. He’s good at that.
As you get closer to Jeongguk, you turn to smile and nod at Eunwoo in thanks. He smiles back politely, wordlessly falling back to give you some privacy.
“Daaaamn, YN-ah,” Jeongguk says, whistling lowly as you reach him. “You’re going to cause a bloodbath in there.” He nods his head towards the dressing room door, and you roll your eyes despite the heat building in your cheeks.
“I know, I know,” you say, smoothing your hands over your dress. “It’s not exactly a meet-the-family outfit, but I didn’t have a choice.”
“Nah, it’s cool. You look hot,” he says, grabbing your hand and making you do a spin, forcing a surprised laugh out of you as you try not to trip over yourself. Jeongguk keeps you steady, though, with a hand on your shoulder. “You good?”
“Yeah,” you say, although you’re sure your face gives away how terrified you are of what awaits you on the other side of the door. “Maybe you should’ve picked an actress for this, though.”
“I trust you,” he says softly, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s not too late to back out, though. I’ll understand…”
You believe him, of course. Those doe eyes don’t lie, and even so, he’s already told you over and over how bad he feels for asking this of you. But you don’t want to back out. Jeongguk has given you so much since you’ve met—it’s only right to try and repay him for it.
“I want to do this,” you assure him, reaching up to squeeze his hand on your shoulder. “I’m just worried I won’t be able to pull it off.”
“You will,” Jeongguk says, smiling down at you warmly. “Don’t sweat it too much, okay? We’ve got this. It’s not like I have to pretend to like you.”
Right. You wish Jeongguk’s words did what they were meant to and instilled some kind of confidence in you, but what they actually do is make your chest ache uncomfortably. Pull yourself together, you think. Now’s not the time.
You smile good-naturedly, hoping Jeongguk doesn’t notice the way it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” you mumble.
“That’s the spirit!” he laughs, sliding the hand on your shoulder around to the other one so his arm is slung around you. You hate the way your heart flutters, despite the fact that you’d prepared for this. Dumb bitch.
Jeongguk cracks the dressing room door open just enough to ensure that all of the men inside are decent, and then he’s guiding you inside, your hands flying down to smooth your dress over again, just in case.
The dressing room is bustling with more people than you expected, people you recognize from the balcony and staff alike. There’s a fast-paced rock song playing over a bluetooth speaker, almost loud enough to drown out the chatter.
Everyone seems to be in celebration mode after the last show of the tour. There’s a large sheet cake on a cart in the middle of the room emblazoned with the band members’ faces in frosting, plastic champagne flutes littered around the room in varying states of fullness. Judging by the bottle in his hand and the way staff members wipe at his face fussily, it seems like Taehyung took the liberty of pouring champagne over his head to cool off.
You’re used to having lots of eyes on you—it comes with the job—but something about the way Jeongguk’s bandmates immediately stop what they’re doing and take notice of your presence startles you, puts you on edge.
“Jeonggukie! You missed the cake,” Jimin calls, standing up from where he sat on the couch. He holds out a slice of the sheet cake to Jeongguk, tilting his head at you as he approaches. “Where do I know you from?”
Jeongguk removes his arm from your shoulders to take the plate, snorting at the image of his decapitated cake-head staring up at him. “Hyungs,” he says, grabbing a plastic fork and digging into the slice. “This is YLN YN.”
“Oh, we’ve met before! The model, right?” Taehyung pipes up from where he’s still being wiped down, and you nod politely. “I saw your Innisfree campaign last month. I couldn’t remember whether your skin was really that nice in person.”
You watch as he extricates himself from the staff, ignoring their protests as he walks away from them.
Taehyung gets close to you, close enough to inspect your pores like he clearly intends to, and you fight the urge to instantly recoil. Jeongguk seems too busy stuffing his face with cake to interfere, and you want to make a good first impression. So much for your personal bubble.
“It is,” he says, nodding sagely to himself.
“Th-thank you?” you stammer. Beside you, Jeongguk finally tunes back in.
“Jeez, hyung,” he says around a mouthful of cake. He chews for a moment, swallowing thickly before continuing. “Let her breathe.”
“Sorry,” Taehyung says sheepishly, backing out of your personal space, and you let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, shaking your head.
“It’s fine,” you say, mustering a polite smile.
You note that despite his initial (albeit subtle) acknowledgement of your existence when you walked in the door, Yoongi now seems entirely disinterested in interacting with you. He hasn’t moved from where he’s planted on the couch, focused intently on strumming his guitar. How he can even hear what he’s playing over the noise is beyond you. It’s not even plugged into an amp.
You’d be a little annoyed that he hasn’t even bothered to greet you, but you reason that he must be pretty worn out from all of the fanfare surrounding the show tonight. Introvert recognizes introvert. You try not to take it personally.
“Do you know Jeongguk-ah well?” Jimin asks, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes bounce between you and his bandmate. He seems to be putting the pieces together, so you glance at Jeongguk, wordlessly passing the question his way.
Thankfully, Jeongguk seems to get the hint. He tosses his plate in the nearest trash can before sliding over to you again, his arm slipping around your waist easily, betraying nothing.
“Hyungs,” he starts, glancing at you and nodding once. Let the show begin. “YN-ah is actually, um… my girlfriend.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi sit up. That got his attention, it seems.
A hush falls over the room, even the eyes of the staff members within earshot widening in response to Jeongguk’s announcement. Oh shit, you think. Please let this go well.
“Since when?” Taehyung asks, curiosity piqued. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t seem upset by the new information. At least, not as far as you can tell.
“Well, um,” Jeongguk starts, tonguing nervously at his lip ring. He pulls you closer so you’re practically curled against his chest now, and you silently pray that the way you’re looking at him reads as sweet and not like you’re about to jump out of your skin. “It’s actually been a few months now… Since right before the tour, actually.”
“Right before the tour?” Jimin asks, his brow furrowing in obvious confusion. “So you’ve been doing long distance?”
Jeongguk glances at you, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it was bad timing on my part,” he says, his eyes fixed on yours. Damn. If he didn’t have such great pipes, you’d say he should’ve gone into acting. He’s male lead material. “I just couldn’t leave without telling her how I felt.”
You wish that you could do or say literally anything useful instead of just clinging to Jeongguk’s side like a barnacle. This is supposed to be a joint effort, but you feel frozen in place, unable to find your voice. It’s a good thing Jeongguk seems to be pulling it off all on his own.
“So cute,” Taehyung coos, bumping his shoulder against Jimin’s conspiratorially. “Our Jeonggukie’s all grown up and in love.”
“He’s always been a romantic,” Jimin joins in, miming at wiping fake tears as if he’s a proud parent. He reaches out and grabs your hands, startling you. “Please take care of him.”
“Hyuuuungs,” Jeongguk whines, tearing his arm away from you to whack Jimin and Taehyung on their heads simultaneously. “You’re going to scare her away!”
“Doubtful,” Yoongi says from where he’s still seated on the couch. Oh, so he does speak. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all night. It’s low, raspier in person than in the videos you’ve seen online. His words are directed at Jeongguk, but when you turn your head to look at him you find that his gaze is fixed on you. Your pulse spikes at the discovery. “I don’t think anything could scare her away from you, Guk-ah.”
The words themselves are innocuous, even supportive, but something about the way he says them makes your gut twist. Nobody else seems put off by it, but you can tell something’s not right. You have to say something, to open your mouth and speak. You have to pull this off, for Jeongguk.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, forcing a smile. You manage to tear your gaze away from Yoongi, looking back at Jeongguk. He’s grinning down at you, and it’s real, even if the pretense of it isn’t. Your smile becomes a little less forced in return.
★ ★ ★
Jimin and Taehyung are insistent that you stick around and celebrate for a while, so you do. You end up enjoying yourself, despite the weird moment with Yoongi.
Jimin and Taehyung are fun to be around, just like Jeongguk said they would be, although conversation between the three of them becomes a little hard for you to follow sometimes. They just talk so fast.
They ask you questions about your job, your friends, your family. They also tease Jeongguk relentlessly in front of you and seem all too thrilled to find out that you’re their noona. You find it surprising how easily you open up to them, but it just… happens. Just like it did with Jeongguk when you first met.
You relax enough to convince yourself that your perceived pointed nature of Yoongi’s words earlier was all in your head. Surely, he couldn’t have a problem with you when he doesn’t even know you. Jeongguk told you himself that Yoongi’s a quiet guy. Maybe that was his own way of telling you he approves of you. He hasn’t said or done anything since to make you think otherwise. Granted, he hasn’t said or done anything, period.
Once he arrives, you meet Namjoon, Burn The Stage’s manager. Jeongguk told you a little bit about him, but it was mostly just thinly-veiled thirsting. Now you see why.
He clarifies right off the bat that he already knows who you are, which saves you the anxiety of having to go through the whole routine again, and then he apologizes for being late.
“I was talking to reporters. I wanted the guys to be able to celebrate without having to do any interviews,” he explains as he shakes your hand with a dimpled smile. Damn. Yeah, you don’t blame Jeongguk one bit.
After a while, the champagne catches up with you and you have to excuse yourself to the bathroom.
The staff member that was dabbing Jeongguk’s sweat earlier—Minji, you learn—directs you out of the dressing room and to the nearest women’s bathroom further down the hallway.
You try to make it as quick as possible, much tipsier than you thought and all the more unstable in these shoes because of it. After one last check of your hair and makeup in the mirror, you make your exit, focusing down at your feet as you go.
Unfortunately, you run headfirst into someone’s chest in the process. Hands come up to grab your elbows, steadying you before you fall flat on your face. For a second, you think maybe Minji had been waiting to escort you back to the dressing room, but these are not a woman’s hands holding you up. Wait a second, you think. You definitely saw these ring-clad fingers displayed on a huge screen earlier. Strumming at a guitar, perhaps?
In a moment of amazing mental clarity on your part considering the state you’re in, you realize that these are Min Yoongi’s hands, and your head snaps up to look up at him.
“Yoongi-ssi! I’m so sorry!” You quickly right yourself to the best of your ability, pressing your hand to the wall next to you for support.
Once he’s sure you can hold yourself up without his help, Yoongi instantly retracts his hands, crossing his arms over his chest. “I should’ve been looking where I was going,” you add, doing your best to bow in apology without losing your balance again.
Yoongi tilts his head at you as if he’s assessing you, his gaze inscrutable. Man, for a lyricist this guy isn’t big on words. You’re just about to politely say goodbye and head back to the dressing room when he finally speaks.
“I’ve spent the past hour trying to figure out what your angle could possibly be, but I’m coming up short.”
Um. What?
“Huh?” you manage, blinking at Yoongi like he’s suddenly grown a second head.
“It’s not like your career’s in any trouble. Nobody thinks you're Korea’s angel or anything, but your shit reputation hasn’t stopped you from getting brand deals,” Yoongi continues, scoffing to himself. “Are you just bored? Is this what you do to amuse yourself?”
Uh oh. He knows. He knows for sure, and even worse, he thinks that you’re the mastermind.
“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, forcing your voice to remain level. You don’t even try to defend your reputation. It’s not like he’s wrong.
“Right,” Yoongi says, leaning in a little closer, like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Well, a word of advice. If you want people to buy that you’re really in love with Jeongguk, you could try to look less like you’re going to throw up when he touches you.”
FUCK. You thought you pulled it off. You thought you pulled it off, and now here’s Jeongguk’s goddamn hero telling you point-blank that you didn’t. You wrack your brain trying to think of anything you could possibly say to defend yourself, to get this guy off your ass, because this cannot be your fault. You’d never forgive yourself.
“I—”
“Or,” Yoongi starts, cutting you off. “You could just cut the bullshit and leave Jeongguk alone.” He pauses, rubbing his chin as if he’s pretending to think about it and then nodding once. “Yeah, let’s go with that one.”
Jesus Christ he’s a piece of work. You feel your fists clench at your sides, your nails digging painfully into your palms. You just got your nails done, and there’s a strong possibility you’ll draw blood, but it’s all you can do not to strangle this asshole right here and leave Burn The Stage without a guitarist.
“Yoongi-ssi,” you say, your words dripping with fake politeness. Fuck this guy, actually. “I don’t know what I’ve done to give you such a bad impression of me, but I assure you that Jeongguk and I are very much in love.”
“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t buy it?” Yoongi asks, voice tinged with impatience. “You may have everyone else in that room fooled, but not me, and if you hurt Jeongguk I can guarantee it won’t end well for you.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” you snap. “Again, I don’t know what the fuck I’ve done to make you think so poorly of me, but I meant what I said in there. I’m not going anywhere.”
You need to remove yourself from this interaction right now before you do something stupid like burst into tears. You take the opportunity to push past Yoongi before he gets a chance to say anything else, making sure to essentially shoulder check him in the process because again, fuck this guy.
You stalk down the hallway, feeling much more sober now. It’s as if all of the alcohol got forcibly drained from your system in the face of total fucking disaster, and you’re honestly thankful for it, because the last thing you need is this asshole seeing you actually fall.
For a moment, you’re fooled into thinking you’d successfully ended the conversation, but of course he needs the last word.
“I know more about you than you think, dollface.”
Dollface? The fuck?
You chance a glance behind you and you immediately regret it. Yoongi leans against the wall where you left him, an amused smirk spread over his face, and the sight immediately fills you with dread, a type of primal panic you haven’t felt in four years flooding your senses.
He doesn’t… He couldn’t know about that. There’s no possible way. Jeongguk doesn’t even know about that. Nobody does, because you’ve done everything in your meager power to keep it that way.
You whip your head back around to face front, your heels clacking on the crusty linoleum beneath them as you continue down the hallway. Don’t look back, you think. He doesn’t know.
You’re thankful that you brought your bag with you to the bathroom, because you’re very much not in the mood for a party now. Once you’re safely outside, you call your car and send a text to Jeongguk explaining your sudden escape. You felt sick, you tell him.
It’s not like it’s a lie.
Yoongi loves being on stage.
Over the past few years, there’s been a noticeable change in his demeanor. He’s become passive, apathetic to the normal day-to-day that comes with being a celebrity. Nothing really wows him anymore.
He remembers the way he reacted to the accommodations the band received when they first got signed. He was way too scared to ask for things at first, but the label gave it all to him anyway.
For instance, Yoongi’s always been particular about his stationery. The first time he filled a notebook after getting signed, he didn’t even think to consider it a company expense. Why would he? He was fully capable of buying his own shit, even if he had to save up for it. Sure, every time he had to write a lyric down on the back of a receipt his eye would twitch, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before.
But the label guys noticed. Before he even had a chance to buy his next batch of notebooks and pens, he was sat down in a spacious meeting room and asked point-blank what he needed. When Yoongi gave them specifics—Leuchtturm 1917 unlined hardcover pocket journals and a fuckton of Uni-Ball Jetstream Premier pens—they didn’t even bat an eye. When he—rightfully—warned them that he might strangle someone if he’s handed a gel pen instead of a ballpoint, they just assured him that wouldn’t happen.
Ever since then, there’s been an endless supply of exactly what he needs, always within reach. He’s still grateful for that, of course, because he goes through those fuckers fast. But it’s just a fact of his life now. It’s not special to get his fucking Leuchtturms anymore, not when he could douse his entire supply with gasoline and burn it on a whim and still have a fresh one in his hand within mere minutes.
And it’s not just journals and pens.
Namjoon is the band’s representative. Yoongi picked him personally long before there was any contract, or even hope for one, and if everything were to go to shit tomorrow, Namjoon would still be there. But after the single from their second album charted on the Billboard Hot 100, a label-equivalent to Namjoon was hired, as if anybody could ever be equivalent to Namjoon. Park Hyunseok. Park Hyunseok, whose sole duty is to buzz around Yoongi and his bandmates like a pesky fly and “make sure they’re happy.” They quite literally want for nothing.
Yoongi remembers when his skin used to buzz with the emotions simmering just under the surface. He was fiery in his youth, pissed off and ready to prove a point. He felt everything strongly, fully.
Not so much these days. Anger is only marketable for so long, or so he’s been told.
For the past year, Yoongi’s felt numb to the world. And he’s dealt with it, of course. That’s what he does. The album did great, the tour sold out, the boys are happy. That’s really all that matters. He just doesn’t know how he’s going to write another fucking album if he’s got nothing to write about anymore.
Still, he loves being on stage. There’s nothing like it. It never gets old, never gets boring. He still hasn’t gotten used to the feeling of stepping onstage and feeling a crowd scream his name, scream his lyrics right back at him. Lyrics to songs that he wrote in his shoebox apartment when he was eighteen and it felt like nobody gave a fuck about him. Funny how things change.
Nobody can take that feeling away from him, even if they’ve taken all the other ones.
It’s been a good night. It feels good to be back in Seoul after being away for months, feels even better to be on this particular stage again. Yoongi always feels keyed up after a good show, itching to do something with all of the energy thrumming through his body, and tonight is no different. He’s almost giddy with the opportunity to celebrate this tour with his bandmates and Namjoon and then go home and crash. Home. Fuck, it’s a good night. He has a hot date with his king size bed.
But then you.
It’s been years since you’ve even been a thought in Yoongi’s brain, and he liked it that way. Unfortunately, it’s apparently true what they say: all good things must come to an end.
Yoongi sees right through you. He's met so many of your type in his life that even if he hadn’t met you before he would’ve been able to sniff you out the second you walked backstage. Users. Social climbers. The bored and braindead looking for their next toy. The exact kind of person he’s been trying to protect Jeongguk from this whole time, and now you’re on his arm.
And whatever, a hookup is one thing. Yoongi frankly doesn’t give a fuck where Jeongguk decides to stick his dick. The less he knows the better on that front. But a relationship? No, it isn’t real. Yoongi knows that much. Maybe it is for Jeongguk, but not for you. He's never even heard Jeongguk, hopeless romantic extraordinaire, talk about you.
Jeongguk introduces you as his girlfriend, and suddenly it’s like Yoongi’s watching a car crash in slow motion. He prays that he’s not alone, that Jimin and Taehyung have caught on to your piss-poor acting skills—seriously, you look like you’re about to pass out—but it looks like Yoongi’s entirely alone on this one. You have them wrapped around your little finger with minimal effort. He has a feeling that comes as naturally to you as breathing.
Of course, Yoongi has the added displeasure of having met you before, way back when. When you had the chance to be somebody, before you pissed it away, to what? To pout in front of a camera for a living? He thought he’d run out of ways to be wrong about you four years ago, but clearly you just can’t help yourself.
And of course you don’t remember him. Why would you?
Yoongi knows Jeongguk better than anybody. He also knows that thing people say about teenagers is true. If you tell them not to do something, they’ll only want to do it more. Jeongguk may be a grown man now, but he’s stubborn as fuck, and he never grew out of that. If he goes to Jeongguk and flat-out tells him that his girlfriend is a piece of human garbage, Jeongguk will only date her harder.
He tries to control the infection at the source by confronting you directly, but it’s clear the fire that he thought you lacked is, in fact, there, if only to piss Yoongi off.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.
Okay.
If that’s how you want to play, Yoongi can fucking play. He’s going to make you wish you’d left Jeongguk alone when he gave you the chance.
✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!
Not only is Jeongguk the lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist of Burn The Stage, but he’s also the de facto face of the band, and he couldn’t be better suited for the job. He’s beautiful. Like, seriously beautiful. Well-built and knows it, sings songs about love and sex and anger with the sweetest voice known to man, covered in tattoos and piercings that eommas everywhere pretend to disapprove of when they’re actually ogling just as much as their daughters. He’s a teenage girl’s wet dream,
Lol i need that.
If Jeongguk is the face of the band, Yoongi is the heart. Unfortunately for you, this particular heart is very well-guarded.
Oh my god. Im already obsessed with this yoongi. Passionate music loving yoongi. Oh my godsajfs
It tracks, given Burn The Stage’s reputation for making sure the women at their concerts feel comfortable in the crowd. You’ve heard stories about them stopping mid-song to have handsy men kicked out, and it’s nice to know their commitment extends to the people they employ for themselves.
Oh so im in love with all of them okay (the bar is on the floor)
“Nah, it’s cool. You look hot,” he says, grabbing your hand and making you do a spin, forcing a surprised laugh out of you as you try not to trip over yourself. Jeongguk keeps you steady, though, with a hand on your shoulder. “You good?”
Wait a damn minute. Wait a damn minute. Is the hoe i’m going to be fake dating. If so… HEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHE
“You will,” Jeongguk says, smiling down at you warmly. “Don’t sweat it too much, okay? We’ve got this. It’s not like I have to pretend to like you.”
Oh it is. Im very happy about that.
. Introvert recognizes introvert. You try not to take it personally.
she’s so sweet and cute hhahahaha
“I don’t think anything could scare her away from you, Guk-ah.”
Ok bros a little sassy.
Once he arrives, you meet Namjoon, Burn The Stage’s manager. Jeongguk told you a little bit about him, but it was mostly just thinly-veiled thirsting. Now you see why.
LMFAOFISDJFDSJFSDJF jungkook is down bad for namjoon in every universe im dead
“It’s not like your career’s in any trouble. Nobody thinks you're Korea’s angel or anything, but your shit reputation hasn’t stopped you from getting brand deals,” Yoongi continues, scoffing to himself. “Are you just bored? Is this what you do to amuse yourself?”
Oh. hehe. An amazing enemies to lovers incoming. Already loving this.
“I know more about you than you think, dollface.”
DOLL FACE????
WAIT WhAT I NEED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THIS
Of course, Yoongi has the added displeasure of having met you before, way back when. When you had the chance to be somebody, before you pissed it away, to what? To pout in front of a camera for a living? He thought he’d run out of ways to be wrong about you four years ago, but clearly you just can’t help yourself.
I need to know MORE! What did we do. What were out interactions like.
Summary: Jungkook makes a proposition you can't don't want to refuse, and there are seemingly no consequences to your friendship at first, but then you miss you period and have to explain to all your loved ones how you got knocked up by your childhood best friend.
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Pregnancy AU, Childhood Friends to FWB to Lovers, Slow-Burn, Smut, Fluff, Crack, Angst (barely, you have to squint to see it)
Word Count: 26k+
Warnings: unexpected pregnancy, fear, anxiety, crying, screaming, arguing, vomiting, cravings, drinking (not OC), mention of withdrawal, doctor's offices, ultrasounds, pregnancy tests, mentions of a break-up, pet names (bambi/bams, babygirl, baby), cats, dogs, wealth, sex in a movie, tickling, karaoke, medication, talk of childbirth, periods, birth control failure, video games, parental expectations. SMUT: kissing, unprotected sex (obviously), neck kissing, penetrative sex, missionary, dick riding, sideways/from behind, oral sex (both receiving), face riding, face fucking, cum swallowing, multiple orgasms, BIG DICK JK!!!, spanking, cream pie, titty sucking, pleasuring with underwear, ripping underwear, implication of sexual favors, hickies, soreness, aftercare, masturbation (f), cuddling, cock warming, alright I think that's all folks!
Author's Note: it's finally hereeee. this is the first of three parts for my new series and i'm so, so excited to share it with you guys! koo and bambi have my whole heart along with all their friends and family we meet. I know pregnancy fics aren't always the most loved, but I assure you this Jungkook is so worth it... he's tooth-rottingly sweet and soooo sexy! also, I linked the video of the boys performance bc it's too freaking good not to watch, so look out for that (and also ignore yoongi not actually being there lmao). please let me know what you guys think and/or any predications you have for the next chapter, the baby's name and/or gender, etc. I LOVE hearing what you guys have to say! OK ily bye :)
-> Cradle Robbers Masterpost
ZERO
The sound of some garbage eating rodent is the first thing you hear after kicking your apartment door open with the tip of your boot. Muscle memory brings your hand to the light switch, but you aren’t able to flip it up because the lights are already on. So, the rodent is big enough to reach that height… wonderful.
You toe your boots off and hang your coat up, tossing your keys in the old stolen ashtray you use to house them. When you round the corner, the familiar, lovable vermin is bent over as he rummages through your fridge.
It’s ridiculous, honestly, given that this particular species of rat earns quadruple your salary.
“Koo,” you get his attention.
“Hm?”
He doesn’t budge an inch when responding to the call of his nickname. Eyes rolling back, you stroll over and smack his ass as hard as you can.
“Yo!” Jungkook jerks up and just barely misses hitting his head on the refrigerator. “Take me to dinner first.”
“I am,” you reply. “You’re eating my food.”
Jungkook smiles innocently and squishes your cheeks with his fingers before shaking your head back and forth.
“And I’m so, so grateful,” he teases in a baby voice.
You swat his hand away, but the light in your eyes and the remnants of a smile on your face reveal your true feelings about his teasing.
This predicament is one of your own creation, since you gave Jungkook a key a while ago in case of emergencies. The issue is, an emergency for Jungkook can be your place being closer to the gym than his, and he needs a snack after his workout. In your mind, the purpose was so he can bring you chocolate ice cream on your period and take down intruders. He’s only done one of those things so far, and the intruder was a stray cat.
Falling to your couch with a soft thump, you groan and tilt your head back against the cushions. Today was egregiously long and definitely not worth the money it made you. The only upside is it’s Friday and you have two whole days to lounge around your apartment and do nothing at all.
Jungkook comes around the peninsula which separates your kitchen from your living room with a fresh bowl of instant ramen in his hands. He blows on the noodles for a second before slurping them into his mouth, all without noticing the glare you’re sending his way. His eyes crinkle when he sees you, letting you know he’s smiling, even though you can’t see his mouth behind the bowl.
“What’s with the face, Bambi?”
“You seriously didn’t think of making one for me?” You ask through a pout.
You finally see Jungkook’s smile when he lowers the bowl to place it on the peninsula. He looks proud, his head tilting as he chuckles to himself.
Then, you hear the microwave go off, and your glare quickly turns into a grin.
Jungkook grabs the second bowl from the microwave and sets it on the counter. You watch appreciatively as he rips open the sauce packet before putting it between his teeth and using his chopsticks to pour it all into the bowl. The crinkle of a cheese wrapper opening brings your eyebrows up your forehead in delight. He drops the orange square into the bowl and mixes everything together with the chopsticks before holding it out towards you.
“You gonna take that shit back now or what?”
You beam and giggle as you stand, practically skipping across the room so you can take the bowl of delicious noodles from him.
“Thank you,” you sing-song.
“Mmhmm.”
The two of you eat on your couch in a slurp filled ambiance. It’s an old, familiar scene and one you always appreciate even if you don’t say it outloud.
They say you choose your friends, but Jungkook was pretty much forced on you. Your mothers are college roommates who became best friends and later married another pair of best friends. The women proceeded to plot and plan accordingly so they would be pregnant together and their kids would be the same age. Unfortunately, your parents went off script by about six months, but you and Jungkook are still close enough in age to be in the same grade throughout school.
Even though your friendship was intricately planned long before your conception, you’re close of your own volition.
Jungkook is not only your best friend, but the most amazing person you know and probably in existence. You wouldn’t trade him for the world if it came down to it. In fact, if the zombie apocalypse ever happens, and somehow his death is the only way to find a cure, you will Joel Miller-style kill every single person who dares to try and take him from you. They can rip your dorky, caring, smart-ass best friend from your cold, dead hands. Everyone else can become zombies for all you care, everyone but him.
The sound of a bowl meeting the coffee table pulls your attention back to the man beside you. He kicks his feet up and stretches his arms above his head in relaxation. When the action reveals a sliver of skin from below the hem of his shirt, you use the opportunity to tickle him and laugh when he groans and folds into himself.
“Is this really the game you wanna play, Bams?” He speaks to the floor, still hunching over from your attack.
Bambi, or Bams for short, is the only name Jungkook calls you. Sometimes, you jokingly accuse him of forgetting your real name altogether, which then spurs him on to attempt “guessing” what it is. Ironically, neither of you nor your parents can recall the origin of the nickname. Like some strange Mandela effect, one day he started calling you by the Disney character’s name and never stopped.
If memory serves correctly, you think the last time you heard the syllables of your name leave his mouth was in fifth grade when he defended you against a clique of mean girls. Something along the lines of “leave my Y/N alone,” in his adorable kiddie Jungkook voice.
He’s certainly gone through some drastic changes since then. His voice now filters out in a deep, honey tone, he doesn’t use his bangs to conceal his starry eyes anymore, and he’s got you beat by a few inches in height. You’re different, too, mostly in the way you no longer need him to defend you on the playground. He still would, though, and he often tries on nights out when someone tries testing your patience.
Jungkook would never hurt a fly, but he’s got an entire sleeve of tattoos, multiple piercings, and broad shoulders, so he uses his outward appearance to his advantage and scares people away when necessary.
You don’t respond to his taunt, instead you slowly slide across the fabric of the couch, as quietly as you can so he doesn’t pick up on the movement. He, of course, notices right away, and a cheshire grin appears before your eyes.
Standing up like lightning, you make a break for your bedroom, but you only reach the back of the couch before his arms are clinching you by the waist.
“No!” You shout and kick the air as he tugs you back towards the furniture.
“You asked for this.”
“Koo, no!”
He drops you unceremoniously onto the cushions where you flail in an attempt to escape, but it’s futile because Jungkook is already bending down to tickle your sides. Hysterical laughter fills the space as his fingertips pitter-patter on your skin. Your best friend is ruthless as always, never halting his actions even as you squirm and swat at him to get away.
“Say you’re sorry, Bambi.”
“Jungkook, I’m gonna fucking pee my pants,” you threaten.
“Not my problem,” he responds.
You gasp and recoil when he starts tickling your neck, rendering you completely useless to do anything but suffer. Eventually, your brain returns from its momentary vacation and you find the will to fight back, grabbing his hands and pulling them away as you attempt to catch your breath. Jungkook’s smiling like the devil himself above you and you resist the urge to slap the smirk right off his handsome face.
This behavior is par for the course for you both, because you’re a brat who likes to test his limits, and he’s too competitive to let you have the last laugh.
Jungkook stands to his full height, smirk still intact, while you struggle to slow your jackrabbiting heart. He moseys over to your bookshelf to survey its contents, and once you’re sitting up again, you chuck a throw pillow across the room at him. It meets his back before pathetically falling to the floor. Jungkook doesn’t even flinch. He just shakes his head and tsks at your feeble attempt at payback.
His fingers trace over the items occupying your bookshelf before settling on a thin rectangle and removing it from its home.
“Movie night?”
He rests the corner of the DVD case against his head to show it off to you. You call him towards you with your hand so you can inspect the item for yourself. It houses a movie you haven’t seen in a long time, some low budget rom com with good sex scenes. Shrugging, you nod your head at him and watch as he goes to play the movie in your now ancient DVD player.
“I’ll go make popcorn,” you announce before standing and heading to the kitchen.
Jungkook plummets into the couch and grabs your fuzzy blanket to spread over his legs. When you return with a large bowl of popcorn to share, he lifts the blanket and readjusts it to cover your legs as well.
Neither of you pay much attention to the plot, too busy joking around when characters say stupid lines. You spend your time talking about your week and any plans for the upcoming weekend instead. Jungkook’s just finishing up his story about his boss accidentally unmuting himself on Teams when the first sex scene catches your attention. You both actually focus on the screen for the first time and Jungkook tilts his head while tonguing his cheek as the male character descends down the female character’s body and kisses her skin as he goes.
“Do you ever think about it?” He asks as he throws a kernel of popcorn into the air and catches it with his mouth.
“About what?” You look towards the screen. “Sex?” He nods and puts his arm behind you on the couch so he can face you. “Like, in general, or —”
“No, no,” Jungkook chuckles. “Like us.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, have you thought about us having sex?”
The popcorn in your mouth goes down the wrong tube when you choke in response to his question. You hit your chest once to help it descend your esophagus before reaching for your drink on the coffee table. The time it takes you to gulp down the fizzy beverage isn’t nearly enough for you to gather your thoughts.
“Koo, what the actual fuck,” you scold him.
“Is that a no?” He raises his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Because I know I have.”
“Ew, when?”
“It’s not often, just like, every once in a while,” he explains. “I just think it would be fun! This is not me making some grandstand announcement about how I’ve always wanted you or some shit.” He readjusts so his entire body faces you directly. “Listen, we’ve done everything together. Skydiving, parasailing, swimming with dolphins, stealing from the grocery store, sneaking into the movies, you name it. Doesn’t it make sense that we should do everything before we aren’t able to anymore?”
“You forced me to go skydiving, Jungkook.”
“That’s not the point, Bambi,” he playfully grits his teeth. “Eventually, we’re gonna settle down with our own partners and the window of opportunity will be gone. Why not try something new together while we still can?”
Your teeth hold your bottom lip captive as your mind processes his proposal. Truthfully, you have thought about it, same as him. Not in some romantic, storybook way, but just from a perspective of knowing he’s a handsome guy with a great build and it would probably be a fun night for both of you. This conversation scares the shit out of you, though. Thinking about it is one thing, but attempting to manifest it into reality is a whole other beast. The list of things that could go wrong is longer than a CVS receipt. Then again, you and Jungkook have been through everything together and you’ve always made it out on the other side.
“Koo, I don’t know…” you admit. “I love me some good casual sex with no feelings involved, but this is us we’re talking about.”
“Exactly!” He claps his hands together eagerly. “It’s us, probably the only two people in the whole world who nothing can come between.” Jungkook sighs and eats more popcorn from the bowl still in your lap. “I’m not trying to pressure you, Bams, I just really think we’d both have a great time. I mean, I’m hot, you’re hot, I’ve got a big dick, I’m sure your pussy is tight, what else could you want?”
You laugh at his reasoning, throwing your head back and holding the position as you blow air from your mouth. A couple anticipatory moments pass as your mind weighs the options. A large intake of air fills your lungs before you lift your head.
“Okay,” you murmur.
“Okay?”
“Okay, Koo.”
Jungkook giggles like a little kid, his feet stamping the ground repeatedly as he pumps his arms in excitement. Your laughter returns in response to his celebration, rolling your eyes affectionately at the familiar behavior of your childhood best friend.
“You said yes because I called you tight, is that it?”
Shaking your head, you push his shoulder back with your hand, using your other one to place the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. Jungkook’s eyes turn into big oases of black as his pupils dilate and conceal the normal chocolate color of his irises. You take your time straddling his thighs, your knees digging into the couch beside his hips.
“No,” you answer him. Making a show of flipping your hair over your shoulder and bending down until you’re face to face. You avoid his lips, which are pouting slightly, to place a kiss over the tiny mole on his neck. “I said yes because you said you have a big dick and now I need to find out if that’s true,” you whisper into his ear.
Your voice has a sultry edge you’ve never used in his presence before. Sitting back on your heels, you gaze at him with an innocent smile as you bat your eyelashes.
Jungkook’s look of surprise is long gone, his eyes sharpening until they’re a quarter of their normal size as he stares you down. The muscles in his jaw clench and the skin of his brow creases, his eyebrows nearly kissing. Your eyes catch the thick vein in his neck pulsing with adrenaline and it makes your thighs tingle.
He laughs incredulously, running a hand through his hair as he tongues his cheek.
“Alright, so we’re doing it this way,” he muses.
In an instant, Jungkook is grabbing your hips and slamming you down into his lap. You gasp and brace yourself on his shoulders. Your reaction brings a satisfied smirk to his face, and you have the urge to roll your eyes again, but then his fingers rake into your hair and he yanks the strands to expose your throat. A needy whine passes through your lips as your neck beckons him to give it attention. He places a single, gentle kiss to your pulse point before leaving you wanting. A second noise of complaint is about to leave you when Jungkook finally starts devouring your neck with his mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” you moan quietly.
Jungkook chuckles melodiously against the wet spots he’s leaving on you. The feeling of his warm breath on your skin forms goosebumps across your arms and sends a shiver straight down your spine. His teeth are maiming your neck as he works diligently to paint you in pretty, purple bruises shaped like his mouth. Once the artwork appears before his eyes, he licks over the mark and kisses it before moving to conquer another spot.
Meanwhile, your hips spring into action and you start moving in languid circles across his lap. The initial plan is to keep the pressure of your movements teasingly light, but once you feel the apparent bulge forming in his pants, you can’t resist grinding down hard against his clothed cock.
Jungkook groans responsively and bites into your skin with his canines.
Soon enough, he ceases his assault on your neck so his lips can travel across your shoulder instead. His fingers push your shirt down your arm so he can kiss and lick your skin unimpeached. You moan loudly, the rhythm of your hips picking up in tempo as he seeks out every inch of exposed skin he can.
“Fuck, I could come in my fucking pants, Bams,” he whispers. “Please don’t stop.”
His words only motivate you to push your hips into him harder. He groans again and nods his head approvingly. You agree with him internally, the friction from your underwear rubbing against your clit steadily sending you into a frenzy.
“So good, Koo.”
Jungkook hums and leans back to appreciate the portrait of his lips he’s left on you. His fingertips gently trace over the hickies and he wears a proud smile as he turns your head back and forth to examine his work.
“You look so pretty, all marked up,” he praises.
Pushing him down by his shoulders, you grab his face with both hands to kiss him. There’s an electric shock when your lips meet for the first time, but you aren’t sure if it’s only in your head or if he felt it, too.
The kiss is anything but romantic. Within seconds you’re licking into his mouth and chasing his tongue while his teeth pull at your bottom lip. Jungkook moans and his fingers press down against your scalp. Tilting your head, you kiss him like he’s your only source of oxygen. Your body and mind are in overdrive, your thighs twitching with need and you need his lips to bring you back down to earth.
He tastes sweet like the cola he was drinking and it makes your head spin. The pretty, pink, doll lips you’ve always admired are magical in the way they move. Jungkook has you trapped between his mouth and the hand on your head, but you don’t mind when he’s kissing you until your mind blanks.
It's a scramble of fingers and hands as you undress one another as fast as humanly possible. His warm hands brush against your stomach as he lifts your top over your head. You feel his abs beneath your fingers when you tug off his shirt. Jungkook accidentally pinches your skin when unhooking your bra and you don’t even notice, too busy kissing him like your life depends on it.
When Jungkook sees your tits for the first time, he fucking loses it. His head hits the arm of the couch as it falls back, and the growl that comes from deep within his throat is fucking demonic.
“God, you are so fucking hot,” he declares.
You’re unable to respond because he’s already wrapping his mouth around your nipple and tweaking the other with his fingers, forcing the air from your lungs instantaneously. Jungkook’s tongue circles your nipple a couple times before he sucks the erect nub into his mouth, keeping the same pace with his fingers on your other breast.
The moans coming from you are unrecognizable in comparison to your normal timbre, and they only grow in volume when Jungkook switches sides and repeats his debilitating ministrations.
Lacing your fingers through his black strands, you pull his face away from your chest to see his eyes. He barely looks like himself anymore, a scorching fire behind his usual soft gaze. The image lights you up inside, and you kiss him again hard enough that he tumbles back into the couch cushions and brings you along with him.
His hands explore the smooth skin of your back and shoulders, massaging you with his big hands as he traverses across the previously uncharted territory.
“You’re so sexy, Jungkook,” you tell him as you kiss his jaw. “Everything about you.”
His skin is searing hot and flushed red, the tint going all the way down his neck and chest. You take your time moving across his jawline and throat, sucking just below his ear and letting your tongue trace the perimeter of his earlobe. Descending down his torso, you kiss his collarbones and pecs while digging your nails into his abs, your ample attempt at showing him exactly what you mean by your comment.
“Need you, Bambi, so fucking bad,” he whines.
The only acknowledgment you give him is by looking up with a devilish smirk before your hands start to unbutton his jeans. You pull them down just enough to reveal his boxers and hold his eye contact while you kiss the fabric covering his cock. Jungkook’s hips twitch and his eyes squeeze shut, an undeniably sexy groan leaving him. Your hands caress his thighs while you mouth at his boxers and you can feel him getting harder with each press of your lips.
He hurries to pull his pants down the rest of the way while you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. When you tease him by letting them snap against his hips, he hisses and you see his Adam's apple bob. His hips buck towards your face desperately, making you snicker at his attempt to create friction.
“Patience, Koo,” you tease him. Jungkook grits his teeth at your taunt, but only a second later the tension seeps from his body when you reach into his boxers and palm him. “Let’s see if you were exaggerating or not, hmm?”
Once his boxers are gone, you realize he was, in fact, under exaggerating. He knows it, too, because when you glance up, he’s smirking with pride, one corner of his mouth higher than the other.
“Whaddaya think?”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“How about you see how much that pretty mouth of yours can take?”
One thing about you and Jungkook is you're both competitive as hell, and you’ll be damned if his whole dick isn’t situated down your throat soon just to prove a point.
Gathering spit in your mouth, you lean directly over his hard cock and let it slowly fall from your lips to his head. You wait for the sound of Jungkook moaning before doing it again, this time actually spitting instead of letting it drip down. Your hand gathers the saliva to spread it over his head and down his shaft. Your best friend is panting above you as he studies the way you work his cock with your hand.
Jungkook is stupid fucking big, and you genuinely fear he’ll split you in half when you fuck. Not only is his dick long, but it’s so thick your fingertips don’t touch when you grasp him. He’s rock hard and throbbing in your hold and there’s a perfect bead of precum just waiting for you to lick.
When you do, Jungkook cries out in pleasure and it's hands down the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard. He’s always been the tough one between you, and having him like puddy in your hands is more satisfying than you care to admit.
Your tongue flattens over his slit and you groan at the taste of his cum, your mouth already watering at the thought of more coming your way. You lick around his head in one long stroke and then circle your tongue just under the sensitive ridge. Jungkook whines at the feeling of your tongue on his aching dick. Your hand is still using your self-made lubricant to glide up and down his shaft.
“Bams, fuck,” Jungkook pants the words across staccato exhales.
It’s nearly impossible for you to say no to the man begging for your mouth, so you finally end your teasing and take him between your lips. You suckle on his head and let more saliva drip down his shaft before removing your hand to focus solely on the movements of your mouth. Your hands hold onto his muscular thighs as you finally take him deeper into your throat.
It definitely takes time for your lips and throat to adjust to his size. Each time you slide down his cock you take more of him into your mouth until your nose hits his pelvis. You breathe through your nose and stay there for a moment, swallowing and moaning around him.
“Oh, shit.” Jungkook looks down at you in awe, watching in wonder at the way your lips stretch around his cock. “Bambi, holy fucking shit.”
The chuckle you release sends vibrations around Jungkook’s dick and his hips buck up responsively. You moan again and squeeze his thighs, attempting to send a message that he’s free to repeat the action. He must interpret your message accurately because you feel him forming your hair into a makeshift ponytail and thrusting his hips up.
Jungkook would never want to hurt you, so even though his body is screaming at him to animalistically fuck your mouth, his thrusts are shallow and modest.
Even so, his strokes make you gag every time his tip hits the back of your throat. He’s pulling on your hair and the sensation of being used like a sex toy makes your eyes roll back. Tears form and roll down to meet the drool that’s leaking from your mouth. Breathing through your nose, you suck harder to make a tighter fit for him. He’s appreciative, growling and yanking on your hair as a thank you.
“Shit, I’m gonna come,” he warns you. Hearing his words, you massage his heavy balls in your hand to push him over the edge. A broken moan comes from above you and his hips start to lose their cadence as his orgasm nears. “Can I… your throat…”
His words are clipped, but you understand and squeeze his thigh to give him permission. Within a single moment you start tasting his cum at the back of your throat. Moaning endlessly at how good he tastes, you move your lips up and down his cock as he comes, swallowing his seed and licking him clean at the same time.
When you’re certain you’ve stolen every last drop and sucked him dry, you come up for air with a harsh gasp.
“Holy fuck,” you curse and massage your jaw.
Jungkook grabs your chin with his hand and makes you look at him so he can see that you’re alright. You nod assuredly and sit back on your heels.
“That was, on God, the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Jungkook states.
You laugh and shove his chest, but he snatches your hand and pulls you towards him. He kisses you like he fucking means it, grabbing the side of your face so you can’t move an inch. Your moans meet in each other’s mouths as Jungkook sucks on your tongue to taste himself.
“Can we move this party to the bedroom?”
Jungkook nods, his hand still caressing your face, before helping you up so you can both head to your room at the back of the apartment. When the door opens, your grey munchkin cat scurries out from behind the door.
“Oh, Usagi, I forgot you were in there,” you say as she bolts for her scratching post.
“Probably a good thing,” Jungkook notes, his eyes gesturing down to his dick still on display.
You chuckle and grab his hand to lead him into the room before shutting the door behind you. He immediately takes a seat on the bed while you stay standing to pull your pants down your legs.
Jungkook’s eyes trace the movement, his pupils blowing even wider when he sees your black lace panties and the evident wet spot on them. Reaching his hand out, you take it and stand between his legs. Your hands push his hair back, scratching at his scalp to hear the pretty moan that accompanies the movement.
He leans forward and kisses your abdomen, just above your panties. You sigh as his lips traverse the expanse of your stomach and hips, leaving a hot, wet trail in their wake.
“Koo, need you,” you whimper.
The feeling of his teeth sinking into the skin of your waist makes you jump, but then he soothes the ache with his tongue.
“You know, since you made me come already, I’m going to have to fuck you in other ways until I’m ready to go again,” he states. You hum in acknowledgment and he rests his chin against you to gaze upwards. “You gonna be able to handle that, Bams?”
“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep.”
Jungkook scoffs and turns you around, slapping your ass harshly before pulling you down into his lap. You yelp at the sudden change in position, but the feeling of his warm chest on your back makes you melt into his embrace.
“Do you even know me at all, Bams?” He scoffs again. “How many orgasms have you had in one night before?”
“Like… three?”
“Pussy fucking numbers,” he snaps. “We’re aiming for double digits here.”
“Jungkook!” You look over your shoulder at him in shock, but his facial expression is completely serious. “You’re joking.”
“No, I’m really fucking not.”
“I’ll die.”
Jungkook just shakes his head disapprovingly and licks his lips. He grabs your jaw to turn your head, his hand diving into your hair again to hold you in place so he can ravish your mouth. His kiss has you completely hypnotized and you barely remember the conversation you were just having.
“How about we compromise and aim for five?” He suggests.
You want to kiss him too badly to muster a response, so you just hum in affirmation before turning around and bringing his lips to yours. He pulls you into him as he falls back onto the bed. Your legs return to their position on either side of his muscular thighs, and your lips work earnestly to kiss every inch of his face and jaw until they reach his neck.
Your clothed cunt grinds over his dick as you mark him with a matching bruise to your own, the friction created by your panties making you groan. You continue to lick and torment the delicate skin of his neck while he guides your movements with his hands.
All too soon, Jungkook stops you by grabbing your shoulder and you eye him curiously. His eyes flit around the features of your face for a minute. When he smiles in satisfaction, you know he’s got a tantalizing idea for how he’s going to make you come.
“Sit on my face,” he commands.
You don’t need to be told twice to get your pussy ate.
Jungkook moves to the center of the bed and taps his chest to beckon you over. Bending to remove your panties, you look up in surprise when Jungkook halts your actions by grabbing your wrist.
“How expensive were those?” He asks.
“$20 maybe.”
“Leave ‘em on, I’ll buy you new ones.”
Sometimes you conveniently forget your best friend is rich until moments like these when he reminds you.
When you and Jungkook were in college he coded and designed an entire video game in his spare time, because he’s a freaking genius, and then he sold said video game for millions of dollars. Now he works as a lead designer at the biggest video game company in the country and consistently makes six figures.
Jungkook has a huge dick and an even bigger bank account, and here you thought God made everyone equal.
Shrugging at his instruction, you do as he says and climb onto the bed. As tactfully as possible, you maneuver your legs around Jungkook’s head and sit up on your knees so your core is a few inches above his mouth. His hands hold your hips and he takes the time to trace over your curves while looking up at your pussy slowly soaking the lace of your underwear.
After several long moments of eager anticipation, he yanks you down by your thighs until the tip of his nose is tickling you. Your head tips back as you sigh, the feeling of his nose rubbing against your clit through your underwear satiating the craving for his touch. He presses a few chaste kisses to the black fabric as he nuzzles his nose into your cunt to give you more friction. You grip his hair beneath you as he continues to tease you with featherlight touches of his nose and mouth.
“Koo, don’t,” you beg.
His only reply is a hum and you feel the vibrations from it against your core. Then he bites at your underwear to give him access to your pussy before licking you from bottom to top. The fabric sinks between your folds as Jungkook’s tongue presses the panties into you and the friction feels unbelievable on your clit.
Your hand yanks on his hair in appreciation as he continues to eat you out and use your sopping wet panties to pleasure you.
Once he’s ready for more, his hands move towards your cunt and a loud ripping sound permeates the air. You gasp when you feel him throw your torn panties to the side before forcing your pussy down harder on his face. He collects all the essence you’re leaking with an erotic slurping sound. His tongue slides through your folds and fucks into your hole while his nose continues to apply pressure to your clit.
“Holy shit, Jungkook.”
He laughs against your pussy and slows down just enough so you can hear him.
“You haven’t seen anything yet, Bams.”
Your free hand claws at the bed frame haphazardly as he eats you like it’s his goddamn job. He kisses your cunt messily, spitting into it and smearing your cum around his face along with his own salvia. His tongue travels up to your clit and the pure, unadulterated pleasure makes you scream. When he flattens the muscle against your sensitive nub you swear you’ll fall over, but his hands on your thighs are still holding you steady above him.
“Koo, holy fuck.” Your head tips back and your nails bite into the fabric of the headboard. “Make me come, please.”
Jungkook moans responsively beneath you and dives in even deeper, licking you menacingly without reprieve while guiding your hips to ride his face. You take the hint and begin moving your hips on your own, letting your pussy press against all the outlines of his face as his tongue laps up your juices.
He returns to your clit again and scrapes his teeth against it, causing tears to escape from your waterline as you whimper. Soothing the ache of his bite with his tongue, he slows to a tortuous pace as he kitten licks you for a while. You’re crying continuously now, your hips desperately seeking anything they can get as you move across his face in an erratic rhythm. Jungkook takes pity on you and finally sucks your clit into his mouth before moaning so he can send you right over the edge.
Your hand sinks further into Jungkook’s hair and your nails scratch his scalp as you come all over his face. The bedframe rocks from how hard you’re holding on while your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. Absolute, unbridled euphoria moves through you and makes your eyes roll back.
Jungkook continues to lick your cunt until you jump from the oversensitivity and move away from his face. You hear a disappointed groan as you crash onto the bed beside him.
“You taste so fucking good, Bams,” he tells you. “I could do that all fucking night.”
Chest swelling with pride, you’re about to reply when you feel something against your back and frown in confusion. The scratchy material rubs awkwardly against you and you bend away from it to grab it.
Your soaked, ripped panties dangle from your fingers as you click your tongue and throw them into the trash can.
“You’re a fucking gremlin,” you note.
Jungkook doesn’t respond to your statement, he just maintains eye contact while moving to kneel before pulling you closer by the waist. The pretty vision of him above you makes your breath hitch.
His hand travels ostentatiously from your neck all the way down to your hip, lighting an internal fire within you wherever his touch goes. You wait with bated breath as his fingers dance across your skin until they reach your center. Jungkook deliberately teases you, his fingertips just barely touching your clit before moving away again.
You hiss and grab his wrist so his hand can’t move towards your pussy again.
“What?” Jungkook smiles down at you with a tilt of his head. “You’re not ready for more yet? We’re only at one of five, Bambi, we’ve got a lot more work to do.” He twists his hand out of your hold and presses down on your clit. You whimper and silently beg him with your eyes. “Plus, I’m an overachiever, so you know five is really going to be more like seven.”
“Seven?”
“Ilgop.”
“Fuck, don’t speak Korean to me right now. You know how hot it gets me.”
Jungkook giggles, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You smile at the sound and run your fingers through his hair.
He takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, and you instinctively lean your head away to give him more of you. His lips caress you gently for a while, but then he growls against your throat and grabs your jaw to hold you still. Your gasp settles into a moan and Jungkook takes it as a cue to continue playing with your pussy. His fingers circle your clit and your noises become even needier. He dips into your folds to collect your cum so he can rub over your nerve endings and it nearly expels all the air from your lungs.
Jungkook touches you like he’s done it a million times already and that thought alone leaves you breathless.
“Koo, baby, please,” you whimper in a tone even you don’t recognize. Jungkook’s big, boba eyes are back when he captures your gaze to wordlessly ask what you’re begging him for. “I don’t want to come. I want you.”
A dazzling smile appears on Jungkook’s lips, and a pretty, pink blush spreads across his cheeks and turns the tips of his ears red.
“Alright, Bambi,” he responds with a peck. “Condom?”
You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him in for more kisses.
“I’m on birth control.”
Jungkook kisses you again before you can do so yourself.
“Yeah?”
“Mmhmm,” you nod against his lips. “Want you raw, Koo.”
Jungkook goes to pump his cock with his hand, but before he has the chance, you bring his palm to your lips and spit into it. He groans, his eyes rolling back, as he reaches down and uses your spit to fuck his hand.
Your eyes follow the movement of his wrist jerking himself off. It’s honestly mouthwatering to watch his thick cockhead push past his fingers as he gets himself hard again for you.
He kisses your shoulder and collarbone, then licks up your neck until he reaches your ear. His teeth softly sink into the cartilage.
“You ready for me, Bams?”
His deep voice melts your insides into goo and forces your brain into another frequency. Everything is static except for the feeling of his body hovering above yours.
All you do is nod your head in response to his question.
Jungkook’s tip pushes past your tight circle of nerves and already you feel too full to function. A wanton gasp and whimper follow the intrusion as he slowly enters you for the first time. Your nails create crescents on his shoulders as you inhale through your nose to relieve the pressure in your core.
“Koo… you’re so fucking big,” you whine.
“I know, I know,” he chuckles.
He kisses your temple appreciatively.
By the time his entire cock is deep within your walls, his pelvis pressing against your own, you already feel yourself losing it. Jungkook fills you up completely, and you can barely bring yourself to exhale the air you’re holding in.
“Fuck, Bambi, are you a virgin or some shit?”
“You know damn well I’m not a virgin,” you grit.
Jungkook groans deeply as his head falls forward and his hair tickles your cheeks when he shakes his head in disbelief.
“Then what the fuck are you so fucking tight for?”
You loudly hum and pretend to think it over before glancing at him with a sultry tilt of your head.
“I think my pussy’s just that good,” you say. Pulling his face down so it’s only centimeters away, you let your lips brush for a split second before replying. “And it’s all yours, Jungkook. So fuck me like you mean it.”
Jungkook rears back and ferociously thrusts into you before your next breath can even exit your lungs.
“Oh, fuck!”
A sinister chuckle comes from your best friend.
“Be careful what you wish for.”
Any semblance of control is forcefully taken away when Jungkook grabs your hands and slams them into the mattress above your head. Simultaneously, he begins pumping his cock into you at a disastrous pace and you can’t do anything but incoherently moan.
There’s no adjustment period, no slow-moving start. Jungkook is already fucking you like a goddamn ragdoll made solely for his pleasure.
“Koo, oh my fucking God,” you cry. It’s barely been a minute and hot, salty tears are already streaming down your face.
Jungkook kisses you and his moans filter into your mouth. His grip on your hands is bruising and it makes you whimper pathetically against his lips.
“Jungkook,” you sob as he abuses your pussy.
“Shh, shh.” He kisses you gently. “You can take it.” He kisses your cheek and up the side of your face. “I got you, Bams.”
You keen and your hands clasp around Jungkook’s in an effort to protect whatever’s left of your sanity.
His cock is buried in your pussy but you swear you feel yourself choking on him in your throat. Every time his tip kisses your cervix you fear being split in two and yet there’s nothing you want more than for him to continue. You want him to rip you in half if it means feeling this full. He’s combining his strokes with a grind of his hips and it makes your cunt greedy for him, sucking him inside and squeezing his cock so he’ll never leave again.
Jungkook is throbbing and scorching hot inside you and the heat travels from your pussy throughout your entire body, lighting a fire in your bones and between your muscles that only he has the ability to stifle.
Your senses are amped up to ten and you scream over how deep he’s sending his dick into you.
The fire escapes externally when Jungkook releases your hands to explore your body instead. They travel down your entire outline until they find your hips and he tilts them upwards to create a new angle.
“Fuck, I always knew your pussy would feel this good,” he grunts. “You’re a fucking dream.”
The combination of the closer angle and Jungkook’s praises genuinely turns you to ruins, scattering pieces of your soul around and covering them in ivy. You kiss him again even though you know there’s no use, you’re shattered already. You devour his mouth, responding to his compliment through the movement of your lips instead of the words your body can’t produce at the moment.
Your fingers tilt his head so you can mouth at his sharp jaw, letting your tongue slide across his skin as he growls in your ear. Alternating between biting and kissing, you soak his honey skin in your spit and listen for the moans coming from deep within his chest.
“You feel so good, Koo,” you whisper into his ear. “Your cock fills me up so fucking well.”
“Shit,” he grunts. Jungkook grabs your thighs and pulls them up higher until you’re practically bent in half, your knees next to his shoulders. “So fucking good. You take me like a fucking champ, Bambi.”
Jungkook slows his pace by a hair, but only so he can thrust into you harder. Each clap of your skin connecting pulls a pornographic moan from your throat. You feel his balls slapping against your ass and the way your bodies are pressing together adds just the right amount of pressure on your clit.
It makes for a mind boggling combination that has your brain disintegrating into nothingness.
Your next orgasm is looming just around the corner. It builds inside you like a rollercoaster slowly moving up the track. Jungkook ups his pace again when he feels the telltale signs of your cunt pulsing and tightening around him like a vice.
“Cream my cock, Bams,” he commands. “C’mon, beautiful.”
A splintering gasp chokes you as you obey and come around his dick, coating his entire shaft in white essence.
The climax is brain chemistry altering. It feels as though your blood is ablaze and your heart can’t beat fast enough to push it through your body. Your legs clamp around his waist as they shake and convulse from the pleasure. All the while, Jungkook continues fucking his cock into your hole and sending you straight into oversensitivity subspace.
You’re still catching your breath when you grab Jungkook tightly by the shoulder to halt his movements. He looks at you with curious eyes, but he doesn’t completely stop, just slows down significantly and thrusts shallowly into you.
“Wanna ride you, Koo,” you tell him. “Wanna make you come so you can stuff me and watch it drip out.”
Jungkook closes his eyes, his teeth grinding together.
“Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to bust!”
You laugh mischievously as he grabs you by the waist to flip you both over. Your bodies are only parted for a mere moment before you’re sinking back down onto his dick and scratching at his pecs with your nails.
“Oh my God, I didn’t think it was possible for you to reach any further inside me,” you note.
“Of course, Bambi, gonna rearrange your fucking guts,” Jungkook proudly states.
It’s disturbing how exciting the thought of that is.
The rhythm of your hips is nowhere near as monstrous, letting his cock slowly leave your cunt before feeling him fill you up again one inch at a time. Using his chest to stabilize yourself, your thighs work religiously to bounce and fuck yourself on him. You look towards the ceiling, a groan rising from your throat due to his thick cock pressing against your walls and hitting just the right spot inside you.
Jungkook reaches up to play with your tits dangling over his face, massaging them in his big hands before pushing them together. His fingers pinch your nipples until they’re pebbled and stiff. He leans forward to take one into his mouth and you have to grab onto his hair for support.
He smacks your ass and you yelp, but you understand the message he’s trying to send and pick up the pace. You push him back down and lean over so your hard nipples are pressing against the heat of his chest.
“Atta girl,” he praises with another stinging slap of his hand on your ass. His digits make a home in your hair again and he uses the leverage to force you to stare into his eyes. “Pussy s’fucking good, Bams.” Jungkook kisses across your neck torturously slow before speaking again. “So fucking tight, warm, wet… could stay in here for-fucking-ever.”
“Koo,” you whisper breathlessly.
Your hips swivel in desperation to send his dick as deep as it can go, honestly hoping your guts do part for him so his cock can nestle permanently inside you.
“You gonna come again?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Good,” he speaks into your ear. “Come on my big, fat cock, babygirl.”
The moan you let out is the most humiliating sound to ever come from your body.
Luckily, no more are able to escape because Jungkook kisses you senseless. His tongue shoves into your mouth and licks around your own as you bounce on him as fast as your thighs will allow. He perpetuates your efforts by grasping your hips and rolling his own against you. It creates the perfect amount of friction on your clit and sends you tumbling into a pool of ecstasy.
“Fuck, Jungkook!”
You weep over the intensity of your orgasm while he continues kissing you. Not wanting to lose an ounce of momentum, Jungkook takes over for you as your orgasm paralyzes your mind.
He fucks you relentlessly to bring about his own climax and the sound of your skin clapping together is so loud you worry it will shake your doorframe and alert the neighbors.
“Gonna fill you up, Bams,” he warns you.
He thrusts hard once, twice, sending his cock so deep you swear you see your stomach bulge, and then he grunts and a strangled cry breaks from his lips as he paints your pussy with his cum.
The heat of it makes your eyes roll into your skull.
You kiss him through the come down, slowly traversing across the bottom half of his face and scraping his jaw with your teeth. He moans weakly, the hand still in your hair moving down to your neck and squeezing it affectionately. You make out as he goes flaccid within you, the mixture of your juices slowly dripping out and soaking your thighs.
Jungkook grabs your ass in both hands and massages the fatty flesh like he owns it, giving you one final spank to tint your skin red in the shape of his hand.
“Jungkook,” you mumble against his lips. “That was s’fucking good.”
A prideful chuckle meets your ears as Jungkook rests his head against the pillows to gaze up at you.
“Yeah? Told you we’d have fun,” he brags.
Lifting yourself off of him, you curse at the sticky mess between your legs. In one motion, you swing your leg over Jungkook’s thighs and fall down next to him with a bounce. You’ll worry about the sheets being drenched in the morning.
Jungkook grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles before holding it against his heart thumping wildly in his chest.
“Thanks for trying something new with me, Bams,” he says sincerely.
Your eyes meet with twin smiles. Running your fingers through his hair, you tuck a piece behind his ear and lean in to give him a final peck of gratitude.
It takes a minute for your body to stop screaming at you so you can stand. When you head for the bathroom, Usagi meows angrily from her spot just beyond the door. You coo at her and bend down to scratch under her chin.
“I’m sowwy, baby,” you apologize to the little creature.
She saunters right past you to hop on the bed and curl up next to Jungkook who’s covering his bare body with your comforter. His eyes light up when he sees her approaching and he bends down to kiss her little head repeatedly until she meows at him to stop.
You return from the bathroom in a large sleep shirt fresh from the dryer and toss a pair of equally fresh sweats to Jungkook. Both items are originally his, anyway.
He eyes you knowingly when he clocks the familiar article of clothing. His tongue clicks with a single shake of his head before he’s slipping the pants on and securing them around his hips.
“You want me to sleep on the couch like usual?” He asks with his arms behind his head.
You scoff affectionately.
“You already look pretty comfortable right there, Koo,” you retort.
“Oh, I am.” He pets Usagi dramatically as she purrs. “And Usagi wants me here, you can’t so no to her!”
“You’re right, I can’t.”
Jungkook lifts the covers so you can join him in the snuggle puddle he and your cat are partaking in. You make yourself comfortable beneath the sheets and he mirrors you, much to Usagi’s chagrin since she’s sequestered to the foot of the bed to accommodate the extra body.
It takes you all of thirty seconds to fall asleep once your head hits the pillow, and Jungkook is already halfway into dreamland himself when you do.
You wake with a pounding headache and unbelievably sore thighs. Groaning at the aches and pains, you leave your bed and attempt to walk normally even though you feel like you got fucked by a semitruck instead of your best friend. It’s a mess of stumbling feet and running into furniture corners as you groggily head to the kitchen for some pain pills.
Grabbing some for Jungkook after swallowing your own, you head back and set them along with a water bottle on your nightstand for when he wakes up.
The smell of breakfast must coax Jungkook back into the land of the living because he stumbles out from your bedroom soon after it’s ready. You laugh at the way his hair sticks up in a million directions and his eyes barely open.
“Morning, sunshine,” you sing-song.
He only greets you with a wave as he heads towards your bathroom.
When he emerges again he looks slightly more put together, at least, you can see his big, brown eyes again as he makes his way to you.
“Morning,” he says.
“Brekkie?”
You push a plate of assorted breakfast food towards him before turning around to place your own in the sink. He eats with that lovable scowl on his face which indicates you successfully cooked him a worthwhile meal.
Neither of you bring up the events which took place last night because you don’t need to, there’s no unspoken tension or uncomfortable vibes floating around. Jungkook was right when he said nothing can come between you, and as fun as it was, now everything just goes back to normal.
It does not stay normal for long.
ONE
Women are beautiful, complex, intricate beings, whose bodies and minds can do extraordinary things. Women can move mountains when they strive to and you’re proud to call yourself one.
Simultaneously, they can be dumbasses who can’t remember when their last period was.
While sitting at your desk typing up a bullshit report for some bullshit exec who can’t be bothered to read his own emails, you open the drawer on your left. It houses all your office essentials like pens, tape, paper clips, and tampons.
Your head tilts as you examine the colorful packaging you haven’t seen in a while. There seems to be a lot of them, especially since you usually run out and have to restock halfway through hell week.
Glancing up at your calendar, you count the weeks backwards and then flip it one month prior to check the exact date.
You laugh aloud to yourself, because, surely, you just forgot to mark the calendar like you always do and you don’t remember restocking the tampons after your period ended. That must be the case because there’s no way in hell you’re two weeks late. It’s simply an impossibility and abundantly more plausible that your memory is failing you rather than your body.
The skin of your lower lip is bitten raw as your eyes flit between the calendar and the menstrual products which are both staring into your soul. If they could speak, you think they’d be saying “we know what you did.”
Pushing away from your desk, you take a deep breath and decide the best course of action is to walk around the office.
Maybe seeing the inside of a bathroom stall will jog your memory of the last time you were bleeding, or passing by the kitchen will force you to recall when you last grabbed some extra candies from the community bowl.
It’s all for naught. Your excursion around the building is an utter failure, and suddenly the walls of the office feel as though they’re closing in on you.
Deciding to head home after lunch because you can’t focus anyway, you stop at the corner store by your house and grip your purse strap to stop your hands from shaking as you enter the women’s health aisle. The hundreds of pregnancy tests glare at you from their place on the shelf and you have to sink your teeth into your battered lower lip again to stop anxious tears from forming.
This must be some horrible nightmare, you tell yourself. You’re gonna wake up and realize you fell asleep at your desk because your job is just that boring. The sharp pinch you apply to your arm forces you to stop lying to yourself.
Groaning in frustration, you analyze both the brands and prices of the demonic little fortune tellers and choose two each from multiple different brands because you need to be real fucking sure.
You’re two years shy of thirty and you still feel like you’re having a teen pregnancy scare.
The woman behind the counter is smiling as she places the tests into a bag. It’s probably because she believes you’ll be ecstatic about a positive result and run straight home to tell your husband. Most women your age would be doing so, but you don’t have a husband, you have a childhood best friend who you decided to hook up with for funsies.
The abundant traffic you hit on the way home only makes your swirling whirlpool of nerves worse, and by the time you’re unlocking your apartment door and rushing to the bathroom, your lip is bleeding from how much skin you’ve ripped.
You bought six tests, like a crazy person, and so it takes a couple minutes for you to successfully pee on all of them and place them on the counter with their caps on. Setting your phone timer for three minutes, you sit on the toilet seat to wait the eternity of 180 seconds.
The anticipation eats away at your insides like sulfuric acid, and your leg bounces forcefully as though you’re going through withdrawal.
Your mind is somersaulting over itself and flopping on the ground like a fish out of water as you wonder how this is even possible. You’re on birth control, and you checked your pills before leaving work; you didn’t miss a single one.
There’s always the horror stories about the unlucky .01% of women whose contraceptives fail due to stress or poor health, but you don’t think that applies to you. Sure, you don’t join Jungkook at the gym, and work makes you wanna pull your hair out, but you feel great most days.
The timer derails your train of thought with an incessant buzz. Glancing at the counter, you reach for one of the tests with shaking hands as you pray for the right result.
Once you find the courage to actually look, your heart stops, and when you stand to see your plethora of pregnancy tests side by side, your eyes bulge from your skull.
Staring back at you like the fates themselves are three matching sets of a plus sign, two parallel lines, and the word “pregnant.”
Hands slapping against your mouth, you gasp into your palms as reality forces its way into the bathroom with you. Your eyes squeeze shut as tears break from the confines of your waterline. You shake your head a couple times, trying to get your mind files back into their rightful places. It doesn’t work, and all the papers which make up your consciousness go flying all over the place.
The cacophony of emotions on top of your disembodied mind forces your senses to scramble and discombobulate.
You’re scared, worried, sad, confused, and shocked, but somewhere inside you’re happy, too. Being a mom is a huge dream of yours and even if it’s unexpected, it’s still a dream come true.
Unfortunately, happiness is the lowest emotion on the totem pole, and your negative emotions are much closer to the surface.
Running your hands down your face, you gaze at the tests as a sob shakes through you. You brace your hands on the counter and allow yourself to cry through all of the emotions. The heavy tears drop into the sink below you one by one as you decide what to do next.
First things first, you have to tell the baby’s father.
“Fuck, he’s gonna fucking kill me.” Tipping your head back to send the loose tears back from whence they came, you blow air from your mouth and close your eyes. “He’s gonna hate me. He’s gonna lose his shit and never wanna see me again and I’m gonna —” A sob slices through your windpipe and causes your voice to break. “I’m gonna lose him.”
You hug your knees and let yourself freefall until your butt meets the tile. The floor is cold and your muscles ache from the force of your crash into the ground, but it serves as a momentary distraction from your mental anguish. The sound of your sorrow fills the space as you take heaving breaths and soak your jeans with tears. Usagi scratches at the door and the sound of her little paws calling for you breaks your heart.
Stretching towards the door, you reach and turn the doorknob just enough for it to open.
You watch fondly as your cat’s little legs carry her to your side. When she reaches you, she jumps into your lap and curls into an adorable ball of love. Fresh tears fall over the sweet affection she’s giving you, and you bend down to kiss her and rub your face in her fur.
“You’re gonna be a big sister, Usagi,” you tell her.
Eventually, you calm down enough to stand and find your phone. You don’t think you can handle Jungkook’s voice right now, so you text him to come over whenever he’s free. He replies within a few minutes saying he’s got one more meeting and then he’ll be there. You mindlessly stare at his text message as anxiety simmers in your gut. This might just be the one thing that finally comes between you two.
When Jungkook arrives you’re pacing in a trance around the living room. He unlocks the door with his key and kicks it open since his hands are full with takeout containers. Your eyes threaten to water when you realize he’s bringing you dinner without you asking.
Your best friend is thoughtful, deliberate, and so, so kind, and here you are about to shatter his world as he knows it.
At the very second his two feet step into your apartment, you scurry across the floor and throw your arms around his neck. He takes an involuntary step back and drops the bags when you barrel into him, a deep chuckle coming from his chest that you feel against your own.
“Bams?”
His arms wrap around you on instinct, one of his hands resting on the back of your head to cradle you closer.
You manhandle the emotions trying to escape back into their cages. You want, no, need, at least one more moment with him as you are now, before everything changes forever.
“Sorry,” you say as you reluctantly let go. “Rough day.”
“Well, I brought kimchi fried rice, so it can’t be that rough,” he jokes.
You fake a smile and nod in agreement before grabbing one of the containers to bring it to the kitchen. Once he places the second one down, you tap your nails against the countertop and contemplate whether or not to wait. Jungkook, clearly oblivious to your turmoil, is already moving towards the fridge to grab a drink before sitting on the couch. It’s now or never, you suppose.
Each step you take to stand across from him feels like trudging through concrete and the overwhelming anxiety is gnawing at you like a wild animal. The notion that this could be the last time you see him smiling at you or have the ability to hear him laugh is debilitating.
You click your heels once you’re opposite him on the other side of the coffee table. He raises an eyebrow at you in a silent question, but you ignore his confusion and fill your lungs with the charged air.
“I’m pregnant.”
You didn't know silence could be so deafening.
Jungkook’s cola bottle falls from his hands onto the floor with a plastic boing sound. The noise feels inappropriate for the tension of the room. His pupils are shaking as his eyes grow in size exponentially and the skin between his eyebrows creases as his lips part. Even from here you can see his mouth’s run completely dry.
You take another deep breath, but you aren’t able to stop your emotions from leaking out anymore.
“And I’m really, really scared,” you say as your voice breaks.
Jungkook immediately snaps out of his daze when he hears your tone of voice, all of his previously tense features softening as he stands to reach you.
The next thing you know, his warm hands are caressing your cheeks as he brushes the tears away.
“Hey, hey, Bambi,” he whispers. “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” You cry harder at the gentle nature of his voice, like he’s worried he’ll break you if he talks too loud. “I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got me, alright? We’ve got each other. That's all that matters.”
“You aren’t mad?”
“Mad?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. “You thought I would be mad at you, Bams?” You nod as best you can with your face caught between his hands. Jungkook frowns deeply. “Why would I be mad?”
“Because… because my birth control fucking failed and now we’re… we’re gonna be parents and —”
“That’s not your fault,” Jungkook interrupts. “I’m the one who creampied you, Bambi.”
“Yeah, but I told you to.”
“Oh, I assure you, I would’ve asked if you hadn’t.”
Despite your current emotional state, you laugh at his explanation. Your tears slowly, but surely, subside after a few more minutes. Gripping his wrists, you remove his hands from your face and hold them instead.
“I’m still sorry,” you say quietly.
“Don’t apologize,” he responds, then tilts your chin up. “You’re gonna make me a dad, Bams. That’s nothing to apologize for.”
The sigh of relief you exhale is exuberant. A smile creeps onto your face and Jungkook mirrors the expression before a mischievous grin appears instead.
He encompasses your waist and lifts you into the air in one swoop, you screech at the sudden movement and koala him to keep yourself from falling. He giggles incessantly as he spins you both around in circles in the middle of your living room.
“Koo! Put me down!”
He obeys after a moment, but not before bending his knees to dip you down towards the floor. You squeal until a fit of laughter overtakes you as he slowly brings you both back up to his full height.
“I’m so happy, Bams, you have no idea,” he tells you wholeheartedly.
Once the laughter subsides, you inhale fondly and caress his jaw with one of your hands.
“Me, too,” you admit.
A full blown bunny smile greets you and Jungkook nuzzles his nose against yours, making you giggle and blush a rosy pink hue. When your feet are on the earth again, you head for the kitchen, but Jungkook stops you with a hand to your forearm.
“Can I…” Jungkook begins to ask, his eyes glancing towards your stomach.
“Can you what, Koo?”
“Can I, ya know, touch?”
Looking down at your stomach, which is still identical to its normal size, you raise an eyebrow at him, but find yourself nodding yes anyway.
He giggles delightfully and places his palm over your abdomen, where soon enough you’ll have a baby bump.
“Man, this is fucking awesome.” You find yourself chuckling at his excitement over literally nothing at all yet. “Can I come to your doctor’s appointments?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t want to go to them without you,” you answer. “I still have to make the first one. I only took the tests a couple hours ago.”
“Were you alone?” He’s frowning as he asks, regret evident in his tone.
“Usagi was there.”
Jungkook scoffs, chuckling knowingly as he shakes his head and follows you into the kitchen.
You eat together as though you didn’t just deliver life alternating news. Which honestly, is the only outcome that ever would’ve come to fruition. Perhaps the staggering emotions of finding out you’re pregnant made you forget just how much you two love and care for each other. Your friendship is backed by nearly three decades of time spent together, and even something as massive as a baby can’t shake that foundation.
What might shake the foundation of a house is the screams of joy your mothers are going to let out when you tell them. They’ve been begging you for a shared grandchild since you graduated college.
Jungkook is supportively holding your hand as you two stand on the front porch of your house, which is conveniently down the street from his house, because that’s just how close your parents are. You can’t blame them, you’re sure you and Jungkook will be the same one day, especially now.
The memories of your childhood are flooding through your mind while you stand in the familiar location. It gets you thinking about all the new memories you’ll make with your own child one day.
Releasing the tension from your neck, you nod at Jungkook to let him know you’re ready. He returns the gesture and lets go of your hand to knock on the door. Unsurprisingly, it’s his mother’s face who comes into view from the other side of the screen door.
“Oh, Kookie! What are you two doing here?” She asks cheerfully.
“What are you doing here, Mom?” Jungkook asks as he hugs her.
“Oh, you know I practically live here.”
You laugh, knowing how right she is, and give her a big, bear hug. Her comforting presence always eases your anxieties, especially now when you’re worried about their reaction to your news.
She guides you through the house as though it’s her own and leads you into the kitchen where your mom is cooking dinner. You greet her with a hug and kiss on the cheek as she stirs the pot on the stove. Jungkook follows suit, resting his head on her shoulder as he hugs her side.
Your mom tells you she’s nearly done and to go sit. She joins you a few minutes later after turning the stove off and removing the food from the heat.
“Seriously, kids, what did you come all this way for?” Jungkook’s mom asks once you’re all sitting around the kitchen table.
“It’s not that far,” you say.
“No, but you two never show up unannounced like this,” your mom states.
“We have something to tell you,” Jungkook says.
His hand finds yours under the table and gives it a comforting squeeze, out of the eyesight of your mothers. Your petrified eyes flicker towards him, but he just nods and smiles reassuringly at you. You lick your lips and sit up as a way of giving yourself a moment of reprieve before you change the entire atmosphere of the home.
“I’m pregnant,” you announce. “We’re having a baby.”
“WE?” They scream in unison.
You instantly lose all their attention. They’re too busy screaming like school girls while clasping their hands together and shaking them in excitement. You and Jungkook share a sideways glance and have to suppress a laugh.
“When did this happen? How long have you been dating?” Your mom asks.
Both your faces pale at her question, not thinking far enough ahead to prepare for these types of inquiries.
“Um, we’re not,” you tell her.
“What do you mean, you’re not? How did you get pregnant then?”
Jungkook awkwardly clears his throat and messes with the collar of his shirt as tension fills the room. Never in a million years did you think you’d be talking about your and Jungkook’s sexscapades with your moms.
“We just hooked up, a one time thing,” you answer.
“So, you’re not together?” His mom wonders. You both shake your heads, hating the look of disappointment that crosses their features. “Are you gonna try?”
“Maybe… maybe one day, Mom,” Jungkook answers. “But right now we just wanna focus on being the best parents we can be.”
They reluctantly accept his answer before moving onto all the nitty gritty details like asking when your next appointment is, if you’re going to find out the gender, etc.
The four of you eat dinner together but unfortunately, your dads are away on a fishing trip together, so you don’t get to tell them the news tonight. Your moms promise to relay their reactions to you through the phone upon their return.
With your parents out of the way, your friends are up next to bat, but you don’t expect that announcement to go as well as this one.
Your first gynecologist appointment is the following week, and you and Jungkook both take the day off from work so you can go together. It’s pretty nerve wracking, but you’re mostly excited to see the first ultrasound pictures of your little peanut.
Jungkook drives you to the appointment in his black Mercedes Benz and it lowkey makes you feel like his knocked up sugar baby. He didn’t grow up with money, so he’s still humble, but he definitely enjoys splurging on his choice of car, if anything. It’s certainly not a bad thing to be having a kid with someone who’s financially well off, but you hate taking advantage of Jungkook’s wealth even when he offers.
He reverses the car into a parking spot, his arm moving to the headrest behind you as he looks over his shoulder to fit in the space. Upon exiting the car, you come around the hood where Jungkook is waiting for you with his hand out. You take it without a second thought and lace his fingers with yours as you walk into the dauntingly large medical building together.
Your foot rapidly taps against the elevator as it inches up to the third floor. When the doors open after what feels like an eternity, the office can only be described as a haven for expecting mothers.
Everywhere in sight there are women with swollen bellies of varying degrees, most of them accompanied by their doting partners. As you scan the room, you notice one thing in common with almost all of them; they all have big, shiny rings on their fingers.
You pout instinctually, green envy coating your insides. It’s not as though you’ve been hunting for a husband, it’s honestly been the last thing on your mind, but you’d be lying if you said you aren’t jealous they have spouses and you have a baby daddy. You love Jungkook, more than anything in the world, and there isn’t anyone else you can imagine having a kid with, but it’s not the same as these men and women looking at their pregnant partners like they hung the stars in the sky.
Jungkook notices your unintentional scowl and tugs on your hand to grab your attention. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you just shake your head and proceed towards the reception desk.
“Hi, an appointment under Jeon,” you tell the woman behind the desk. You hear Jungkook make a noise of curiosity from beside you. “Figured we should do everything under the baby’s last name, it’s simpler that way.”
“The baby’s gonna have my last name?”
His eyes sparkle with wonder and your heart soars.
“Yeah, you’re the dad, Koo.”
“I know, but I thought since we aren’t together —”
“No,” you cut him off. “It’s baby Jeon, a hundred percent.”
He smiles so big his eyes disappear and his bunny teeth make an appearance. You roll your eyes affectionately before turning your attention back to the receptionist as she hands you a clipboard with some paperwork to complete.
Both of you have to call your respective mothers at one point while filling out the extensive medical history forms. Once the twenty or so pages are complete, Jungkook returns it to the receptionist before joining you again in the waiting room. You sit with identical bouncing knees as the minutes tick by in heavy anticipation.
When your name is finally called, the two of you leap up and hurry over to the nurse who’ll lead you to the observation room.
They take some vitals, draw your blood for the formal pregnancy test, and go over the paperwork, getting the more mundane, administrative details out the way before handing you a gown and instructing you to lay down for the ultrasound.
Jungkook excitedly rubs his palms together and stomps his feet when the nurse leaves and you get ready to see your baby for the first time.
Ever the gentleman, he looks everywhere but at you as you strip to put the gown on, which is so adorable you almost combust. He put a baby in you and yet he’s respectful enough to look away when you undress in front of him, what a fucking doll.
Your feet tap an unknown melody against the stirrups as you wait and Jungkook scrolls on his phone absentmindedly. The doctor alerts you with a short knock before opening the door and popping her head in.
“Hi, you guys,” she greets you. She shakes Jungkook’s hand and then yours before rolling a stool over to sit between your legs. “How are you both doing?”
“Good.”
“Great.”
“Good, good,” she smiles. “So, great news, you are indeed pregnant! Based on your hormone levels it looks like you’re about eight weeks along.”
Even though you know the exact date and time your baby was conceived, the sensual moment permanently etched into your memory, and it’s impossible to be anything else besides divine intervention, you still sigh in relief over everything lining up as it should.
“Before we get to the ultrasound, I just want to go over a couple things that I always do with new parents, alright?”
“Sure,” you agree with a smile.
“Okay, we won’t be discussing labor and delivery until you’re a little farther along because there’s a lot to take in at first and it can be pretty overwhelming,” she explains. “I just want to make sure you both are in a good place, have everything you need from me, and availability to any resources you may need during this time.” She looks at you expectantly and you nod your head to convey you understand. “Alright, so tell me a little bit about yourselves.”
You gesture towards Jungkook and he points to his chest with his hand. When you nod, he clears his throat and sits up straighter.
“Hi, Jungkook, she calls me Koo,” he starts. “I’m a head video game designer and have a house just outside the city. I have a Doberman named Bam. I box in my free time… not sure what else you need to know.”
“No, that’s great,” she reassures him. She turns her attention to you.
“I’m Y/N, but he calls me Bambi, and don’t ask, we can’t remember why,” you laugh. “I’m an administrative assistant and rent an apartment in the city and have a munchkin cat named Usagi. In my free time I read, mostly.”
“So, you two don’t live together?” You both shake your heads. “Are you exes, just haven’t moved in together yet, something else?”
“Best friends,” you tell her. Then, because it’s confusing for most people that you’re pregnant with your best friend’s baby, you continue. “We decided to have some fun one night and now we’re gonna be having fun together for the next 18 years.”
She laughs lightheartedly at your story.
“Alright, I like the sound of that. You’re supposed to be going through this with your best friend, anyway,” she says. “How long have you known one another?”
“I was strapped in a baby carrier to my mom’s chest in the hospital room while she was being born,” Jungkook states.
“Oh, wow.”
“Yeah,” you add.
“Well, that’s great, you two! You’ve got a long history together and that can only make for wonderful teamwork.”
There are some more details you discuss regarding the first trimester and the vitamins you’ll be taking. You go over the common symptoms for this time frame and how best to remedy them. Once that’s settled, she finally pulls out the ultrasound machine and you get jittery just from the sight. You’re so eager to see your baby and when Jungkook joins you by your side, he radiates the same energy. He’s sitting to your left now and you bend your arm up to hold his hand. Jungkook smiles at your actions and clasps his hand around yours with a tight squeeze.
Jumping when you feel the cool gel on your skin, you ignore the novel sensation and wait impatiently for the image of your baby to appear on the monitor.
Before you see anything, a steady, rhythmic thumping plays throughout the room.
You and Jungkook gasp in unison.
“And that’s a heartbeat,” the doctor says with a big smile.
Jungkook rests his head on yours and your free hand wraps around to tousle his hair affectionately.
The visual on the screen doesn’t make much sense at first, but then the doctor pauses her movements along your abdomen and clicks the keyboard to take some still shots.
“So, this is your baby,” she says while pointing to the small peanut shape amongst all the black and white fuzziness. “They’re about the size of a kidney bean right now.”
You giggle while glancing back at him. His starry eyes are shining and glossy while he admires the monitor showing him his future child.
“Are you two going to find out the gender? That will happen at your twelve-week follow up.”
“No, we’re gonna keep it a surprise,” you answer.
“Great choice, it’s always so fun that way.”
She points out a couple more things on the ultrasound before turning the machine off and printing the pictures she took, making sure to print two copies so you and Jungkook can each have one.
When you peek at him once the doctor leaves so you can get dressed, he’s staring at the photos while his thumb gently traces over the shiny paper right where your baby is. You feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes, but keep them under control with a sniffle and scrunch of your nose.
TWO
You have two main friend groups, one which is mutual with Jungkook, consisting of six other guys and three girls besides yourself, and another group of all girls, four of them in addition to you. Sometimes you mix the groups, and they all get along just fine, some better than others, wink wink, but usually you see them on separate occasions.
Tonight is monthly wine night with your girls, which, of course, you won’t be partaking in, although you plan on faking it.
You’re unsure about telling your friends just yet. It’s been nice having this sweet little secret just between you and Jungkook, thoroughly enjoying the whispers of excitement you share as you admire your miniature baby bump together. Of course, that enthusiasm is shared between you and your mothers who message you daily for updates.
The bump forming over your womb isn’t noticeable in the slightest unless you’re wearing something abhorrently tight, and even then, you look bloated at best. So, you can easily get away with hiding your little bundle of joy for a few more weeks.
It’s a fact the girls will be absolutely ecstatic for you and completely supportive, so it’s not fear holding you back. Maybe judgment? The circumstances of your pregnancy are far from ordinary and you don’t want a lecture from anyone regarding your questionable choices. Your friends adore Jungkook, since they’ve known him as long as they’ve known you, and they’re fully aware of how wonderful he is, but being a friend and being a father are two very different things and it wouldn’t be totally unreasonable for them to have doubts.
Grabbing some wine to pass from the corner store, you drive to Nayeon’s place just up the road. The five of you rotate hosts monthly and tonight is her night. You won’t have the pleasure of hosting again for another four months since your turn was last month. You’re bringing wine along to keep suspicions to a minimum, and you plan on filling your glass with some sparkling grape juice you also snagged.
When you arrive, Jihyo and Mina are standing by their cars cackling at something on their phones. As you exit and lock your car with a click, you wave and approach the laughing banshees with a smile.
Their faces shine bright when they see you and enthusiastically return the wave.
“Bitch, it’s only been a month and I missed you so fucking much,” Mina cries as she pulls you in for a crippling hug.
“Are you drunk already?” You question due to her out of character language and how she’s slumping against you.
“Nooo.”
“Don’t worry, I drove her here,” Jihyo, ever the mom friend, assures you.
You enter Nayeon’s apartment as a trio, her door already unlocked for the occasion, as you update each other on surface level things like work and hobbies.
Nayeon and Tzuyu are in the kitchen with a glass of wine already in hand while they gossip about something. You know they’re gossiping because their expressions are dramatically shuffling through different emotions like shock, confusion, and disgust.
They wave excitedly when they notice your entrance and quickly finish their conversation before joining you.
Jihyo places Mina delicately on the couch and instructs her to stay still so she can grab her a glass of water. You follow Jihyo into the kitchen, peering over your shoulder at your other friend who’s now lackadaisically swaying side to side.
“Ji, why is Mina drunk off her ass right now?”
Jihyo sighs as she grabs a cup and glances towards the living room to visually check on the topic of your conversation.
“Her and Mingyu broke up.”
“No!” You gasp, your hands covering your mouth in disbelief. “Did he dump her?”
“She won’t tell me! She just sits on my bed and cries for hours.”
Jihyo and Mina are roommates, but Mina has been hoping to move in with Mingyu for a while now and was merely waiting for him to ask.
“Oh no, my poor girl.”
“I’m hoping tonight will help and maybe she’ll finally open up about what happened,” Jihyo says. “You wanna try my wine?”
“Oh, no, I’ve got my own,” you tell her and show off the bottle of fake alcohol you peeled the label off of.
She recognizes your answer with a nod before heading back to Mina. By the time you return with her water she’s relaying the information to Nayeon and Tzuyu through tears and slurred sentences.
You hug Tzuyu from behind and she warmly wraps her arms around your own to reciprocate the affection. After repeating the embrace with Nayeon, you take a seat on her armchair and pour the grape juice into the wine glass she left out for you.
The five of you update each other like always, since that’s the main purpose of these get-togethers. It’s your sacred time to dive into the messy and dirty details of your lives over the last month.
Mina is unanimously nominated to go first once she’s consumed a couple glasses of water to sober her up a bit. She explains how her and Mingyu, her boyfriend of nearly four years, broke up because he isn’t ready to settle down. Apparently it was mutual, but she’s still head over heels for him and is having a terrible time trying to move on.
The four of you hold her while she cries until eventually, she tires herself out, and you move on to Tzuyu.
The conversation circles through everyone until you’re finally the center of attention. There’s a piece of you that still wants to stow away your secret for a little while longer, but you’re also so excited for them to share in your joy that you can barely stand holding it in.
“Okay, so, technically this happened two wine nights ago, but I wasn’t ready to tell you guys just yet,” you begin. You suck in a breath through your teeth and take a sip of your drink even though there’s no liquid courage in the glass. “Jungkook and I hooked up.”
The gasps from your friends are so loud you think they sucked all the air from the room.
“No fucking way.”
“I freaking knew it would happen one day!”
“Oh my God?”
“Please tell me he’s got a big dick, I just know he has a big dick.”
You laugh into your glass at the multitude of different reactions before continuing. Sighing in content remembrance, you lean forward and rest your elbows on your knees.
“He’s. Fucking. Huge.”
Somehow, their gasps this time are even louder.
“No, no, you need to spill right fucking now. I want every dirty fucking detail, baby,” Nayeon says.
“There honestly isn’t that much to tell. We were watching a movie, he brought it up, it happened, bada-bing bada-boom,” you state.
“Are you two together now?” Jihyo asks.
“No,” you shake your head. “We just wanted to see what it was like, you know?”
“Bitch,” Tzuyu scoffs. “You just told us your ungodly handsome, sweet, filthy rich, jacked as fuck best friend has a huge dick and you’re gonna look at me and say it was a one time thing?”
“You guys know it’s not like that with us,” you respond. “I love him, like, with everything in me, and obviously, I know how attractive he is, but I don’t get butterflies around him or think about him first thing in the morning.” You sit back in the chair. “The love I have for him is so much greater than romantic love. I mean, never say never, but we’re both completely content with the way we are.”
“Hear hear,” Jihyo says with a clink of her nails against her glass.
Nibbling on your lip, you count the bubbles floating in your drink as you decide whether or not you’re ready for the actual reveal.
“There is… more, though,” you quietly admit. Everyone leans in and you shake your head back and forth to prepare for the biggest confession you’ll ever make to them. “I’m pregnant.”
The gasps this time are so volatile two of them start coughing and Jihyo walks her ass straight out of the room with a hand over her mouth.
“Shut the fuck up right now,” Nayeon snaps.
“He knocked you up?” Mina’s drunk ass shouts.
“Mmhmm.”
“Are you… happy about that?” Tzuyu tentatively asks.
The massive grin forming on your face reveals your answer before you can give it, and you start nodding overdramatically while you giggle.
“Oh my God! You’re pregnant!” Tzuyu cheers now that she’s aware of your excitement.
“You’re gonna be a mom!” Nayeon claps.
“We’re gonna be aunts!” Mina adds.
Jihyo returns to the room with fresh tears on her cheeks.
“Ji,” you coo at her.
She hiccups out a weak chuckle as she pulls you into her for a bear hug. The other girls follow suit and surround you until the five of you are basically cuddling in the middle of Nayeon’s living room. Suddenly, someone starts jumping and the force shakes the floorboards as you all join in and chant “yay yay yay” on repeat.
The whimsicality of girlhood never fails to paint a smile on your face.
The following weekend you have plans with your other friend group. You usually rotate through a few different activities you all enjoy and tonight is karaoke, which is one of your personal favorites.
Jungkook gets ready at your place so you can eat dinner together beforehand since the food at the karaoke bar is stupidly overpriced. He never fails to remind you he can afford it and is more than willing to pay for your meal, but you don’t like using his money unless it’s absolutely necessary. You’re a big girl who can pay for herself and he understands your desire for independence.
You’re at the vanity finishing your makeup when he enters with another bowl of rice he grabbed after finishing your meal. He takes up purchase on your bed and eats absentmindedly while his eyes follow the movement of your wrist coating your lashes in mascara.
The feeling of his stare creates goosebumps on your skin and an involuntary smile appears in the mirror. No doubt your foundation hides the blush springing forth as well.
“You look pretty, Bams,” he compliments.
“Thank you!”
The now empty bowl meets your nightstand with a clank as he moves to stand beside you. He leans down until you’re side by side in the mirror and gives you his cheesiest smile. You snort at his antics and continue to giggle while dropping your mascara into the pile of other makeup tools.
“Cute,” you tell him.
He smiles successfully and extends his hands towards you. You graciously accept his offer and stand to your full height. Just as you’re heading for your closet to grab shoes, Jungkook ensnares your wrist and eyes you hopefully. Raising an eyebrow at his actions, you wait for him to speak his mind.
“Can I see it?”
The eye roll is automatic at this point.
“Koo, my baby bump is not any bigger than it was a few days ago. It’s barely a bump as is! I could eat pasta and grow bigger than I am now,” you tell him.
“It doesn’t matter, I just like knowing they’re in there,” he says with a huge smile. “My little kidney bean.”
“They’re a plum now, remember?”
Jungkook just stares you down expectantly rather than responding. Begrudgingly, but still with a smile on your face, you push your jacket away so he can see the barely noticeable hump over your abdomen. He giggles, his feet taking turns leaving the floor, and places both hands on you, caressing your womb ever so gently.
“My little plum,” he sighs happily.
You're so utterly endeared by him and his nature that it makes you sick.
Once Jungkook is done holding the little plum, you leave to meet your friends at the karaoke bar.
Throughout the drive you discuss whether or not to announce the pregnancy to your friends. Jungkook knows you told the girls, and was unnecessarily smug about their interest in his size, but your mutual friends are another animal entirely.
Everyone met at one point or another during college and by graduation you’d become one massive, conjoined group of lovable idiots. All eleven of you are extremely close, even if the bonds you share are unique to each individual pair. You know things about one another no one else does and they’re always the first people you tell about good news.
Jungkook is more anxious than you about telling them, especially since he’s yet to let the cat out of the bag to anyone besides your parents. He’s the youngest among the boys and his biggest fear is disappointing them. Not that they would be, because even though they're a group of seven men, they’re the kindest people in the world, but Jungkook’s always been sensitive about their opinion of him because he idolizes them so much.
By the time you reach the bar you’ve mutually agreed to hold off for now and proceed to exit the car together. Jungkook instinctively places his hand on your lower back as you walk in and a hostess tells you which room your friends occupy.
Upon opening the door to the private karaoke suite, you’re met by the booming sound of cheers from all nine people packed inside. Everyone rises from their seats to hug you one by one before letting you settle into the couch across from the karaoke machine and mini stage.
“What are you drinking tonight?” Yunjin asks you as she takes the seat to your right.
Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi are already flipping through the songbook next to the stage for the perfect opening song.
“Can’t, I’m Koo’s designated driver for tonight,” you tell her.
“We’re gonna be here for hours like always, you should have one, at least,” she says.
“Maybe,” you say with an appreciative smile.
Lying to the people you love most isn’t exactly easy, especially when you already suck at it, but Yunjin seems to take you at your word and returns her focus to the opposite side of the room.
The opening beats of an R&B song fill the air and you turn your attention to the three jackals on stage as they belt their hearts out together. You admire them with a massive grin and are thoroughly impressed by how they manage to make complete fools of themselves while still hitting all the notes.
The other girls join you sometime during the bridge, Chaewon taking the empty seat by you while Eunchae goes next to Yunjin. Eunchae tells everyone she got a promotion at work, so you clink your glasses together to cheer for her, yours being filled with cola instead of alcohol.
“Here, try my drink, it’s so good!” Chaewon says as she passes the glass to you. You shake your head and tell her the same lie you told Yunjin. Unfortunately, Chaewon is less forgiving than your other friend. “It’s just a sip, girliepop!”
You shoot her a warning glance, and luckily, the two other women are distracted by Namjoon and Seokjin’s soulful duet on stage. Due to your decade long friendship, you and Chaewon share the unique ability to speak without any words, and your silent conversation goes something like this.
You, glaring at her with your head tilted. Don’t.
Her, sitting back a little with her eyebrows raised. Bitch?
You, nodding minutely a couple times. Yup.
Her, eyes wide with a hand on her chest. You’re pregnant?
You, nodding while staring her down. Can you fucking believe it?
Her, brow creasing and slowly shaking her head. Who the fuck is the dad?
You, holding up a hand to block the view from the others while pointing at Jungkook who’s sitting across the room. Jungkook.
Her, hand over her mouth, eyes bulging out of her head. You’re fucking joking!
So, that’s how Chaewon finds out, and your final signal to her is your pointer finger pressing against your lips so she knows this is still a massive secret.
Jungkook and Taehyung take the stage next, and they’re always an entertaining pair, so you both pay close attention. It’s debatable whether that was a good decision, because the rest of you end up with aching cramps from the intense fits of laughter. You're all desperately clutching your stomachs as the two of them jump around and sing in each other’s faces to a song that does not call for that type of choreography. You’re 99% sure it’s a breakup song from a K-Drama.
You’re still wiping the tears from your eyes when Eunchae speaks up breathlessly.
“God, I don’t know why, but this reminds me of when the boys performed in the university talent show,” she states.
“Oh shit, I totally forgot about that,” Yunjin responds.
“Wait, what are you guys talking about?” Jimin says as he sits next to Yunjin.
“Don’t you remember? You guys wore those hockey jerseys and covered that 90s song,” you tell him. “It was so good!”
Seokjin nods from the other side of the couch and starts laughing as he remembers the performance.
“That was so long ago! I remember it being super fun, though,” he says.
“Please don’t bring that up, that was the most embarrassing day of my life,” Yoongi groans.
“Oh please, Min, you secretly loved it,” Chaewon teases him.
You gasp when you realize it’s definitely still stored somewhere in your phone. Pulling the device out of your pocket, you scoot over so Jungkook can sit next to you while you scroll through your camera roll from almost ten years ago. Taehyung joins you and leans over Jungkook’s shoulder to see as well.
“Found it!” You squeal.
Unable to resist reliving the memory, everyone gathers behind you to watch. Your previous fits of laughter make a gnarly comeback as you marvel at the younger versions of them dancing and singing their little hearts out. They look like babies in comparison and it makes you swoon.
“That was literally another lifetime,” Namjoon says once the video is done playing.
“Man, we were so fucking cool,” Hoseok states proudly.
“Jungkook, you should wear your hair like that again,” Yunjin says. “You looked fucking hot.”
“Fuck yeah he did, rumor has it Kook lost his virginity that night,” Taehyung jokes as he squeezes Jungkook’s bicep.
“Yo! Shut the hell up, I lost my virginity in high school,” Jungkook retorts. He takes a swig of his drink and chuckles against the glass. “It was the first time I fucked raw, though.”
“Clearly not the last,” you say under your breath.
Jungkook turns to you with his eyes bugging out and you have to stifle your laugh with your hand. Resting your forehead on his shoulder, you gain control of your laughter and whisper a halfhearted apology to him.
“Ok, girlies, let’s fuck this shit up,” Chaewon announces.
Yunjin and Eunchae both chug the last of their drinks before grabbing each of your hands so you can take the stage together. You diligently flip through the songbook to find the perfect one while the guys converse about a recent video game release. Gasping when you spot a familiar song title, you point to the page and eye the girls with a mischievous smirk.
“Wait, don’t we know the dance for this?” Yunjin asks.
You and Eunchae nod together.
“Oh, we are gonna leave these men fucking gagged,” Chaewon states before plugging the selection into the karaoke machine.
Chaewon hits the nail on the head, because as soon as the song begins and you start shaking your asses like a bonafide girl group, the men go insane. The seven of them act like they’re your biggest stans who paid for a ticket just to see this.
Hoseok and Jimin stand to the right of the stage throwing invisible money over you all, while Taehyung and Jungkook are sitting on the end couch spanking the air back and forth. Yoongi is covering his eyes with his hand while he shakes his head, but he’s still peeking at your performance between his fingers. Namjoon is bent over with his elbows on his knees and his hands under his chin like he’s trying to analyze the way your asses bounce. Seokjin stands with a glass in each hand as he dances along and screams your names in a repeating chant at the top of his lungs.
When you finish the show stopping performance, all of them are almost as breathless as you from cheering so much.
“Fuck, why am I hard right now?”
“That was spectacular.”
“You guys were so good!”
“I think I just came.”
“Amazing, bravo.”
“Encore!”
“Remind me why we’re all just friends?”
All four of you are panting as you hop off the stage and attempt to slow your racing heartbeats. Jimin notices you don’t have a drink and goes to hand his glass of vodka cranberry to you.
“Here, you look like you could use this.”
Just as you’re about to wave him off and reject his offer, Chaewon interrupts.
“Y/N can’t have alcohol,” she states.
Eyes blowing wide, you glare and wordlessly scold her with your facial expressions, throwing your hands up incredulously for good measure. Poor Jungkook looks like a deer in headlights since you didn’t get the chance to tell him she knows.
“Why not?” Yoongi asks from across the table.
“Are you okay? Nothing’s wrong, right?” Yunjin adds.
“No, no,” you answer with a nonchalant wave of your hand. “Just this new medication I’m on.”
“Which one? Prenatal vitamins?” Eunchae jokes as she takes a drink. Your lip catches between your teeth as you look at her with wide, worrisome eyes. Her expression shifts into shock when she notices your face over the rim of her glass. “Holy fuck, I was joking. Y/N, are you pregnant?”
“Um… yes?”
The eight people in the room who weren’t previously aware inhale simultaneously to berate you with questions, but are all stopped short by Taehyung speaking first.
“Who the fuck put a baby in you?”
Gnawing on your lip as your mind scrambles for an answer, your eyes flit to Jungkook for support, but his face is paler than a ghost. You reluctantly accept your fate and sigh in defeat.
“J… Ju… Jungkook did.”
All hell breaks loose.
You’re fighting off Eunchae, Yunjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok with your hands up in surrender as you vigorously shake your head back and forth. Jungkook is slowly sinking into his seat with his arms out in defense as Jimin, Taehyung, Seokjin, and Yoongi descend on him like a pack of ravenous wolves. Everyone’s screaming voices are louder than any of the singing tonight and if someone took a picture of the room it could only be classified as a goddamn renaissance painting.
Once the initial shock wears off and Jungkook finally comes to his senses, he shakes his head to collect his thoughts and stands up.
“Everyone, shut the fuck up! My bun is in that oven and I don’t need you assholes stunting their growth with your screaming,” he shouts.
“Oh, please don’t refer to me as an oven, Koo,” you grimace.
“I didn’t mean it that way, Bams.”
“Yeah, but —”
“Hey!” Eunchae interrupts you. “Lovebirds, you wanna fucking tell us how you got knocked up?”
Jungkook clears his throat.
“Well, Eunnie, you see, when a mommy and daddy love each other very mu — AH!”
Jungkook’s mock explanation is cut short by him ducking to avoid the couch pillow Eunchae chucks at his head.
“Be fucking for real, Jeon. Why is your demon spawn in my best friend?”
“Hey, don’t talk about our little plum like that,” Jungkook frowns.
“Little plum?” Jimin and Taehyung speak in unison.
Jungkook sighs dreamily before responding.
“That’s how big they are right now.”
“It just happened!” You state. “We just fucked for shits and gigs and now we’re here.”
“You let Jungkook come in you for shits and gigs?” Hoseok asks with his signature face of judgement.
The implications of his tone make you pout and cross your arms over your chest.
“Yes, and it was very enjoyable, thank you very much.”
“Oh, ew.”
“For real?”
“Ah, fuck no.”
Chaewon fake gags with a finger in her mouth.
“Wait, wait,” Namjoon steps into the center of the room. “How is this gonna work? Are you two gonna co-parent? Switch off houses every other week?”
“I… don’t know,” you answer honestly before looking at Jungkook. He shrugs with his arms out, clearly just as clueless about those details as you. “We haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Are you gonna find out the gender?” Chaewon asks excitedly, but you quickly shake your head and she frowns. “How am I supposed to get my future niece or nephew the perfect gift if I don’t know their gender?”
“Gender neutral?” You suggest.
You hear Seokjin exhale overdramatically and when you look towards him he’s downing a shot and slamming the glass down afterwards.
“What the fuck is going on?” He shakes his head and his lips make a horse-like noise. “I mean, we’re talking about Jungkook and Y/N having a baby… a motherfucking child.”
“Yeah, and they’re gonna be the best parents ever,” Yoongi states wholeheartedly.
Yoongi finds your eyes across the room, his adorable gummy smile on full display, and reaffirms his words with a nod. You return the smile gratefully, thanking him with a slow blink as you hold his eye contact.
“Are you alright? I mean, like, you’re good?” Yunjin asks you.
“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, especially now that you guys know.”
“What about you, Kook?” Taehyung asks from where he sits beside him.
Jungkook looks over his shoulder at his friend, the biggest, bunniest grin imaginable on his face.
“I’m fucking ecstatic,” he answers.
Jimin takes two large strides and hugs Jungkook’s head to his chest, ruffling his hair affectionately. Hoseok joins in next, squishing Jungkook’s cheeks between his hands and giving him adorable fish lips.
“Our Jungkookie is gonna be a dad!” Hoseok coos in his best baby voice.
Your attention is pulled away by Yunjin’s hand on your lower back. She smiles when you turn around and pulls you into a powerful embrace which you reciprocate. Eunchae and Chaewon join the hug and you rest your head on Chaewon’s shoulder. You know how hard she is on herself whenever she screws up, and this is your way of letting her know it’s alright.
When you part, you feel a tug on your hand, and before you know it Jungkook is bringing you into his lap. You giggle as he tucks you into his chest and nuzzles his face in your neck.
There’s a brief moment where it feels as though it’s just you and him, and it’s more needed than you even realized. Jungkook’s recognizably warm presence calming you down after the hectic atmosphere of the room took you for a loop.
Everyone moseys around to take a seat as the adrenaline from the news simmers. The eleven of you actually do some catching up rather than just singing and drinking, and eventually smaller faction conversations happen all around the table.
You stay on Jungkook’s lap the rest of the night with his hand resting on the outside of your thigh to keep you against him.
It’s abnormal behavior for you two, usually keeping a rather firm boundary of friendship, the time you conceived a child together aside, but you don’t question it. Maybe it’s the child in your womb wanting to be close to their father or perhaps the uptick in hormones skewing your regular emotional landscape. Either way, Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind your weight on him and neither do you.
By the time the clock strikes two in the morning, and you’ve all gone a couple more rounds on the karaoke machine, your head is resting on Jungkook’s shoulder as you flicker in and out of consciousness. He soothingly rubs your spine with his hand, making sure to add more pressure to your lower back where it’s been hurting ever since becoming pregnant. Curling into him more in response, you push your face into his neck and hum contently at the familiar scent and warmth.
“You tired, Bams?” He whispers to you, moving some hair away from your face. You answer with a single nod, your eyes already closing again from the heaviness of sleep. “Okay, let’s go.”
Jungkook helps you stand, and you hug all your friends goodbye one by one. Everyone congratulates you both again while also threatening to show up to your homes uninvited unless you update them on your progress between hangouts.
Jimin changes your group chat name that very night to: Baby Jeon Official Updates Channel 💦🤭👶🏻💕
You and Jungkook leave hand-in-hand, mostly because he has to keep you upright from how tired you are. He drives back to his place since it’s closer and he doesn’t like the idea of leaving you alone when you’re this sleepy. God forbid you accidentally fall asleep on Usagi and crush her all night long. The car ride is brief, but it’s smooth enough that you fall asleep in the passenger seat almost instantly.
Jungkook carries you inside instead of waking you up, knowing you need more rest nowadays than usual. Although, if he’s being honest, pregnant with his child or not, he’d still carry you and tuck you into bed.
When you wake up in Jungkook’s spare bedroom/home office the next morning, you’re thoroughly confused, but as your sleepiness begins to wane you remember the end of the night and the events which led you here. The smell of pancakes encourages you to walk down the stairs to Jungkook’s kitchen. You’re still wrapped in his comforter when you enter and Jungkook laughs as you approach him like the Queen of bedtime.
“Morning, Bambi,” he greets you as he flips the final pancake onto the plate and turns off the griddle.
“Good morning,” you say with a tired smile.
Just then, the sound of trampling paws comes barreling towards you. Smiling broadly as you turn towards the sound, you bend down to greet the adorable Doberman who’s wagging his tail in excitement at seeing you.
“Bammie!” You cheer as you pet behind his ears. “Oh, I’ve missed you, my good boy.”
He runs around your legs a couple times before scurrying across the hardwood to bring you a bone to throw. You happily oblige him and watch in amusement as he runs away to fetch it before plopping on the couch to gnaw on the toy.
“Come eat, Bams,” Jungkook tells you as he sets two plates on his dining table.
Following his orders, you leave the comforter over the back of the couch and sit across from him to eat the eggs, pancakes, and bacon he made for you both. You eat in comfortable silence for a while until you’re both nearly done.
“Koo, I’m sorry about last night. Chaewon guessed it and then her big mouth spilled the beans. I know it wasn’t the way we wanted it to happen, but at least it’s over with, right?”
“It’s alright,” Jungkook responds before gulping down his orange juice. “I’m glad we finally did it and now everyone knows. Plus, it got me thinking about some stuff I hadn’t really thought about yet.”
“Like what?”
“Well, about what Namjoon hyung said,” he explains. “I mean, he makes a really good point. I want our kid to have a normal family life even if we’re just best friends and not romantic partners.”
“What do you think we should do?”
“I think you should move in with me.”
You choke on your orange juice.
Truthfully, there isn’t anything shocking about his statement, you just weren’t expecting it at that moment. Jungkook has a three bedroom, two and a half bath house which he owns, while you rent a one bedroom apartment. He’s been begging you ever since he bought the property to move into his spare bedroom. The two of you spend almost all your time together anyway and he doesn’t see the point in you wasting money on rent when his house is completely paid off.
The reason you haven’t accepted his offer before is because you never want to take advantage of his wealth or be a burden on him. Being best friends is one thing, being roommates is another.
Now, though, you have a biological right to be a burden on him because he stuck a baby in you.
“Are you sure?” You ask him.
“Of course I am,” he replies in a heartbeat. “I thought about it all last night and it only makes sense. I have two extra bedrooms, one for you and one for the baby.”
“But what about your home office and your gym?”
“I can move my gym equipment to the garage and my desk can easily fit in my bedroom.” You sigh and push your fork around your plate as you contemplate his proposal. “Bams, you’re gonna be the mother of my child, will you just let me take care of you for once?”
As soon as you look into his starry eyes, you know there’s no chance you’ll say no. Jungkook obviously wants to do this because he loves you and wants to make sure you and the baby have everything you need, so who are you to say no?
“Okay,” you agree. “When should I move in?”
THREE
The cardboard box in your hands is slowly slipping from your grasp as you ascend the stairs, but you’re determined to make it to the top before readjusting. You have to reach the landing before Jungkook catches you. If he sees you disobeying his instruction of sitting still, he’ll definitely blow a gasket.
You don’t know what it is with men and thinking pregnant women can’t do anything themselves. It’s still only the first trimester, and sure, your bump has grown some more, but you aren’t completely useless.
Honestly, if you weren’t so stubborn, you would’ve taken his offer of moving all the boxes into the house by himself, but your competitive nature has you lugging a box of cat toys up the stairs instead.
“Bambi! What did I fucking say?”
Dropping the box by your feet only three steps from the top, you blow your hair away from your face and place your hands on your hips.
“Fuck you, Jungkook. I do what I want.”
“You wanna look me in the eyes when you say that?”
“… No.”
“That’s what I thought.” The sound of his combat boots coming up the stairs is all you hear as he moves to steal the box from your feet. Once it’s secure in his arms, he looks at you like a teacher scolding their student and gestures to the couch with his head. “Go sit down.”
“I’m not incapable, you know?” You say with your arms crossed.
“I know that, Bams,” Jungkook states. “It’s not about that. I lift more than this in a single workout at the gym. Why should you have to do it when I’m perfectly capable?”
He’s right. You know that, he knows that, so you leave him alone on the steps to sit down on the couch with a huff.
Bam quickly joins you and lays his head in your lap as he watches his dad move back and forth through the house with curious eyes. Scratching behind his ear, you laugh at the way his tail repeatedly whacks the couch as it wags.
Usagi is still in her carrier in your new bedroom since you want to make sure everything is moved in before introducing her and Bam. You and Jungkook both agree that if they get in a fight, it’s her little munchkin ass who will be the main aggressor, especially since Bam is scared of his own shadow.
Once Jungkook’s done moving the last of the boxes, he flops aggressively into the armchair next to the couch. He pats his thigh and Bam instantly leaves your side to jump into his lap instead. Jungkook leans down to kiss his precious pup before letting his head fall back as he tries to catch his breath.
“Perfectly capable, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“You’re getting old, Koo. Soon you’re gonna be a dad and you’ll have a beer gut —”
“Nuh uh, never gonna happen. I’ll have my abs until the day I die,” he corrects you.
“Please, no you will not. You think you’re gonna be hitting the gym at 80?” You ask as you lean forward in your seat.
“Yes. My love comes from my abs, I can’t lose them,” he states.
The couch cushion indents where your head falls against it as you laugh heartily.
“What? Your love comes from your abs? What the hell does that even mean?”
“Everyone I meet loves my abs, so now they’re just like, full of love, and that’s where it comes from,” he explains unironically.
“Everyone? I don’t think that’s true,” you say with a smirk.
“No?” Jungkook gently guides Bam away and struts over to you. “You’re gonna look at me and tell me you don’t love my abs? That if I took my shirt off right now you wouldn’t go all googly-eyed?”
“Fuck, no,” you scoff.
Jungkook clicks his tongue and then lifts his shirt to engulf you under the fabric. You screech and shove at his waist, kicking your legs haphazardly like you’re being suffocated.
“Let me out of here!” You scream, but it’s severely muffled by the fabric.
“I’m sorry, what did you say? I can’t hear you,” Jungkook teases. “Ow!”
Jungkook immediately frees you and backs away after he feels your teeth sinking into his side. He rubs over the bite mark with a big pout on his face, as if he didn’t start this little charade.
You mock his expression for a moment before standing to go up the stairs and check on your furry child. Jungkook follows begrudgingly, letting his feet drag along the floor like a petulant child. When you enter your new bedroom, conveniently right beside Jungkook’s, Usagi starts meowing incessantly and scratching at her carrier. You soothe her with some baby speak and check that the door is closed before letting her out. Her little legs immediately bring her to the floor so she can explore the unfamiliar room.
She meows every couple of seconds whenever she encounters something new and you watch as she headbutts everything in sight as a way of marking the furniture with her scent. Ironically, this is all the same furniture from your old bedroom just in a different space and formation.
Hands wrap around your waist from behind and you sigh at the feeling of Jungkook’s firm chest meeting your back. Obviously, he’s forgiven you for your little retaliatory love bite.
“I’m really glad you’re here, Bams,” he tells you from where his head rests on your shoulder.
Your hand reaches behind you to sneak into his hair and scratch at his scalp affectionately. He hums and rests his cheek against your shoulder. You’d argue he picked up the mannerisms from his dog, but he’s always been touchy like this.
“I’m happy to be here,” you reply. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Those words no longer apply the following day when you’re hunched over Jungkook’s toilet and spilling your guts into the bowl.
It’s a great unknown why morning sickness is called that when it happens at all hours of the freaking day. You naively believed you snuck past its clutches since you’re already on the brink of your second trimester, but apparently the wonderful symptom was just waiting until you had Jungkook’s big fancy bathroom to throw up in.
Groaning in agony, you plop back onto the tile and rest your head on the cabinet. Your throat is burning from all the regurgitation, there are popped blood vessels all over your cheeks and forehead, making you look like you have freckles, and salty tears from the effort of repeatedly emptying your stomach are drying on your skin.
You caress your baby bump with a glare, making a mental note to scold them at least once when they’re older for putting you through this.
The sound of the front door opening makes your ears twitch. Bam’s heavy footsteps can be heard barreling towards the door and then Jungkook’s voice joins in as he greets his beloved pet.
“Bambi?”
“In here,” you say through your sore vocal chords. Jungkook’s face appears in the doorway and you whimper as tears fill your eyes again. “I fucking hate you for doing this to me.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen at your current state and he instantly sinks to his knees to pull you into his arms. He holds your head against his chest as you cry from the pain and fatigue of running back and forth to the bathroom all day. Jungkook’s been out running errands all day so you’ve been all alone until now.
“I’m sorry, Bams,” he whispers into your hair. “Wish it was me instead.”
There’s no opportunity for you to reply because the familiar feeling of bile climbing up your throat forces you out of his embrace and back over the toilet. Jungkook grabs your hair, making sure to collect the shorter pieces that cradle your face, and holds it in a makeshift ponytail as he rubs your back.
Once you’re done, and after the sound of the toilet flushing disperses, you hear soft cries coming from behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you see Jungkook wiping his eyes with his shirtsleeve.
“Koo,” you call out to him.
He hiccups and attempts a brave face, smiling at you even as tears slip from his waterline.
“Sorry, you know I hate seeing you in pain,” he explains.
You frown and turn around to grab his cheeks, brushing the remaining tears away from them. It’s true you’re already well aware of his empathetic nature and have been for as long as you’ve known him.
“I know,” you say with a smile as you push his hair away from his face. “Remember that time I got bullied in middle school and was crying on the playground, and then you started crying because I was?” Jungkook laughs, his eyes closing as he remembers the moment. “I’ll never forget what you said.” You clear your throat so you can give an accurate representation of his voice. “I never suffer myself, Bambi, I only suffer when I see you suffering.”
Jungkook smiles big and laughs again at your adorable imitation of his deep timbre.
“You know, if we have a boy, I’m gonna have to tussle with him over this,” he says. “No one hurts my Bams, not even my own kid.”
Your responding chuckle is strained due to how sore your body is. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bring Jungkook closer for a tight hug, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt. His palm slowly moves up and down your spine in a steady cadence to soothe you until the next wave of nausea comes.
The remainder of the day is spent in the bathroom together, which is luckily spacious enough for not only you two, but Usagi and Bam who both come to join you at one point.
The nausea comes in waves, sometimes occurring multiple times back to back or alternatively with a large lapse of time between them. It holds you hostage in the bathroom for a few days, and you have to take PTO when the work week begins, but eventually the symptoms simmer to about once every couple days after your doctor prescribes medication.
Another lovely symptom you’re experiencing as of late is intense cravings for extremely specific food groups, which is why you’re currently in a screaming match with Jungkook over pickles.
“I’m not buying you pickles, Bambi,” Jungkook sternly states.
“Jungkook, you’re not the one growing a baby inside of you. If I say I want pickles, I should be getting pickles!” You shout, your feet stomping on the ground reactively.
“You fucking hate pickles!” Jungkook matches your tone.
“Yes, but pregnancy cravings don’t care about what I like or don’t like, and they’re saying they want pickles!”
“You’re not going to eat them, Bams, I know you!”
“Yes, I will!”
“You really want me to leave the house at three in the morning for a vegetable that you despise?” Jungkook scoffs in outrage. “You won’t even eat a sandwich if a pickle was on the plate because you claim you can still taste it!”
“That doesn’t matter, Koo!”
Jungkook groans and runs his hands down his face before pushing his hair back.
“I swear to God, Bambi, if I get back here, and you don’t eat that entire fucking jar, I will kick you out of this goddamn house!”
“No, you won’t, you love me too much,” you brag and stick your tongue out at him.
“Yeah, unfortunately, I do,” Jungkook admits angrily. He grumbles to himself the entire time he’s putting on his slides and slipping on his jacket to drive to the nearest 24 hour convenience store. His hand is on the doorknob when he turns back to say one final comment. “You know what the worst part about this is? Most guys in my position are at least getting some pussy for putting up with this shit, but not me! No reward! I’m doing this out of pure, unconditional love for you!”
You gawk at his remark, not recognizing the words coming out of his mouth. Jungkook has never in his life asked for anything in return, let alone imply you owe him a sexual favor.
The door slams shut before you can respond, and a cry breaks from your chest as your head falls forward. Bam hears the noise and comes to comfort you, nudging his head up against your leg like the good boy he is, but barely a minute later, his head jerks when he’s distracted by the sound of the door opening. You don’t even get the chance to look up completely before you’re forced into someone’s arms who smells a lot like Jungkook.
“Bams, I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Jungkook tells you.
His apology only makes you cry more, shoving your face into his shirt and soaking it with tears.
“That was so fucked up, Koo,” you sniffle.
“I know, I’m so sorry,” he replies. “I didn’t mean it, okay? You don’t owe me anything, Bams, especially not that.” He pulls away from you and lifts your face by your chin. “Please don’t think that I, even for a second, ever expect you to repay me for taking care of you. I do it because I love you and that’s the only reward I need.”
Wiping your tears with your shirtsleeve, you slap his chest a couple times for good measure. He chuckles because of how lightly you smack him.
“You’re forgiven,” you grumble. “Now, can you please go get me these fuckass pickles?”
Jungkook smiles and nods his head, his hand on your chin moving to caress your hair for a moment.
“I’ll buy you pickles everyday for the rest of your life if that’s what you want, Bambi,” he states.
“It isn’t. I fucking hate pickles,” you say with a smile.
Jungkook rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your hair before waving goodbye and heading to the store. When he returns twenty minutes later, he’s carrying a couple bags of miscellaneous groceries as well as a jar of pickles.
You wait patiently for him to place the bags in the kitchen before he hands the open jar to you. The smell alone eases the craving that’s been eating away at your stomach for hours now. Grabbing one of the skewers, you pull it out of the juice and take a small bite off the end.
Instantly, your brain screams at you in disgust, and you open your mouth again to spit the piece into your hand. Realizing you now have to face Jungkook so he can say I told you so, your eyes screw shut and you turn towards him. Except, when you open your eyes, he isn’t beside you anymore, he’s walking back from the kitchen with your favorite flavor of chips in hand.
“Got these just in case,” he tells you as he swaps out the jar in your hand for the bag.
You grimace, guilt pooling in your stomach when you realize his trip out into the night was for naught.
“Koo…”
“It’s alright, Bambi. The fact that I was right makes this all worth it,” he says with a sly grin.
The chips taste like salty pieces of heaven and you eat the entire bag that night. You keep the jar of pickles for occasional sniffing because, for whatever reason, your brain loves the smell even though it hates the taste. This pregnancy is already messing with your brain chemistry more than you care to admit and it’s only the beginning.
As the weeks go on, your pregnancy continues to mess with you in the form of a different, but equally as strong, craving.
It initially hits you while you’re putting together Usagi’s new cat tower in the living room. Thankfully, she and Bam get along just fine. In fact, she’s currently lying on him while they nap together on the other side of the room.
The instructions for this contraption are annoyingly hard to understand and you’re holding the instructional pamphlet up in the air as you attempt to make out what size screw you need in the stupidly small font it’s written in.
The sound of the door opening catches your attention. As you lower the paper to see the familiar figure entering the room, your mouth suddenly dries up.
Jungkook’s coming back from his home gym which is now in the garage and the tips of his hair are drenched in sweat. His chest is rising and falling in deep pants from the intensity of his workout and the black shirt he’s wearing sticks to his chest, perfectly outlining his pecs. Then, much to your agony, he takes the bottom of his shirt and wipes it across his forehead, giving you a perfect view of his abs.
The feeling that shoots straight into your core is absolutely foreign. Sure, you know Jungkook is hot, that’s a fact of the universe no one is trying to deny. But you’ve seen him shirtless before, hell, you’ve seen him entirely naked. The bump protruding from your womb tells you that much, and yet you’ve never felt turned on by him doing something so mundane.
It makes you question why your body, and more particularly your pussy, is suddenly insatiable and the sight of him is making drool drip from your mouth where it’s fallen open in awe of his physique.
Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice your change in demeanor as he waves hello before heading upstairs to shower. Once he’s gone, your body releases its tension and you sigh in relief. Although, the feeling doesn’t entirely go away, and you end up spending the rest of the evening uncomfortably horny.
That very night you take matters into your own hands, literally. You haven’t masturbated since getting pregnant, not for any particular reason other than just not feeling the urge, but now the urge has you in a chokehold and you need to fix it.
Closing your eyes and slinking comfortably into your sheets, you pull your shorts and panties off in one go before trailing your hand down to your core. You’re still wet from earlier, no doubt because you saw Jungkook in all his post workout glory. The image of him wiping the sweat from his brow with his shirt is still on your mind when your fingers dip between your folds.
A quiet moan escapes as you move your leaking essence around with your fingertips. It’s been more than three months since you’ve felt any sort of sexual pleasure, the night you spent with Jungkook being the last time.
Your eyes roll as you play with yourself by switching between pushing your fingers into your cunt and circling your clit. The squelching sound helps to turn you on, but the entire time all you can think is that it isn’t enough. It barely scratches the surface of your sexual need and is a sorry excuse for pleasure after what you Jungkook made you feel.
Huffing in frustration, you shut your eyes again and try to forget about the world around you, but it’s only when you think back to earlier today that your pleasure spikes and you moan again.
Realizing what the trick is, you begrudgingly let your imagination, or more so your memory, run rampant. You think back to that night and the way Jungkook’s lips felt against yours, and the way his cock penetrated you so deep you were seeing stars. The memory of his deep voice in your ear makes you moan exuberantly. Your hand falls into a quick rhythm as all the memories come flooding back. Everything about that night sends you closer to the edge of ecstasy. His weight above you, the heat of his skin, his taste, his moans and grunts, the way he fills you up. All of it forces you to bite down on your fist and cry when your orgasm overwhelms you.
The aftershocks of your pleasure have you panting as you come down from the high. You feel immense relief now that your desire is satiated after a long day of feeling your thighs twitch. Pulling your hand away, you stand to wash your hands so you can finally get some rest.
Hopefully, this symptom will eventually disappear like the others and you won’t be riddled with sexual cravings through the entirety of your pregnancy.
The next morning you’re pouring yourself a cup of tea to drink before heading to work. Jungkook comes skipping down the stairs in his business casual attire, his sleeves partially rolled up to reveal his tattoos. You wave to him and push the cup of coffee you poured for him across the counter.
“Thanks, Bams,” he says with a squeeze to your arm.
This is the normal, everyday occurrence for you now, and it’s nice having a routine that works for you both. You didn’t realize how easy living together would be and you’re glad it’s finally happening. Besides the times your pregnancy has turned into a sick, desperate, crazy person, it’s been business as usual for you two even with the adjustment of being roommates.
“You gonna be home for dinner?” You ask him as he takes a sip of the drink. His brow creases and he looks adorably angry, letting you know you made it just right.
“Yeah, the deadline for the newest patch was last week so I shouldn’t be staying late,” he answers.
“I’m making your favorite, your mom sent me the recipe last week,” you tell him.
“No shit,” he says, eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs. You nod in confirmation and he enthusiastically claps his hands. There’s a brief lull in the conversation, but then Jungkook seemingly remembers something and grabs your attention. “Actually, there's something I was gonna talk to you about.”
“What’s up?” Leaning over the counter, you take a sip and wait for him to speak.
“Well, I may or may not have heard you last night and —”
The sound of you choking and spitting out your tea interrupts him.
“Excuse me?”
“I heard you, ya know, having a little fun all by your lonesome last night.” You stare at him incredulously across the island. “Surprise, surprise, the wall between our rooms isn’t that thick.”
“Koo, why are you bringing this up?” You ask. “I mean, thanks for letting me know, I guess?”
“No, no,” he chuckles. “I’m not saying it to embarrass you or anything, Bambi.” He mirrors your stance so your faces are only a few inches apart. “I was just going to offer my services in case you need something more than your own hand.”
“Huh?”
“It’s just, I mean, I’m only a room away, and I know your hormones are probably going awol and making you needy and shit. So, if you ever want to, the option is there.”
“Koo, that’s very sweet of you, but I’m not gonna use you like that.”
“Oh, yeah, because having sex with you is such a chore. Worst night of my fucking life!” You laugh and slap his arm playfully. He stands to his full height with a wink. “Just think about it, alright?”
You do think about it. Unfortunately, it’s all you can think about. It already freaked you out enough when you couldn’t get yourself off without thinking of him, and now your body is mentally somersaulting in celebration because of his offer.
It’s definitely not romantic feelings swirling inside you, because just as you told your friends, you don’t feel butterflies with Jungkook, but it’d be both impractical and impossible to deny you have sexual feelings for him. Whether it’s from pregnancy hormones or something else entirely, you clearly want him something awful. Greed they talked about in the bible type shit.
The only thing you don’t want is for him to fuck you because he’s trying to help you out. If you’re going to hook up again, you want him to want you in the same way.
Despite the mental turmoil it initially puts you through, time goes on without either of you bringing up his little offer. Your body still messes with you by making you horny at all hours of the day, but you usually just satisfy yourself before bed and all is good.
Tonight is different. No matter how hard you try you can’t bring yourself to come. Your fingers are pruny from how long you’ve been playing with yourself, but nothing is working. It’s nearly two in the morning, and although it’s a weekend, you still want some sleep.
Grunting and kicking your blankets away, you cross your arms over your chest and pout in the darkness of your room. The quiet atmosphere of the house is helpful for lulling you to sleep, but your thighs are twitching with need and you know you’ll be restless if you don’t fix it before going to bed. You sigh and sit on the edge of your bed, chewing your lip as you debate if you’re really about to do what you’re thinking of doing. Before you can overthink it any further, you stand up and throw your door open.
Usagi makes a noise of confusion from her bed in the corner of your room, so you whisper to her you’ll be right back and shut the door.
It takes you a minimum of five minutes to gather the courage to knock on Jungkook’s door. He was working late tonight on a new project and went to bed early to catch up on his sleep. Guilt pools in your stomach at the thought of waking him up for such a selfish reason, but you know he’ll scold you if he finds out you needed him without telling him as such.
The sound of your hand against the wood feels extra loud in the stark silence of the house, and it only takes a couple seconds for Jungkook to softly call for you from inside the room.
You twist the door knob and peek your head inside. Jungkook only has one eye open, and he’s fluffing his messy hair in confusion when you enter his room.
“Bambi? Is everything okay?” He asks sleepily.
“Mmhmm,” you say as you chew on your lip. “I, um…”
The embarrassment stirring within you is almost enough to bring your morning sickness back with a vengeance.
“What’s wrong?”
“I… need you,” you whisper.
Jungkook sits up, his other eye finally opening, although they’re still half-lidded with sleep.
“Need me how, Bams? Are you alright?”
“Like… sexually,” you finally answer.
His eyes open a little wider at your response, but soon enough his expression softens and he smiles.
“C’mere,” he whispers, his hand gesturing for you to join him.
You tentatively place one foot in front of the other until you reach the edge of his mattress and climb in. He holds his hand out for you and once you’re close enough, he grabs your waist to help you straddle his thighs.
As soon as you feel him beneath you with his chest pressing against your own, the tension in your body disintegrates and your forehead falls to his shoulder. Jungkook reacts instinctively, one hand scratching your scalp and the other rubbing your back while you whimper because of the comforting sensations.
“Tell me what you need, babygirl.”
“I don’t know. Nothing’s working and I… I just need relief,” you explain.
“Okay, do you want my hands or my mouth?”
You shake your head.
“You, Koo. Want you.”
Jungkook hums and combs his fingers through your hair, the hand on your back rising to cradle your face instead.
“You’ve got me, Bambi. I’ll give you anything you want.” You feel him mouthing at your jaw and breathe a sigh of relief. “Every part of me,” he whispers ardently.
After a prolonged moment of gentle neck kisses, Jungkook takes your hips in his hands to lift you and pull your bottoms down before moving his own pants out of the way. You hear the sound of him pumping his cock to get himself hard, but you’re too busy returning his earlier favor by caressing his neck with your lips to witness the motion yourself.
The firm touch of his hand on your lower back guides you into the right position atop his lap. You sink down slowly, with Jungkook holding you steady as he fills you inch by delicious inch. The wetness from your previous attempts at self pleasure allows him to slide into you with ease.
You unabashedly moan over the feeling of having his thick cock inside you again. It’s warm and throbbing within your walls and you find yourself appreciatively kissing the bare skin of his shoulder. He feels like pure heaven and it’s worrisome how desperately you wish you could stay like this forever.
“Koo, you feel so good,” you moan into his ear.
While you begin kissing his neck again, Jungkook starts bouncing you up and down on his cock via his hold on your hips. The euphoric feeling created by the action must be mutual, because a pair of vibrant moans and the clapping of your skin is the only sound in the room. His noises are deeper than normal since he’s still fresh from slumber and the low tone makes your head spin.
When you eventually take over and pick up the tempo, one of his hands leaves your hip to thread into your hair.
“Missed this, Bams,” he tells you sincerely. “You feel fucking perfect around me.”
Jungkook brings your face closer so he can kiss you. He’s gentle with his affection, his lips moving at a snail’s pace to savor the feeling of kissing you once again. He traces your bottom lip with his tongue and you whine when he pushes it past the border of your lips and into your open mouth.
As you continue to shamelessly make out, your arms capture his neck to pull him in until your chests meet.
“So tight… feels fucking amazing.”
“Mm, it’s just for you. Pussy’s all yours, Koo.”
Jungkook aggressively groans and kisses you with a new wave of passion. His fingers reactively dig into your scalp while you whine and your thighs work overtime to fuck his cock into you again and again. The dual sensation of his kiss and his dick splitting you apart rattles your brain until all you can focus on are your movements.
When he notices your pace stuttering from your impending climax, he steals control again, wrapping both arms around your waist to steady you while he thrusts into you from below. You gasp and bite into the skin of his shoulder as he fucks you with everything he has.
It’s no surprise your orgasm approaches faster than usual, since you were already worked up from your previous ministrations. You welcome the familiar feeling of your abdomen and thighs tightening as Jungkook continues pistoning into you, kissing him again when you feel yourself tipping over the precipice. Running your fingers through his hair and tugging on the black strands, you pull a grunt from his lips that only serves to further your pursuit.
“M’close,” you breathe into his mouth.
“Come for me, Bams,” he replies without missing a beat.
The tip of his cock only meets your g-spot a couple more times before you come with a throaty moan, your head tipping back as Jungkook continues to fuck you through your high. His hips slow to a stop as your body relaxes and breathing levels out, so you question him with a glance.
“What are you doing?”
“You came, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but you didn’t.”
“I’m not the one with pregnancy hormones,” he chuckles.
Your hands move from his hair to caress his jaw.
“It doesn’t matter,” you tell him. “This is a two way street, Koo. You’re not a sex toy, I didn’t come in here just for me.”
Jungkook smiles sweet as pie and kisses the tip of your nose.
“I know, Bambi,” he says. “But honestly, I think we should both get some sleep. Why don’t you stay in here with me and we can pick this up again in the morning?”
You frown, but begrudgingly agree when you notice how tired Jungkook looks.
After pulling out, Jungkook readjusts your bottoms back to your hips before tucking himself into his pants. He cuddles into his sheets with one arm resting against the pillow next to him. Gesturing with his head towards his outstretched limb, you happily take the hint and lay your head on his tatted bicep.
Cuddling with Jungkook is foreign, but the man himself is so familiar that it’s not awkward despite it being the first time. Jungkook wraps his other arm around your waist to bring you into his chest, and it’s shocking just how wonderful it feels to be entirely encapsulated by him. You hum appreciatively as comfort seeps into your very bones and makes a home in your nervous system. Without thinking, you start tracing over his collarbones with your fingertips and he kisses your cheek and temple.
You both fall asleep with ease, your quiet breaths tangling together in the limited space between your faces.
When you wake up, Jungkook is behind you, but his arm is still draped across your waist and your head remains comfortably on his bicep. You smile without realizing and cuddle deeper into his embrace, lacing your fingers with the ones resting on your stomach.
Your view upon looking down is just your intertwined hands above your small baby bump and your smile grows exponentially, your heart squeezing in your chest at the sight of all three of you together this way.
The sentimental moment is brief, because soon enough you recognize the feeling of Jungkook’s dick pressing against your ass and desire begins banging on your door and demanding you let it in. As any good human in your position should, you nonchalantly wiggle your ass and snicker to yourself when you feel his cock stiffening. The sound of Jungkook languidly groaning behind you lights a fire inside your stomach that blazes down to your thighs.
His hand squeezes yours and you feel him nuzzling his face into your neck.
“Morning,” he murmurs in your ear.
“Morning wood, more like it,” you reply.
Jungkook chuckles warmly in your ear and it spreads goosebumps across your skin like wildfire. He releases your hand to grab your hip instead, pulling you into him so you can feel exactly how hard he is. Your exhale becomes a moan when he ruts against your ass and his hand leaves your hip to reach your folds.
The second his fingers slip beneath your panties and touch your warm cunt, your mind goes to static.
“Shit, Bams, you’re fucking soaked,” he notes.
“I’ve been wet for the past two weeks straight,” you admit.
“You should’ve told me,” Jungkook says as he licks and nibbles on your earlobe. “Would’ve taken care of you.”
You whine when he starts sucking on your neck just as two of his fingers sink into your cunt.
“Yeah,” you moan. “I’m understanding how grave a mistake that was now.”
He laughs again before returning to his previous endeavor of kissing and licking your throat. His fingers move in and out of you lackadaisically, slowly stretching your hole open as he curls the digits against your front wall to reach that perfect spongy spot. You find yourself gripping his forearm to keep yourself steady as the pleasure threatens to pull you under its waves.
Once Jungkook deems you wet enough, he removes his fingers from your pussy and brings them to your mouth for you to lick clean. As you work your tongue around and between his two middle fingers you hear the rustling of pants behind you. Even though the last time was mere hours ago, your heart is already racing at the thought of him stuffing you full again.
Jungkook runs his dick through your folds and presses the tip against your leaking hole, making your essence coat his head with a pretty sheen. You moan reactively, your head meeting his shoulder while his cock stretches your velvet walls.
The fingers previously between your lips dig into the flesh of your waist as he starts rocking into you from behind. He’s doing all the work, simultaneously pulling your hips back while he thrusts into your cunt mercilessly. You’re thankful for his diligence, because your mind is going haywire from the feeling of him throbbing inside you and the veins of his cock rubbing along your walls. It’d be impossible for you to assist him with anything in this state.
He’s still worshipping your neck with his mouth while fucking you like an animal and the contradicting feeling forces your eyes into your skull.
“You’re so fucking tight, Bams. So wet… you’re making me fucking crazy.” His warm breath on your neck makes you keen.
“More, Koo, I need more of you,” you reply.
Jungkook hears you loud and clear. He holds your waist with both arms to keep you snug against him so he can thrust into you with more force, his pace speeding up in conjecture with the extra effort.
“Oh, fuck,” you gasp. “Jungkook.”
“Yeah? This what you wanted?”
“Fuck, yes, you’re so fucking big, Koo,” you whine.
He relentlessly fucks into your cunt, rolling his hips against your ass and sending his cock straight to your g-spot. Your nails make crescent moons on his arm where you’re still holding on for dear life. The other hand stretches before you to clutch the sheets like a vice for fear you’ll lose your mind if you don’t have something in your grasp.
The melody of your moans and his grunts are downright pornographic and serves as filthy music to your ears. There’s nothing you want more than for him to continue fucking you, and if you could keep him buried in your cunt for all eternity, you would gladly do so.
“You close?” He asks as he bites your ear.
“Yes.”
“Good, gonna make a mess of you, Bambi.”
The erotic combination of words, tickling breaths, his firm chest behind you, and the massive cock spreading your pussy apart have you going institutionally insane. Somehow, he manages to gain more speed as your orgasms near and the imminent release makes you scream. It’s barely a second later that you’re coming with a pathetic cry of his name. He follows immediately, his cum marking your walls as his own while he repeatedly fucks his seed into you.
His hips never cease their movement even once your highs wane, he just continues rolling into your cunt while his cock softens inside of you. You whimper from the oversensitivity, but even the uncomfortable pressure doesn’t make you stop him. The feeling of having him within you is too addicting to let it end just yet.
Eventually, he stops lazily fucking you, but even then he still doesn’t pull out. You hold the position until sleep brings you both back into its embrace, Jungkook’s arms securely around you while the dripping mixture of your essences pools on the bed below.
im actually cheesing at this. (line by line below da cut)
They can rip your dorky, caring, smart-ass best friend from your cold, dead hands. Everyone else can become zombies for all you care, everyone but him.
Oh so they are already in love this is perfect .
Bambi, or Bams for short, is the only name Jungkook calls you. Sometimes, you jokingly accuse him of forgetting your real name altogether, which then spurs him on to attempt “guessing” what it is. Ironically, neither of you nor your parents can recall the origin of the nickname. Like some strange Mandela effect, one day he started calling you by the Disney character’s name and never stopped.
Why do i have a feeling that this name’s origins will be revealed later and it’ll be so cute
You both actually focus on the screen for the first time and Jungkook tilts his head while tonguing his cheek as the male character descends down the female character’s body and kisses her skin as he goes.
In my head he always does this when he’s turned on or pissed off (HOT)
“No, no,” Jungkook chuckles. “Like us.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, have you thought about us having sex?”
Help why was he so casual abt it my heartttt
“Listen, we’ve done everything together. Skydiving, parasailing, swimming with dolphins, stealing from the grocery store, sneaking into the movies, you name it. Doesn’t it make sense that we should do everything before we aren’t able to anymore?”
Swimming with dolphins is frying me
I mean, I’m hot, you’re hot, I’ve got a big dick, I’m sure your pussy is tight, what else could you want?
IM DEAD
“I said yes because you said you have a big dick and now I need to find out if that’s true,” you whisper into his ear.
OMG DAMN
Not only is his dick long, but it’s so thick your fingertips don’t touch when you grasp him.
WHAT ARE YOU SURE THIS THING CAN GO INSIDE ME IS THIS EVEN ETHICAL
“Pussy fucking numbers,” he snaps. “We’re aiming for double digits here.”
AM I GOING TO BE OKAY?!
Your clothed cunt grinds over his dick as you mark him with a matching bruise to your own, the friction created by your panties making you groan.
I am a big fan of how much dry humping there is
“I’m on birth control.”
Oh?
Neither of you bring up the events which took place last night because you don’t need to, there’s no unspoken tension or uncomfortable vibes floating around. Jungkook was right when he said nothing can come between you, and as fun as it was, now everything just goes back to normal.
Omg im obsessed with their dynamic JFSKJFJDSF
Unfortunately, happiness is the lowest emotion on the totem pole, and your negative emotions are much closer to the surface.
My shalya </3
“He’s gonna hate me. He’s gonna lose his shit and never wanna see me again and I’m gonna —” A sob slices through your windpipe and causes your voice to break. “I’m gonna lose him.”
OMG NO U WONTTTT MY SHAYLAAAA
“That’s not your fault,” Jungkook interrupts. “I’m the one who creampied you, Bambi.”
“Yeah, but I told you to.”
“Oh, I assure you, I would’ve asked if you hadn’t.”
Oh my god they’re so stupid and cute i can’t
“So, you’re not together?” His mom wonders. You both shake your heads, hating the look of disappointment that crosses their features. “Are you gonna try?”
“Maybe… maybe one day, Mom,” Jungkook answers. “But right now we just wanna focus on being the best parents we can be.”
Parents with benefits :)
“Are you… happy about that?” Tzuyu tentatively asks.
The massive grin forming on your face reveals your answer before you can give it, and you start nodding overdramatically while you giggle.
Omg its actually so cute that they wanted to make sure she was happy about it first before reacting i love girlhood so muchie
The whimsicality of girlhood never fails to paint a smile on your face.
THIS!
ou, glaring at her with your head tilted. Don’t.
Her, sitting back a little with her eyebrows raised. Bitch?
You, nodding minutely a couple times. Yup.
Her, eyes wide with a hand on her chest. You’re pregnant?
You, nodding while staring her down. Can you fucking believe it?
Her, brow creasing and slowly shaking her head. Who the fuck is the dad?
You, holding up a hand to block the view from the others while pointing at Jungkook who’s sitting across the room. Jungkook.
Her, hand over her mouth, eyes bulging out of her head. You’re fucking joking!
So, that’s how Chaewon finds out, and your final signal to her is your pointer finger pressing against your lips so she knows this is still a massive secret.
HFHSFJJKDSFJ THIS IS SO FUNNY AND REAL I LOVE
“Oh, yeah, because having sex with you is such a chore. Worst night of my fucking life!” You laugh and slap his arm playfully. He stands to his full height with a wink. “Just think about it, alright?”
He’s so bratty and dorky i want to kiss him.
“You’ve got me, Bambi. I’ll give you anything you want.” You feel him mouthing at your jaw and breathe a sigh of relief. “Every part of me,” he whispers ardently.
summary: When you and your boyfriend breakup, Taehyung doesn’t waste a second to try get a date with you. In his bed, of course. But all his sugar-talking doesn’t seem to really work… until one blurry party night where you two end up together in a dirty bathroom.
genre/warning: porn with a lil plot. pure smut. / cursing, dirty talk (a lot), a little degradation, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex, cum eating (dirty as hell), creampie, overstimulation, lowkey yandere wth — i went all in i’m so sorry (im not)
author’s note: probably my nastiest writing ever. so get ur panties ready hoes
word count: +8k words
Taehyung noticed you before even finishing his first drink.
It wasn’t dramatic, no slow motion, no music cutting out, but it still hit him low in the stomach, sharp and inconvenient. You were in the middle of the living room, moving like you belong there, like the crowd bent around you without you trying. Your hair was sticking to your neck from the heat, your smile careless, loose, the kind that said you were not thinking too hard about anything. About him, especially.
Taehyung told himself he was just surprised. He’d heard, obviously. Everyone had. You and your boyfriend were done. A clean break, no details, just enough information to make it real. Still, seeing you there, dancing like nothing had cracked open in your life… it did something ugly to his thoughts. Something eager.
He was watching you for too long. He knew he did, knew it was wrong in about six different ways— same friend group, bad timing, worse intentions. You’ve never given him the time of day. Not really. Polite smiles, quick hellos, conversations that died before they even warmed up— it was never meant to work. He’d flirted before, light, joking, half-serious… and you’d always slid right past it, like you didn’t even notice or care.
Which was almost worse than rejection.
But Taehyung kept finding you anyway. In every room, every corner. His eyes tracked you without permission. You laughed with someone else and he wondered who got to hear that laugh up close now. You swayed to the music and he thought about how your ex must’ve had it easy, must’ve taken things for granted. He hated that thought, hated how personal it felt.
He hated how you wouldn’t look at his way. Hated how he knew that night it would be the same as always, you wouldn’t care about him and his poor attempts of flirting.
That’s why Taehyung hated how all night you didn’t look at him, not even once.
Same old story.
By the time the night blurred at the edges— too loud, too warm, too many bodies pressed together— he was convincing himself of two things: that whatever he was thinking was a terrible idea, and that he was already in too deep to stop thinking about it.
Ten minutes too many he found you again.
When he found you again, you were dancing with a man he didn’t recognize. Tall, broad shoulders, hands moving just a little too close to your ass. The music was loud enough to rattled the windows, bass heavy, filthy, and you moved like you knew exactly what you were doing. Not trying to impress, not trying at all.
That was what made it unbearable for him.
You rolled your shoulders, laugh when the guy leaned in to say something stupid in your ear. Your body followed the beat effortlessly, like it belonged there, like it had been waiting all night to be seen. Taehyung felt something hot and sharp crawl up his spine, watching the man’s hands, watching where they didn’t touch. He wondered if you’d let him do better, wondered if you’d notice the difference.
He knew he could be better, so much better.
Stronger grip, slower movements, he wouldn’t rush it like that idiot was clearly trying to. He wouldn’t crowd you, wouldn’t beg for attention with cheap lines and beer-breath confidence. He’d make you look at him. Make you lose control and make you choose. He would make you want it, crave it, he would build it for you, make you beg for it.
The thought turned dark fast. He imagined your back against the wall instead of the dancefloor. Imagined the way your smile would change if it was meant just for him, smaller, sharper, dangerous. He hated how badly he wanted it. Hated that he had wanted it for a long time, even when you barely spared him a glance.
Especially then.
Taehyung teared his eyes away before getting worse, retreating to the kitchen with the rest of the group, forcing himself into conversation he didn’t want to hear. Forced to get you out of his mind and socialize. He hated it. But he had to.
And some minutes later he thought he’s doing better. Someone gave him a drink, a girl he vaguely recognized. She was cute, loud, she was leaning too close. She laughed at something he didn’t say. She touched his arm. He wasn’t feeling it, and he hated it.
His attention kept snapping back to the living room, to the way you move, the way that man kept trying to keep up with you and failing. Taehyung told himself it shouldn’t matter, he told himself you were freshly broken up, off-limits, bad timing wrapped in a bad idea, bad decision. If you hadn’t chose. him before you were definitely not going to choose now. He had been trying to convinced himself for years about it, after you had been introduced to the group, after you choose to date one of his closest friends, after you choose another man that wasn’t him.
And lately he had been trying, he had been doing better. Trying not to flirt with you, trying to stay away from you, barely seeing you, specially when you were with your boyfriend. The last two months he had decided to just get over it. There was a thousand more girls around he could sleep with, he didn’t need to obsess over someone who didn’t want him and who was dating one of his friends.
But, of course, you had broken up.
And he found you in this party.
And he was losing his mind.
You appeared in the kitchen, like you felt him thinking about you. You slipped into the room with a grin that looked like trouble, eyes bright, hair messy from dancing. You scanned the room once, then lifted your voice just enough to cut through the noise.
“Who wants to take shots with me?”
There was a pause, a collective hesitation.
Taehyung had his answer before he could even think about it. “I do.”
It came out solid, certain.
But it didn’t surprise him. Because he had never doubt for a second of doing anything related to you.
You looked at him then. And something flickered in your expression. Surprise, maybe… or interest. Or maybe you were just drunk enough to make reckless decisions.
“Okay,” you said, like you’ve already decided. “Let’s go.”
The girl at his side opened her mouth, clearly expecting an invitation. She didn’t get one.
Taehyung didn’t even look back as he followed you through the crowd, shoulder to shoulder, close enough that he could smell your perfume and could feel the heat of your body. Warm, sweet, dangerous. The improvised counter— which some friends had paid for the cheap bartender to have any drink they wanted— next to the stairs was sticky and loud and packed, but somehow it felt like the two of you carved out your own space.
You leaned over the counter. “Four shots of tequila.”
“Two,” Taehyung corrected, low and calm.
You glanced at him. “Scared?”
He smirked. “Don’t get crazy. We have all night.”
That earned him a laugh, short and sharp. You liked that kind of exchange, he could tell.
The bartender slid the glasses over. You grabbed yours immediately, clinking it against his.
“To having all night,” you said.
Taehyung held your gaze. “To take our time.”
You took the shot without breaking eye contact. It burned but you didn’t flinch.
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, then glanced at him sideways. “So, how’ve you been?.”
“Good,” he answered. Not really interested in making small talk. “I heard about your breakup.”
“Um,” You hummed, already looking past it. “Everyone did.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?” you replied lightly. “It ended. Now I’m here dancing.”
There was something deliberate in the way you dismissed it, like you refused to give it weight. Taehyung respected, he wanted to push anyway. But he didn’t, not yet. He asked for more tequila.
“Now you’re taking shots.”
You tiltled your head, studying him now. “Who was that girl you were with?”
He blinked. “What girl?”
“The one desperately touching your arm like it might save her life.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “No idea.”
“Liar. And rude for not inviting her to take shots with us.” You shook your head. “She looked mad.”
“Honestly,” he said, voice dropping, “I wasn’t paying attention.” Your eyes lingered on him a second longer than necessary “And the guy you were dancing with?” he asked casually. “Your date? He seemed… eager.”
You smiled, slow and unimpressed. “He was fine.” You didn’t confirm if he was your date which he knew it was on purpose to leave him guessing.
You leaned closer, elbows on the counter, invading his space on purpose now. “Why? You’re going to tell Jungkook?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Should I?”
Your lips twitched. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“If I end up fucking him tonight.”
The air between you tightened. The music faded into background noise. Taehyung didn’t like the way you would do anything to get Jungkook’s attention, your ex boyfriend. He leaned in just enough that only you could hear him.
“Why don’t you find someone who can do a better job?”
“You don’t know—”
“He looked pathetic.”
Your eyes narrowed. Your lips moved to his ear, you were playing something he hadn’t see in you before. “And who could a better job?.”
Taehyung was aware you knew what he would answer. You were daring him, provoking him. And he was never one to back down.
“I know I could.”
Your smile sharpened, in a mean, interested way. “Big words,” you said. “From someone I’ve barely noticed.”
“That is your mistake,” he replied.
You laughed again, but this time it was quieter. A little out of it.
You grabbed the second shots and slid it toward him. “Careful,” you murmured. “I’m drinking too much and you’re starting to look like your best friend who dumped me.”
He picked up the glass, ignoring your mean words. “You asked for shots.”
You clinked glasses again. When you purred down, neither of you looked away.
The shots kept coming.
You ordered them like it was muscle memory, like the night wasn’t already tilting slightly off its axis. Taehyung didn’t stop you. If anything, he encouraged it, slid the glasses closer, nudged your elbow with his, leaned in so his voice landed warm against your ear.
“You’re trouble,” he murmured after two more shots, smiling like it was a compliment.
“You say that like it’s new information,” you replied, already lifting the glass.
The tequila burned less this time. Or maybe you were just numb to it. You laughed when it hit, head tipping back slightly, throat exposed for half a second too long.
Taehyung’s eyes track the movement without shame. And he thought how his hand would look around it, how he would squeeze it enough to make you let out a sweet noise for him. His eyes narrowed, he licked his lips, watching yours lower lip wet with alcohol. He wanted to licked you clean, taste your mouth. He could just leaned in and kiss you, devour you. It could be so simple…
“You always look like this when you drink?” he asked.
“Like what?”
“Like someone I want to ruin.”
You snorted, not really feeling it. “You’re embarrassing.”
“I’m honest,” he corrected.
His hand brushed your lower back, not lingering, not innocent either. Just enough to make a point. You didn’t move away, and that alone felt like permission.
Then you tilted your head, eyes sharp despite the alcohol. “You remember I just broke up with one of your best friends, right?”
There it was.
The line in the sand.
Taehyung didn’t even pretend to think about it. He smiled, slow and unapologetic.
“When has that ever stopped me?”
The words settled between you two, heavy and wrong and charged.
He knew exactly what he was in that moment. A bad friend, a worse idea. The kind of man people warn you about after the fact. He should feel guilt clawing at his chest, loyalty screaming louder than want. Instead, all he felt was hunger. It was stupid how badly he wanted you. Embarrassing, really. Like a craving that had been denied for so long it had turned feral. He wanted you quietly, patiently, from a distance, he had watched you choose someone else, watched his friend fumbled you like he didn’t know what he had.
If he were smarter, he’d have known.
Taehyung knew, he knew the moment Jungkook left you out of his claws for a second any man would try to have his hands on you— including him. And the worst thing was, Taehyung knew something so sad. He knew his best friend was probably in bed now, thinking about you, about getting you back, about how bad he was to screw things with you. Taehyung didn’t need to heart it, didn’t need to know. If he did maybe a tiny drop of guilt could have formed in his stomach. But he preferred to play blind. If his friend never told him he missed you, how he screwed up… then Taehyung couldn’t feel guilty about wanting to have you.
And he knew he could do better. He knew Jungkook could brag about you, about how good he was at everything. In sports, in music, in dancing… in touching you. In making you feel good. Taehyung hated that thought, he didn’t like it at all. Because if he knew one thing about you, is that he could make you feel better than anyone. He knew he’d worship you in all the ways his friend never thought to.
The thought made something dark and possessive curled in his stomach.
And you just laughed, not nervous, not impressed. Just amused.
“You’re evil, Taehyung.” You said, shaking your head. “Truly.”
And the way you said his name. God, the world was just being so unfair to him.
“And yet,” he replied softly, “you haven’t left yet.”
You didn’t argue.
More shots came. The party grew louder, messier, bodies packed tight, sweat and bass and spilled alcohol everywhere. Taehyung felt untouchable, dangerous, like the world had narrowed down to the curve of your mouth and the way you kept leaning into him without realizing it.
Eventually, you sighed and push off the bar. “I need the bathroom.”
“I’ll wait.”
He watched you walk away. Every step. The sway of your hips, the confidence in your body, the way heads turned as you pass. His thoughts spiralled fast and ugly. He imagined you alone in the mirror, fixing your lipstick, steadying yourself. He imagined himself going behind you and pushing that little skirt you were wearing to your waist, his fingers touching you in your sweetest places, the places you liked. He imagined the way your lips would part and the noises you would make…
His train of dirty thoughts stopped.
The man who you were dancing early passed by his side, walking to the bathroom you entered. Taehyung watched him hesitate for half a second before opening the door and close it behind him.
Something snapped in him, something deep and violent.
And he was moving before logic caught up.
The bathroom door swung open and the scene was almost painfully normal. You were at the sink, leaning forward slightly, fixing your hair. The man stood too close, saying something in your ear you clearly didn’t care about. But he had his hands on your waist, and Taehyung didn’t like that at all. Who the fuck did he think he was to touch you like that?
Taehyung grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him back out into the hall without ceremony. “Get out.”
“What the—”
“Bye.”
The door slammed shut in his face, Taehyung locked the door before turning to you.
You whirled around. “What the hell are you doing?”
Your voice echoed off the tiles, sharp and incredulous. You didn’t look scared or furious, but slightly annoyed at him for the scene.
Your eyes flashed. “And if I did? That’s not your problem.”
The words hit him like a slap. He stepped closer. “You can do better.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I already have,” he shrugged. “Or do you want me to bring him back inside so he can give you a lame fuck?.”
You scoffed, pushing past him slightly, chin lifted in challenge. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you asked. “Can you stop pretending you’re something of mine?.”
“Can you pretend you don’t want this to happen?.” he snapped, gesturing between you two. “We both know you’re now just full of shit.”
You laughed in his face, sharp. “You don’t know anything about me if you think I wanna fuck you.”
“Please, you didn’t leave my side all night. You had been waiting for me to make a move.”
Taehyung knew he was playing a dangerous game. But he liked his odd. He liked to play with you. And he knew one thing: It had been the first time you had entertained him after all his attempts of trying to get you.
So he had to be right. He wanted to be right.
Your jaw tightened. “If I wanted to fuck you, I would have done it a long time ago.” You got closer to him. Your nose almost inches from touching his face. You looked up to him. You were o close he could feel your breath. “Why do you think I went for Jungkook and not you?.”
Your words landed, heavy and deliberate, and for a second the only sound in the bathroom was the muffled music bleeding through the walls, the buzz of voices outside, the drip of a leaky faucet.
Taehyung didn’t move, didn’t back away. He looked down at you like he was trying to memorize your face.
“Because you like playing safe,” he said finally, voice low and deep, almost calm. Too calm. “Easy choice. Someone you didn’t have to think about too much.”
You scoffed, but you didn’t pull back. “And you think you’re what? Complicated?”
“I think,” he started, leaning in just enough that your lips almost brush when he spoke, “you didn’t want to want me. Because we both know, once I’m done with you, you won’t stop thinking about it.”
That does it.
Something shifted in your expression, annoyance giving way to something sharper, more dangerous. You tilted your head, smirk slow and cruel.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” you murmured. “You’re not special. You just have a deep voice and recently got jacked.”
Taehyung huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. His hand came up, bracing against the sink beside you, boxing you in without touching you. The proximity was intentional, claimed.
“Funny,” he said. “For someone who doesn’t want me, you’re not trying very hard to leave.”
You glanced down, then back up at him through your lashes. “Maybe I just like watching you make a pathetic man of yourself.”
He hummed. “Or maybe, maybe you like when I look at you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’ve been waiting all night to get you alone.”
Taehyung can see the way your eyes quickly moved to his mouth against your will. And he knows you hated that he noticed it.
“You’re obsessed,” you muttered, trying to get some control.
“Yeah,” he said easily. “With you.”
The word hung there, unashamed and unapologetic.
You swallowed, jaw tightening again. “You’re a terrible friend.”
“I know,” Taehyung replied, eyes never leaving yours. “And I still want you.”
You tried to step back but your lower back hit the sink. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt without permission, like your body betrayed you before your mouth could keep up. And you tried to blame it on the way you destabilized yourself when you tried to step back. You realized too late Taehyung was already enjoying the motion.
His gaze dropped to your hand and then back to your eyes.
“There,” he murmured. “That.”
You tried to pull your hand back. He didn’t let you, not grabbing, just stepping closer so there was nowhere for it to go. Your legs were squeezing together. His jeans rasping your bare legs. His torso brushing your chest, heat radiating, tension coiled tight between you.
“Say it again,” he said softly.
“Say what?”
“That you don’t want me.”
You opened your mouth.
And this time nothing came out.
Taehyung exhaled, slow and controlled, like he was reached the edge of his restraint. His hand lifted, grabbing your chin in his fingers without delicacy and tilting your face up.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
You did.
And when he kissed you, it was brutal.
It wasn’t soft or careful. Taehyung’s mouth crashed into yours like he was done pretending he had any restraint, like every thought he had swallowed all night finally snapped. It was messy, hungry, teeth knocking just slightly before it settled into something deeper and slow. His mouth tasting every place of yours, trying to memorize every single part of your mouth.
His hands were everywhere over your body at first, brushing them over your face and waist before one gripped your jaw, thumb pressing just enough to make you gasp into his mouth, the sound swallowed instantly. The other slid down your waist, firm, claiming and possessive, fingers digging in like he was afraid you’ll disappear if he let go. He crowded you back against the sink, body heat pinning you there, not gentle about it.
You made a sound, low, surprised, mad. Like you had woken up from the enchanted of the kiss. You bit his lower lip, trying to push him away. Taehyung groaned against your lips like it was exactly what he wanted.
“Fuck,” he muttered, barely pulling back, forehead resting against yours. His breath was hot, uneven. “You feel this and still wanna lie to me?”
Before you could answer, he kissed you again.
Deeper and slower this time. Like he had decided to savor it. His mouth moved with intent, like he knew exactly how to pull a reaction out of you, how to make your hands fist in his shirt, how to make your knees go weak even while you were trying to stay mad.
Your fingers slid up his neck, nails scraping just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath. His grip tightened in response, hand slipping up your back, flattening you to him. There was no space left, no room to think.
The bathroom felt too small, it buzzed from the music outside. The mirror caught the movement, your bodies pressed together, his head tilted down, yours tipped back slightly, lips swollen, breath ruined.
Taehyung pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, blown out, jaw tight like he was holding himself back from doing something much worse. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, slow, possessive.
“Okay. Now tell me to stop if you really want me to.”
You wanted to say something sharp, something mean.
Instead, you grabbed him again and kissed him back, harder and needy. And Taehyung let out a sound that was pure satisfaction as he kissed you like he had been waiting his whole life to finally have you, like he had been starving and you were the only thing that could ever fix it.
The fact that now you wanted him too made his heart beat like it was about to jump out of his chest.
Taehyung wanted to take it slow. Show you how good he could be for you, even though you had been so mean to him. But he couldn’t wait. He didn’t want to wait for you to change your mind. And as much as he wanted to have your mouth over his till the end of times, it took everything in him to pushed back enough to look at you in the eyes. His hands roaming all over your body before they settled in your waist.
God, he wanted to ruin you so bad.
You looked so good for him. Your hair messy, your lips swollen and red, your cheeks blush, your eyes dark and lustful. For him, only for him. You were practically begging him to act up, looking like that. You were sinful.
“What are you doing?,” you asked breathily when he pulled apart slightly.
Taehyung looked at you. “I want you to say it.”
“Say what?.”
“Say you want me.”
You titled your head, confused. You had finally accepted him and he was trying to make you say it out loud?. You didn’t know if you should’ve been mad or horny.
“Are you serious?.
“Say it,” he said. His voice deeper, firmer. “Say it and I’ll take care of you.”
You went silent, just for a second before looking at him prettily. “I want you.”
“Say it correctly.”
“I want you, Tae.”
You weren’t ashamed, you didn’t look shy or regretful. It was like it caused you satisfaction to say those words. Maybe because you knew the effect that you had on him.
And the way you said his name, the way your voice went so sweet, almost pouty…. needy. Taehyung was only a man after all. And you had a way to make his head spin in the wrong ways. You gave him a smile that seemed like you were just begging him to ruin you. Taehyung didn’t think of him as a strong willed man. He could see you looking at him like that and it was game over for him.
With a hand on your chin, he leaned in to give you a sweet kiss. He thought of all the ways that he would ruin you that night. The way you finally wanted him like that too. He wanted to burn his taste inside your mouth. He wanted you to be full of him in every way you could be. Just him, nobody else, not your ex boyfriend, not that man you were dancing with him. His, only his. And he knew that once he was done with you… you would come back for him, for more.
God, he was going insane.
His lips moved to your jaw, kissing down to your neck with desire, sucking hard and not caring whether or not it bruised. He imagined for a second how Jungkook would react to it. If tomorrow he showed up to your house, asking you to take him back only to find you covered in Taehyung’s marks. The thought made him rolled his eyes back, pleasure building in his stomach, making him rock hard. He wanted you more than words could let you know. He turned to marking you to show you just how bad he craved you, how much you were now his.
His right hand hovered over your body, slowly making his way between your thighs. You were so sweet for him, slowly opening your legs to give him better access. To invite him to touch you. He kissed your mouth as a reward, you were so obedient. Taehyung liked it, like the way you would do whatever you wanted to have your pleasure, to get off. He liked the way you choose him, only him, to trust him with it.
He wasn’t going to disappoint you.
Taehyung ran his index finger through your folds over the cloth. He moaned into your neck, eyes rolling back at the feeling of your soaked panties. God, you were going to kill him. Have you been wet all night? or did he make you feel like this just now?. He couldn’t wait to put his mouth there between your legs. It was so soaked through that he could feel the outline of your pussy perfectly. He pushed his index finger just barely into your hole, feeling your panties scrunch up into it.
He pulled away to catch his breath, eyes full of lust as he watched your face contort with pleasure from his touch.
“You like that?,” Taehyung whispered in your mouth. His voice deeper, it made you clenched into nothing. “I’m going to touch you, okay?. I’m going to make you feel so good.”
His eyes were dark and blown out. He pulled your panties down just barely, letting them sit below your hip bones while he kissed your chin. He was agonizingly slow as he pulled further and further, not daring to reveal your cunt until you were desperate enough to say it out loud.
“Tae—”
“Yeah,” he nodded at you. “I like how you say my name like that, so pretty.” He kissed your mouth, hard. “You’re so pretty. So pretty for me.”
His fingers found your clit. You melted into the feeling, sighing in relief. Your hips twitched closer to his hand, making sure he won’t leave so soon.
“Yes, please.”
He stopped, making you whined.
Taehyung swallowed the noise, his cock twitching in his pants. He kissed you hard, tongue sliding in your mouth to prove how much he wanted you, messy, dirty. It felt perverted how much he wanted to have your mouth in his all the time. But he had a mission.
“Fuck, fuck.” He gave you a last peck before slowly kneeling. “Say please again.” You groaned and his fingers circled your clit again, this time with more intention. You bit your lip as he watched you trying to contain your pretty sounds. “Say it. Ask nicely, baby. And don’t bite your lips, I wanna hear you.”
You let a breathy moan, opening your legs wider while looking at him. “Please, Tae.”
“So sweet,” he kissed and bit your inner thighs. “So, so sweet for me. God, you’re so hot, baby. Gonna make you feel good. Wanna hear you, okay?. Make me hear you.”
Taehyung was so desperate, he felt feral. He almost was sure he could cry. He had waited for so long, so patiently. You’ve finally broken, you finally wanted him back. You were finly speeding your pretty legs for him to touch you, to make you feel better. His cock was straining against his pants, he could feel his pre cum leaking profusely from his tip, but he ignored it completely to focus on you.
His hands quickly moved your skirt higher, leaving him a good sight of your cunt. He tried not to lose control, sliding your panties to the ground and taking them off before saving them in his pocket. He could moan from the sight. Your glistening pussy, so sweet and waiting for him.
Taehyung rubbed your slit and gathered your arousal on his fingers. You gasped as he glided his fingers across your clit, playing with the swollen bud for a minute, wanting to get you soaking before he stretched you out, before be could taste you. He circled his finger around your entrance, teasingly applying pressure just to watch you squirmed. He felt good, having you like that.
Even if he was on his knees he felt like he had the power. He was going to make sure you would come crying back to him every night asking for his touch, desperate, needy for him and no one else.
He dipped a finger into your hole, stopping once he was knuckle-deep. He fucked his finger into you slowly, and you sighed at the relief. He watched his finger sink into you, humming in pleasure when he saw how it collected your wetness. Taehyung didn’t ask before he was inserting another finger, already feeling your walls clenching at him for dear life. His fingers were so long, so mean, stuffing you so deep and full. He couldn’t wait to have his cock burry inside you. The stretch would feel like heaven, and he knew you were craving to be stuffed by him.
Taehyung increased his pace a little more, curling his fingers up. It took him a minute to find what he was looking for, but he knew he got it when you cried and your leg kicked out helplessly. It didn’t take you too long to put it around his shoulder, Taehyung hold it steady, gripping your fat thigh. You held yourself for dear life to the sink behind you. He kept pressing into that spot, curling his fingers up to hit it every time, relishing in the garbled moans that spill out of your mouth.
You arched your back and yelp at the sensation of him pressing against the spongy part inside of you roughly. He grinned and kept thrusting against that spot, watching your reactions with amused eyes. His head moved down between your thighs, biting and sucking at all the flesh his mouth could find.
And then he wrapped his lips around your clit once he grew tired of marking you.
“Umm, shit!… Tae!”
Taehyung could come from just your taste and your sweet sounds. He was sure of it.
His eyes almost rolled back at how much you were clamping down on him, his wet fingers making dirty noises of how hard he was fucking them inside you, wet sounds filling the buzz in the room. But that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to taste you correctly.
With a final hard suck on your clit, he took his fingers out of your entrance before eating you out properly. Taehyung thought you were such a dream when you were mewling and panting like that, eager for him. He licked you like you were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. At first very slow, dragging his tongue flat and firm to savour you and memorize you with his tongue. And then focusing in on your clit with a rhythmic flick that had your whole body jerking. He knew how to make you jump in pleasure now, and he loved knowing it.
Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft dark strands as you moaned shamelessly. He liked you like that, shameless, breakable.
His tongue moved down to your fluttering entrance, and his stomach clenched when he realized how empty you must feel for him. Taehyung couldn’t wait to fuck you, have you stuffed of him. But first, he stuffed his tongue inside you, making sure his nose stayed pressed against your clit. He moaned at your juices dripping on his taste buds and the way you tried to tighten around his tongue. He licked and rubbed at you as much as he could, determined to get his fill of your arousal.
Taehyung could swear he could cum untouched if he hadn’t waited so long for you to finally gave in. He swore he could die between your legs, his mouth on your cunt, sucking and lapping, moaning into your heat like he had found water after being thirsty. He was making the most unholiest, nasty dirty noises like it was a fucking heaven for him. And it was, it was a dream.
Taehyung was going insane.
Everything faded into a lofty state of bliss while he hungrily ate you out without taking a break, consumed with the urge to swallow you whole. He relished in the way you grabbed onto his hair, nails digging into his scalp as he barely pulled back for air all while he devoured you. The way you were squirming and rubbing yourself in his tongue and nose was a sight to behold, one that caused him to chase the friction that he earned when his aching, neglected cock rubbed in his pants, almost humping the air like a dog in heat.
You moaned, pulling him back by the hair. His mouth, nose and chin covered in your juices, he looked crazy drunk of you. He was crazy drunk of you.
“Tae…”
“Want you to cum on my mouth,” he tried to go back but you pulled his hair harder.
“Fuck me already, please.”
Taehyung was sure you were a witch.
His cock jumped in his pants. In less than two seconds he was already standing up, badly cleaning his face with his shirt before stamping his lips into yours and kissing you hard. You moaned at your own taste. His kiss was messy, he wanted to show you how much he wanted you. How dirty and perverted he was for you.
You jolted when you felt his teeth on your jaw and neck, biting down and sucking hard. It made your hips push forward, and he moaned against you. His hard on poking at your thigh angrily, he start rubbing himself on you. Taehyung started to suck at your neck. the pressure was light, but enough to leave a hickey. You played with his fluffy hair, letting out a noise between a sigh and a moan.
Taehyung pushed you harder to the sink, unbuckling his jeans and shoving them down with his underwear to the ground. His cock jumped out. His tip was red and angry, leaking pre cum. Taehyung was big, and veiny. He saw the way your eyes narrowed down, as if you wanted to kneel and put it in your mouth.
Before he could stop you, you were already wrapping your hand around him. Your thumb brushed his tip, collecting the pre cum before passing it around his length. He groaned, closing his eyes and his head dropping to your shoulder while you started pumping his cock so softly. Like you were taking your time to made him suffer.
“You’re so big.” You said so sweetly, like you weren’t doing the nastiest shit ever. As if you didn’t make him have the dirtiest thoughts about you. “Your cock is so pretty, Tae.”
Your fingers could barely wrapped around his cock, your hand was hot and felt so good around him. Shit, Taehyung knew wasn’t going to last much. You felt too good, You were so good for him, touching him like that. So sweet making him lost in pleasure. Your soft hands making him feel so good…
Taehyung opened his eyes suddenly.
No, you weren’t the one that was supposed to have control. He promised he was going to make you feel good.
He took your hand out, softly, to not make you angry. He wrapped it around his cock and moved to give him space between your legs.
“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he whispered into your ear. “I want you to take it, okay?. Gonna take what I give you.” The head of his cock brushed your clit and it made your thighs jolt. “I’m gonna fuck you how I want. Got it?” You nodded. He grabbed your jaw with hardness, his gripped in your thigh around his waist was leaning a mark. “Say it.”
“Yes,” you breathed out.
“Yes, what?” he gathered your arousal on his cock as he waited for your answer, sliding his tip through your folds, your juices coating all his length. And then his tip hit your clit angrily, so good it made you rolled your eyes for a second.
Your head was spinning, and you knew you shouldn’t let it happen, but fuck, you need it too. “yes, I’ll take it, everything.” You whined. “Jusy fuck me already,” you caved, arching your back invitingly.
“Say please,” he teased.
“Taehyung—”
“Say it.”
“Mmm. Please, please…”
Taehyung gripped your thigh and slammed into you, hips snapping forward with a force that punched the air from your lungs. Your back arched, toes curling as the wet slap of skin on skin filled the room. You felt so good, Taehyung hissed and dropped his forehead to your shoulder, pushing forward and brutally the last bit that wasn’t able to fit. It was rough, almost a little painful. He tried to held your legs open so he could try to press his hips flush against yours. You both groaned at the feeling, needing a minute to adjust.
Taehyung felt like heaven. He tried to think about the music outside, the buzz, the dirty bathroom and all the germs, the terrible dancers… he wanted to think other that wasn’t your cunt choking his cock so needy. No, he couldn’t. You were burning. You were wrapped around him so warm, so delicious. He could feel his thighs tensing, his grip in your skin tightened. You were so good, so perfect, your walls were swallowing him whole.
“Shit, so good. You— you feel so good.” Taehyung stuttered. He pulled out just a couple inches and rammed himself back in. You cried in his ear, feeling so deliciously full, it was almost overwhelming. “Yes, yes. Shit, you sound so sweet, baby. Tell me, tell me how much you like it.”
“S-so good. You feel so good.”
Oh, shit. He was going to make a mess out of you.
Taehyung slammed his hips into yours harder, meaner. His tip touching the spongy spot it made you almost whimpered. His hand pressed hard in your lower tummy, making you squeeze him harder.
“Gonna fuck you so good, you’re gonna keep coming back for more.” You could barely breathe, barely think. His cock was hitting every sensitive spot inside you, your clit throbbing from how hard he was diving into you. “Gonna make you beg for it, just how you made me do it for years.”
He reached down, thumb finding your clit again, rubbing fast circles that made your whole body spasmed under him.
“Wait, w-wait, too much…” You stuttered, jaw dropping open with a gasp as he pounded into you.
He gripped your hair, pulling your head back, your lips meeting in a hot, messy kiss. You were practically drooling with the way his cock was abusing your cunt. He was meaner, he was trying to prove something.
Your head fell back as he continued fucking you angrily. His mouth bit your throat, marking your skin as his.
“I told you, you’ll take what I give you.” He growled, his voice rough, wrecked. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be stretched, filled— fucked properly?” You shook your head, teeth biting down into your bottom lip roughly to suppress your moans. He chuckled dryly, moving his hips a little faster as he fucked you. “You were gonna choose a lame guy to what? Seek attention of your loser ex? You’re so pathetic, baby.” Taehyung felt on cloud nine, he couldn’t stop taking, couldn’t stop fucking you. “But it’s okay now. I’ll take care of it. Gonna make you dumb, huh? Gonna make you so dumb you won’t be thinking about him anymore.”
“Mhm, don’t stop,” you whined, pulling his hair.
“Did he touch you better than this?” He slammed his hips harder into you. “I’ll make you forget about him. This greedy cunt is mine now. Got it? He’ll probably be back begging for you to take him back,” his grip on you were bruising now. His thrusts came fast, filthy, brutal, skin slapping, breath ragged. “But you’ll be dripping and covered in me. Only me, baby. That fucking loser won’t have you, huh? He doesn’t deserve you… tell me you won’t take him back.”
You shook your head, “I won’t.”
“Say my name. Promise me you won’t take him back.”
“I won’t— I won’t take him back,” you whined, too drunk in him. “I promise, I promise, Tae.”
Taehyung was sure you didn’t know what you were saying, what he was making you say. Too drunk on him, too of a whore for his cock hitting the right places.
He rubbed your puffy clit faster. “That’s right. Y-you are gonna be crawling back to me, pretty. And I’ll fuck you like this. I’m the only— I’m the only one that can make you feel this good. Shit, I should’ve been pumping this pretty cunt with cum every single day…”
Taehyung was already pounding you dizzy. And he felt his lower stomach tightened.
He knew he shouldn’t be so reckless. He should sprayed his cum on your thighs or in his hand. He knew that, but your cunt was sucking him in so tightly and so delicious that the only thing he could think of was his cum rushing deep inside of you. Consequences be damned, he thought. He’ll cum inside of you if he fucking wanted to.
You were his now, you looked so gorgeous only for him. He continued thrusting into you hard, never pulling out more than halfway, letting you take him deep inside your cunt. “oh my god, don’t stop,” you urged, nails digging into his neck and shoulders.
You were close. Taehyung felt your walls squeezing him harder. He moaned in your neck, you were sucking him so hard it was too much. He rubbed your clit desperately, helping you find your release. It didn’t take you too long to do so. Your high hit you like a truck, your nails scrapped his shoulder, your mouth parting to moan loudly. You closed your eyes, walls closing so hard and your juices coating your cock. Your vision went blurry, your breathing uneven.
Taehyung’s cock twitched inside you. His eyes rolled back, his hands gripping your skin as he heard your whimper. That hit his final straw, his forehead hit your shoulder as he felt succumbing to the sweet release. He needed it so bad, and so much more he kept slowly rutting into you, his cock softening in his pants as he allowed himself to keep going. The overstimulation was getting to him, teeth sinking back into his lip as he tried to contain his whiny moan.
He didn’t stop, not even as he came undone, ropes and ropes of hot cum filling up your sloppy cunt and spurting down onto your thighs. He was unrelenting, keeping you within the throes of orgasmic bliss with his cock plunging inside of you over and over again. You tried to push him away, whining overstimulated, but he didn’t let you.
It took you both a couple of minutes to catch your breath and come back to reality. The buzz of the music and noise outside hitting you back to reality. Taehyung felt you trying to push him away again, maybe to clean yourselves and go back outside. Finishing whatever had happened there.
But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want it to the end just yet.
Taehyung pulled apart, giving you a soft kiss before sliding out of you. You let a breathy moan, feeling your cunt expelling his cum and pulsating hard, very sensitive. He didn’t give you time to react before he was kneeling again, opening your legs apart to watch your pussy clenching at the tingling sensation of his cum dripping down.
His mouth was salivating at the sight. And he thought it was perfect. That is perfect. He wanted to see you covered in him. He wanted to give you all he had to offer to you. He wanted you to take it all.
“What are you doing?” You asked him, voice raspy. He looked at you, dark gaze and starry eyes. “Wait— Tae!.”
His mouth was on you in an instant, tongue lapping up the mess he had uncovered like he didn’t care about anything else. His eyes rolled back at the taste, eating his own cum from your cunt. The first swipe was slow, tasting every bit of the slick coating your folds. He thought it was the perfect taste, the perfect meal. Both of you dripping from your pussy. The next one was rougher, hungrier, tongue pressing deeper as he groaned into your heat. He wanted nothing more than that.
“Wait, wait. S’too much, too much…”
You tried to pushed him away, you were too sensitive, he could tell. Your lips were swollen and your puffy clit was so puffy and red. You were so cute, so sensitive, so weak. But Taehyung liked it, you couldn’t do anything than just take it. He gripped at you stronger, making you wrapped your leg around his shoulder and holding you in place as he licked you clean, every part of you dirty heat getting clean with his tongue.
Your back arched and he was sure that was the best view. Watching you break apart, legs open, back arched, trembling and moaning for him, in his tongue. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to have you like that again. Stuffed by him, lying in his bed, in his sofa. Against his walls, in his kitchen counter. Taehyung was sure that wouldn’t be the last time. There was no way he could spent more than a week not tasting you, not feeling your heat in his face. Not being deep inside you. He couldn’t bear the thought of it. He wouldn’t have it that way.
Taehyung got sloppy with it, getting more into it. He didn’t care about how messy he got, lips and chin completely covered of your juices but he loved it. He practically drowned himself between your thighs, gripping them so tightly as if he was afraid you’ll slip away. But you weren’t, you really couldn’t. He was holding you open for him.
He pressed your thighs harder and pulled slightly apart. Your head quickly moved to look at him, exasperated, you looked troubled. Maybe trying to stop him, maybe looking for your next release. You were so pretty. Taehyung looked up at you and his cock twitched in his pants, dying to get hard again for you. You were a mess, tears spilling down your cheeks, your face red and your lips pouty. You were so cute, so overstimulated, so sensitive. Taehyung could come from that sight. He was so drunk of you, chin full of your juices and swollen lips.
He dived back, his head back into your cunt, his eyes still glued to yours as he sucked on your clit, hard and madam. And it didn’t take you too much to come undone. He didn’t look away, not even when you cried out and rubbed into his mouth. He didn’t look away when he drank all your juices, and he didn’t look away when he cleaned you up like a starved man.
“S-stop. Please, please, Taehyung.”
You tried to pull him away from you by his hair, your grip so weak he could just push your hands away and dive back. But he didn’t, he wasn’t that mean. Not when you look so pretty fucked up.
God, you were so fucked. So ruined by him. He loved it. He loved it so much. You were a piece of art he had made.
You were still catching your breath, thighs trembling, almost sobbing and tears falling down your cheeks when Taehyung kissed you again, deep and dirty, like he wanted you to taste yourself on his tongue. It was sloppy, messy. He thrusted his tongue into your mouth so he could make you taste everything.
He wanted to engraved himself into you forever.
Taehyung pulled apart, and held you softly between his arms, letting you come back to reality. It took a couple of minutes, voices barging outside to hurry up because someone wanted to use the bathroom. He barely cared about it. His hands grabbing your face to watch you, cleaning your dry tears with his thumb and making you look at his eyes with your now dumb gaze.
“You’re okay, baby?” he brushed your cheek sweetly. “I’m gonna clean you up. Just talk to me.”
“Uhm,” you nodded weakly. “Just need a second.”
Taehyung chuckled, watching you trying to act tough. “It’s okay, take all the time you need.”
When you were able to stood by yourself, Taehyung cleaned himself quickly before grabbing some paper to start cleaning your thighs with delicacy, softly.
There was a silence. He was stretching the time cleaning you. Like he didn’t want to break the bubble you were both in. He didn’t. He didn’t want you to leave him. He didn’t want you to let go.
You hummed, trying to get his attention. “Tae,” you called. He watched you from below, gaze softer. Your eyes weren’t so bright now. “We can’t tell Jungkook about this.”
Taehyung stopped breathing for a second. His blood burning all over his body. Why were you even thinking about him now? It pissed him off. You were now just shaking and crying for him and now you were thinking g about Jungkook?.
He wanted to fuck you stupid again. Make you beg for making him mad.
His phone buzzed in his pants.
Taehyung took it, almost too aggressively, to find a lot of missing calls and messages.
Jungkook: arrived at the party
Jungkook: where are you?
Jungkook: do you know if she’s here?
idk what’s wrong with me and this nasty ass one shots but everytime i smoke is like i can’t write more angst but only porn 😓😓
this was nasty ashellll i’m so sorry. i feel like i have to confess my sins to god or something
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